Should've Said No (12 page)

“Then let’s give it a little time and see what she submits when the details are due.”

“We can’t risk using that strategy.”

Carden winced at her tone.

“I wish we could bide our time,” she said. “But we can’t. Not with Tansy and Oscar influencing Lindsey.”

Carden gripped the steering wheel. It was enough of a struggle to get her out of his head without hearing her name over and over again. “Then maybe you should just ask her about it,” he said, his words too fast and too sharp.

Gran let them hang in the air with the road noise, just like she’d done ever since he was a kid. Carden’s sass had always been met with stony silence and an icy-blue glare—worse than any reprimand.

His gut twisted with the guilt of talking to his seventy-nine-year-old grandmother as he had. “Then we wouldn’t have to worry,” he said calmly.

“I was thinking you could ask her. Maybe work it in after you two talk about what color you’re going to paint Dean’s cabin.”

Carden rubbed his forehead hard and dragged his hand down his face. Was there anything she didn’t know or didn’t tell? “I’ve decided to let one of the ranch hands handle that.”

“Then you need to do some rethinking. You’ve set this up perfectly for us. Now go over there, take your time painting that cabin, and find out what’s going on. It means a lot to this family.” She paused as if she could see him, narrow-eyed and shaking his head. “Maybe even more to me.”

“I’ve gotta go, Gran.” He clicked off of the call, determined not to let her get to him. Determined to stay away from Lindsey. But once he hit the city limits of Thistle Bend and the hardware store came into view, his plan was shot to hell. He whipped his pickup into the parking lot, cut the engine, and leaned his head back on the headrest.

This wasn’t about Lindsey. It was about getting started on a job he’d committed to do for Dean. And about making sure things went the Crenshaws’ way in the museum—for Gran and his family and himself. He’d get the job done, get some answers, and then get as far away from Lindsey as he could.

—

The sun had started to set behind Paintbrush Peak as Carden sucked in a deep breath and knocked on the front door of Dean’s cabin. Gauzy curtains moved ever so slightly behind the screens in the open front windows, nudged by the evening breeze. He caught the faint sound of voices—a television or radio—above the swish of his heartbeat in his ears. The thought of seeing Lindsey had him all stirred up, partly because he didn’t want to feel this way, but mostly because he did.

The door swung open and there she stood, barefoot, in cutoff shorts. She wore a mint green camisole under a filmy white blouse, unbuttoned, the hem of it skimming her slender thighs. Her hair was long and loose, just the way he liked it.

“Hey there,” she said with a wisp of a smile and tipped her head toward Paintbrush Peak. “You brought me a sunset.” And there it was, that brightness that made him…happy.

Carden turned to see the sky ablaze with a mix of colors that had been muted just moments before. Orange, bright yellow, blue. “Custom made.”

She looked him up and down, and he stood a little straighter. “Aren’t you all business?”

He glanced down at his outfit. Dark slacks, striped oxford, boots. He hadn’t taken time to go home and change. “Just came from a meeting in Aspen.”

“That’s quite a drive, isn’t it?”

“Couple hours each way.”

She scrunched her nose. “Long day.” She held up her hand, palm out. “Wait here.” She ducked inside and left him wondering why she hadn’t asked him in, wishing she had, in spite of himself. He reached over and peeled a patch of curling paint off the cabin—one less spot he’d have to scrape.

Lindsey stepped outside carrying two longneck beers. She closed the door behind her and handed him the full one, keeping the half-empty one for herself. “Wouldn’t want to miss the rest of the sunset.” She sat on the porch step and motioned for him to join her.

He settled in beside her, catching the seductive scent of her perfume. “Did you just chug half that beer or did you get started before I got here?”

“Just chugged it.” She grinned.

He clinked his bottle against hers. “Easy there.”

“Truth is, I was celebrating—having a beer, watching the Rockies game.”

Warmth surged through him and he took a slug of his beer. This girl drank a beer and watched baseball to celebrate? There was no hope for him if she kept surprising him with things that made them seem so…matched.

“Celebrating the excellent proposal you submitted to the board?” He gave her a knowing glance.

She narrowed her gaze on him. “Yes,” she said hesitantly. “The submission part, at least. Someone else will have to decide if it’s excellent.”

“Someone already has.”

Her pleased smile nearly drew him in for a kiss, but he fought the urge and brought his beer to his lips instead.

“I don’t know if I’m more pleased that
someone
liked it.” She nudged his arm with her elbow. “Or more disturbed that people who aren’t on the board know that already.”

He grinned. “No such thing as a secret in this town, so don’t bother trying to keep one.” Another Cardenism he’d do well to keep in mind when it came to his attraction to Lindsey. He couldn’t act on it any longer and expect it to stay under wraps.

Although there is one…

Lindsey blinked several times, focused on the sunset, and took a sip of beer.

Before they lost any more light, Carden reached into his back pocket and pulled out the stack of paint swatches he’d picked up at the hardware store. He fanned them out and presented them to Lindsey. “What’s your pleasure, ma’am?”

She gazed at the colors and absently licked her lips. The hard-on he’d managed to will away earlier rallied for a comeback.

“Hmm…” She pressed her finger against one of the cardboard cards. “Not gray. That gray paint on the place now is kind of dull.”

Carden stifled a grin.

“What?” she asked.

“It’s white.”

She turned her head quickly and looked at the cabin, her hair swishing featherlight against his shoulder. “Stop.” She faced him, her eyebrows drawn together. “That paint was once white? Because it’s gray now.”

Carden shrugged. “No argument from me, but the paint is white.” He gave her a crooked smile. “The dirt is gray.”

She rolled her eyes. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, playfully pull her to him, and kiss the top of her head. His heart begged him to do it, but his hands stayed still.

“Either way, we should brighten up the place.” She examined the fanned swatches and pulled one from the pile. “This one ought to do it.”

“Yellow?” He should’ve guessed.

She nodded. “But not obnoxious yellow.” She examined the small square of paint and traced her fingers across it like she’d skimmed them over each of his abs last night. “You can’t go wrong with a paint called Lemon Cream—a couple shades lighter than butter. Should be perfect.”

Carden put the stack of swatches back in his pocket and aimed his gaze at the one Lindsey held in her hand. “You going to give that back to me?”

“I was thinking I’d keep it. You can remember Lemon Cream, can’t you?” A smile tugged at her lips. She took the last sip of her beer and set the bottle next to her on the porch.

“You never know. I might come back with Lemonade or Lemon Zest. Maybe even Lemon Lime.”

“Oh no you won’t.” She tore the paint swatch and handed him the half with the name printed on it.

He slipped his piece in his shirt pocket, and cast a sidelong glance at her, eyes narrowed.

“I want to check it out in the daylight tomorrow.” She stood and tucked her piece under the street number next to the door. “If it’s awful, I’ll let you know.”

Vivid colors swept across the vast sky and the jagged top of Paintbrush Peak appeared purple beneath the sinking sun. No doubt that swatch of Lemon Cream would look brighter in the morning. “Good idea.”

He worried that she wasn’t going to rejoin him on the step, then she gracefully sat beside him, farther away than before. She propped her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her hands. “About last night…”

Carden’s heart took off like a spooked horse.

She shook her head slowly. “I probably shouldn’t have—”

“I got carried away, too.” He gulped down at least a third of his beer. He might have to break his rule and drink another one tonight.
I got carried away
—what a huge understatement. He’d lost control with her. For a few freeing minutes, he’d acted on instinct without worrying what would happen next.

And they were the most amazing minutes…

If Fred and Dean hadn’t shown up, he would’ve taken things as far as Lindsey was willing to go. It scared the hell out of him to admit it, but there was no way he could’ve resisted her in that moment, in his private space, in his arms. He tightened his fingers around the beer bottle and set his jaw. “It won’t happen again.”

She sat straight, her lips pressed together, eyebrows low. “I was going to say I probably shouldn’t have agreed to pick the paint color since I haven’t been here that long and this isn’t even my place.” She gave him a wan smile. “But I totally get what you’re saying. Things will be easier that way.”

Carden’s heart thudded. What the hell had just happened? He had to set her straight, to tell her he’d misunderstood her, and been too defensive himself. How could he leave her believing that he didn’t want to be with her—to touch her and please her—when he could think of little else?

He reminded himself that this was the least amount of pain either one of them would endure if he allowed whatever was going on between them to end now.

“I might need to get one of my ranch hands to paint the cabin.” He clenched his teeth, wishing he could take back the words the moment they came out of his mouth. “I didn’t want you to come home and find a stranger working on the place and wonder what was going on.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” she said as the last sliver of sun slipped behind Paintbrush Peak. She pulled her blouse closed in front. “It’s getting chilly now that the sun’s set.” With a fluid motion, she grabbed her empty bottle and stood. “Think I’ll head inside.”

Carden drank the last swallow of his beer, stood, and handed her the empty bottle. “Thanks for the beer.”

Lindsey twined her fingers around the necks of both bottles and lifted them as if she was toasting him. “Thanks for the sunset.” She turned, headed for the door, and tapped her finger against the paint swatch tucked beneath the house number as she stepped inside. “Tell your guy, Lemon Cream.” She turned and winked, then closed the door softly.

Carden stared at the door for a moment, scrubbed his hand through his hair, and took his time walking to his pickup. He’d gotten what he’d thought he wanted. As uncomfortable and awkward as their conversation had been, he was free and clear of Lindsey. No one would find out what was going on between them since there wouldn’t be anything else. They could be polite if they happened to see each other, and he could get back to his life as it had been before she’d turned it inside out.

He got in his pickup and cranked the engine. Straight-armed, he gripped the steering wheel, blew out a long breath, and bowed his head. He was back in control. Shifting the truck into gear, he took one last look at the cabin and drove away.

Chapter 14

Lindsey maneuvered Holly’s SUV along the narrow mountain roads and switchbacks as if she’d driven them for years. Since Lindsey hadn’t yet worked out her car situation—as in, saved enough money to buy one—Holly had offered her SUV for Lindsey’s trip to see the Montgomery sisters.

“You’re really sweet to offer,” Lindsey had said to Holly. “I’ll take you up on it, but only if you let me treat you to dinner one night soon.” Lindsey had visions of another round of cheesy pizza, but she might have to pass on the ice cream this time. From one sexy salted-caramel-chocolate kiss forward, Get the Scoop ice cream would always remind her of Carden.

Heat rose in her face as she thought about their first kiss, about the night in his workshop. Her up on his workbench, him clutching her hips, her fingers skimming his muscular pecs. Thank God they’d been interrupted, and kept most of their parts to themselves. What an embarrassing whirlwind disaster her short-lived association with Carden had turned out to be. She rolled her eyes. Hadn’t she learned from her so-called relationship with Hopper what to expect from a too-good-to-be-true bachelor? She’d vowed not to get hurt like that again, yet she’d quickly followed Carden down a similar precarious path.

How could I have resisted?
Until that moment on her porch, she’d had every reason to believe he was as amazing and available as everyone made him out to be. She’d have sworn that he was different. She’d have sworn that he actually
liked
her.

Lindsey rounded a bend and saw the sign for Narrowleaf Pass. According to Holly and Darlene, the next right turn would take her up a windy road to the Montgomery sisters’ place.

It was good that Carden wouldn’t be hanging around and painting the cabin, wasn’t it? There’d be nothing to hide from Aunt Tansy and Uncle Oscar, and no worrying that she’d slip and reveal to him that she was related to the Karlssons. Even so, her heart felt heavy. Carden had made her move to Thistle Bend more exciting, made her feel welcome and wanted. But there’d be no more handyman tips or history lessons. No sharing ice cream or having a beer together. They wouldn’t be kissing, or touching, or laughing. She shook her head. Why had he promised things would get even better, then walked away the next day?

Lindsey had to get that question out of her mind, no matter what it took. Drowning in worry over a dead-end would-be romance was not why she had moved to Thistle Bend. She’d come to open a kick-ass museum that would pave her way back to D.C. She had to focus on work right now. On being gracious and pleasant and interested in the Montgomery sisters and their donations. On making the museum the best it could be, and that meant finding out what had really happened between the Karlssons and the Crenshaws in that land deal.