The Art of Love (The Windswept Saga) (23 page)

“One in the same. She thinks I could sell some of these scarves during our next fundraiser.”

“I think that’s a great idea.”  She rested a hand on her mother’s shoulder.  “Look at the two of us—both in sales.”

Alice laughed softly.  “I have
plenty to keep me occupied.  Don’t worry about being home every night.  Enjoy yourself.  You deserve it.”

Taylor lost herself in thought for a few minutes.  “Mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Did you ever think about remarrying after Daddy died?”

Alice laid down her knitting needles and gazed at Taylor, her eyes unreadable.  “It may sound antiquated, but no.  I would have been cheating on your father if I married another man.”  The soft, wrinkled surface of her fingers brushed Taylor’s gently.  “Why do you ask, sweetheart?”

“Liam
and I are divorced.  The ink was dry a long time ago.  But when I was with Chandler, I felt this strange sense of guilt.”

Alice gripped her hand.  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Taylor.  After what you’ve been through, you have to grab happiness with both
hands.  And it sounds to me,” she said with a smile in her voice, “that you did just that last night.”

She cast a wary gaze at her mother.  “Don’t you feel just the slightest touch of discomfort, encouraging your daughter to fool around?”

“Fooling around I would frown upon every time,” she replied gently.  “But dating Chandler, and the accompanying fringe benefits, I would encourage in skywriting if necessary.”

***
 

The snow melted throughout Saturday, and Chandler easily made it to the ranch the next da
y.  He was still on an emotional high from Taylor, even if they hadn’t spoken at all after she left—no calls, no texts.  He wouldn’t pressure her.  Just the assurance of a committed relationship was all he needed.  And he planned, in good faith, to keep it under his hat for a while.  He parked outside his house and carted three cans of primer inside.  He wanted to work on the living room first, its walls painted an unfortunate color of sherbet, fading now to a dull watery orange.

“I love orange sherbet,” he
joked to himself.  “I just don’t wanna look at it every day.”  He poured a can into his tray, completing two entire walls before the sounds of truck doors slamming interrupted the silence.  Mark and CJ made their presences known a minute later, talking loudly as they entered the foyer.

“I expected the two of you about a half-hour ago,” he said, turning to gaze at them.  “Now there’s less work to go around.”

“Sorry,” Mark said, pulling off his hat and passing it between each hand.  “I woke up with a kid on top of me this morning. It’s hard to leave him sometimes.”

CJ grinned.  “I woke up with a woman on top of me.  It’s hard to leave her, too.”

Mark glanced at Chandler with guarded humor, then turned his head to the side.  “Pig.  That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

“You’ve got the same number of kids as we do—you know how it works.”

“Be that as it may,” Mark rejoined, his lips curling upward, “we dropped by to help out, not conduct Sex Ed.”

“Baby brother could use a few tips…whoa.”  Chandler’s neck reddened before he had a chance to stop it. 
Dammit.
  CJ rested his hand on Mark’s shoulder.  “Look at him and tell me what you see.”

Mark let out a low whistle.  “I see a loose, relaxed man. 
I see the cat that just swallowed the canary.  I see someone’s new boyfriend.”

Chandler pressed his eyelids shut and squeezed the bridge of his nose.  “Why do I even bother with trying to keep a secret?  I suck at it.”

Sensing his brother’s discomfort, and not willing to revel in it, CJ changed course.  “Mark has something to tell you, man.”  Chandler looked up at him expectantly. 

Mark pushed a hand through his hair. “Remember Dave Briggs, from high school?”  Chandler nodded.  “He came by to look at the
furnace—he’s an HVAC man now—and he said it looks good.  You might have to replace it someday, but not in the next decade.”

Chandler rested his hands atop his thighs.  “Sounds good.  What else?”

“You are gonna have to change the plumbing fixtures.  Your pipes are solid but the faucets are prone to leaking.”

“Nice.  Thanks, man.”

“Not a problem, bud.  And now CJ will be a complete ray of sunshine, his usual bright and cheerful self, as he tells you about your roof.”

CJ raised his eyebrows at Mark.  “Really?”

Mark nodded back at him.  “Really.  Just give him the bad news, cowboy.”

Chandler’s face dropped at the prospect.  CJ worked quickly to reassure him.  “It’s nothing like that, bro.  You’re fine except one bad patch that’s windblown all to shit.  Mark and
I can replace that as soon as the weather warms up.  We’re not so bad at the carpentry thing.”

He lifted to his feet and passed his brother and best friend paintbrushes.  “How are you at interiors?”

Mark shrugged.  “Passable.”

CJ smiled crookedly.  “We suc
k.”

Chandler laughed at the both of them.  “And I can’t hide my happiness from either of you.  But I will expect you to keep details about my personal life to yourself, out of respect for Taylor.”

CJ dipped the edge of his brush into the primer and placed a few strokes against the wall.  The corner of his mouth opened just wide enough to drawl out a question.  “So how was it, cowboy?  You get past the eight-second mark?”  Mark went red-faced and stifled a laugh, and moved to the far wall in an effort to keep from snickering out loud.

Chandler shook his head and smiled, resigned to the fact that they knew the truth, communicating an instinctual language that required no words, carrying with it a genuine respect and guarantee of privacy.  He edged his brush al
ong the top of the wainscoting, careful not to ruin it.  “Twice.”  

Chapter 15

“What’s that?”

Taylor placed a plain brown shopping bag atop his desk and smiled. The same type of receptacle was used by any number of stores in town, but the bag was average sized and lightweight; from the way it moved, it clearly contained neither a boxed item nor a solid article.  Their eyes met, and she silently prompted him to look inside.  He pulled the bag into his lap, reached inside, and pulled out a pale blue chambray shirt with white snap buttons.

“You don’t have to worry about those coming off.”

He laughed as he ran his thumbs over the pockets, the Western stitching.  “You didn’t have to do that, you know.  But I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”
  He motioned her closer, tugged her gently onto his lap.  His eyes studied her face affectionately.  He observed the rustic-looking bag dangling from her shoulder.

“Is that a new purse?” he asked, throwing her off-balance.

“It is.  Men usually don’t notice things like that.”

He blinked steadily.  “I notice everything about you, T.”

“Charmer.”  He smiled languidly.  “Actually, it’s mine.  I sewed it myself.”

He gave her a beguiled look, before recognition slowly took over.  “I’d forgotten that you were handy with
a needle.”  His thumb brushed her earlobe and she winked at him.

“So had I, actually.  Mom reminded me of it.  It’d been a few years but I picked it right up again.”

Chandler’s hand massaged, temptingly, along her hip and thigh.  “She wasn’t too upset that I got you home late.”

“Please.”  She traced the line of his jaw with her index finger.  “She wanted to pin a medal on you for making me so damned happy.”

“I always did like that woman.”

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual.” She gave him a quick kiss.  “Any
way, I might have to sew a few more purses for the church sale.  You don’t mind if I bring my work to work with me, do you?”

He laughed, the sound vibrating through him and into
her hands.  “Of course not.  As long as you bring yourself, nothing else matters.”  The slide of her thumb along his nape sent a ripple of desire through his veins.  “Anything else happen this weekend?”

“That was pretty much
it.  Mom and I are a quiet pair.”  She cocked her head toward him.  “How about you?”

“Oh,”
he said coyly, drawing out the syllable, “I spent some time on the ranch, working on my house.  CJ and Mark came over and helped, too.”

“Uh-huh.  How long did it take you to start bragging?” she teased.

His mouth fell open.  “I’m only about five percent offended you think of me in that way.”  His clasped hands rested against her hip.  “The problem is I’m too easy to read, and always have been.  They’d been there all of five minutes, Holmes and Watson, before they figured it out.”

She lowered her head onto his shoulder.  “
I can’t imagine much sex talk passing between the three of you.  Too uncomfortable, for obvious reasons.”

He smiled at her confidence.  “Exactly.  We most
ly talked about the kids and the house.  A few ranching odds and ends.”

“I think you’ll join them some
day soon.  This gallery will become your side project, and you’ll start ranching.  And you’ll be happier than you’ve ever been in your life.”

Too late,
he thought.  “Maybe.”  His voice carried with it a strong current of hope.  “But for now, this isn’t half-bad.”  He leaned into her kiss, reveling in the sweet taste of her lips, the lingering flavor of warm tea on her tongue.  Just as they were about to come up for air, a light knock interrupted them.  Chandler gave her an amused look, his eyes saying
Yeah, get used to being disrupted. 
“Come in,” he deadpanned.
 
 

Alison stuck her head through the door, her eyes brightening as she saw Taylor held safely in Chandler’s arms.
  “Hey, you two—mixing business with pleasure?”

“Staff meeting,” Chandler replied
gently.  “What can I do for you this morning?”

“I just stopped by to see if Taylor wanted to have lunch with your sister and myself today.  But I could see now how that might be a problem.”

Chandler kissed the corner of Taylor’s eye.  “We’re not inseparable—yet.  I’ll shut up now and let her answer the question.”

Taylor nodded.
“I would love to join the two of you.  Are we ordering in?”

“We are,” Alison responded.  She lifted her chin questioningly.  “What about you, kid?”

Chandler feigned confusion.  “Me?  Nah, I’d only be in the way, and I have some things to take care of.  Order me a sandwich, though, and we’ll be square.”

Alison nodded.  “Deal.  See you at 11:30, T.”  And with a flourish of her long brown hair, she headed back to her store.

Taylor nuzzled into his neck.  “I could’ve said no.”

He rested his head atop hers.  “Don’t worry about it.  You couldn’t ask for two better lunch companions.”

Her thumb slid beneath his chin.  “Then why did you say no?”

Chandler laughed, the sound faint and restraine
d.  “Because I’ve had an entire lifetime of meals with them.  And it’ll give you a chance to talk about boys.”

“You’re sweet,” she replied. 
“But I’d better get to work.  Can’t have the boss thinking I’m a slacker.”

He pulled her into an eager kiss.  “Can’
t have that, can we?”  Chandler helped her to her feet.  “The clock’s ticking.”

He watched her saunter away, not feeling the least bit guilty about taking in the view.  Their gazes had lingered over one another for much of Saturday morning, marveling at the shapes and contours,
both hard and soft, lines and demarcations that had fit together exactly right in the darkness.  They’d taken possession and ownership, staked their claim.  He was falling hard and fast for her, and it wasn’t the first time.  But this go round, he’d already promised himself, would be for good.  For keeps.

***

Christa looked her up and down before pulling her into a hug.  “You look great,” she said.  “And I’m so glad you could join us today.”

Alison moved efficient
ly around the shop, straightening clothes, putting misplaced items back on the proper shelf, and making mental notes about what to order next.  “You know what that look is about, Chris,” she called out from across the room.

Taylor replied with an ironic stare.  “Don’t listen to her,” Christa countered.  “Look happy and be proud of it.”

She met Christa with a skeptical gaze.  “She did find me in your brother’s lap this morning.”  She sighed.  “I guess the bull is already out of the chute.”

“It was inevitable,” Alison replied, stepping behind the counter and unwrapping their food.  “
He was either going to fire you and plaster a hangdog look on his face, or he was going to kiss you like he’d never kissed anyone in his life.”