Trust in Me (15 page)

That thought stole a little of her pleasure. He seemed to sense the shadows creeping in on her. He leaned down to give her one more kiss, luring her closer to his side of the bed.

“You always can, but I really want you to see this. And unfortunately, it’s something you’re going to need clothes for.” He glanced down at her breasts, which had escaped the sheet when she’d rolled.

“Ah-ha. Not stopping by my apartment first suddenly isn’t working in your favor, is it, Master Tactician?”

“There’s always pros and cons to every decision.” He kept staring, as if there were answers to be found somewhere on her nipples. “You could wear a set of my sweats.”

Was it evil that she jiggled, just to see what he would do?

Possibly, because he got off the bed like it was on fire. She bit her bottom lip, not the tiniest bit remorseful. He needed teasing as much as she needed to be playful. Intense as their time in the bath was, she knew something was still simmering under his surface. He might have calmed down, but not all his frustration was gone. All she could hope for was to make the time they had worth it for both of them.

He stiffly opened and closed his drawers one at a time, looking for something, but she had the distinct impression he had no idea what that might be.

“Find the sweats yet?”

He stopped, sighed and went back to the drawer he’d just shut.

“If you’re trying to torture me…” Another drawer opened and closed, then he turned and came back to her, putting the folded clothes in front of her chest. The backs of his fingers managed to caress her nipple. “You should know I enjoy getting even.” His fingertips closed around the hardened tip and tugged, just enough to make her jump.

She loved it. Loved
him
. After all the worry, having this time with him was the best kind of decadence she could imagine. She could bask in their shared relief and happiness about the baby. Close her eyes and sink right into the fantasy that they were just like any other couple having their first child.

Oh yeah, she was neck-deep in heady, with no interest whatsoever of getting out. Not until the weekend was over…

“Come on, baby,” he urged, his voice low and intimate, sending tingles over her skin. It wasn’t the way he should have gone if he didn’t want to give her more reason to stay exactly where she was. On the other hand, he could do amazing things when it came to building her anticipation. For that alone, she could go along with whatever he had planned. Besides, he seemed to really want this…

A final, put-upon sigh and she sat up to dress. He watched—still a perv—while she dragged on his giant sweatshirt. She could have put a belt on the waist and called it a dress. She was about to do just that when he nudged the pants her way.

“I’ll be swimming in those.” How the hell he found them in the first place, she’d never know.

“It’s cold outside.”

Outside?

Curious now, Susie pulled the endless dark blue pants up, searching fruitlessly in the bunched layers between her and the drawstring. Locke’s strong fingers took over the task, rolling the waistband around her until they stayed up well enough on their own. She sat on the bed again as he rolled on super-thick socks. Now those she could consider making sure came home with her.

He took her hand, leading her out of the room and down the hall—wood floors she couldn’t even feel, thanks to the lovely socks. Her curiosity grew as he took her through the kitchen. When he unlocked the backdoor, she knew he was taking her to the Boathouse.

They stepped quietly into the foggy gray morning, out of the kitchen and onto the driveway. Several yards farther into the property, the garage loomed. Big enough to be a house of its own, the three-car garage had both bay doors down. The white-painted stairs on the side led to some kind of apartment above, though she wasn’t quite sure what they used the space for. Everyone in town knew the Boathouse was off-limits, so she doubted his siblings were allowed above it, either.

He said nothing as he let her hand go so he could open the side door with his key. Mouth set, eyes determinedly forward, he concentrated on bringing her inside. Her playfulness, fun as it had been to mess with him, evaporated. Not in a bad way, she realized, a kernel of excitement growing despite her reserve. He was sharing this with her, this most secret part of himself. The part he held separate even from his siblings…

He took her hand again, flipping the light switch with the other as they crossed the threshold. The smell of wood, oil and a bit of dust assailed her. Front and center, taking nearly the length of the entire garage, lay an upside-down boat of some kind. Though not very wide, this one would easily hold a whole team when he was done with it. She reached for it instinctively, pulling her fingers back at the last second, turning to him for permission. His little half smile was bemused when he took hold of her fingers and led them back.

The wood ran smooth under her touch, like glass. The body curved like a single piece as she trailed from one end to the other.

“Be careful of the other side—it’s not fully sanded yet.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Locke ran his own hand over the keel, pride evident in the way his spine straightened even more and the corners of his mouth curved. What she wouldn’t give to see him stand, just that way, over countless other boats. She had no doubts he’d be doing this very thing for the next twenty years or longer. He loved building these boats. Being part of the world he’d left behind, even from this distance, meant so much to him. The same way her designing meant so much to her. Putting herself into her creations, knowing somewhere, someone was enjoying using them. Enjoying the way they made you feel…

How many years would it be before his temples began to streak with silver? Would anyone even be able to tell, with his hair such a pale, pale gold?

She
would. She would cherish every change they went through together, if she had the chance.

But she wouldn’t.

The sadness of that knowledge made her eyes sting. She wouldn’t be here in a few years, much less twenty.

Don’t think about it. You still have time.

But not much. Not enough…

She pushed out an unsteady breath, taking her hand from the boat and turning to look around. Tools lined the back wall. Some in toolboxes, likely more still in those wooden drawers under the worktables.

She spread her hands on one table, inspecting the gridded mat there and all the various nicks and cuts the poor thing had suffered. She flicked at it with her nail.

“One thing I don’t understand. If you can do all this…why do you keep the store?” She tilted her body toward him when he leaned his backside against the cabinet next to her. Not invading her space, exactly, but edging in close. It never failed to surprise her how unthreatened she was by him. His size alone should have spooked her, especially now in this enclosed space, surrounded by so many dangerous objects, but instead all she wanted was to move closer. Curl against his side…

Damn but the man tempted her.

Not that he noticed or anything. He was looking up at the rafters, a heavy sigh escaping him. Intriguing, especially for a question she wouldn’t have thought would bear so much weight.

“When I started the store, it was only a few months after my parents died. I didn’t really have much experience at anything but rowing and carpentry. I did construction for my dad’s partner for a while after he bought us out. I hated it, though. Everything went up so fast, so fabricated. Nothing unique or personal, every house exactly like the others. No time to make it right. Make it strong enough to last.”

That
would
bother him. Beyond the fact that he was meticulous about his details, Locke’s sense of hearth and home was his bedrock. Handing someone a house less than designed for them would itch him like crazy.

“I’ve always been an outdoors type, and when the chance to buy the store from the Reids came up, I took it. There was some risk, of course, because it did cost a hell of a lot at the time and I swear I was terrified the first few years that I’d gambled away more than we had, but it was worth it. I was able to be in town, the kids could come to work with me after school and they’d be part of keeping our roof over our heads. We didn’t have a lot of control over our lives, so I’m not deluding myself when I say it made them happy to be part of working to keep us together with our heads above water. If there’s one thing no one in our family is good about, it’s feeling useless.”

He eyed her, probably knowing exactly how hard she was biting her tongue not to mention the elder twins.

“They’re not going to win any physics awards anytime soon, but the boys work just as hard as I do. And they can beat the hell out of my accounting skills when they want to, so don’t go thinking otherwise.”

Suitably chastened—which was barely at all—Susie grinned at him. “Yes, sir.”

“Besides, I’d rather have them giving river-rafting lessons and selling gear than whatever they might come up with on their own. God, can you imagine? Dean is going to poison someone with his vitamin drinks one of these days and Daniel’s plan for designing the ultimate home-training apparatus is guaranteed to require someone to get rectal surgery.”

She didn’t know what made her laugh harder, that he’d said rectal surgery or that he was serious. But oh, the genuine pleasure on his face as he watched her laugh… Her insides twisted into a neat little bow and her heart skipped and tripped its way back to beating properly.

Locke cleared his throat. “I didn’t start making boats until the kids were much older. Never expected it to amount to much. An old rowing mate of mine asked me if I could make one for him. He’s still connected with sponsors and the field, so he got word out for me. Next thing I know, I have commissions for another half dozen personal crafts. The next year, the orders doubled. Turns out he knows a lot of really rich people who have more time and money than they know what to do with. Occasionally, like with this one, the sponsors want an actually working row and they’re willing to pay for it. I haven’t had to worry about money much since, even with the younger twins and their dreams of Ivy League. Thankfully, they both got scholarships, so all I have to do is make sure they have a roof over their heads and they don’t die of starvation.”

Given the way the Jackmans ate, the school might have gotten the cheaper end of that deal.

“I may not need the store anymore, but the boys still do. It makes them happy and keeps them busy. I figure in another year or so, I’ll give them free rein with it. See what they can do with it on their own.”

Susie raised her brows. “You really think they’re ready?”

He took a second, nodded. “Besides, we’ll be too busy in a year to juggle three businesses
and
the baby.”

Damn it, she should have known he didn’t listen to what she told him. “Locke—”

He fixed her with a long stare, pushing her into silence. He didn’t want to hear her say she was leaving again. The command in that look was impossible to miss. Maybe it was self-delusion at its worst, but she didn’t want to say it again either. Didn’t want reality intruding too deeply into this stolen weekend.

“What about you?” he asked, accepting her silence for the acquiescence it was. He picked up a tool, something like a scoop, but wide and long, open-ended on one side. His calloused fingers played with the tip.

“Me what?”

“What got you into underwear?” His dimples made a faint show, tempting her knees to knock a little.

I know what gets me out of them…

“Lingerie,” she corrected, swallowing her lust down as best she could. Special place or not, she didn’t think she could go for sex in his workshop without a blanket. Last thing she needed was a splinter in her ass. “That’s sort of a long, boring story.”

One she didn’t totally understand, either. But the move to make lingerie was the right one for her. She’d felt that since the moment she put together her first piece. It simply satisfied something in her that had never been reached before.

Kind of the way Locke did…

“I used to make my own clothes, when I was a teenager.” An act of necessity, as her mother had no interest in buying her new ones and the castoffs she’d occasionally been given were usually from friends or their mothers. “I got to liking it. My friends all thought it was ‘
soooo neeeat
’.” Her air-quotes deepened his dimples. “Sometimes I’d make things for them, which was more fun than making them for myself. Challenging. I kept it up after my mother put me out, made a little money on the side of my waitressing tips.”

And, there went the dimples. His entire expression hardened and Susie had the strangest urge to explain, even though she knew there was no defending her mother on anything.

“She’s not like you, Locke.”

“She’s your fucking family. She should have been there to help you.”

Susie agreed, but the thought of her mother—faded beauty, bitter, broken voice and the endless drunken stupors—attempting to protect her from Malcolm was just ridiculous. It simply wouldn’t have happened.

“Not everyone is as lucky as your siblings,” she said quietly. Her years with her mother were a different kind of painful, but one she’d made peace with. Confusion clouded most of her memories of that time. She’d never understood why the woman had no place in her heart for her child. It was only when she was on her own, taking care of herself, that she realized it did no good to be angry about a childhood she couldn’t change. That way would only lead her down the same path as the woman she never wanted to become. “She couldn’t even love herself. She had no idea how to love me. Believe me, kicking me out was probably the best thing she ever did for me.” Like setting her free.

His jaw clenched and she knew he would never, ever agree with that.

“Anyway…” She pretended to sigh. “As you might imagine, Malcolm didn’t want his wife doing anything so mundane as sewing and I think his mother nearly fainted at the thought of her son’s wife wearing secondhand anything. Everyone hated it so much, I sewed less and less. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I was on my own again.”