But maybe she’s good for you, you stupid fuck.
He wasn’t listening to his potty-mouthed inner voice, either. He simply wasn’t built to do the family thing. Shit like that didn’t work out. Sure, it might for other people, but he’d made his bed long ago, and he knew he would sleep in it alone.
He would be really alone. Jesse wasn’t going to hop on his bike this time and follow Cade.
As quietly as he could, he snuck out of the bedroom and nearly screamed at the sight of a small woman standing at the stove. Lynn Wells glanced back, her eyes widening slightly, but then she shook her head as though he were a naughty boy and not a six-foot-plus naked man. “Cade Sinclair, you put on pants when you walk into the living room.”
“Don’t bother,” another voice piped up. Naomi sat on the couch, her ebony hair shining in the early-morning light. “I like the view.”
“You hush now,” Lynn said. “That weirdly large man part does not belong to you. I’m rather surprised my daughter didn’t run when she saw that thing.”
This was just another dream. Yep. It was another horrifying dream. Damn it. He needed to wake up.
Lynn turned, a spatula in her hands. “Cade, I am serious. That nude thing is fine on the mountain, but I do not need to see it. Pants. Now.”
Naomi winked at him as she tossed him the jeans he’d slung over the couch the night before in his haste to get naked so Gemma would wrap her lips around his dick. And now her momma was standing at the stove attempting to make something. He shoved his legs into his jeans and zipped them up. He crossed the space between them, picking up his shirt along the way.
“I am very sorry, Mrs. Wells.” He felt like a sixteen-year-old caught by his girlfriend’s mom. “Obviously I didn’t expect anyone to be out here. I’ll just be on my way. I need to get to work.”
He felt the heavy weight of judgment in those blue eyes. They were so close to Gemma’s eyes that Cade felt himself flush with shame. Would Gemma look at him the same way the next time she saw him? The night before those blue eyes had been so warm. Would they go back to arctic because he was the man who’d fucked her and left?
“It’s Saturday, Cade.”
He shrugged. “Cars still need fixing on Saturdays.”
Naomi whistled. “Damn.”
He’d stepped into something. Lynn picked up an egg and cracked that sucker in two. “I talked to Roger last night. He said the shop is closed on weekends.”
He thought seriously about making a run for the door. He was fast. He could run and just keep on running. He could run straight to the shop, hop on his bike, and flee Bliss altogether. He would leave the car to Jesse and Gemma.
His father’s car. Damn it. The minute he’d brought that car out, he’d screwed up. He should have kept it simple. Just him and his bike and whatever transitory experiences he could have. He should have taken shit jobs just long enough to save some money and move on to the next town, but no, Jesse had talked him into fixing up the car and now he had more than two keys and had to deal with judgmental mothers and their horrible cooking techniques. He shook his head. “Give me those eggs. You’ve already got shell in there.”
Lynn passed him the bowl and ceded her place with what he would have sworn was a look of triumph. “I was trying to make French toast. It’s Gemma’s favorite.”
“Does Gemma have cinnamon?” He took stock. There was a loaf of sourdough bread but nothing else.
Lynn laughed a little. “Cinnamon? No. Gemma doesn’t cook. I brought over the bread and eggs and milk and some vanilla.”
Naomi shook her head. “Gemma believes cooking is setting her microwave timer. And she screws that up most of the time. I’ll get the cinnamon.”
Naomi glided gracefully out the door in search of cinnamon. Cade got rid of the shelly eggs and started over, neatly cracking them with one hand.
“Do you have a whisk?”
Lynn opened a drawer and handed it to him. “Who taught you to cook?”
“My foster mother. She was a great cook.” She’d been surprised when he’d shown an interest. He’d never told her, but he hadn’t cared about cooking at first. He’d just wanted to be around her. He’d hated being alone. Alone meant thinking about everything he’d lost. Over time, he’d grown to find cooking soothing.
“Tell me something, Cade. Is your friend still in bed with my daughter?”
Oh, how he wished he hadn’t slept in. If he’d followed his pattern, he would be safely at home and Jesse would be the one dealing with the suspicious mom. “Yes.”
“Will he wake up and run, too?”
“I wasn’t running. I just have things to do.” He whisked the eggs. He had lots of things to do. Like figuring out what the hell he was going to do when Jesse moved in with Gemma. He would do it. Jesse had been in heaven last night. He’d finally found exactly what he’d always wanted—a woman he could top during play and who challenged him outside of the bedroom. There was zero question that Jesse was falling for Gemma, and Cade wasn’t sure where that left him.
“Does Jesse have other things to do?” Lynn asked.
“No, ma’am. Jesse will take care of your daughter.” He poured the proper amount of milk into the egg mixture. He noticed the small bottle of vanilla Lynn had brought and picked it up.
“Gemma tends to think she can take care of herself.”
He tried to concentrate on his mix, but found himself thinking about Gemma. It was pretty much all he did these days. “She’s wrong. She needs someone to look out for her. She’s smart. Maybe too smart. She doesn’t consider the bad things that can happen. She seems to think that if she does everything right, she’ll get what she wants. Sometimes that doesn’t work out.”
“Are you talking about that business with her fiancé?”
“Ex-fiancé. That bastard used her and tossed her aside.”
Lynn’s eyebrows arched.
“Damn it, I’m not doing that. Gemma and I have a deal. I haven’t lied to her. And I can’t even sneak out now. You manipulated me into cooking so don’t compare me to him.”
Lynn shrugged, a little light in her eyes. “I might have heard you’re a very good cook. Most good cooks can’t stand to watch a bad one screw up food. You can’t blame me. She’s my only child. And I think you’re right about her. She’s too smart for her own good sometimes. I never liked that Patrick. He was too slick, but Gemma thought she could handle him because she was smarter.”
“Book smarts doesn’t always equal street smarts. He ran a con on her. He got her to do all the work, took the promotions and accolades, and planned on dumping her when he couldn’t use her anymore.”
“I’ve always wondered about that.”
“Wondered about what?”
“If he really intended to dump her. I guess I’ll never know.”
Cade put the bowl down and checked the burner. Lynn had it way too hot. Did Gemma have sugar? He could make a caramel sauce. Gemma liked sweets. He’d noticed it. Her eyes lit up around decadent desserts. And she seemed to be addicted to Trading Post fudge. “It doesn’t matter. He was cheating on her. He used her. She needs someone who can watch out for her, keep away the people who would just use her. If she’d been with me and Jesse, Nate would never have been able to pull that crap on her.”
Lynn waved that off. “I think working for the sheriff is going to be very good for her. I feel better knowing she’s at the station house. Nate and his deputy are already watching out for her. They checked her locks the other day and made sure she got home when they realized she was walking. Either Cameron or Nate drops her off and picks her up. Such nice men.”