Come Home to Me. Brenda Novak

a cougar.”

      She jiggled Wyatt, who was getting fussy again. “It’s not just the age difference I’m worried about. It’s the other differences.”

      “And those are...”

      “Vast.”

      He tilted his head as he peered into her face. “Isn’t that the case with most guys you meet? Not many people have been raised the way you were.”

      “And Cheyenne turned out all right. That’s what you must be thinking. But you have to understand that Cheyenne is special. She could’ve been raised in any circumstances and survived them.” Somehow her sister had navigated their crazy childhood without ever screwing up. She’d left all the bad stuff to Presley, who’d tried everything once—and the most damaging things a lot more often than that. “She never made the mistakes I did.”

      “Which makes you...what? A bad person?”

      “Some people might see it that way.” His crowd typically did.

      “Well, I appreciate the warning. But Chey says you’ve gotten your life under control.” He searched her face. “Is that true?”

      Wyatt was struggling to get down, but she couldn’t let him because of all the tools and nails and wet plaster. “It is. I haven’t done anything wrong in two years.”

      “And ‘wrong’ includes...”

      “I haven’t had sex. I haven’t taken drugs. I haven’t even had any alcohol, other than an occasional glass of chardonnay.”

      “Then I’d say your recent track record’s better than mine,” he quipped.

      In what way? It had to be sex or alcohol; no one in Cheyenne’s group would risk the damage drugs could cause.

      “But two years isn’t that long,” she argued. “It’s not enough time to be able to trust me.” Lord knew she didn’t trust herself. That was why she had to stay away from Aaron. With one touch, he could make her forget everything she was striving to be.

      “Tell me this, what are you looking for in life?” Riley asked.

      He was no longer joking, so she sobered, too. “Someone who’ll love me—for me—at last.”

      That wasn’t something a girl usually admitted to a guy who was interested in asking her out. But she wasn’t a teenager anymore, and they were having an honest conversation. Why hide the truth? Presley had been trying to warn him off from the beginning. If this didn’t do the trick, he deserved whatever disappointment she proved to be.

      To her surprise, her words didn’t seem to make him uncomfortable. He pursed his lips as he considered them. Then he nodded. “I’d like to see if I’m the right man for the job,” he said, and walked out to get more of his tools.

       4

      Aaron located what had to be Presley’s yoga studio from its proximity to Reflections by Callie. He had pictured the old antiques emporium as soon as Kyle and Riley mentioned it. But it was worth coming by to see how far along she was in the process of opening. He was curious about her and everything she was doing; he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind since running into her last night. So he’d told himself he’d swing by on his way to Reno. If she happened to be alone, maybe he’d stop and say something, get what he was thinking and feeling off his chest. It didn’t seem fair that she suddenly seemed to believe the worst of him. Not when he’d been convinced that she was one of the few people who truly understood him.

      But then he saw Riley Stinson’s truck parked in front and he pulled over—even though she clearly wasn’t alone. She wasn’t open for business yet. So why was Riley hanging around?

      He decided to find out.

      The high-pitched whine of an electric saw cut through the air as he crossed the street, and he could see a ladder and some paint tarps through the wide storefront windows.

      The door had been propped open for ventilation. For a moment, he stood at the threshold, watching Riley check the length of a piece of wood he’d just cut. Presley wasn’t around. Maybe she was in another room. That he was glad she was out of earshot, glad he had the chance to confront Riley alone, told him he shouldn’t be here. He’d been in a terrible mood ever since he’d encountered her at the bookstore. The fight with Dylan hadn’t helped and neither had the sleepless night he’d spent trying to convince himself that he didn’t care if Presley no longer wanted him in her life.

      He’d let her go easily enough two years ago, hadn’t he?

      Not that easily. He had thought about her a hell of a lot, at odd hours when it was late and the house was quiet. He’d missed her, missed the fun they used to have and the excitement she’d brought him in bed. But missing her didn’t really explain why he was so out of sorts. He should be glad she’d moved on. There’d been plenty of instances when he’d wished she would. He’d known all along that she cared more than he did, and that kind of thing never ended well.

      “Hey!” he called.

      Riley whipped his head around. Then he turned off the saw and lowered the goggles protecting his eyes. “How’s it going?”

      Still no sign of Presley. “Where is she?” Aaron asked.

      Riley didn’t ask who. That was obvious. “Had to take her little boy home. She was up all night, patching the walls in here, so I’m hoping she’ll catch a nap, too. But, stubborn as she is, she’ll probably come right back.”

      He was talking as if he knew Presley well—but he didn’t. Not really. No one in Whiskey Creek, except Cheyenne, knew her as well as Aaron did. Like him, Presley had always been an outsider, someone regarded with distrust. He’d never cared much about what other people thought. He didn’t let their opinions bother him. But Presley hadn’t grown the same thick skin. “So you’re working alone?”

      Using a measuring tape, Riley marked the board where he wanted to make his next cut. “For the moment.”

      Aaron kicked a loose nail that’d fallen to the tarp back and forth between his feet. “I didn’t realize she’d hired you to build her tenant improvements. You didn’t say anything about it at the bookstore.”

      “I didn’t know I’d be doing this.”

      He sauntered closer, eyeing what Riley was building. “Receptionist’s station?”

      Riley blew the sawdust from his hands, then brushed off his white T-shirt. “That’s right.”

      “Does she have the money to pay for all this?” He gestured at the work that’d been done so far. Dylan had told him Presley wasn’t in a good financial situation. “It’s tough, being a single parent.”

      “Tell me about it,” Riley muttered.

      He and Presley were both single parents, but the similarity between them ended there. “You’ve always had the support of your folks, and a decent way to earn a living. She’s never had either.” Riley had also had a lot of other things Presley didn’t, but Aaron felt he’d said enough.

      “She has Chey in her corner. And I’m hoping her yoga and massage businesses will be successful. But I’m not arguing with you. She’s in a tight spot, especially while her son is so young.”

      Aaron jerked his head toward the saw. “Maybe you should let me finish up.”

      Riley straightened, finally giving Aaron his full attention. “Excuse me?”

      “It won’t be as nice as if you’d done it, but I can manage a hammer and nails—and it won’t cost her a cent.” Maybe that would make up for how he’d behaved the night her mother died; maybe it would finally ease his conscience.

      Riley positioned the wood he’d prepped on the sawhorse. “There’s no need for you to take over. I’m not charging her.”