The Promise Of Rayne - The Promise of Rayne Part 22
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The Promise of Rayne Part 22

Rayne was here. In his house. Wearing her glasses.

And the girl took sexy to another stratosphere in those glasses.

She lifted a plate off the counter and moved toward him, her eyes flickering briefly to his bare chest. Her boldness-sneaking over this late in the afternoon, waiting inside his empty house, bringing him something to eat after a day of laboring in the sun-awakened every physical desire he'd suppressed for weeks. Rayne's cropped white pants and satiny turquoise blouse swished in time with her hips, tempting him beyond the smell of the baked goods lingering in the air. Every inch of his skin seemed to buzz at her nearness.

"I brought you cookies," she said, the slightest hitch of hesitation in her voice. "Only I wasn't sure which kind was your favorite, so I just chose an assortment of Delia's best."

"Oatmeal." The hoarse word scraped over his dry tongue and he cleared his throat, suddenly desperate for water. Preferably ice-cold water. "I like oatmeal." But who was he kidding? He'd eat tree bark if she'd brought it for him.

"Good to know." She smiled then, her gaze lingering in a way that made his every muscle ignite.

"You have hay in your hair." When she reached her hand out, he practically leapt backward. Six hours of blazing heat and cramped hands had stripped his mental inhibitions bare. If he allowed her to touch him now . . .

He tugged at the back of his neck and then raked a hand through his hair. "How 'bout I take a quick shower and then we can . . . we can . . ." His brain tracked through the limited list of options at snail speed. "Talk."

"Okay." She nodded. "Go take a shower and I'll pour you a glass of cold milk. I have a little over an hour before I need to head back for dinner."

He was down the hallway with the door closed behind him before his mind could register she'd even spoken.

Ten minutes. He hadn't taken longer than ten minutes to rinse, towel off, and dress, but Rayne's propped elbow and heavy eyelids told a different story. How poorly had she been sleeping? He knew her workload at the shelter kept her days full, but the purplish tint under her eyes and the tired sag of her shoulders made him wonder about the schedule she was keeping at night. Why was she pushing herself so hard? What more was she trying to prove?

A tall glass of milk and a plate of cookies sat atop the stacked pallets doubling as a coffee table. He sank into the cushion beside her, placing his one and only throw pillow onto his lap before sliding her glasses off. On a yawn, she accepted his invitation and repositioned her body, her head resting atop the pillow.

She inhaled deeply. "You smell nice."

He smiled at the tired slur of her words. "Not nearly as nice as you."

"It's the cookies."

"No." He kicked out his legs and relaxed against the back of the sofa. "It's you."

She tipped her face to him and chuckled softly. "What do I smell like?"

"Summertime."

She curled her legs onto the cushion beside her and yawned again. "With all the smoke, I can't even remember what summer smells like anymore."

He stroked the silky strands of her hair, mesmerized by the feel and the shine. "Like every flower's in bloom all at once."

Her lips curved and his hand stilled. Travis hadn't been wrong about her-Rayne's smile could drop a man to his knees. And unlike many of the women he'd known, she hadn't a clue how alluring she was. Her hair. Her eyes. Her smile. That dimple in her chin.

All of it. All of her.

But just beneath the surface of this perfectly packaged Shelby lived a quality, a passion, a selfless kind of beauty that could only be uncovered with time. He smoothed a lock of her hair off her cheek and studied the slender curve of her neck, the shapely ridge of her collarbones. With the lightest of touches, he grazed the tender skin behind her ear, trailing his finger to the arch of her eyebrow. He'd known of her most of his adult life. But he'd only known her-the heart behind the name-for a month. A single month. And yet, in much the same way Ford's faith and generosity had impacted his life nine years ago, the sweetness of Rayne's spirit was already reshaping him. Changing his wants, his dreams, his desires to something he hadn't known existed until now.

Who would he be in a year with Rayne in his life? In two? In twenty?

"You're gonna make me fall asleep for real." She tried to push up to her elbow, but he denied her efforts.

"Good."

"No, not good. I have too much to do. I can't stay."

"Yes, you can."

"I need to manage the dinner lines. They can get crazy. It's easier when I'm there to hold the children's plates for their parents. I should-"

"Let me take care of you." He touched her forehead, pressing out the worry lines with his thumb. "You're always so busy taking care of everybody else, managing everybody else. For once, let somebody take care of you. Let me take care of you."

He'd expected her to put up more of a fight, a detailed argument outlining all the reasons why she couldn't leave the shelter unattended for a few more hours. But instead, her shoulders relaxed. Within minutes, her breathing deepened, her body yielding to the persuasion of sleep.

There'd been so little resistance to her surrender.

The same could be said of him.

As he studied her tranquil face, he curled a strand of her hair around his finger and said a prayer he hoped God would answer soon. Whoever had caused this sleeping beauty to believe she needed to be anything more than who she was right now deserved to be throttled.

Because Rayne Shelby was more than enough.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.

A cocoon of blissful sleep enveloped her mind and body. Levi's touch had lulled her into a dreamless place where peace smelled like dusty work boots and minty soap.

She uncurled her legs and pointed her toes to stretch her calves, her eyes opened only a crack. Just enough to watch the shadows of dusk play across the empty cookie plate and milk glass. Nightfall. He should have woken her. Yet the moment she thought it, she could hear the plea of his words again, could feel the dip in her stomach. Let me take care of you.

She slung an arm over her eyes, her cloudy mind emerging slowly from slumber. She patted the cushion with her free hand. Levi's legs were no longer beneath her. She couldn't blame him for repositioning. She'd comforted a sleeping toddler a few nights ago, and within thirty minutes her arms had morphed into dead-weight appendages.

Thankfully, Levi hadn't gone far. Even if she hadn't seen the toes of his work boots peeking from between the slats of the coffee table, she could sense his presence. A presence she would thank momentarily. And not with a plate of cookies this time. With a kiss.

"Perhaps I should hire you to help me fall asleep every night." She yawned and reached for her glasses on the sofa arm. "What time is it?"

"Just after eight."

Every cell in her body tensed, her mind suddenly wide awake.

That voice did not belong to Levi.

Her leap from the sofa and guarded about-face took only a second, yet her recognition of a man she hadn't seen up close for over a decade was instantaneous.

Ford Winslow.

"Hello, Rayne." The crackle in his voice shook her-everywhere. He remained seated yet lifted a hand that matched his worn appearance. "I'm sorry to startle you. That wasn't my intention."

"Where's Levi?" Her eyes darted around the room in a manic frenzy.

"He's not here."

Where was he? Why would he do this? Why would he leave her alone with this man? She couldn't stop the twitching in her arms or the pounding in her chest. Her gaze fixated on the exit beyond Ford's chair. The front door beckoned to her. Would he try to block her if she ran past him?

"I'd invite you to have a glass of iced tea with me, but I'm guessing you're about five seconds from darting past my chair and out that door."

She said nothing, her jaw as frozen as her stare. Had he expected this invasion to be anything less than disorienting?

On a sigh, he clasped his hands together and leaned forward. "I realize you don't know me anymore, but-"

"Yes, I do. I know you." Her fear transformed into something solid. Something indignant. Something she'd never been given the freedom to voice aloud. Before now. "You stole this farm from my grandfather. Eighteen years ago."

His gaze held steady, unblinking. "I loved your grandfather."

Disgust filled her every sense, becoming a taste, a smell, a sound pulsing in her ears. "You don't cheat the people you love or the people they love." The accusations and allegations of her father, her aunt, her uncle stacked up inside her like a tower of building blocks. Years of hateful word darts she'd had nowhere to aim. "You robbed a wonderful man. A man who trusted you, a man who gave you his time and money and heart. And you repaid him by robbing his family? That is the opposite of love."

Again, he didn't react to the bitter assault of her statements. No flinch, no wince, no cringe. Was the man so used to being hated? Had he so willingly accepted his fate as a soulless monster?

"He used to call you his Little Blue Jay. Your hair was so dark when you were born it had this brilliant blue hue around it. Almost like a halo."

"Who told you that?"

"He used to carry you on his shoulders through the back pasture so you could reach the tree house door. Your cousin Joshua used to lock you out because he said you weren't tall enough to join his secret clubhouse. But William made you tall enough."

Her mind stumbled over memory boxes she hadn't opened in years. "Stop it."

"You always begged to go huckleberry picking in the summertime and you loved making jam with Delia in the kitchen. You two would sing and carry on." He chuckled. "It made everybody laugh. You'd tie a red ribbon around the lids and press a Shelby Lodge seal to the glass, and then William would take you on a ride into town. To give the jars away to families who served our country."

She reached for the wall behind her. She needed to steady herself. Steady her thoughts.

"He loved all his grandchildren, but you were special to him, Rayne. Your bond was unique. When you lost your mother at such a young age, William moved heaven and earth to convince your father to come live at the lodge. He wanted to be a part of your life. He hoped he could right some of his past mistakes with his own children by pouring his life, his wisdom, his renewed faith into the next generation. Into you."

No, this wasn't real. This man didn't know her. He didn't care for her grandfather. He was a manipulator.

Though her mind screamed the command, her feet wouldn't move.

"You've always been able to see people with your heart, Rayne." Ford swallowed and she felt her own throat thicken. "It was the way William saw people too. Even when you were seven years old, he recognized your gift, your way with the patrons. And what you've done with the lodge this week, with the shelter, William would have made the same decision. He'd be proud of you."

Emotions swarmed inside her, blurring her vision and bucking against her instincts. How she'd longed to hear those words from her grandfather. To share her dreams with him, to seek his counsel, to feel his acceptance.

"I know my boy cares for you-deeply," Ford continued.

Her attention snapped back to reality. To the present.

So that's why he'd come. "You're here to tell me to stay away from Levi?"

He tipped his blunt chin toward the floor and dragged the sole of his boot against the carpet threads, as if pondering something she hadn't asked. She studied his face, his angled features, his woolly, wiry mustache, his parched skin, mapped by years of sun exposure. She wondered at his age. Despite his weathered appearance, he was younger than she'd imagined-perhaps not much older than her uncle Cal.

He lifted his gaze. "You saw me once, at the grocery store, just a year or so after your grandfather passed away. You had a green sucker in your hand and you were supposed to be trading it out for a different color-orange, I think-while your cousin and aunt waited for you in the checkout line. But you forgot about the candy when you saw me. Do you remember what you asked?"

She'd asked him a question? It took her the better part of a minute to access the memory, but it was too out of focus. Too cloudy. Too covered in the dust of an emotion she couldn't understand. "I don't remember."

He waited, his stoic gaze probing through her as if time could erase his transgressions.

She needed to get away from him, escape whatever kind of manipulation game he was playing. She scooted along the wall toward the door.

"Secrets don't keep forever."

Panic stitched the length of her spine. Was he talking about Levi? Was Ford planning on exposing them? She pinched her eyes closed and fought against the pain jabbing between the slats of her ribs.

She yanked open the door and fled down the porch steps, slicing through two beams of moving light. A truck door slammed at her back and a familiar voice called out her name.

No, she wouldn't stop, not for the man who'd just trapped her in a house with Ford against her wishes.

Despite the quickening thud of Levi's footsteps, she continued to propel herself toward the safety of the fence.

"Rayne, will you please stop!"

She kicked each of her legs through the narrow fence boards. In her haste, her blouse snagged on a raised nail, shredding the fabric at her side and exposing the flesh from her rib cage to her hip bone.

But unlike a blouse, repairing trust wasn't an easy mend.

The instant both of her feet were planted on Shelby soil, Levi hurled himself over the barrier, avoiding the bob and weave altogether. Chest heaving, he gripped her shoulders and blocked her path.

"Mind telling me why we just competed in an after-dark obstacle course?"

She jerked away from his hold. "How could you! How could leave me with him?"

Through narrowed eyes, he swiveled his gaze between his cabin and her. "What happ-"

"You left me asleep. In your house. With Ford!" Despite the warm pocket of smoky air surrounding them, chills broke out over her arms and legs.

"Ford talked to you?"

"Oh, don't act like you didn't know. Don't act like you didn't set this up tonight. You told him-about my grandfather, about things I've shared with you in confidence." The tears in her voice leapt out in a hoarse, angry cry. "How could you?"

"Think, Rayne." When he reached for her again she stumbled back. "Why would I plan that? What could I possibly gain by cornering you with Ford before you were ready?"

"That's just it!" She thrust a finger in the air toward his chest. "I'm never going to be ready, and yet, you've wanted to change my mind about him from the beginning."

"Of course I have, but not by ambushing you. Give me a little more credit than that, please." He trapped her wrist, pressed her hand to his heart. "I was only gone for fifteen minutes. Seven minutes down the road to deliver a receipt and then back. I'm sorry if Ford startled you, but I won't apologize for him. He belongs in my life, Rayne, just like you."

She shook her head, backed away, broke contact. "Just because he means something to you doesn't mean I can forget everything I know about him-how he's hurt my family, how he used my grandfather! How can you overlook everything he's done? How can you be okay with the way he acquired the farm? You're building your future on a stolen inheritance!"

He seemed to process every word out of her mouth, every accusation she threw at him, and yet, he skipped over her questions to ask one of his own in a tone much too quiet, much too calm. "What did he tell you, Rayne?"

She pressed her fingers to her temples as if to prevent Ford's words from leaking out. The memories. The nicknames. The sadness. "It doesn't matter."