Welcome to Wardham: Contemporary Erotic Romance Bundle Page 3

  She’d come to love their sleepy little village, but downtown had seen better days. Not for the first time, Carrie mused on how a few small changes would make a big difference. There had been a few attempts to bring tourist dollars to town, but they’d been focused on nostalgia—Wardham needed to move into the 21st century. The outdoor hockey tournament was a great draw, but a modern, attractive arena would be a good blizzard backup. Of course, that wasn’t an original idea, and the town council and small business association had been at odds over the investment for years. If she was a local business person, she’d…

  She’d what? Carrie sighed to herself. Her imagination could run off with a dozen ideas of fun businesses she’d start up. She’d thought about talking to the West brothers more than once but always chickened out. No, not chickened out. Wised up to reality. She had enough on her plate as it was, she didn’t need to start something new. And really, where would she even start?

  She needed to appreciate the good life that she had. She’d come a long way from the little apartment over the laundromat on Wyandotte Street, saving all her pennies.

  Ha. So what if she hadn’t gone to England. Here she was, driving to Essex, and if the shops there didn’t have what she needed, she’d head to Windsor next. Not quite the same thing. The countryside between the towns was lovely enough, but she imagined the British communities were much more picturesque. Not that Carrie would ever know. At one time, she planned to backpack through Europe. She’d been working at a country & western bar in Windsor, hustling hard for tips from drunk wannabe cowboys, when she met Ian.

  That night changed everything.

  He wasn’t wearing the hat or boots, but he had the swagger, and he could dance better than most. He stayed to last call, and she surprised both of them by inviting him back to her apartment. He gave a sober buddy his keys and told him to come back for him in the morning.

  He’d been cute. More than cute. She hadn’t been able to stop watching him, and she caught his eye enough that she knew the feeling was mutual.

  If she’d had any doubts he was a real deal country boy, they disappeared when he unabashedly stripped down to nothing—the sun had kissed his arms to mid-bicep, although his torso wasn’t without a faint tan. She’d thought lazily that maybe he had a pond. She’d like to go skinny dipping with him. Leap onto his back and wrap her legs around his lean hips. Hold on to his broad shoulders and press her naked breasts into his back and drift into the cool water together.

  As he opened his button-fly jeans, revealing snug briefs underneath, she’d whispered for him to stop. He was hard and sinewy in all the right places, with shadows and valleys she wanted to explore with her mouth and hands and eyes, but her touch first went to the line where dark faded to light on his arm, neatly following the curve of his muscles. “Nice farmer’s tan.”

  He read the husky tone in her voice correctly, not taking offense at all, and he reached for the button on her jeans, using it to leverage her closer. “Let’s see yours.” He hovered his mouth above hers. “I bet it leads me straight to heaven.”

  It was a total line, and it totally worked. She whimpered into his kiss, and the next thing she knew, they were rolling around naked on her bed, taking turns pinning each other down and tracing all the tan lines they could find. That led to playing connect the dots on the four moles on her tummy, and guessing the story behind each of his seven scars. It was the best and strangest hook up she’d ever had.

  When he finally donned a condom and slid inside her, she welcomed him with wild abandon. The first time was hard and fast. The second took longer, and sparked something sweet and scary, and they fell asleep wrapped around each other.

  Carrie blinked at the memory. She was almost in Essex. She’d forgotten that they’d slept entwined like that from the very first night. For the longest time, the dominant memory was of waking up in the middle of the night and feeling Ian harden between her legs.

  “You’re awake.”

  “So are you.” She swirled her hips, teasing his length along her slick sex.

  “Do you want to…” He groaned as she reached the tip of him. “I should grab a condom.”

  He should have. But she was sore, and stupid, and didn’t want to fuck. She just wanted to play and then brazenly ask for his mouth.

  How different their lives would be if he hadn’t come between her legs. If she hadn’t had to tell him a month later, on their fourth date, that she was pregnant, and there was no doubt it was his.

  She hadn’t even wanted to date him, not really. He was cute, and when he was looking at her, she felt it in a tingly way down to her very core. But they were too different, and she just didn’t see them getting serious.

  That was a secret she’d take to her grave, because when she lost the baby two weeks after their courthouse wedding, he’d held her. When she found out. In the shower. In their bed, which was so newly theirs she still thought of it as hers. In the shower again, as she sobbed at the blood swirling down the drain. He hadn't known what to say, but somehow had known exactly what to do, and in doing so, everything that had been hers became theirs. A few months later, in an uncharacteristic moment of emotional vulnerability, Ian asked her if she wanted a divorce. She’d been able to honestly tell him that she didn’t. That she wanted a future. Wanted his children.

  She’d taken him to bed, and Kaylie was conceived.

  She shivered. It would be a different thing, now, if she ended up pregnant again. She’d find love in her heart for a third child. Put off her secret dream of opening a bakery or bed and breakfast. It would be okay.

  But it wasn’t a coincidence that she was rehashing the beginning of their relationship this week. Their little oops—are unprotected sex mistakes ever little?—had been on her mind. Ian would be thrilled. Another secret she’d have to keep.

  Carrie shook her head. It was probably going to be a non-issue. It hadn’t been the right time in her cycle, and she knew her body a lot better now than she had eight years previously. But she’d still be relieved when her period arrived. But right now, she had cake supplies to buy. The shop in Essex offered a discount for cash purchases, for reasons she’d rather not think too hard about, so she pulled into the drive-thru teller machine at the Essex branch of their bank and withdrew enough money for her shopping and incidentals for the rest of the week. Ian liked to do a cash budget at the beginning of the month, but he also left enough money in their joint chequing account to avoid bank charges, and just in case of extra shopping, like this trip for a last minute cake request for one of the preschool teachers.

  She almost didn’t look at the receipt when it spit out of the machine. Almost crumpled it up and tucked it into the provided slot for recycling.

  Instead, she grabbed it and tossed it onto the passenger seat, where it slipped under her purse. So it wasn’t until she parked in front of Mary’s Cakes and More baking supply store that the numbers on the slip caught her attention.

  The lack of numbers, that was.

  With the three hundred dollars she’d just taken from their account, there was less than fifty dollars left.

  Cold fear slithered down her face and across her chest. It didn’t make any sense. She reached for her phone to call Ian.

  Ian.

  When was the last time she’d looked at the bank balance? A few weeks earlier, probably. She hadn’t told him she’d be taking money out today. She usually used her cake money envelope for these trips. They were usually budgeted for.

  Usually.

  Where was all their money? She blinked hard, straining to remember what the balance usually was. At least three thousand dollars, to avoid monthly bank charges. And a bit more for incidental spending. She looked down at the phone in her hand. She should call him. Or the bank.

  Yes. She’d call the bank. Her hands shook as she flipped over the bank card and dialed the toll-free number on the back. Tapped in her card number and access code. Listened to Muzak. Her hands were still shaking when a guy who calle
d himself Ryan greeted her by name, and when she responded, she realized that her voice was shaking too. Fantastic.

  Ryan assured her that there hadn’t been any suspicious activity on the account and asked if she’d talked to the other person on the account. No. Ryan didn’t ask her why. She asked that of herself, afraid to hear the answer. Herself didn’t say anything, still numb with shock. Probably for the best.

  She darted into Mary’s, and came out with what she needed. She was vaguely aware of paying at the till and being pleasant, enquiring about the time, and begging off a long chat about the latest trends in icing colours because she had to pick up Drew from preschool.

  The drive home wasn’t filled with memories like the drive in. This time, raw emotion, too big to be named, flooded her being and spilled into the truck around her.

  There was a good explanation. Of course there would be. She just needed to call him and ask. Why did you secretly drain our accounts today, honey?

  She couldn’t call him if that was how the question would come out.

  If she waited until he got home, she probably wouldn’t need to formulate a question. He didn’t always address it, but he knew when she was upset. Would he know that this time talking wasn’t optional? Maybe she should go and find him.

  After picking up Drew, she headed home, but instead of turning into their driveway, she kept going.

  “Mama missed it! The house! Mama!”

  She shot Drew a tremulous smile in the rearview mirror. “I know, baby. I’m taking you to Grandma’s house instead, okay?”

  Drew chattered about cookies and saying hi to cows as they travelled the three concession blocks to the farm. She braced herself to be circumspect if Ian’s bike was parked beside the house, but it wasn’t. Where was he?

  Eleanor Nixon was hanging laundry on the line, and Drew raced to help her. Carrie took a deep breath and slowly followed. “Hey, Ellie.”

  “Carrie! This is a pleasant surprise. Ian’s gone into town to pick up a new drill bit. They’ve broken three already this morning.”

  “What are they doing?”

  “Some sort of make-work project in the implement shed while they wait for the fields to dry out.” Her mother-in-law shrugged. “Do you want to come in for tea?”

  Two cookies and a cup of tea later, Carrie was feeling both better and silly at the same time. There would be a reasonable explanation, and she didn’t need to interrupt Ian’s work day to get it. She stood, ready to say goodbye, when Eleanor waved her over to the computer in the corner of the living room.

  “Come and look at the custom labels I found online for Kaylie’s school supplies.”

  Carrie grinned. Eleanor’s credit card was getting a workout since she’d discovered online shopping. “A sharpie and fabric tape has worked just fine so far, Ellie.”

  “But these have ballerinas! Or fairies.” Eleanor misread the look on Carrie’s face. “Or firetrucks, if you want to be gender neutral.”

  “It’s not—”

  “Humour me, Carrie.”

  “Okay. Let me just call Ian and tell him we stopped by, but we’re going home.” Carrie pulled her cell phone out of her bag. “Darn. My battery died, I’ll just use the house phone.”

  “Dial-up, sweetie. Use my cell.” How Eleanor managed to function online with just a dial-up connection, Carrie couldn’t understand. She spied her mother-in-law’s phone on the kitchen counter and headed to the other room to grab it.

  Drew bumped into her as he shot like a missile to investigate the pretty pictures his grandmother was looking at. “Dwagons, Gramma?”

  “Sure thing, sweetpea.” The patter of dragon talk faded as Carrie pushed her way out on to the sun porch. She punched Ian’s number into the phone and held it up to her ear.

  He picked up after three rings but didn’t say anything right away. She could hear muted conversation in the background, then Ian quickly said, “Hang on, Mom.”

  “No, Ian, it’s—” But he was gone again, resuming his muffled conversation, like he was holding the phone to his shirt.

  “Sorry about that. I’ll be back soon, okay? I just…nothing. Listen, before I forget, I’m going to tell Carrie that I’m working late tonight, and I need you to back me up on that, okay?”

  What?

  “Mom?” A bell chimed in the background, like Ian had walked through a door. “Hello?”

  Her husband thought he had a dropped signal. Her husband. Who was going to lie to her.

  Maybe there’s a good reason…Twice in one day? What the hell was going on?

  “Ian?”

  “Fuck. Carrie. What…” He let out a heavy exhale.

  She waited for him to say something, anything. He didn’t.

  “Nevermind.” The word squeezed out, compressed by fear and adrenaline. She let the phone tumble to the bench beside her, her hands too heavy to hold on.

  From the living room, Drew’s shriek of delight stabbed through her haze of confusion, and she headed back inside, willing herself to hold it together long enough to ask her mother-in-law if she could pick Kaylie up from school and watch the kids through dinner.

  Eleanor wrinkled her brow, trying to figure out what had changed in the last two minutes.

  Everything. Maybe.

  Carrie kissed Drew on the forehead and made it to her SUV before the tears started to flow.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  She barely had enough time to find a box of tissues before his bootsteps pounded across the back deck. Her heart squeezed. She wasn’t ready for this, whatever it was going to be. But then the screen door slapped against the siding, heavy steps moved across the kitchen, and she didn’t have a choice.

  “Carrie!” His voice carried enough urgency that she felt a flicker of hope. “Where are you?”

  Not enough hope to answer, but it was something. She sat perfectly still, cross-legged in the middle of their bed. Where Drew had been conceived and borne. Where they’d just started reconnecting. A wave of uncontrollable emotion rocked through her. She knew she wasn’t thinking clearly, and it couldn’t be stopped.

  He loomed large in the doorway, his chest lifting and flexing as he breathed—maybe in exertion, maybe in an effort to calm down. His expression was unreadable, and fear climbed back to the top of the hierarchy of her emotions.

  He repeated her name, this time as a question, although she had no idea what the answer might be. “Babe, what you heard…I don’t know why you’re reacting like this, but you’ve got it all wrong.”

  “What do I have all wrong?” Her words tumbled out in a whisper.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face and rocked back on his heels. Instead of answering, he narrowed his eyes, like he was trying to guess what was in her head. “Do you trust me?”

  No. The answer was swift and harsh, even though she didn’t voice it. She didn’t need to, he saw it on her face, and swore under his breath.

  “Well, that’s a problem.” He propped his hands on his hips and hung his head. A long silence stretched between them, her racing, pounding heartbeat a painful metronome, counting off each lost beat. All the unspoken words. “Carrie…” He lifted his head up. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know.” It wasn’t much, but it was the truth.

  “I’m sorry about tonight. It’s not what you think.”

  “I don’t think…” she trailed off, not wanting to even say the words. “I know you would never cheat on me.”

  “Then what’s with the freakout? I called my mom back, and she said you took off like a bat out of hell.”

  Carrie winced. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

  “Did you…” She trailed off, willing herself to find exactly the right words. This was a conversation too important to fuck up. Don’t make any assumptions, just be objective. “I went to the bank this morning,” she whispered.

  “What?” He pulled up slightly, and she flinched at the recoil, but he looked more confused than
defensive. “Why?”

  “Not the…I mean, the bank machine. I took cash out and saw the…there’s no money in our account, Ian.”

  Confusion faded to horror as comprehension dawned on his face. “And then you called me.”

  She nodded.

  “I move money around all the time, Carrie.”

  “Never from our chequing account. Always savings. And you tell me. You might not think I’m listening, but I am. You didn’t tell me about this. And it wasn’t planned, or you would have just used our savings account.”

  He shifted in discomfort, and a heavy ache settled in her chest.

  “What are you hiding from me, Ian?”

  He stepped back, swinging his arms out to his side seemingly without purpose. He turned a half circle, then twisted back toward her and stared. Obvious frustration rolled off him in waves so tangible she would be surprised if she couldn’t reach out and touch it. He held her gaze, his own hard and dark, then dropped to one knee and undid his boot laces. His eye contact didn’t break, even as he switched legs, and then he was up and kicking off his boots as he strode toward the bed.

  She held up her hands to stop him, but he pulled up just short. He held her gaze and began to speak. “I don’t want to tell you right now. I want you to trust me.” His words came out slowly, as if he was choosing them with care. “You are my wife. Whom I fucking adore. And you don’t trust me. So we’ve got a big problem, and we’re going to sort that out first.”

  He leaned into her personal space and bracketed his hands on the bed on either side of her knees. His arms were long, but not long enough that he could do this without being right on top of her. “I promise you, babe, that I will tell you everything. But any secrets I’ve been keeping have been out there, about stuff and things and nonsense. And right now, I’m looking at you, and you’re wound up tighter than a straw bale at dusk, so I gotta think, maybe there are some secrets that you’ve been keeping.”