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He kneels beside Cash on the floor and rubs his back. “There ya go, bud. Get it all out.”

“He barfed all over Ridge,” Grady whispers in my ear.

“Too much ice cream?”

Grady shakes his head. “He didn’t eat ice cream. I did. He said his stomach hurt.”

My eyes drift back to Ridge and Cash still on the floor. Ridge has his arm wrapped around his body, gently talking to him. When Cash is done, he flops onto the wood floor, sprawled out like a homicide victim.

He’s always been a tad dramatic.

Ridge looks to me, scrunching his nose. “We need to get him in the shower.”

With my help, we get Cash in the shower. Ridge bleaches the floor, the bucket, himself, everything he thinks Cash touched. I’m beginning to think he’s a germophobe.

“How long has he been like this?” I ask Ridge when we’re in the laundry room with the towel. I’m stuffing them in the washing machine while Ridge’s measuring out the soap in the cap from the container.

He eyes the cup, then hands it to me. “Started about an hour ago. He didn’t have any ice cream, and I didn’t think anything of it. Earlier in the night, he was in the backyard trying to catch a raccoon by the tail.” His eyes widen. “Those things have rabies, don’t they? What if he has rabies?”

I laugh, closing the lid to the washing machine. “He doesn’t have rabies. Probably just the stomach flu.” With my back to the machine, I begin to get nervous. “Why didn’t you call me earlier?”

“Didn’t want to bother you.” His chest expanding, and then he steps toward me. It’s impossible to look at him and not remember everything we’ve been through—the sex, the hazy lines we have drawn in what this is. “How’d it go?”

“He accused me of not communicating with him.”

He snorts, dropping his head forward, a slow, subtle shake to it. “Figures.”

His eyes drift back to my body, and he watches me carefully, my confusion written plainly across my face.

He has me trapped in the laundry room, his movements sure and steady. My heart thuds, hard beats felt in my ears. I shift under his gaze and look to the door, the hall, the temptation to take him to my room, consider the risk of having the boys walk in.

He pauses in front of me and dips his face, tilting his mouth to my temple. His lips are feather soft as they brush lightly against my skin. He doesn’t touch me anywhere else, his breathing steady and controlled, unlike mine. I’m a mess.

Parting his lips, I gasp, preparing for him to brand my skin with words I so desperately want to hear.

I swallow against the lump in my throat in anticipation. Now what are you going to do?

“Have you thought about the other night?” he asks, the question hitting my belly with the lowness of his tone.

Have I? You bet your ass I have. Memories explode like fireworks behind my lids. “I can’t stop.”

“I remember that night, in the car, as you lay breathless beneath me, such a breathtaking sight....” He takes a deep breath.

I press my lips together, trying to control the sounds wanting to escape my mouth, which, by the way, are moans. Pleading moans.

His hand finds mine, fingers just barely brushing at my side. He turns his face further into mine, the pressure of his mouth a little more than a whisper as he brushes his lips over my skin.

“You’re driving me crazy,” I rasp, voice cracking as the machine switches cycles.

His hands grip my hips, finally touching me somewhere other than my face. He swallows. “Now you know what it feels like every time I’m around you,” he says in return.

“Do I scare you?” I ask him.

“Everything about you,” he answers, watching me intently.

He keeps his eyes on mine when I confess, “I’m scared, Ridge. I’m not afraid to admit that. I’m scared that you’re going to leave and I won’t feel this any longer. And worse, they won’t have you.”

“Just say the word,” he breathes, his warm breath blowing over me. “Say the word and I’m yours,” he mumbles against my mouth. “Whatever you want.”

I want to believe Ridge, but the cynical side of me, the side burned by men, is preparing myself that my heart is about to be broken. . . again.

Time and the reality of this situation are not on my side. Surviving is the best I can hope for.

My eyelids sink shut. “Ridge, please. . . .”

And then we hear a splat and crying. “Mom! Cash puked on the floor again.” I drop my head to Ridge’s shoulder. “Shit.”

He laughs, pulling back. “I got it. You go relax.” And then he takes off down the hall to take care of Cash.

I breathe out slowly, trying to compose myself. I think I fell in love.