Sliver of Truth (Shattered Hearts of Carolina Book 3) by JODY KAYE

Author:JODY KAYE [Kaye, Jody]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-21T18:30:00+00:00

We’re still standing in the kitchen and Dusty’s about to plate the bacon.

“This smells delicious,” I say. “Why hasn’t anyone snapped you up yet? Women love men who can cook.”

He doesn’t mean to come off as snarky, but the jovial sarcasm is blatant as it can be. “Most women aren’t interested in my kind of baggage. I’m a single dad. Living in my not-quite mother-in-law’s spare room. Top it off by waiting to get custody of my daughter? Not the hottest commodity, Cees.”

We both look to where I’m holding onto his bicep. My fingers don’t match half the circumference. Glancing up, our eyes meet and Dusty sighs. For a split second, I see the way he views himself through the lens of others. He’s an enormous presence. Reserved, like holding back a bear. The accident didn’t take his mental acuity, but his delayed speech makes it seem so.

Without understanding how much heart lies beneath his wall of chest, it is a lot for any woman to digest. It was a lot for me. I allowed myself to only see what was on the surface because the shallowness was a layer of protection. Now that we’re getting to know one another, I’m glad Dusty’s given me a glimpse into his soul.

I pick up a slice of bacon, breaking it in half and feeding him a piece. “You’re wrong. You are a very hot commodity.” The tip of my finger disappears between his lips. Dusty holds my hand up. After he’s done chewing, he licks away the salt.

“Eat up, Cees. I’ve got plans for you after this.”

My eyes drift to the bedroom, remembering the way his body cocooned around mine last night. I am surprised at how comfortable it was sharing a bed when I’m used to sleeping alone. We were up late and a mid-morning nap after nookie sounds pleasurable.

However, Dusty’s plans aren’t quite as provocative as his words lead me to believe. We’ve hardly placed the dishes in the sink when he’s bundling me up with extra socks, wrapping a scarf around my neck, and pulling a pink and purple striped stocking cap over my ears.

“Is this Sylvie’s?” I touch the intricate crown embroidery.

He smirks, tying his boots, and grabs what looks like four tennis rackets from the closet, putting two under each armpit.

“Take these,” he instructs me, relinquishing the skinny trekking poles. “Not going far, but you may need them.”

“Me?”

“Novice. Hence, why we’re staying in the woods around the per-rimiter. Don’t need as much gear and less likely to get lost. Outside.” He points to the door when the velcro on my gloves is secure.

There’s a rustic country feel to being out in the middle of nowhere. The darkness last night hadn’t given me a good glimpse of Dusty’s property. Returning from the store this morning, the house sitting dwarfed in the center of a wide field surprised me. This mountain home isn’t a cabin, and it’s definitely not one of the cookie-cutter gabled suburban boxes found in Kimber and Trig’s neighborhood.

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