Читать книгу Come Home to Me - Brenda Novak - Страница 14

6

Riley wasn’t there when Presley returned. Presley considered that a lucky break. Although she’d baked two apple pies, one for each of her helpers as a thank-you, it would be a lot easier to talk to Aaron if they had a few minutes alone.

Now she had that. Because she’d walked Wyatt over to Cheyenne’s before loading the pies in his stroller, she didn’t have the challenge of trying to restrain her son.

This is the perfect opportunity. Aaron’s just a regular man.

Except that wasn’t true. He meant the world to her....

Reminding herself that that was before and not now, she summoned her courage, swung open the door and leaned against it so she could wheel the pies inside. Aaron was wearing headphones, listening to music on his iPod while he painted, but her movements must’ve caught his eye. He turned and pulled the buds from his ears.

“You’re back,” he said as he climbed off the ladder.

Would he be glad to get the pie? It was the one thing she used to make for him. But Ruthie at Just Like Mom’s served good apple pie, too, so he probably hadn’t missed it any more than he’d missed her. “Where’s Riley?”

“He went to take care of something with his kid.”

The smile he flashed her reminded her that they were alone together on a Saturday night for the first time in twenty-six months. It also made her feel like she was clinging to a rock as the ocean tried to drag her out to sea.

Just hang on...

“Sorry I’ve been gone all day.” It was almost eight o’clock. She’d fallen asleep when Wyatt napped and slept for three hours. Then it’d taken longer to make the pies than she’d expected, since she’d had to scrap her first attempt. She rarely ate sugar these days, was rusty in the kitchen. And once she got the pies out of the oven she was further delayed while deciding what to wear. She’d tried on four different outfits and, for the first time since leaving Whiskey Creek, she even vacillated over her selection of panties, eventually settling on the sheer black bra and thong her friend Roger gave her for her last birthday (while he tried to talk her into “living again”).

Wearing lingerie was silly, since no one was going to see it. But what was the point of letting such beauty languish in the back of her drawer? Aaron made her feel sexy and young again—even if she couldn’t act on the desire he aroused.

“No problem. I’ve been busy, anyway.” He gestured at the work he’d done. “What do you think?”

She’d been rehearsing what she planned to say, had been so focused on it that she hadn’t looked at what he’d accomplished in her absence. But now that he’d drawn her attention to the walls, she was so impressed she couldn’t possibly start in on her “I forgive you, you didn’t owe me anything” speech. Not immediately.

“It’s beautiful!” she breathed, and meant it. She’d picked out a buttery yellow, one that reminded her of the sun. She’d wanted her studio to be uplifting and soothing, since both of her businesses dealt with stress relief. But he’d added a new element. The walls were the yellow she’d requested, but he’d painted the trim black—the baseboards, the doorframes and the window casings. It looked so stylish she almost couldn’t believe this was the same drab space she’d rented.

“I knew it would be nice,” he said, standing back to survey the effect.

She left the stroller in the middle of the room and moved closer to the wet paint. “Someone told you it wouldn’t?”

“Harvey down at the hardware store was pushing me to call you. He thought you should go with white trim, until I showed him the picture.”

“What picture?”

“The one I found in a magazine while I was waiting for him to help me.”

“What magazine? Martha Stewart Living?”

“A Ralph Lauren paint brochure.”

She pivoted to face him. “You bought designer paint? But...there’s no way I gave you enough money for that.”

“It came close,” he said with a shrug. “I’m not worried about the difference. I wanted it to make a statement, and it does.”

“I would’ve been happy with something much simpler. You’re already donating the labor. Why go to the added expense?”

He held her gaze. “It’s my way of telling you I’m sorry, Presley.”

So she’d guessed right. Apparently, she knew him as well as she thought she did, and since he’d brought up the subject himself, she no longer had to search for a way to approach it. “I don’t hold you responsible for anything, Aaron. How could I? You never made me any promises.”

“But the last night I saw you...”

“Don’t mention that night.” She shook her head. “I don’t even want to think of it.”

His expression grew even more sympathetic. “It was that bad?”

The days she’d spent with the man who’d provided her with drugs in Arizona were mostly a blur, and she was grateful for that. She could hardly believe she’d been through the degradation she did remember. “It’s over. There’s no reason to dwell on it.”

“I feel like it’s my fault.”

“Because you didn’t love me? You can’t make yourself love someone.”

Lines formed on his forehead. “It’s not as if I didn’t care about you. And your mother had just died....”

“That was my problem, not yours.” But she was lucky she’d survived those first few days after leaving Whiskey Creek, lucky that what she’d done hadn’t damaged Wyatt. Only after she’d decided to keep him had she found the will to fight for a better life, to look after herself for his sake. Without him, she might never have changed.

“Maybe if I’d reacted differently, you wouldn’t have taken off.”

She would’ve had to do something. “You reacted honestly. That’s more important. And you were right. I had no business bothering you in the middle of the night.”

He grimaced. “Except that when your world falls apart, you should be able to wake someone you’ve been...intimate with.”

“No. I understood the rules.”

“The rules?” he repeated.

“How you really felt about me. Moving on had to happen one way or another. How else could our...arrangement have ended?”

“More gently.”

He seemed to feel sincere regret, so she smiled in an effort to ease his conscience. “I’m okay,” she said. “Stronger than ever.”

With a jerk of his head, he indicated all the tools Riley had left behind. “And with prospects.”

“I’ve finally arrived,” she teased.

“So...are you going to date him?”

“I think so.”

“Really.”

“Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”

He raised his hands. “Of course not. Riley’s the best Whiskey Creek has to offer.”

She didn’t join in his sarcasm; she didn’t feel it was fair to Riley, who’d also done a lot to help her today. The reception desk was only partly finished, but she could tell it was going to be far nicer than anything she could’ve built. “Did he say when he’d be back?”

“Tomorrow. He’s bringing Jacob to help him finish up.”

“I’ll have to put his pie in the fridge, then. Or maybe drop it off at his house—if Cheyenne will let me borrow her car.”

“I’d let you take mine, but I don’t really care if he gets a pie.”

“You don’t like Riley? Since when?”

“He’s fine,” he said, but she couldn’t tell if his indifference was real or feigned.

She pulled the stroller closer. “I made you a pie, too. It’s not much but...I wanted to thank you for painting.”

When she tried to hand it to him, he made no move to accept it. He just stared at her as if he was still hoping to tear off the polite mask she was trying so hard to keep in place. “You used to like my apple pie,” she added lamely.

“I liked a lot more about you than your pies, Pres.”

Suddenly, she was no longer grateful they were alone. The same privacy that allowed them to talk without being overheard made other things possible, as well. The spike in her pulse suggested several alternatives—all of them physical—and she knew that would only enslave her again.

“That’s nice of you to say,” she responded.

“Quit being so damned courteous,” he snapped. “I’m not just stroking your ego!”

He was getting irritated, and she understood why. He didn’t see any reason they couldn’t resume the relationship they’d had before. But that was impossible. Even if she didn’t have Wyatt, why would she settle for someone who couldn’t love her?

She’d rather spend the rest of her life alone. “I should explain something.”

He placed both hands on his lean hips—the very picture of a disgruntled male. “What?”

“I know why you befriended me in the first place. I saw it on your face when you came up to me at Sexy Sadie’s. You deserve credit for that.”

“Credit for what?”

“For reaching out to someone who had no one else. My mother had cancer. Cheyenne was wrapped up in her friends. It was...a dark time for me, and I think you could sense that.”

“I didn’t view you as some kind of charity case, if that’s what you mean.”

“I’m not suggesting you weren’t honest in your friendship, just that you can’t help looking out for the underdog. But rescuing people doesn’t give them the right to grab on to you the way I did.” She pursed her lips, remembering. “I can see how it could be overwhelming, but you didn’t complain. You took my affection in stride and did your best to tolerate all the extra attention. So while you seem to believe you failed me, I’m here to tell you that you shouldn’t feel any guilt. No one else even tried to include me.”

“I’ve always hated the way you see yourself,” he said.

“You mean you hate that I can see the truth.” She caught his hand and made him take the pie. “Neither of us has much of an education, Aaron, but we’re not stupid. And I probably know you better than anyone. Who else has been more devoted to you?”

“You don’t seem so devoted anymore.”

If he only knew. She let her gaze linger on his lips. He had the softest lips. “You’ll get over it. By tomorrow.”

When she added that and laughed, his jaw tightened. “There you go again.”

“I’m joking! Take your pie home and enjoy it. And please realize that I’m grateful for the work you did today, even though you didn’t owe it to me to begin with. You’re under no further obligation. You’ve already done everything that could be expected of you.” She stepped away from him. “Go find another bird with a broken wing to patch up.”

“You don’t need me anymore.”

“I don’t need you anymore.” But, God, did she want him.

He didn’t move. “I don’t understand why we can’t be friends.”

“Because, where you’re concerned, there’s no middle ground for me. I can’t be friends with you, not without wanting to rip off your clothes.”

“See? Nothing’s really changed.” His eyes slid over her, making her supremely conscious of her black lace underwear. It wasn’t difficult to figure out why she’d worn them—or why she felt warm when she recognized the heavy-lidded look on his face. She’d seen that look before, knew what it meant.

“Was that so hard to admit?” he asked.

“No, it was entirely too easy. That’s the problem. After spending the night together countless times, we’re so conditioned to being with each other in that way, it’s the first thing we think of when we see each other. But it might be a bit harder to explain to Riley, or anyone else who wants to legitimately date me, why I’m still having sex with you.”

“He’s not your boyfriend.”

“So?”

“So I don’t believe what we do should be anyone’s business but our own.”

Once again Presley could feel the pull of that powerful and tenacious ocean of need. But she couldn’t allow herself to be ripped away from the rock of safety “no” provided. “Just walk away while you can do it with a clear conscience, okay? Now’s your chance,” she said, but she knew he wasn’t going to when he set her pie aside, slipped his arms around her and brought her against him.

She didn’t resist but neither did she respond when he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.

“It’s been a long time,” he whispered.

All the bones in Presley’s body felt as if they’d dissolved on contact. But she refused to lose this battle; she wanted to be tough, defiant, unmoved. “I’m not interested.”

The warmth of his breath fanned her face as his lips moved over hers again. “You’re interested, all right.”

Her body tingled as the memories returned—Aaron naked above her, Aaron suckling her breast, Aaron hooking his arms under her knees as he drove inside her. “How can you tell?” she asked, but she shouldn’t have spoken. The quaver in her voice only confirmed his words.

He buried his nose in her neck and took a deep breath. Then he put his mouth on the tender skin there, but she stopped him before he could leave a mark. “I can taste it on you,” he said. “I can even smell it.”

She swallowed hard. “So? I can tell you want me, too.” The truth was apparent; she could feel his arousal against her abdomen.

“I’m not the one trying to deny it.”

Her mouth watered for a deeper kiss so she could obtain some satisfaction. But he kept his mouth a fraction of an inch away and didn’t move his hands to any of the places that were throbbing in anticipation.

“We had fun,” he said. “There’s no reason it couldn’t be like that again.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “No.”

“Fine.” A second later, he let go of her and recovered his pie.

“You’re just going to walk away?” she asked.

A devilish grin slanted his lips to one side. “You had your chance. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Presley stayed where she was, gripping what had been built of the receptionist’s desk as his steps receded. Not until he was gone did she remember her conversation with Cheyenne. Her sister was going to ask him to donate sperm so she could have a baby. Presley had planned to prepare him, to give him some advance warning so he could think about how he wanted to respond. It wouldn’t be an easy decision. While she wanted her sister to have a baby, she also wanted Aaron to be sure he was willing to play a role.

She’d gotten too distracted to mention it, but she wasn’t about to go after him. Not right now. Although she’d survived their encounter, her confidence was badly shaken. If he hadn’t stopped touching her, if he’d slid his hand up her shirt instead of letting go, would she have been able to deny him?

Chances were, she would’ve dragged him into the back room and showed off her sexy underwear. She knew how much he liked lace panties—and she knew she’d never looked better in them, which certainly wasn’t helping. She felt she finally had the kind of body he could admire, so vanity was working against her, too. That was the downside to the improvements she’d made. While they boosted her self-esteem, they didn’t do a lot for her resistance.

“You have no willpower,” she muttered. “Not when it comes to Aaron.”

She needed to stay away from him in the future—and pray he left for Reno soon.

* * *

Damn it! What the hell was he doing? He’d received Presley’s forgiveness, knew she didn’t hold anything against him. He had her pie in his passenger seat to prove it. So why had he stirred up those dying embers? Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone?

Because he’d missed her. And he still wanted her. Although he’d slept with several women since her, none of them had brought him the same level of fun, comfort or satisfaction.

But why would he do anything to threaten her chance of catching a great guy like Riley—someone who, if he married her, would treat her like a queen?

What she’d said was true. That night when he first approached her at Sexy Sadie’s, he’d simply been trying to include a lonely woman, someone he’d seen around town for several years but who’d never quite fit in. Thanks to her mother, she was so battle-scarred that she made most people uncomfortable. But he could relate to someone who elicited distrust and hesitation. He had his own detractors, and there’d been a time when his circumstances weren’t a whole lot better.

She didn’t need him anymore, though; she’d said as much. He should be glad she was doing so well on her own. Instead, he was screwing with her head because she was screwing with his and she wasn’t even trying. She was giving him what he’d always assumed he wanted—for her to be happy and strong and less needy, less clingy. There’d been times when he’d thought he’d suffocate beneath her adoration. So why did he suddenly feel bereft now that she’d decided she was done with him?

She’d gone too far. Did she have to cut him off completely? He could understand if she had someone else in her life, but she didn’t.

“It’s confusing,” he told himself. Somehow it had been easier to move on when she wasn’t around, easier to make himself believe he wasn’t missing out on anything. Seeing her again, especially seeing her looking so healthy, reminded him of the details that made her unique, all the little things he’d pushed into the back of his mind. Her laugh. Her quirky sense of humor. The way she could roll with the ups and downs of life without growing bitter. Even some of her insecurities were endearing because she was so damn honest about them. He’d spent more time with her than any other woman....

He turned up the radio, hoping the pounding of his subwoofer would soothe his restlessness, or at least distract him. He didn’t like the way he was feeling. He wasn’t accustomed to jealousy, but he was pretty sure that was the emotion picturing her with Riley evoked.

Are you going to date him?

I think so.

Why wouldn’t she? Riley was universally admired. After college, he’d started his own contracting business, which was successful, of course. He’d never been picked up by the police, never gotten into a fight, never been thrown out of a bar. He’d messed up by getting a girl pregnant back in high school—not the best girl to put in such a vulnerable position, as it turned out—but he’d redeemed himself by raising the child and proving to be a devoted father.

“Forget Presley,” Aaron grumbled. “You won’t be living here much longer, anyway.”

But it was impossible to forget her when he could smell the pie she’d baked. So instead of going home, he drove to Jackson and went to a drive-through to get a plastic fork. Then he pulled over and dug into the pie. He was determined to eat as much of it as he wanted before his brothers got hold of it. After all, he was the one who’d spent his entire day painting, and he’d done a damn fine job, too. He deserved some of the most delicious pie he’d ever tasted, since he wasn’t going to get what he really wanted from Presley....

He was jamming another bite into his mouth when his cell phone vibrated against his leg. He thought it might be one of his brothers, or maybe one of his friends wanting to head out for a drink. It was Saturday night, after all. He wasn’t in the mood for the usual weekend revelry, but what good was it going to do him to sit around by himself?

Straightening his leg so he could get his phone out of his pocket, he checked caller ID. The number wasn’t in his contacts.

“’Lo?”

“Aaron?”

Noelle. Recognizing her voice, he turned down the radio. Music blared in the background as it was. Where was she? Sexy Sadie’s? “Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

He swallowed what he had in his mouth. “Eating.”

“You could do that here with me. I’ve got a plate of wings, and a seat with your name on it.”

He didn’t ask where “here” was. “How’d you get my number?” Sometimes they hooked up if they bumped into each other, but those occasions were few and far between, and he’d been careful not to let the relationship become more than that.

“Your brothers are at the club having a drink.”

Damn it! They knew better than to give out his number. He guessed whichever brother she’d gotten it from was drunk—or wanted her to leave him the hell alone.

“You should come join us,” she said.

He tapped his leg. “I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re not in the mood to see me?”

If only he could go back and talk to Presley, convince her to let him touch her again. That was what had him so worked up—what he really wanted. But he refused to be the kind of jerk who’d push for that if she didn’t want it, too. “I’m busy.”

“Eating?”

He didn’t answer.

“I have some more modeling pics to show you,” Noelle added with a suggestive giggle.

He hadn’t been particularly impressed with the last set. She was getting too carried away with surgeries and Botox and liposuction. Although she put every dime she made into improving her appearance—and charged the rest—in his opinion she’d actually looked prettier before. That was partly what he liked about Presley. She was so natural. She looked as good without makeup as she did with it. “Not tonight. I’m tired.”

“Come on! You can’t be that tired. I’ll make it worth your while....”

She wanted a man in her bed. And because he’d been crazy or drunk or stupid enough to accommodate her a few times, she was coming back for more.

Setting the pie aside, he leaned back. “You said my brothers are there?”

“All of them except you—and the one who doesn’t like me.”

She meant Dylan. But there weren’t many people who did like her, including her own family. Getting pregnant by her sister’s boyfriend, and using that pregnancy to wrangle a wedding proposal, had sealed her fate. Aaron prided himself on being more forgiving than most. He kept telling himself that whatever she’d done in the past was her business. But he had yet to find anything redeeming about her. “Dylan’s taken, anyway. Maybe Grady would like to see your pictures.”

“You don’t care if I show them to him?”

Her affronted tone made him nervous. The first time she asked to come home with him, he’d warned her that he wasn’t interested in a relationship. He’d reminded her since. The fact that he wouldn’t give her his cell phone number should’ve made that abundantly clear. But Noelle couldn’t stop herself from pushing too hard for whatever she wanted. “Noelle, we’ve been over this.”

“Never mind,” she snapped, and ended the call.

With a sigh, Aaron put his phone on the console, closed the plastic container that held Presley’s pie and started his truck. At this point, he knew for sure that he didn’t want to go to Sexy Sadie’s.

When his phone buzzed, indicating an incoming text, he almost ignored it. He suspected it was Noelle sending him the equivalent of a rude hand gesture. But he couldn’t keep himself from glancing at the screen.

Noelle hadn’t texted him; Cheyenne had.

Putting the transmission back in park, he picked up his phone.

Is there any chance you could get away sometime tomorrow to meet me in Sutter Creek? I need to talk to you in private. Please don’t mention this to Dylan or anyone else.

His sister-in-law was probably trying to act as mediator. Even after two years of dealing with him and Dylan, she didn’t realize that their arguments never lasted long. He’d see Dylan at the shop on Monday, and they’d go on as if nothing had happened. But Cheyenne loved her husband so much, she had to try and make them talk it out every time they had a disagreement.

You don’t need to get involved, he wrote back. Dyl and I are fine.

This isn’t about Friday.

Then what’s it about?

I have a favor to ask.

Of me?

What could that be? Dylan provided everything she could possibly want. Dylan would walk through fire for her.

I’d rather not put it in writing.

I won’t apologize to Dylan. I didn’t do anything.

I’m not asking you to apologize.

Then what on earth could it be?

Can you come see me now?

No. Dylan’s home. I can’t get away until tomorrow afternoon. I’ll tell him I have to help Presley and meet you at JB’s Steakhouse in Sutter Creek, if you’re willing.

This was turning into quite a mystery. His sister-in-law had never approached him in such a clandestine manner.

Another thought occurred to him.

Does this have anything to do with Presley?

Absolutely nothing.

I won’t talk to you about her.

He was adamant that she and Dylan mind their own business.

I promise.

Why are you being so secretive?

You’ll understand once I’ve had the chance to explain. I’m nervous about this. I’m only doing it because I trust you. Next to Dylan and Presley, I trust you most in the world.

Now she was making him nervous. What could it be?

He came up with a few alternatives, but didn’t like any of them. Especially the ones that had to do with catastrophic illnesses. Did she have cancer?

Maybe she’d received bad news from her doctor and couldn’t tell Dylan....

What time? he texted.

Dylan’s planning to work on the deck he’s building in back. He should be well into it by three. Will that work?

That’s fine. Meet you at JB’s.

I’ll text you if anything changes.

Sounds good.

Thanks, Aaron. I really appreciate it.

He had to try to clarify one last time.

And this has nothing to do with Presley? You’re not going to warn me off?

Didn’t Dylan already do that?

He tried.

This has nothing to do with her. But let me point out that you don’t really want Pres, or we wouldn’t say a word.

He sat staring at her last line for probably fifteen minutes. How did she know that when even he wasn’t sure?