Almost a Bravo

by Christine Rimmer

  They agreed on a solo show of the collection at the gallery.

  “We’ll open your show the last Friday of January and carry it through the month of February,” declared Keely. “It’s perfect. Patterns of the Heart for Valentine’s Day.” Aislinn said how thrilled she was, but Keely wasn’t buying. “Something’s wrong. What?”

  Aislinn reassured her friend that she was fine, there was nothing wrong. She could see in Keely’s eyes that her friend didn’t really believe her, but Keely didn’t push.

  * * *

  “What’s going on with you?” Jax asked that night after dinner, when it was just the two of them alone in the family room. He grabbed the remote and turned off the thriller they’d been watching. “You’re staring at the screen, but you’re not watching the movie.”

  She blinked and looked directly at him. “I think it’s Burt who’s been feeding my rabbits.”

  “And what? You want me to tell him to stop that?”

  “No.”

  He dropped the remote. It clattered as it hit the coffee table.

  “You’ll break that one of these days,” she warned.

  “Forget the remote. What’s eating at you?”

  “All of it.” She leaned back against the couch cushions and stared straight ahead.

  “Could you maybe be a little more specific?”

  She rolled her head his way and met his eyes. Such beautiful eyes. He really was a terrific man.

  And she needed to get honest with him—as well as with herself.

  With a slow, deep breath, she sat up straight again.

  Jax looked bewildered. “All of what?”

  “I’ve been thinking lately that the only time I feel real is when you’re with me, touching me, kissing me...”

  His eyes changed. They went liquid and lazy. “You’ve got no idea how happy you make me. Come here.” He reached for her.

  “Wait.” She put her hand on his chest to stop him, to keep him from wrapping those muscular arms around her, soothing her anger and growing discontent, making her feel real—for a while, anyway. His heart beat, strong and steady and a little faster than usual, against her palm. Patterns of the Heart. “And my work,” she added. “When you’re making love to me and when I’m working. Those are the times I feel real.”

  He put his hand over her hand and curled his hot, rough fingers around it. “So then, how ’bout I get busy making you feel real?”

  With a low groan of frustration, she yanked free of his grip. “Please don’t make light of this. It’s not a light thing.”

  His face fell. He was trying so hard and she should be more appreciative of him. “But what is it, exactly? Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I am. It’s what I just said. When I’m not working or touching you, I feel like there’s been a zombie apocalypse.”

  “Whoa. You’re saying that you’re afraid, somehow?”

  “No. I don’t have to be afraid because I’m already one of the walking dead.”

  His eyes burned into hers. “A feeling of numbness, you mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Because of the whole mess with Martin?”

  “Pretty much. The good thing is that learning I’m not who I thought I was has shocked me into finding a real focus in my work. And I’m glad for that. It was time I found that. I can trust in that. But you and me...”

  She had to give him credit. He waited for her to finish. But after several seconds dragged by without another word from her, he grew impatient. “Just say it. You and me, what?”

  “I’m in love with you, Jaxon.”

  His whole face lit up. “You are?”

  “Oh, Jax. Don’t you get it? It’s all wrong, you and me.”

  “No, it’s not. Aislinn, I love you, too.”

  She scooted away from him. “I knew you would say that.”

  “Because it’s true, damn it.”

  “Jax, I can’t...trust you. I don’t trust you.”

  She had never seen him look so shocked. “Why the hell not?” he demanded in a near-whisper.

  “You know why.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Because when you’re loving me, it’s all real and immediate and beautiful and true. But then, I wake up in the middle of the night, and I have to get away, run back to my room, lock the door between us. Because I love you, and to you I’m just a placeholder. I’m not anyone all that special to you.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is. You didn’t even remember who I was that first day at Kircher and Anders.”

  “We’ve been through that already. You said you understood. Why are you dragging it all up all over again?”

  “Because I need to be realistic. I need to remember that I’m only a good fit for you, a convenient wife for the life that you love. I’m the wife who knows horses and likes living in the country. I could be any reasonably attractive woman as long as I checked all the boxes.”

  He shot to his feet and towered over her, scowling. “You’re really pissing me off about now. You know that, right?”

  “I know I’m telling the truth. You getting mad at me for being honest isn’t going to make what I said any less true.”

  “Aislinn!” he practically shouted. With what appeared to be considerable effort, he moderated his tone. “I just said I love you and you told me I don’t. You said that you’re nothing more than a placeholder to me. Of course I’m angry. I love you and I kind of want to pick up that damn remote you’re so worried I’m going to break. I want to pick it up and throw it at the far wall.”

  “Please don’t.”

  He continued to glower down at her. She glowered right back. The stare-down went on for what seemed like a year and a half. Finally, he said, so quietly and evenly, “I’ve had enough of this for tonight. I’m going upstairs.”

  She answered in kind. Quietly. Without inflection. “All right, then. Good night.”

  Chapter Ten

  “What’s going on between you and the princess?” Burt was brushing down the filly he’d just been putting through her paces.

  Jax picked a burr out of his mount’s hoof. “No idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

  The filly had attitude. She snorted and nipped at Burt. Just with her lips, but still. Burt gave her a light whack on the rump. “Behave yourself, Aphrodite.” The filly gave another snort. “Okay, then, get on with you.” He slapped her rump again and she took off through the open gate.

  Jax sent his mount after her and then closed the gate. “I should get in some work with Popcorn in the round pen.”

  “The yearling can wait.” Burt hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and glared from under the shadow of his ancient straw hat. “Let’s get a water.” They kept bottled water in a cooler in the tack room.

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Burt.”

  “Did I ask you what you wanted?”

  Times like now, Jax felt like a green boy again. And an angry one at that. “Aislinn and I are having issues, is all. It’ll be fine.” It had been six days since they both said I love you, after which she’d informed him that he didn’t love her. Like he didn’t know his own damn heart—or worse, like he was some lying dog, the kind who would tell a woman he loved her just to keep her in line, the kind who wanted a woman because she was convenient.

  Six days of mutual avoidance, of speaking to each other only when absolutely necessary, and even then taking care to use as few words as possible.

  He missed her and it hurt like hell. Missed her in his bed, yeah. But in all the other ways, too. Her soft body pressing against him as they watched a movie in the great room. The two of them on the side porch entertaining the rabbits and talking about anything that came to mind. The sound of her laughter filling all the empty spaces, lighting up the darkest places...

&nbs
p; Crap. Was that a rhyme he just made?

  A man knew he was in trouble when he started making bad rhymes about his woman.

  “Get in here,” ordered Burt, striding through the open doors into the stable, Ace at his heels.

  Jax was just miserable enough to follow the old horse wrangler back into the tack room. He took a water from the cooler and hitched a leg up on an empty saddle stand.

  Burt grabbed a water, too, and sat backward on an old straight chair. “Okay, what’s going on?”

  “I do not believe I’m talking to you about this.”

  “Well, you are. Talk.”

  “Fine. She thinks I’m just with her because she’s convenient.”

  Burt gave a snort of laughter. “And you tried to explain that you’re with her ’cause you have to be or lose Wild River? Bet that went over big.”

  “Burt. Your rotten attitude is not helping. Yeah, at first it was all because of Martin’s will. But even with that, I always liked her—and she knew exactly what the deal was. Now, though, it’s more. So much more. She’s everything to me now. But she didn’t believe me when I told her so.”

  Burt was silent. He sipped his water and petted his dog. Jax got to thinking the old troublemaker would keep his mouth shut. And really, that didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

  But then Burt spoke. “Don’t you tell her I said so. I got my reputation as a horse’s ass to uphold. But over the last couple of months I’ve been forced to face the hard fact that I have judged her wrongly. She’s a good woman, a keeper. She’s got heart, she’s smart and she pitches in. I can see why you don’t want to lose her. This thing with Martin, though, I think it’s messed with her mind.”

  “I think you’re right about that.”

  “You gotta tread that fine line between being there for her and giving her the room she needs to find her feet again after Martin knocked the stuffing out of her.”

  “How do I do that?”

  Burt snorted. “That’s the billion-dollar question, all right. It’s also way above my pay grade, son.”

  * * *

  That night, Jax helped clear the table. It didn’t take long. Erma left for her rooms.

  Before Aislinn could run off, he stepped close to her at the sink and said, “Please. I want to talk to you.”

  She flipped on the faucet and rinsed the sponge she’d been using to wipe down the counters. “I have to take care of Bunbun and Luna.”

  He was ready for that one. “Let Burt do it.” She turned off the water and wrung out the sponge—but not before slanting him a skeptical glance. He shrugged. “Burt has come to the logical conclusion that you’re a good woman. You’ve got heart, you’re smart and you pitch in. His words.”

  She turned toward him, but avoided his eyes. “Wow. I never saw that coming.”

  “Well, don’t tell him I told you. He doesn’t want you to get the idea that he’s a good guy or anything.”

  “Okay, now. That sounds more like him.”

  “He likes you and your rabbits. And you were right. He’s the one who’s been keeping an eye on them.”

  “Burt likes my rabbits. Amazing.”

  He wanted to slide an arm around her, pull her close, tip up her chin and take her mouth. But he knew it wasn’t kisses she needed right now. He said, “I asked him specifically to check their feed and water, to freshen their hay and spend some time with them tonight so I could talk to you. He’s out on the side porch right now.”

  She still held the sponge. Turning back toward the sink, she flipped open the little door above the lower cabinet and slipped the sponge into the holder there. She shut the door with a snap.

  He gently clasped her arm. “Aislinn.” She still wouldn’t look at him as he guided her around to face him again. “I’m sorry. I know none of this is easy for you, that what Martin did was really bad and completely wrong on so many levels. He committed an unforgivable crime on the day you were born. Then he compounded his wrong against you by putting you on the spot in his will. I had years with him, good years. I loved him and was grateful to him for becoming a father to me. All you know of him are the bad things. He’s messed with your life and left you to try to make sense of it, to pick up the pieces and put it all back together again.”

  She still wouldn’t look at him.

  He stared down at her bent head, sure he was getting nowhere with all this talking. Actions counted more than words. But sometimes, a man did need to put a little effort into explaining himself. “Yes, you’re right in what you said about the way we fit together. I see the way we fit as a good thing, though. I love that you know horses, that life here on Wild River suits you same as it suits me. For me, that you can live here and be happy here in no way makes you a placeholder. You are not replaceable. You are all the things Burt says you are and more. You are brave and strong and good and kind. And so damn beautiful. You are everything to me.” A small, tight sound escaped her. He waited, for her to look up at him, for what she might say.

  When she remained silent, her dark head tipped down, he didn’t know what else to do but keep talking, keep trying to get through to her. “What you said, about not being certain of what’s real anymore. I can see that, how you might feel that. But I do love you. I’m in love with you. It’s real. And it’s deep. It hurt me when you belittled what’s in my heart for you. I acted like a jerk—and I’ll say it again. I am truly sorry and I hope that you—”

  “Jax.” Her head came up at last. The shattered look on her face and the gleaming tear tracks on her cheeks hollowed him out like a punch to the gut.

  “Aislinn. Please.” He dared to lift a hand, to cradle her beautiful face, to rub at the wetness with his thumb, willing it gone. “Don’t cry. I know I’m making a hash of this and I—”

  “Jax,” she whispered his name again. “You’re not making a hash of anything.”

  “But I—”

  “No.” She pressed two soft fingers to his lips. “What you said was perfect. Don’t you dare take a single word back.”

  That left him speechless.

  Which worked out fine because she threw her arms around his neck and lifted her mouth to him. “Kiss me.”

  At last. It felt like a lifetime since he’d held her in his arms.

  He claimed her lips. She tasted so good, of the salt from her tears and such sweetness, too, as she opened for him, letting him in. Her scent of spice and honey swam around him.

  His confidence soared. They would make it, he felt sure of it. When the three months were up, she would still be his.

  He nipped at her lip, trailing a hungry line of biting kisses down over her jaw and along the side of her neck. She shoved her fingers up into his hair, moaning as she arched high against him.

  “Upstairs.” He nuzzled the collar of her shirt aside and kissed the smooth slope of her shoulder.

  “I love you, Jax. I do.”

  “And I love you. And now that’s settled—”

  She laughed and took his hand. “Upstairs. Yes. Great idea.”

  * * *

  Right then, in that moment at least, Aislinn felt that all was right with the world. She loved Jax and she believed at last that he really did love her.

  They pulled off their clothes as they raced up the stairs to his room, dropping them to the floor as soon as they cleared the threshold.

  She let out a squeal of surprised delight as he grabbed her up, slung her over his shoulder and carried her to the bed. Tossing her onto the mattress, he followed her down.

  Swiftly, they tore off the few items of clothing they still wore.

  And then he was kissing her and she was holding him and every last doubt and fear, every worry, every hurt—it all spun away into nothing.

  There was only the two of them, Aislinn and Jax, together the way they were meant to be. And when he settled against her, when he
moved inside her, she knew that she’d found all she’d ever wanted in his strong arms. She was sure they would make it, together, that everything would work out right.

  * * *

  Hours later, she woke with Jax wrapped around her.

  The panic didn’t come. She lay there in the darkness listening to his even breathing, grateful for his warmth, for the possessive way he held her even in sleep. He made her feel that she was his in the truest way. She wanted to stay.

  But her mind grew uneasy.

  Carefully, she slipped out from under the shelter of his arm, hardly stirring the covers, making no sound as she ducked over the edge of the mattress and slid to the floor. On swift, silent feet, she crossed the shadowed room and went through the open door, shutting and locking it between them as she’d done every night she’d spent with him.

  Her empty bed was waiting. With a sigh of regret for running away again, she eased under the covers and closed her eyes.

  Sleep was coming for her, settling over her.

  But she woke at the sound of a muffled tap on the door—not the one she’d just come through. The one to the hall. “Aislinn?”

  It was Jax. Out in the hall.

  She sat up and turned on the bedside light. Holding the covers to her breasts, she called, “It’s open.”

  The door swung wide. He stood in the hallway, naked. The light from her lamp revealed him, tall and broad, with that thick chest tapering down to narrow hips and heavily muscled thighs dusted with dark, wiry hair.

  It touched a warm chord in her, to see him standing there, to know he’d chosen the outside door instead of the inner one between their rooms. That choice seemed to say he wasn’t assuming anything.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Um. Sure.”

  He came toward her, his eyes shadowed and sleepy, his hair sticking out every which way. The most beautiful man. Her love. He stopped at her bedside. “Are you all right?”

  “I...couldn’t stay.”

  “But you’re all right?”

  “Yeah. I’m okay.”

  He studied her face, seeking answers she didn’t have. “Good enough, then.” He turned to go.