by Naima Simone
“Love?” Ezekiel laughed, and the serrated edge of it scraped his throat. “You say that when we have so many examples around us of people who have been gutted by love. Like when you love someone, they don’t leave,” he snarled.
He snapped his lips shut, hating that he’d let that last part escape. But now that it had, he couldn’t stop the images of those he’d lost and the people they’d left behind from careening through his head.
Uncle Trent. His parents. Melissa.
“Besides,” he ground out, “my reasons for divorcing Reagan stand. I’m doing her more harm than good remaining married to her. This way she won’t be ostracized by polite Royal society or separated from her family. She’ll have the chance to obtain her inheritance.”
“Bullshit.”
Ezekiel glared at his brother, who aimed one right back at him.
“I call bullshit,” Luke repeated through clenched teeth. “You’re running scared. Like you have for the last eight years. You speak of Melissa and Mom and Dad like they were cautionary tales. Mom and Dad’s marriage is a goal, not a warning. Their love was the epitome of courage, of sacrifice and love. And you shit all over that when you use them to justify your fears. Zeke.” Luke clapped a hand over Ezekiel’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re about to throw your future away over something that you have no control over. You’re so worried about what could possibly happen. Yes, God forbid, Reagan could possibly die in a tragic accident like Melissa and Mom and Dad. But you could also possibly have a wife and family and be complete in a way you’ve never known or could dream of. She’s worth the risk. You’re worth the risk.”
Ezekiel stared at his brother, but it was Reagan’s words echoing in his ears.
You don’t get to use me as an excuse for running scared and not owning your own shit.
I threaten that pain and guilt that you’ve become so comfortable carrying around it’s now a part of you. Because to admit that I’m more than a charity case to you means you would have to deal with the reality that you stand in your own way of finding acceptance and love.
Jesus. Ezekiel closed his eyes, and Luke gripped his other shoulder, holding him steady.
He loved her.
He loved Reagan Sinclair Holloway with his heart. His whole being.
Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be so damn terrified of being with her. She was right. She threatened his resolve, his beliefs about himself, his determination to forbid anyone from getting too close. From loving too hard.
Yes, he’d failed.
But not by marrying Reagan.
He’d failed in keeping her out of his carefully guarded heart.
At some point, she’d infiltrated his soul so completely that she owned it. He couldn’t evict her. And...he didn’t want to.
Did he suddenly believe he was worthy of her? No, but her strength, her warrior spirit made him want to strive to be worthy.
Was he suddenly not afraid? No. He’d believed a man should be brave enough to love her without fear, and that man wasn’t him. But he’d been wrong. A man should just be brave enough to love. The fear of losing her might not ever go away, but he couldn’t let it rule his life.
That man, he could be.
Starting now.
“You’re going after her, aren’t you?” Luke asked, a smile spreading across his face.
“Yes,” Ezekiel said, as a weight he hadn’t even been aware of bearing lifted from his chest. “And if she’ll have me, I’m bringing her home.”
Eighteen
Reagan stood in the back of the long line that bellied up to the funky but trendy food truck Street Eats. Of all the trucks hawking their fare, this one had a constant stream of people, ready and eager to grab the upscale street food. The sign next to the menu proudly declared the owner Lauren Roberts’s focus on organic and farm-to-table produce.
Lauren herself helped serve the food, and even through the serving window, Reagan could easily see the businesswoman’s loveliness. The Cinderella Sweepstakes included a makeover for the charity ball along with the free ticket, but she didn’t need one. Smooth, glowing skin, pretty brown eyes, dark hair that was pulled back into a ponytail at the moment, and curves that Reagan envied completed the picture of a beautiful, confident and successful woman.
Reagan waited until the line had dwindled to a couple of people before joining it. Once she reached the window, Lauren smiled at her.
“Hey there. How can I help you?”
Reagan returned the smile. “Actually, I was wondering if I could have a couple of minutes, Lauren? My name is Reagan Sinclair,” she introduced herself. “I’m on the planning committee for this year’s Texas Cattleman’s Club masquerade ball. And it’s my pleasure to tell you that you’re the winner of the Cinderella Sweepstakes radio contest.”
Surprise widened Lauren’s eyes. “You’re kidding?”
“No, all true. You’ve won a ticket and a free makeover,” Reagan assured her.
“Hold on a second. I’ll be right out.”
True to her word, Lauren emerged from around the truck moments later holding two cups.
“Sweet tea on the house,” she said, offering Reagan one of the drinks. Sipping from her own tea, Lauren shook her head. “I still can’t believe I won! Can I be honest?”
“Of course.” Reagan tasted her beverage and savored the cool, refreshing tea with a hint of mint. Good Lord, it was delicious. “Wow, this is good.”
“Thanks.” Lauren grinned. But the wattage of it dimmed a little as she led Reagan to a nearby bench. Sitting, she curled a leg under the other and twisted to face Reagan. “I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but I didn’t even enter. A friend did it for me.” She huffed out a chuckle. “Still, I’m excited to win. I never expected to. And I can’t really pass up this opportunity to network with potential customers and investors. And shoot.” She held up her hands, that grin tugging at the corner of her mouth again. “What woman doesn’t enjoy a makeover?”
“A free one at that,” Reagan teased. “Not that I think you need one. You’re lovely just as you are.”
“That’s nice of you to say, but no.” Lauren nodded, her eyes gleaming. “I’m looking forward to some changes.”
“Well, then I’m glad I’m the one who could bring you the good news. And I’m looking forward to seeing you at the ball.”
“Thanks, Ms. Sinclair,” Lauren said, rising from the bench.
“Reagan.” She stood as well, smiling. “Please call me Reagan. And thank you again for the tea.”
“You’re more than welcome.” Lauren glanced over at the food truck where the line of customers had lengthened again. “I should get back. Thanks again, Reagan.” Waving, she retreated back to her truck.
Reagan paused to finish her beverage, then headed toward her car across the street. A sense of accomplishment filled her. It was always awesome when good things happened to good people. And though she’d just met the other woman, Lauren seemed honest, hardworking and nice. Reagan looked forward to seeing her at the ball—
She stumbled to a halt. Shock swelled and crashed over her, momentarily numbing her.
Too bad she couldn’t stay that way.
Already, the hurt and anger started to zigzag across that sheet of ice, the fissures growing and cracking. All at the sight of Ezekiel leaning against her car.
God, it wasn’t fair. Not at all.
After the way he’d basically cast her aside, the only emotions bubbling inside her should be fury and disdain. She might have walked away, but he’d let her. Without the slightest fight. That, more than anything, relayed how he felt about her.
Yet beneath the fury, there was also gut-churning pain and grief, for how not just their marriage but their friendship had ended.
And the ever-present need... Just one look at his tall, powerful body wrapped in one of his perfectly
tailored suits—this one dark blue—and that handsome, strong face with those smoldering green eyes... Just one look, and she couldn’t stem the desire or the memories that bombarded her, both decadent and cruel.
Slowly, he straightened, and she forced her feet to move and carry her across the street. Over the short distance, the anger capsized all the other emotions roiling inside her like a late-summer Texas storm. If he’d come to see if she was all right after he’d broken her heart, he could go straight to hell. She didn’t need his pity. And she refused to be a balm that he could smooth over his self-imposed guilt.
No, thank you.
She’d wanted to be his wife, not an act of reparation.
“What are you doing here, Zeke?” she asked, voice purposefully bland, even though it belied the knots twisting in her belly or the constriction of her heart.
“Looking for you,” he said simply, his gaze roaming over her face. Almost as if he were soaking in every detail.
Mentally, she slapped down that line of thinking. It could only lead to the seed of hope she’d desperately tried to dig up sprouting roots.
“After handing my ass to me in a sling, Harley told me where you were.”
Okay, so Reagan and Harley needed to have a serious come to Jesus talk about consorting with the enemy. Or since the enemy was Harley’s cousin, at least giving the enemy classified information.
“Well, you’ve seen me.” Reagan sidestepped him and reached for the door handle. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a meeting.” Not a lie, she had an appointment with a realtor to find land for the girls’ home she planned on building.
“Reagan,” Zeke murmured, lifting a hand toward her. But when she arched a brow, daring him to complete the action, he lowered it and slid it into his pocket.
Self-preservation demanded he not touch her in any way. Her mind asserted she could withstand the contact, but her heart and her body? No, they were decidedly weaker when it came to feeling those magnificent hands on her.
“Reagan,” he said again. “I know I don’t have the right to ask you for it, but can I have just a couple of minutes? I want—”
“Let me guess. You want to apologize. You never meant to hurt me. And you would like to find a way to be friends again.” She inhaled, bracing herself against that wash of fresh pain. But damn if she would let him see it. “Apology accepted. I know. And no. Not right now.”
She went for the door handle again. But his fingers covered hers, and she stilled, the don’t touch me dying a quick and humiliating death on her tongue. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move when her nerve endings sizzled as if they were on fire.
He shouldn’t affect her like this. Shouldn’t ignite this insatiable, damn near desperate need for him. How many years before it abated? Before her body forgot what it felt like to be possessed by him?
She feared the answer to that.
“Please, sweetheart,” he murmured, removing his hand, then taking a step back. “Hear me out, then I’ll leave you alone.”
“Fine,” she bit out, conceding. Only because she suspected he wouldn’t budge before having his say. And the sooner they got this done, the sooner she could drive away and pretend she didn’t ache for him. Both her heart and her body. Just to be on the safe side though... She took another step back. “Just...don’t touch me again.”
“I won’t,” he promised.
She pretended not to see the flash of pain in his eyes.
“Reagan.” He shifted his gaze away from her, squinting in the distance before refocusing on her. “I wanted you to know that Miles contacted Gracie. He was able to track her cousin’s credit card purchases, and he found one at a convenience store for the same time the winning ticket was sold. That transaction was made out of state, not here in Royal. Miles managed to recover the store’s video footage, and Alberto was there, on camera, paying for his purchase. Since it’s scientifically impossible for him to be in two places at one time, he quickly dropped the claim against Gracie when Miles presented the evidence to him. So she’s good.”
“That’s wonderful, Zeke. Thank you for having Miles look into it. I know Gracie has to be so delighted.” Relief for her friend flowed through her, and she made a mental note to call her. But fast on the heels of that thought nipped another. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
It was not disappointment that crashed against her sternum. It wasn’t.
“No,” he said. “That was me stalling while I tried to gather my courage and ask you, no, beg you, to forgive me.”
Beg. She blinked. No matter how hard she tried to conjure the image, she couldn’t envision Ezekiel Holloway begging for anything.
“And though I’m asking for your forgiveness, I’m having a hard time extending it to myself. I was so wrapped up in my own pain, my own fear and guilt that I convinced myself I was doing what was best for you. When really, I was doing what was best for me. Well, what I believed was best for me. I couldn’t have been more wrong.”
Reagan sighed. “I’ve had twenty-six years of people making decisions based on what they think is best for me. And yet no one bothered asking my opinion on my life. Granted, I accept some of the blame for that, because I was afraid of rocking the boat, of not being loved. But I can’t and won’t allow that anymore, Zeke. From anyone. And I can’t be with someone who respects me so little they think me incapable of making choices for myself.”
“And you shouldn’t settle for that, Reagan. Anyone who underestimates you is a fool. Like I was,” he added softly. “Not that I ever underestimated your strength, your intelligence or drive. No, I misjudged your affect on me, my life...my heart.”
“I... I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t either. Until today. I thought I could put you in this box and compartmentalize you in my life. But you...” He breathed a chuckle. “You can’t be contained. You’re this force that’s fierce and powerful but one people usually don’t see coming because it’s wrapped in beauty, grace and compassion. I didn’t stand a chance against you, Ray. And that’s what had me running scared. I fought against the hold you had on me with everything in me because, sweetheart, you scare me. Loving you, having everything that is you, then possibly losing you? I couldn’t bear it.”
Loving you. Those two words echoed in her head, gaining strength like a twister. Wrecking every possible thought in its path except one. Loving you.
Oh God, no. Hope, that reckless, so-damn-stubborn emotion, dug in deep, entrenched itself inside her. She closed her eyes, blocking out his face. But she couldn’t shut her ears. And they listened with a need that terrified her.
“I took the coward’s way out before,” he continued, shifting forward and erasing some of the space between them. “But now, I’m here, telling you that I’m no longer living in the past. Not when you’re my future.”
“Zeke, stop,” she whispered, opening her eyes. Because she couldn’t take any more. Love for this man pressed against her chest, threatening to burst through. No fear. That had no place between them anymore. She just wanted...him. He’d taken a risk by coming to find her and lay his heart out for her. And she could do no less but the same. Life, love—they required risk. Because the reward... God, the reward stared her in the face.
“Okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, dragging a hand over his head. “I’ll go, but one more thing. Some investments paid off for me, and they were substantial. Enough to no longer put your dream of a girls’ home here in Royal on hold. Half of those earnings are yours. It’s not a settlement. If we’re going to divorce, you’ll have to file the papers. I’ll respect whatever you decide, but I can’t let you go not knowing what I want. You. A real marriage. A family.”
“I don’t want your money, Zeke,” she said. Pain flickered in his gaze, but he nodded. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t need it. All I need—all I want—is you. Us.”
“What?” he rasped.
“You mean...”
“Yes, I love you. With everything in me, I love you,” she whispered.
“Sweetheart.” He stared at her, his breath harsh and jagged. “Please give me permission to touch you.”
“Yes. God, yes.”
Before she finished speaking, he was on her, his hands cupping her face, tipping her head back. A heady wave of pleasure coursed through her as his mouth crushed hers, seeking, tasting...confirming.
“I thought...” He groaned, rolling his forehead against hers. “I thought I’d lost you. I love you, Reagan Holloway. You’re mine, and I’m never letting you walk away from me again.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” he swore, pressing a hard, passionate kiss to her lips.
“Then take me home and prove it,” she said, laughing, unable to contain the joy bubbling inside her. And she didn’t even try to contain it. “But we have to make a stop first. I’d love to have you with me for it.” She couldn’t imagine beginning this project of love without the love of her life.
“Fine,” he agreed, grasping her hand and tugging her away from her car. “We’ll take my car, then come back for yours.” When they stopped next to the Jaguar, he tossed her the keys.
She gaped at him. Then at the metal she’d reflexively caught. Then back at him.
“Oh my God. You must really love me,” she gasped.
Laughing, he rounded the hood of the car. The hood that he’d made love to her on.
“Forever, Ray.”
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