by Jordyn White
Right?
I’m pretending the whole thing didn’t make my heart ache so much for her brother (the elder) that it hasn’t let up one ounce since she left over an hour ago.
The diner is long and narrow, with a door at each end. The bell over the east door rings and I look over to see who it is. I smile at Pierce as he comes in. I walk over as he sidles up to the counter.
“What are you doing on this side of town?”
“I had that installation. She’s just up the hill.”
“Oh, right. How’d she like it?”
“She loved it. She’s thinking about another commission for their office.”
“Nice. You just come in to say ‘hi’ or are you looking for food?”
“I need to grab some dinner but I’ll get it to go. I have to get back to the easel. That show’s in two weeks.”
“You got it.” I slide a menu in front of him.
“We miss your cooking,” he says, giving the menu a cursory glance.
“Yeah, I’ll bet you do.”
Neither one of them knows how to do more than brown some ground beef and spice it up with a boxed dinner.
“What do you recommend?”
I lean in and lower my voice. “Here? Stick with the burgers. Everything else just reeks of grease.”
“Throw some bacon on it and we’ll call it done. How are the fries?”
“Go for the waffle fries.”
“Done.”
“All right, I’ll be right back.”
It’s nice to have a friendly face in here. As eager as I was to get into a place of my own, I miss seeing those two every day.
I put in his order and dart around from one table to the next, clearing off plates, topping off drinks, and laying down checks.
As I’m taking orders at table nine, Mac calls out “Order up” and places Pierce’s Styrofoam to-go box on the stainless steel shelf of the pass through window. At the same time, I hear the little bell that indicates someone’s come in the west door. I hope whoever it is goes to Noelle’s zone. Poor girl is bored to death. She only has three tables over there.
When I finish up taking table nine’s orders, I check to see where the new person decided to land and my heart jumps into my throat.
There’s Rayce, settling into table seven—my zone, naturally—and watching me expectantly.
He both does, and does not, look good. He’s as handsome as ever, in a casual, navy button-down rolled up to reveal his forearms and sexy, black jeans. This man is a god no matter what he’s wearing. He has a bit of scruff, like he decided not to shave for the weekend, but still kept it trim, and those deep blue eyes of his gets my heart beating thick, like they always have.
But he has bags under his eyes, like he hasn’t been sleeping well, and he doesn’t have the same suave composure he usually has.
Rather, he’s looking at me with an imploring expression that says, For the love of god, just come talk to me.
I want to, but instead I head over and grab Pierce’s order off the shelf, the aroma of beef and bacon thick in the air. When I drop it in front of him, he’s glancing over his shoulder at Rayce, his eyes like steel. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Yes.”
“He just won’t let it go.”
Shouldn’t that mean something good, I think, but don’t say it.
“Want me to beat the shit out of him?”
“Of course not.”
He grunts. “Are you going to tell him to scram?”
“I can’t do that. Mac would kill me.” Not that it even occurred to me to tell him to scram.
“Want me to tell him to scram?”
“No. I can handle it.”
I’m fussing with my order book and pen, pointlessly rearranging them in my pocket because I don’t want to see the look he’s giving me. Pierce is all about actions versus words, and my actions have shown I’m not too good at handling Mr. Rayce Rivers.
“Promise me you won’t let him draw you in.”
“I said I can handle it.”
“Stay professional. Don’t get into a conversation. That’s how they try to get you.”
By ‘they’ he means ‘every womanizing asshole on the planet, especially him.’
I nod. “I know.”
“Stay strong.”
My new mantra. “I know.”
“And remember, whatever he says, it’s just words. All words. And words are easy.” He leans in, takes my hand between both of his, and both his expression and his tone of voice changes. “You’re the only woman for me.” Wow. That sounded kind of sincere! “I will love you until the day I die.”
I yank my hand back. “Knock it off. You’re freaking me out.”
He points at me and says in a stern voice. “You remember that. Now go tell that asshole to go home.”
I nod, trying not to look in Rayce’s direction. It’s so unfair that my foolish heart still reaches for him.
“Don’t let him suck you in. If he tries to draw you into a conversation, just tell him to go home. If he keeps trying, just say it again. Go home. That’s all you have to say, all right? Go home.”
“Okay.”
Chapter 53
Emma
I leave the counter and approach Rayce, my apprehension growing with each step. His presence is a tangible thing, and the closer I get, the more I’m enveloped inside of it.
Rayce watches me approach, his blue eyes seeming to drink me in.
I stop just at the far edge of his table, and he says in that intimate voice I know so well, “Hi, Emma.”
I raise my pad and pen, as if I’m going to take his order. But I don’t ask him what he wants. “Did your sister tell you I was here?” I ask quietly.
The tables near us are unoccupied, so there’s little chance of being overheard. By all appearances we’re doing nothing out of the ordinary, but we’re both keeping the volume down anyway.
He nods. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“Yes, I know.” And I’m working hard to keep up some sort of shield to protect me against your magic powers. I glance back over my shoulder. Pierce is sitting at the counter, his boxed up order untouched, covertly watching the whole thing. He gives me a firm look that means, stay strong.
I turn back to Rayce. He’s not looking at Pierce, or seeming to be frustrated or angry the way Pierce is. He’s giving me that same intimate look he’s given me any time we’ve talked alone, like there’s nothing else in the world that matters except for that. He says, without any hint of resentment, “Are they telling you to stay away from me?”
I sigh. Could you please stop seeming so amazing? “I’m the one staying away.”
“Are you?” he asks gently. “Or are you running again?”
I bristle, my shield falling away. In fact all of it falls away: Pierce, my boss, the restaurant. I take a step closer, gripping my pen as it hovers over the order pad. My breath is tightening in my chest. “Hey!” my voice is still low, but charged now. “I’m not running. And even if I am, can you blame me?”
“No.”
“What would you do if you were in my shoes?”
“I’d be suspicious. But I’d think I’d listen, and I’d take into consideration everything I know about you and give you some credit for it. At least, that’s what I did before.”
I startle. My hand with the pen drops as I clutch the pad to my chest. I take another step closer and lean in slightly. He’s close to me. So close. I’m torn between wanting to throttle him and wanting to kiss the fuck out of him. It’s tearing me in two.
“At least I told you my dirty, little secret,” I say quietly, being as careful as I can to not draw any attention to us. “You didn’t tell me anything. I found out from this gossipy little bitch I can’t stand—” My voice breaks as pain cracks through my anger. His eyes soften with sympathy. I lower my voice to a trembling whisper. “And the whole town found out with me. So I don’t think it’s the same.”
“No,” he says
softly, “it’s not the same. And I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t tell you like I should have and you have every right to be put out about it.”
I don’t even know what to say to that. I’m worn out. I’m so worn out from this whole thing. The bell dings and Mac calls out the table number... in my section. “What do you want from me, Rayce?”
Keeping his eyes on me, he scoots to the end of his seat. “I want you to give me a chance to prove you can trust me.”
“I...” My heart pinches at the expression on his face. He seems so goddamned sincere. Pierce’s voice comes to me. Words. Just words. But I don’t want them to be just words. I don’t know that they are just words.
Trust your own heart, Emma.
But I don’t know if I should or even if I can.
“Emma, I’ve done nothing but chase after you for days. Does that tell you nothing?”
My heart thump, thump, thumps against my chest. Doesn’t it? Doesn’t it tell me something? Or am I just too stupid to know when I’m being played?
The bell dings again and Mac barks, “Order up!” God. I truly hate this stupid job and my stupid boss and the stupid stench of week-old grease. And I hate the fact that my brain and my heart can’t seem to agree on what the hell I’m supposed to do.
After standing here so long, I really shouldn’t leave the table without an order, because all Mac’s going to do is grill me about it, but I need to get that stupid order from the pass-through window before he gets on me about that instead.
More than anything, I need to take a breath and get my thoughts together about the seemingly heartfelt man in front of me before I lose my ever-loving mind.
I turn away in frustration, but apparently Rayce thinks I’m leaving for good because he speaks my name in a sort of panic. He reaches for me, wraps his arms around my waist, and clings to me like I’m the only thing in the world he needs. Just like he did in the privacy of the chapel.
But this time, we’re not alone.
Stunned, I can only stare at him.
His eyes search mine in desperation. “Emma,” he says again, drawing my name out in a low, painful breath of longing. “Look at what you do to me.”
I gape at him, my mind spinning. What’s happening? What does this mean?
Somewhere to my left is the artificial shutter sound of someone’s smartphone taking a picture. I glance around at the other customers in the diner, still stunned by Rayce Rivers making such a display. In public.
People are definitely watching, or noticeably trying not to. A red-headed woman in the corner wearing a deep green scarf is staring at us unabashedly.
I look back at Rayce. He’s still hanging on to me, unashamed and seemingly unaware of any of them.
“Rayce,” I whisper. “People are looking.”
“I don’t care,” he says firmly, holding me with those strong, blue eyes.
I blink at him. Far, far behind me, Mac’s voice cuts through the fog, “Order up, Emma!” But I don’t move. I can’t look away from Rayce’s face.
This is not just words.
He shakes his head and says it again. “I don’t care what they think. I only care what you think. Please, Emma, please. I beg you. Don’t leave. Don’t do this to us.”
“For God’s sake.” I startle at the sound of Pierce’s voice right next to me. He’s come up and I stumble a bit as he pulls me out of Rayce’s grasp. “Are you trying to cost her another job?” He throws a massive arm protectively around my shoulders. “She said no. Leave her alone.”
Then he turns me and leads me away.
I follow numbly, almost unaware that I’m walking. I don’t have the spare brainpower to be aware of it. I’m too stunned by a series of revelations, one right after another, like a string of firecrackers. Pop, pop, pop.
One. Actually, I haven’t said ‘no’. I haven’t said ‘no’ once since I heard Rayce’s side of things. This is because, as usual, my heart won’t let that word cross my lips when it knows the real thing I want to say to him is yes.
Two. This isn’t just words. He has shown me, with tangible actions, that he means exactly what he says. He has done nothing but chase me for days. He kept me hard and fast by his side in the middle of a family crisis and he wouldn’t leverage his family just so he could manipulate someone. He cares far, far too much about them.
And there are two other things I know about Rayce: he does care about his reputation and he does not beg. But he just begged right in front of everyone who cared to look because I have done something to him.
I am different.
If I’d really wanted to let myself see it, I would’ve seen it long before now. The only reason I haven’t been able to trust the thing that is so fucking obvious is because of revelation number three.
It isn’t Rayce I can’t trust. It’s me.
It’s always, always been me.
I’ve been wondering how to trust my heart, and now I know.
I choose it. That’s all.
If it turns out to be a mistake, I’ll own it, but right now I think the biggest mistake I’ve made is trying to ignore what my very core knows to be true.
As Pierce marches us away, I look at his angry profile, and my heart softens at the love and concern he has for me.
I know he only wants what’s best for me. I know he’s only trying to protect me because he thinks I’ve done such a poor job of protecting myself. I know he has all of his reasons for thinking Rayce is nothing but a piece of scum trying to get whatever dastardly thing he wants from me.
But that’s the thing. Of the two of us, he’s not the one who knows Rayce best.
I am.
“No.” I stop suddenly and come out of his arms. Turns out I can say that word after all.
He looks back at me, stunned. Then his expression changes from stunned, to wary. My intentions must be all over my face. “Don’t, Emma.”
I shake my head and take a step back. “You don’t get to decide this.”
“Don’t. Think about what you’re doing. You’re going to regret it.”
But I take another step back. “No. The only thing I’m going to regret is not trusting my own heart.”
I spin around, the internal war inside of me won at last, but Rayce’s booth is empty.
He’s walking away, almost to the door, his normally erect posture slightly rounded.
“Rayce!”
He turns and I start toward him. He faces me fully, takes a step toward me, his expression pained and desperately hopeful. “Emma?”
Walking isn’t enough. I need him right now. I pick up the pace, then run the last several steps as he hurries toward me and scoops me into his arms.
He clutches me to him and I tuck my forehead into his neck, hanging on as my entire body goes limp with the relief of being held by him again. The security of his strong arms, the reassurance of his solid chest, the intoxicating comfort of his scent, the safety of his heart.
This. This is what’s true. I trust him, and I trust myself enough to know that I can.
“Emma,” he chokes out, sounding in pain.
I’m hanging on, too, still tucked under his chin. “I don’t care what people think, either.”
He pulls back enough to cup my face in his hands, but keeps me close. There’s nothing but me and him. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I don’t know that I’ve done anything right.”
Still holding my eyes and my face, he caresses my cheeks with his thumbs. “Are we okay now?”
“We’re okay.”
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“Don’t.” My voice thickens with the lump forming at the base of my throat. I don’t want him to hurt. I only want him to feel loved. By me. “That’s not what I need.”
“What do you need? Do you need to hear how much I love you? Or how much I cherish and adore you? Should I tell you how I will never be the same again, all be
cause you came into my life? I will tell you every, single day, my love. I will show you every minute. I will give you so much love you will never have cause again to doubt how precious you are to me.” He rests his forehead on mine, his voice deepening tenderly. “Tell me what you need, Emma. My love. My life. I will give you anything.”
My throat tightens, and I wish we really were alone so I could wrap myself around him and hold on so tight. All I can do is whisper through my tears. “Just take me home.”
“Emma, come pick up these goddamned orders!”
We both startle at Mac’s abrupt interruption. Rayce scowls over my shoulder at my ridiculous excuse for a boss. Noelle hustles to the counter, grabs the order and delivers it herself. She’s giving me the eye-roll we reserve for Mac.
Rayce looks back at me. “Emma, do you even want this job?”
“No. I have another one!” I’m suddenly excited to tell him. I want to tell him all the things he’s missed, and hear everything I’ve missed from him. I want to fill in the gaps with all the forgiveness and love and trust that should’ve been there all along. “I’ll be teaching ballet at the New Arts Academy this fall!”
His eyes light up. “Really?”
“I’ve been dying to tell you.”
He cups my face and kisses me over and over again. “That’s wonderful. I’m so proud of you.”
“This job here is just to help me pay rent through summer.”
He pinches his eyes shut briefly, then gives me that man-in-charge look. “Or you can tell that asshole to shove it and let me take care of you between now and then. For the love of all that’s holy.”
I chuckle a bit and soften in his arms, a sense of safety and security sinking deep into my bones. It’s not the kind of safety I felt when Aaron and Pierce rescued me from L.A. It’s not even the safety I feel from bringing home my own paycheck. It goes far deeper than that, and has nothing to do with money.
It has everything to do with knowing someone has your back, no matter what, and knowing you have theirs as well.
Rayce continues, “I know you can take care of yourself, Emma. But I don’t want this dive job for you and I don’t think you do either. Will you trust me to get you from here to there?”
