by Wendy Vella
“I-I’ve never had anyone do something like this to me before,” she confessed. “It feels nice.”
He picked up one of her hands and kissed each finger. “We need to talk now, but we have to do it while we’re getting dressed, okay? We have a deadline, here.”
Willow nodded.
“The thing is,” he said, “I know you’re nothing like my ex, and I’m sorry I spoke to you the way I did. What happened with Jessica really knocked me for a loop, and this thing with you has happened so quickly it freaked me out.”
“You’re not the only one who feels that way.”
He shut off the water, then got a towel and dried her.
“Will you tell me what Jessica did to you?”
“Come and sit on the bed while I get dressed and then find you something to wear.”
“I have clothes,” Willow said.
“Business clothes.”
“And the problem with that is?”
“You’re not at work,” he said.
He pulled on shorts and then a pair of jeans, these identical to the ones he’d been wearing earlier, only these had a rip in the knee. His body was sculpted with hard-packed muscle with sprinkling of hair on his chest that tapered into his waistband. The tattoo she’d been curious about was a work of art curving around his upper arm, and she thought he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
“Jessica played me from the start, Willow. In Paris, she liked that I was a chief and in New York she liked that I owned a café, but I don’t actually think she ever really liked me.”
“What!” Willow was outraged. “How could she not like you?”
His smile was almost boyish. “Aww, shucks, honey.”
Willow laughed because he had mimicked Ethan perfectly.
“Jessica needed someone in a suit who had a high-profile position somewhere, not a slob like me who didn’t care enough about her to take her to swanky restaurants and exotic vacation spots.”
“Did she make the breakup hard?”
“She screamed at me for sixty solid minutes, but after the first five I shut her out. Then she tried to take me for everything I had.”
He disappeared into a sweater while Willow climbed off the bed and started pulling on her own clothes.
“I thought about giving in,” he went on, “but Newman arrived on my doorstep while I was contemplating it and kicked my ass. He found me a lawyer, and he kicked her lawyer’s butt. Then the real fireworks started.”
“What happened then?”
“Okay, you can put on those pants because they make your butt look cute, but no to the shirt and jacket,” he said as she began to pull them on.
“And I should listen to you because?” Willow asked, wondering why it felt right to be dressing in front of him and having this conversation, and why his thinking her butt was cute made her tingle all over.
“Because you’re important to me, Willow Moonbeam Harper,” he said coming stand before her. He touched his thumb to her lips, sending little sparks of need through her body.
“I care about you too,” Willow said so quickly that the words merged into each other.
“That’s good to know.” His smile was a real one that showed his teeth and the lines at the corners of his eyes.
“You shouldn’t smile around other women.”
“Why?” He stared down at her with a soft expression in his lovely eyes, that got hot as they roamed lower over her breasts.
“It makes you look seriously hot.”
“Yeah?” He ran a finger along the lace edge of her bra, making her shiver.
“Yeah,” Willow sounded breathless.
“Okay I’ll save them for you then.” He kissed her softly. “To my lasting regret, I don’t have time to take you to bed and keep you there for hours. But one day soon we will, baby,” he vowed.
He went back to his drawers and came up with a long-sleeved blue t-shirt that she pulled over her head. It came down to mid-thigh, so she tucked it into her pants, then rolled up the sleeves several times. When she’d finished, he handed her a shopping bag he’d found while he was rummaging in his closet.
“What’s this?”
“Something I brought back for Annabelle and forgot to give her.”
It was a black woolen sweater with New York written on the front in white and two white stripes circling each sleeve. It fit her perfectly.
“This would have been way too small on Annabelle.”
“I can see that now.”
He was making small gestures, like he wanted her to hurry up. But there was something she needed to say. “I went to see my family last night, after I left the carnival.”
“After you ran out on me.”
“Yes, but that was the right thing to do, or I would have slapped you.”
“I’m sorry. I messed that entire conversation up.”
“It’s okay. I’m not that good at talking, myself,” she said. “I spent the night talking with them, and it was good, really good. I told them the truth. That I’d struggled with my childhood and the life we’d lived and held on to all the anger for years.”
“How’d they take that?”
“They understood, and they even admitted that…well, with age comes wisdom, and the belief that they could have done things differently in raising me.”
“That’s something, then.”
“I told them about how I’d gotten into trouble, but I didn’t want to go back to them because I didn’t like their lifestyle and that if I had, nothing would have changed. I would still have been in the same situation I was in before I left.”
“Must have been hard, though. You were alone and scared.”
“Sure, but I was strong enough to know that I needed to make the changes for myself then, or I never would have. Going back to my parents would have been the easy option, but I would have resented them and myself for doing so, and I probably never would have found the strength to leave again.”
He gave her a steady look. “You would have.”
Willow smiled. It felt good that he believed in her. “I feel lighter inside somehow today. Like I was carrying this burden around, but now it’s been lifted.”
“I’m glad. Family’s important, and from what I can see, yours seem like nice people…if a little weird.”
“They’re not weird!”
“Okay, how about we settle on ‘different’, then?”
“I’ll give you that,” she conceded. “And while I hated their beliefs as a child, it’s funny how I’ve embrace a few of them myself.”
“So you still follow some of your parents’ ideals?”
Willow could see that he was genuinely curious. “I lived with them for sixteen years. A few things stuck.”
“Just don’t think you’re going to get me to dance naked at sunrise,” he muttered.
“Shame.” Willow gave him a cheeky smile that made him shake his head.
They finished dressing after that. Buster insisted she wear one of his beanies and a scarf, then bundled her into her boots and overcoat, and minutes later they were once again in his car heading back to Howling.
The Hoot was clean and the last customers had left when they arrived, so after he praised his staff and gave them a bonus of cash to spend at the carnival, they locked up and headed out the door.
With nighttime came the real magic of the winter carnival, Buster had told her, and as they walked hand-in-hand down the main street, she could definitely believe in magic. She had reconnected with her family and Buster cared about her, and for now that was enough.
“Is that your phone buzzing, New York?”
Fishing it out of her bag, she saw that the caller was Michael Howe.
“Before I answer this, I need to tell you it’s Michael Howe, my boss,” Willow said the words quickly, hoping he’d believe what she was about to tell him. “He promised to make me a partner in his firm if I got you to sign the deal. That morning in the cabin when you overheard us, I was trying to delay, telling him I did
n’t think you would sell, because I wanted to climb back into bed with you, okay?”
“Okay,” he said calmly.
“You believe me just like that?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Oh, Buster.” She fell into his arms, ignoring her phone.
“You need to answer that, sweetheart,” he said after kissing her.
She found the phone in her bag and tapped it to accept the call. “Hello, Michael.”
He wasted no time. “How are the negotiations going?”
“I’m sorry, Michael, but Mr. Griffin is not interested in selling.”
“What!” Willow held the phone away from her ear briefly as her boss started yelling. “You need to get that deal signed, or you can forget ever becoming a partner!”
“I’m not pushing the man because you’re manipulating me, Michael. He has valid reasons why he doesn’t want to sell, and I respect him for that.”
Buster signaled for her to hand her phone over as Michael continued to yell at her, so she did. He then tucked her under his arm, and Willow wrapped hers around his waist. It was an embrace millions of people shared each day, and now finally she was one of them.
“Michael, this is Buster Griffin.”
She couldn’t hear Michael’s words, but they were more subdued than the ones he’d been shouting at her.
“Your employee has tried everything she could think of to get me to sign, and she was professional and thorough. In fact, I can’t fault her for anything she’s done. However, I’ve never intended to sell Café Gryphon. It’s my mother’s favorite place, and she made me promise never to let it leave the family. Willow was always wasting her time in trying, as you would be if you came down here.”
Willow listened as Michael tried to change Buster’s mind. Buster listened while they walked and when Michael had wound down, he said, “No deal. Sorry, but thanks for the effort, and if I ever want to sell, Willow will be the first person I call.”
He pocketed her phone, then took her hand and swung it a few times. “That man’s an asshole.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “But he’s good at what he does.”
“Do you really want to be a partner in his firm?”
“Not anymore.”
He was still smiling when they arrived at the carnival. The little fairy lights were twinkling, and delicious scents permeated the air as they walked to the food tent and made their way through the crowds of people. Willow wanted to inspect every stall, but first she wanted food because her stomach was rumbling.
“Do you have to work?” she asked Buster.
“Yes, but you go and have fun and bring me back some fudge.” He kissed her nose when they reached his café. People were seated at his tables eating chili and chicken wings, and others had soup.
“I should just stay here and eat. It looks good.”
“No, go and look around. If you’re here I’ll be distracted.” He pushed her away from him, patting her butt.
Willow wandered and purchased several things. Fudge for Buster, and another sweater for herself, this one in blue. In another tent, she found a stall selling baby clothes and brought some things for Jade. She saw Cubby, and then Newman.
“You look happy, Willow,” Newman said.
“I am.” She stretched up to her toes and kissed his cheek loudly, then headed to the school stall.
“Willow, I got you a pad and pencils,” Mikey said when she arrived.
Laughing, she sat on an empty chair behind Mikey’s table. After she’d made sure the pencils were sharp, she said, “Okay, buddy, we’re open for business.”
“I have a sign.” Annabelle appeared suddenly and placed a piece of cardboard folded in two on the table beside Willow.
People were soon lined up to watch, others to have their portraits drawn, and Willow lost track of time as she did what she loved best. She kept the drawings simple, small sketches of people that they could take away with them. Someone gave her a coffee, and she nodded her thanks.
“What the hell is that bitch doing here?”
Looking up at Annabelle’s words, Willow saw a beautiful black-haired woman heading for their table. Her makeup was exquisite, her clothes chic, and she looked totally out of place here.
“Who?”
“Jessica,” Annabelle whispered, and Willow felt her stomach drop to her toes.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Buster looked up as Newman called his name. Something wasn’t right; Newman looked worried.
“Watch things for me, Bevan,” he told the man who was helping him today.
“Jessica is here, bud. She’s talking to Annabelle, and Willow’s there doing her drawings,” Newman said when he reached his side.
“Shit!” Buster didn’t stop; he just plowed through the crowd with Newman on his heels until he reached the school stall. Annabelle was braced and in full argument mode when he arrived, with Branna at her side. Jake stood beside Willow. She was holding her sketch pad like a shield in front of her looking pale and nervous.
“Buster, darling.”
He turned as Jessica came toward him holding out her arms, and he wondered how he’d ever thought he could love this woman. He wanted Willow, with her insecurities and vulnerabilities, her sharp wit and quirky humor.
“What do you want, Jessica?” He held out a hand as she tried to hug him, keeping her at a distance.
“I missed you,” she said, throwing him a hurt look that was totally fake. This woman didn’t do anything that wasn’t first calculated and acted out for maximum effect.
“No, you didn’t, and I don’t want you here. Go home.” Buster stepped around her and reached for Willow. “Let’s go, New York. I have chili to serve.” The surprise on her face told him she’d thought he’d ditch her in favor of his ex. “Have some faith in me and in yourself, woman,” he growled, hauling her into his arms for a quick kiss that had his friends smiling.
“Who the hell is this?” Jessica screeched.
“We’ve said everything that needed to be said, Jessica. Now get back on your broomstick and don’t come back.” Cubby had arrived and was listening along with most of Howling to what was happening. “Run her out of town, would you, Sheriff?”
“Buster!” For the first time in her life Jessica showed some genuine emotion: shock. “I thought we could—”
“No.” He cut her off as he pulled Willow closer to his side. “There is no ‘we’. I’m not sure why you’re here, but my guess is you’ve run out of money.” Her eyes lowered, which confirmed his guess. “But I’m not your open checkbook anymore, so go back to New York and find some other gullible fool.”
His friends clapped as he walked away, pushing Willow along in front of him. When they reached his stall, he made her take off her coat and then handed her an apron. “Stir that pot.” He pointed to a gas burner. “Don’t let it burn.” She did as he asked, and Buster worked steadily for the next hour until the rush eased again.
“She’s really pretty.”
Buster sighed. “You been sitting on that for the entire hour, Moonbeam?”
“I’m not the insecure type, usually. I’ve spent the last few years of my life avoiding emotional entanglements,” she said, looking into the chili pot as if it held all the answers. “But when that woman walked up and Annabelle said her name was Jessica, I felt…”
“I’m growing old here, sweetcheeks, any chance you can get to the point before I die?” Buster teased her.
She poked her tongue at him; it was small and pink, and he wanted to sink into her mouth and nibble on it.
“Stunned that you would choose me when you could have her.” She said the words quickly, as if they tasted foul. “I’ve never felt like that before. At the same time, I wanted to go at her for what she did to you.”
“Nice.” He took the spoon from her and turned off the heat under the pot of chili. “I like a woman with venom.”
“It’s not funny, Buster. This kind of stuff only happens when you let your emotions r
ule your head, and I have rules—”
“Wait. What rules?” She made him smile. When he’d seen Jessica, he’d wanted to hit something. Since she was a woman, it couldn’t be her, but he’d had a powerful urge to strike out nonetheless. Now, however, he wanted to laugh. His girl was a muddle of so many things, and he realized he wanted to unravel each one.
“I have rules that I live by,” she said, and he could tell she wished she’d kept her mouth shut about them.
“Which are…?”
She shook her head. “No way.”
“I’m not going anywhere till you tell me.”
Willow looked around for a distraction. “You have a few more customers, and your help needs help.”
“Now, that’s too bad.” Buster folded his arms.
“You can’t make me say the words, Buster.”
“Here’s the thing,” he said. “I’ve played this game for years with Jake and Annabelle, who are the best at it, and I always win. Newman and Ethan aren’t even in our league.”
“What league?” Ethan appeared beside Willow and looked into the pot.
“The wait-out.”
“It’s true,” Ethan told Willow. “He’s the best. He can out-wait anyone, and considering my girl’s pretty special at it, that’s saying something.”
“Can I have some chili?”
“Knock yourself out,” Buster said, holding Willow’s gaze.
“What are you waiting for her to say?” Ethan picked up a bowl.
“Willow has a list she won’t share with me.” She looked like she was in pain now, so he pressed harder. “It has her—”
“All right!”
“Take a load off, pretty boy. We’ll be right with you.” Buster waved Ethan into a seat and moved to stand beside Willow. “In this ear.” He pointed to the left side of his head. She leaned forward, and he smelled his soap on her before she started speaking.
“They’re more guidelines than hard-and-fast rules,” she said.
“Will you just tell me already?”
She huffed out a breath. “Never show excessive emotion. Always be professional. Follow the rules. Avoid emotional entanglements, and, lastly, never be different.”
He felt a pain in his chest as she whispered the words into his ear, for the scared girl who had made up these rules and the woman who had lived by them. “Well, you’ve lucked out now, because you broke them all,” he said, kissing her cheek.
