by Lena Hart
“Believe me, you’re hard to ignore,” he barked. “Not when I have to hear about how great you and Damian danced together all night.”
Mya gaped at him. “Are you jealous of Damian?”
The muscles in his jaw flexed. They said jealousy was a sign of caring, but she wondered if Guy’s jealous anger had little to do with her and more to do with his pride and ego.
“Are you trying to make me?”
“Of course not. But it would be nice to know if you actually still cared about me. If you still wanted me the way I want you.”
She searched his face, trying to figure out what he was thinking, waiting for him to say something—anything—that would give her some kind of assurance that he did care. But like a stubborn ass, he remained silent. Her irritation rose up a notch.
“So you don’t want me, and you don’t want anyone else to want me. Is that it?”
Anger flared in his eyes. “Remember where we are, Mya. This isn’t some big city where you can sleep around with whoever you want. People are always watching and gossiping. We’re supposed to be a happy couple, so fucking act like it.”
Her back drew up. How dare he talk to her like that? And did he really expect her to pretend they were happy? Did other people’s thoughts of them matter more to him than actually fixing their relationship?
Mya blew out a breath in disgust. “Screw this. I’m not pretending anything. You either put in some effort to make us happy, or I’ll just find someone who wants, and will appreciate, my company.”
She pushed past him and hurried toward the house, still shaking from her outburst. They had never fought like this, and she didn’t know where her veiled threat would lead, but she wouldn’t take it back.
“Mya!”
She flinched at his forceful shout but didn’t stop. He caught up with her, his large hand snaking around her arm and jerking her to a stop.
“Get back here,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Let go of me, Guy.”
“I’m still talking to you, damn it.” His grip around her arm was like a manacle. “There are a lot of people in there who have enough shit to say about us. Stop giving them more.”
“What do you care? As far as everyone knows we’re still just dating, right?”
She tried to pull out of his grasp. He tightened his hold.
“Pretend marriage or not, I’m not going to sit back and let you fuck around on me. Do you hear me?”
She could feel the rising anger pulsing through him. Pain shot up her arm and she flinched.
“Guy, you’re hurting me!”
He let go of her as if he’d just been burned, and she stumbled back from the sudden release. She rubbed her arm, trying to ease the lingering sting.
“What’s the matter with you? I have no intention of sleeping around. It’s you that I want, you jackass. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
He turned away from her and ran his hand through his hair. She could sense his frustration and indecision, and it nearly broke her heart.
“It would be so much easier if you would just stop fighting it and forgive me already.”
He whipped his head around to face her, and his face was a hard, guarded mask. “Let’s get one thing clear so you know where we stand. What we have is a temporary arrangement. You need a place to stay, and I need you around long enough to get Warren to stop shoving his daughter my way. That is it.”
She stared at him blankly, reeling from his cold words. What little bubble of hope she had held for them was quickly starting to fizzle out.
“So you’re just using me?”
His eyes were as flat as his tone. “We’re using each other.”
Eight
“Where do you want this, Gloria?”
“Oh, that can also go in the donation bin,” she said, pushing back her eyeglasses. “I haven’t been able to sell that in two years. I think frills are officially out of style.”
Mya studied the garment, not sure when it had ever been back in style. She dropped the frilly dark blue garment in the box and moved on to the next piece of clothing.
They were almost done getting the back room of the boutique shop cleared to make room for her soap-making station. It was an idea that Mya had been entertaining for a while now. The thought of starting her own business selling homemade body soaps and moisturizers had initially freaked her out. She had no training in managing anything, and no patience to sit through a four-year degree to learn. But once she got used to the idea, the dream began to grow.
Luckily, confiding in Gloria about her plans had sparked a brilliant arrangement between them. Mya would work part-time with Gloria at the boutique, learning the ropes and shadowing her. The other half of Mya’s time would be spent building her products and setting up her online store. As much as she loved the people of Cedar Bend, she knew she would have more success selling her products to a larger crowd.
“Mya, does this look familiar?”
She glanced at the frilly pink dress and laughed. “Oh my gosh! I can’t believe you still have that.” Mya took the old dress from Gloria and held it up. “And I can’t believe Daddy let me wear this for a whole year.”
Gloria shook her head, chuckling. “And if I hadn’t dragged you in here, you probably would have gone another year wearing it.”
Mya smiled at the thought. At the sage old age of six, she had declared herself a “princess,” and this had been her royal gown—a shimmery pink dress with lots of frills. Apparently her dad had seen nothing wrong with that. Having been made a single parent after her mother remarried and moved back to England, her dad had barely survived that first year on his own. Fortunately, with Gloria’s interference—and her wide selection of prettier dresses—Mya had eventually let go of her “princess dress.”
“Poor Daddy. I was such a handful.”
Gloria snickered. “What do you want to do with it? Donation?”
Mya stared at the dress again and smiled faintly. The old garb held lots of happy memories, and she imagined her little girl wearing it someday. A little girl that looked like her and Guy. She didn’t have a wedding dress to pass down to her future daughter, so this would have to do…
“I think I’ll keep it.”
Mya folded the garment and placed it in her “keeper” pile. Once she had the discarded and unwanted items separated, she and Gloria began shoving the heavy crates to the front of the store. They were both sweating by the time they were done moving the last of them.
“Who knew clothes would be so heavy.”
Gloria huffed and dabbed at the sweat at her temples with the heel of her hand. “Oh, I had an idea. But years in this business have built my strength, or else I would never get anything done around here.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” Mya muttered, shrugging off her thin cardigan. She tossed the light sweater on the table and rested her hand on her hip.
“Years of practice, honey. I’m just glad we’re done. Lunch break?”
“Yes!”
Gloria chuckled at her enthusiasm. “I need to run out later, but—”
Her words were abruptly cut off and Mya turned to her. Gloria’s usually warm brown eyes were sharp with awareness as she stared intently at her shoulder.
Mya remembered the tattoo there—undoubtedly peeking through the straps of her tank top—and stifled a groan. She normally forgot it was there until someone stared at it. Not that she regretted the tattoo, but Gloria had always been like a surrogate mother to her. Mya didn’t want to hear a lecture on the dangers or immorality of body defacement. She had gotten enough of that talk from her actual mother and stepfather.
But Gloria wasn’t looking at her shoulder. She was staring intently at her arm, her brow deeply furrowed. Mya held her breath and waited for the question.
The bruise that had formed there wasn’t as bad as Gloria’s expression would make it seem, and to Mya’s relief, she didn’t ask about it.
Instead, Gloria said bris
kly, “Nice tattoo.”
“You approve?”
The corner of her lips kicked up. She turned, pulled up the back of her shirt, and exposed the small butterfly on her lower back. Mya could only gape at it.
“Gloria! You have a tramp stamp?”
“Hey, I was young once too… And maybe just a little wild.”
Mya laughed. “Does Guy know about this?” She remembered the disapproving look he’d given her when he’d seen her ink. At least Gloria’s wasn’t visible to the general public.
“He doesn’t, and I suspect he would collapse in shock if he did.”
They both snorted, finding it hard to imagine Guy collapsing over anything.
In the back room, they finally settled down to lunch and ate the simple meal Gloria had packed. Because the store was usually slow on Sundays, Gloria decided to close it for the day while they completed their redecoration. Now that Mya was coming back to help, they were planning other exciting changes for the shop, some of which included a section to display her body care products and a separate area for more craft and sewing classes.
“So how are you and Guy getting along lately?”
Mya shrugged, concentrating on her lunch. “Things could be better.”
“What’s going on?”
Mya didn’t want to lie to her, but neither did she want the added scrutiny on their already strained relationship. Things were difficult enough without Gloria’s well-intentioned interference.
“Nothing. We just got into it last night at Eric’s party and things have been a bit tense.”
When Gloria glanced at her arm again, Mya shifted uncomfortably. She reached for her light sweater and slipped it on.
“What was the fight about?”
“It was stupid, really.”
Mya couldn’t even pinpoint what had set him off in the first place. She could only guess that he’d thought she’d set out to make him jealous, but that certainly had not been the case. All she had wanted from him last night was his attention. Making him jealous was not how she wanted to get it.
“You know how stubborn Guy can be. I don’t know where he gets it, but just give him some time.”
Mya nodded, but what he’d said last night had begun planting doubts in her heart about them. Every time she thought they were making progress, he would close up on her. Yet why hadn’t he sought out a divorce? A part of her still believed he wanted them to be together. She just needed to show him how serious she was about making their relationship work.
“I really wish I knew what to say to get him to forgive me already.”
Gloria patted her hand. “Maybe there’s nothing you can say,” she muttered. “Just give him time. He’ll come around. Then you’ll get married and live happily ever after.”
Mya shifted in her seat again, a strained chuckle coming out of her at Gloria’s teasing. They were already married, but they certainly weren’t happy.
She wanted nothing more than to make their marriage public—at the very least, tell Gloria. Maybe if everyone knew, it would finally start to feel real to her. Because the sad truth was that their marriage had never felt real—not then and certainly not now.
* * *
Guy looked up from the reports he was reviewing when his mother burst into his office. She didn’t stop until she was standing beside his desk, peering down at him from behind her gold-framed eyeglasses. Her lips were set in hard lines. This was bad.
“Ma, what—”
“Did you do that to her?”
“Do what? To who?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Here, let me jog your memory.” In a blur, her hand lashed out and smacked him on the side of the head.
“Ma!” He frowned, rubbing his head. “What the hell was that for?”
She said nothing. Just stood there, pursing her red lips and planting her hands on her hips. He endured the silence for a while longer, determined to wait her out—glare for glare.
In the end, she won.
With a weary sigh, Guy threw his pen down on the desk and leaned back in his seat. “Ma, I don’t have time to get into it with you today. I have a lot of work—”
“Have I ever laid my hands on you in anger when you were a kid?”
“What?”
“Have I?”
“No. Not until today, anyway,” he muttered bitterly, absently rubbing the still-tender spot on his head.
“Have you ever seen me let a man raise his voice to me, much less his hands, since your father?”
“No, because I wouldn’t let that happen.”
“And I won’t let you go on abusing Mya.”
Guy straightened in his seat. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you or did you not put that bruise on her arm?”
He stared at his mother blankly until her words finally registered. “Shit,” he muttered, running his hand over his face.
He remembered how angry he’d been with Mya last night, but he hadn’t realized he’d been so rough. He’d never been jealous in his life, but seeing Mya in the arms of another man—even if it was a good friend of his—had brought up so many insecurities in him.
“I raised you better than that, Guy. I won’t tolerate you getting violent with her.”
“Ma—”
“If Marvin could see how you’re treating his daughter, he would rise from his grave and beat the crap out of you. And I would let him!”
His mother gave him a glare that made him feel smaller than his six-two frame. It was the same look she’d given him when he was ten and been suspended for breaking Cody Fischer’s nose. He’d felt like shit then. Not because he’d broken the boy’s nose—the son-of-a-bitch deserved it for talking about his mother—but that one look had said how disappointed she was with him, and Guy never wanted to see that look on her face again.
He blew out a breath. “Ma, would you settle down? I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“What you meant to do doesn’t matter. We’re talking about what you did, and I’m very disappointed in you right now.”
Heat rose to his cheeks. For the first time in his adult life, he was thoroughly contrite. He didn’t think he could feel any more like shit than he did now.
“I’m sorry—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she snapped, waving his words away. “I’m not the one who needs your apology. You make this right, and you do it today!”
With that, his mother stormed out of his office.
Guy stared after her. He’d never seen her so upset, but he couldn’t blame her. Part of the reason she and his father had split was because of the man’s temper.
And he was appalled at his own explosive temper.
He’d never hurt a woman before, and no matter how angry he was at Mya, he would never intentionally harm her.
Guy reached for the phone then placed it back down. What would he say? He obviously needed to apologize, but he needed to do it in person.
Unfortunately, it was late when Guy left the station. The entire ride home, he thought of what he would say to her.
The house was dark when he pulled up beside her car in the driveway. Guy made his way into his bedroom and stopped just outside the bathroom door. The scent of her soap—the one he loved so much—filled the room. The sweet smell brought back so many memories of him nuzzling her smooth neck, her arms wrapped firmly around him.
His body instantly reacted to the long-ago memory of having her in his arms and making love to her for the first time. She had been warm and smelled just as sweet then…
Guy shook the memory away and raised his hand to the door. Just as he was about to knock, a loud shriek came from inside. His heart dropped, and he practically kicked the door in.
“Mya!”
She shrieked again, her hand flying to her throat.
“Guy! You scared me.”
His hand was still on the doorknob as he quickly scanned her. “You screamed.”
She cradled her fist in her other hand. “I caught my finger
in the drawer. That’s all.”
“Oh.”
Suddenly he realized she had only a towel wrapped around her. A thick, soft pink one that came down just to her knees. Her smooth brown skin still glistened with evidence of her shower.
Moving without much thought, Guy came fully into the bathroom and stood directly in front of her.
She quietly regarded him with large brown eyes, and at that moment, he was lost in their depth. She didn’t bother concealing her love and desire as she stared up at him. That was what he loved most about her—the way she didn’t conceal her affections. Even now, she was an open book with her feelings.
Why couldn’t she be open with him that night?
Guy glanced away from her, breaking the spell that threatened to undo his resolve. It was then he saw the bruises on her arm. The dark discoloration staining her skin left him sick to his stomach.
“I did that?” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.”
She glanced down at her arm then back up at him. “No, you shouldn’t have. But it doesn’t hurt. I just bruise easily sometimes.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“I know you didn’t.” She came closer to him, placing her palm on his abdomen. “But thank you for apologizing.”
His gut clenched from the light touch, and he inhaled sharply, taking in her hypnotic smell. Nothing he did could ever rid him of his need for her. But the last thing he wanted to do was complicate things between them.
With more difficulty than he expected, he pulled away from her. Disappointment flashed in her beautiful eyes, and it took everything he had not to give in to what they both wanted.
Nine
Mya rushed into the house, juggling the bag of groceries while trying to get to her ringing cell phone. She managed to make it to the kitchen—and her phone—before the caller hung up.
“Hello.”
The number had come up “unavailable,” but she was hoping it was Guy calling to wish her a happy Valentine’s Day.
