“Sorry,” he said, one eye blinking open.
“You are not.” She retaliated by clenching around his still-solid shaft.
He swore through his teeth, then kissed her hungrily.
“I can’t seem to get enough of you,” he said.
She knew they’d have to disconnect from one another eventually, but she couldn’t bring herself to initiate. Not yet. Instead she hooked her leg over his as he traced lazy circles on her shoulder.
“It might take me some time to explore each and every one of these freckles. Are you sure you and Owen have to go home tomorrow?”
Her heart sank. Their five days were up. But he’d said she was the best part of his life. Owen too. Maybe not wanting them to leave meant he was ready to stay.
“Tomorrow,” she said with a nervous smile. “You looking forward to the game?”
He grinned and kissed tenderly along the line of her jaw. “Watching Owen play ball? Hell yes. You know…Jenna and Luke seem to have taken a liking to him as well. I even think Walker tolerates him.”
She laughed. “Invite them. Please. It would mean the world to him if you were all there, but after the game…”
“After the game—” He paused and stroked her cheek, then tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear.
She shivered.
“You’re cold,” he said.
“No. I mean yes, but—” There was a chill in the night air, and she was completely naked. But it was also the anticipation of what tomorrow meant.
He did the unthinkable and slid out of her. She gasped, her sensitive nerves still reacting to him.
“We should probably clean up, put some clothes on. The rodeo doesn’t go all night.” He kissed her forehead. “There’s a towel on the bench if you need one and a sweatshirt of mine on the chair in the office, the room right next to yours. You’re welcome to it if you want.”
Jack Everett—ever the planner. She chuckled.
“Have you worn this sweatshirt you speak of recently?”
“As a matter of fact, I have.”
“So it smells like you?”
He laughed. “I suppose it does.”
“Sold. I’m gonna go freshen up and change. We’ll put a plan in order for after the game. Then, if it’s all right with you, I’m gonna grab those amazing paint supplies you bought and paint that sky.”
She felt so light, buoyant. Something had surely shifted between them.
He rolled onto his back, resting his head on his hands. Good God, the man was a specimen. Simply looking at him made her want to do what they just did all over again. But he was right. Owen, his brothers, and Jenna would be home soon enough. There’d be another chance for round two. She hoped.
“You know, I never really noticed this sky you speak of before tonight. It’s not too bad.”
He grinned. He obviously knew she was watching. How could she not? He was beautiful.
She’d cleaned up and thrown on a tank and yoga pants, then padded into the office for Jack’s sweatshirt. It was right where he’d said it would be, hanging over the chair. She held it up for inspection. It was a navy hoodie with UCLA embroidered in yellow and LAW in white.
She brought it to her nose, breathed in—breathed Jack in—and smiled. He was never getting this sweatshirt back. Tugging it over her head was like having his body wrapped around hers all over again.
She glanced down at the desk, which was maybe a little nosy. He’d been doing double duty all week—working in the vineyard and then catching up on legal work whenever he found spare time. This was his private space.
She should have grabbed the sweatshirt and walked away, but on the top of a pile of folders was one that bore a sticky note that simply read: VINEYARD: OFFER OF SALE.
No more secrets, she’d told him when he’d said he wanted to tell Owen the truth. And he had nodded. He was a man of few words. A nod from Jack Everett was worth a hundred yesses from anyone else.
But here was his final secret. Jack was selling the vineyard.
She’d seen him out there, though. Working with his brothers. He’d enjoyed himself—enjoyed them. Hell, he’d gone and told her that she and Owen were the best parts of his life, but now she felt like a loose end. One that would be tied up along with the contract to the vineyard.
Damn him for letting her hope. She’d been all ready to create her own new beginning before he’d forced her straight off the road—and what she thought was her new path in life. Now she was right where she’d been ten years ago—head over heels for a guy about to leave her.
When she made it back to the deck with her easel and supplies, he was already out there, reclining on the chair where he’d almost driven her to orgasm with his hands. Except now Scully was next to him, sitting with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and his tail wagging as Jack scratched behind his ears. He smiled when he saw her, and she forced herself to do the same as she set up and prepared to paint.
“So you know how I applied to Cal Poly?” she asked with forced nonchalance.
“Yeah…” he said, drawing out the word.
She opened and squeezed tubes of paint onto the small pallet, dipping her brush into the inky black. “Well, I’m still missing one small part of my application.”
“What part?”
She forced a laugh. “A piece of art. Meaningful art. There’s an essay component and everything to prove the piece’s depth. It’s not like I haven’t painted anything, but it’s been silly stuff like a bowl of fruit…or Scully catching a Frisbee. Nothing worthy of an essay.” Oh, she could write plenty now about that portrait of a boy playing catch with his dad, but it might break her in two now that she was sure he was leaving.
He swallowed. “And classes start in August, right?”
“If I bring them a piece next week and they approve my application, I start my art degree in the fall session, right in San Luis Obispo like I was supposed to ten years ago.”
He sat silent, still petting the dog, for several long beats. Perhaps he was crafting the perfect response. Maybe a way to tell her that he was selling the place they’d all worked so hard to restore. A way to let her down easy after she’d sworn she wouldn’t let his short return distract her from what was important—a real future for her and Owen, whether Jack was part of it or not. And knowing that he was getting rid of the vineyard? She was almost positive that meant not.
Finally, his eyes met hers.
“I think that’s great,” he said. “You put your life on hold, not that it wasn’t for a good reason, but I’m happy you’re doing something for yourself now.”
She dropped the paintbrush onto the easel’s tray and crossed her arms.
“Are you selling the vineyard?”
His expression barely even changed. There was a hint of shock as his eyes widened a bit, but just as quickly he composed himself. Mr. Control.
“Maybe,” he said simply.
“Maybe?” She dropped her hands to her sides, balling them into fists. “I told myself I wasn’t going to fall for you because I knew we were moving in different directions. But being here with you—with Owen and you together—made me think we were moving toward something real. What was this whole week? If the big thing that was holding you back was this deep-seeded fear of what kind of father you’d be, how have you not realized by now what I’ve always known—that you are a good man, Jack Everett? And good men make good fathers. But I’m part of that equation, too. It’s more than Owen who deserves honesty. I do, too.”
He swung his feet off the chair and planted them on the ground. Then he ran a hand through hair that still looked freshly screwed. Except now she felt screwed in a whole different way.
“I’m not keeping anything from you, Ava. But I didn’t think there was a point in telling you until I’d made a decision. It’s not like we’re—”
Her eyes widened.
“Shit,” he said. “Shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve spent the past ten years living on no one else’s term
s but my own. This?” He stood and motioned between them. “My decisions affecting someone else? That’s brand-new.”
She huffed out a breath. “I know. But…but how can we do what we just did? How can you say what you said about us being the best parts of your life while you’re planning on selling off one of the biggest reasons for you to stay?” She was pushing him now. Damn it. She’d sworn she wouldn’t. But she’d messed up with him more than once by saying nothing. This time she had to lay it all out on the table.
“What happened to you giving me the choice I didn’t have a decade ago?”
He didn’t mean it like that. She knew he didn’t, but the words still stung. She hadn’t given him a choice before, and now she was pushing him to make the one she wanted. Well, she guessed there was no going back now.
“What would happen if I asked you to stay and build a life with us here?” she asked.
“What would happen if I asked you and Owen to come to New York with me?”
Her mouth opened and then closed.
“You don’t want to give up your life,” he said. “And I wouldn’t ask you to.”
She threw her hands in the air. “But my life makes me happy, Jack. I have Owen, the vineyard. I’m going back to school. I have everything I want—except you.”
He stepped toward her, and she took a step back. If he kissed her, she’d let her physical need take over, and she needed a clear head now.
“Ava—you and Owen make me happy. I want to be the dad he deserves, and maybe if we all start fresh…”
His voice was so gentle, so earnest, that it broke her heart even though he hadn’t left yet.
“My life is here. Tell me that New York is going to make you happier than what I’ve seen these past two weeks with you and your brothers.”
He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “I’ve been thinking a lot about happiness this week—and how you and Owen have shown me that maybe it is a possibility for me. But every time I think of giving up this partnership, I think about how selfish that decision would be. New York means that Luke and Walker won’t go bankrupt if the ranch falls out of the black. New York means that you and Owen will never want for anything.”
She groaned, her hands fisted at her sides. “Owen doesn’t need money. He needs a father. And I need someone who’s going to put us first and not take the easy way out. If New York is truly what you want, then go. But if it’s another escape—”
“You say I’m not my father,” he interrupted, “but how do you know that I’m good enough for him or you? Everything your father is afraid of could be true. I didn’t know I was capable of what I did to Derek until I did it. And when I saw a bruise tonight on Jenna’s wrist?” His chest was heaving. “She swore to me that whatever was going on with that damn egg guy was over, but hell, Ava. If you knew the scenario that played out in my head when I thought about someone laying a hand on her…Maybe I’m protecting you like your father is.”
Her breath hitched and she started to form the words, but was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of tires rolling over gravel in the front of the house, followed by the loud hoots and hollers coming from Jenna’s apparently open windows.
Scully sprang to his feet and started running in circles in front of the sliding door.
Jack held her gaze for a few seconds more, but she didn’t know what else to say.
“What does it matter if I believe in you if you don’t believe in yourself?” She shook her head. “You keep choosing the past,” she said. “And I’m standing right here offering to be your future.” She stroked his cheek. “Owen only has a few months left of school. We’ll plan a trip to New York this summer so you can see him. I’ll make a long-distance relationship between you and him work, but I’m not up for it in terms of us.” She’d end this before her heart broke again because it was the only chance at reclaiming her life.
He wrapped his hand around her wrist, and she felt his jaw pulse beneath her palm. But he said nothing.
She forced a smile. “Maybe you should go make sure Luke survived the night without a trip to the ER.”
Then she pulled free of his hold, opened the door, and followed the dog inside.
Chapter Twenty-One
The whole lot of them—well, everyone but Jenna, who’d gone home last night—sat around the kitchen table eating breakfast as Owen recounted his night at the rodeo.
“Jack, did you know that Luke can ride a horse while he hangs upside down on its side? And that he can stand on two horses at once…while they’re moving?” Owen shoved a spoonful of Cheerios into his mouth.
“It’s called Roman riding, Shortstop, and your buddy Jack has actually never seen me do it.”
Ava’s eyes darted to Jack’s, but he had already hidden his expression behind a coffee mug as he took a slow sip.
“Never?” Owen said. “But, like, he won two hundred dollars last night. That’s how good he is!”
Luke shrugged. “But not the belt.” He winked at Owen. “I’m good, but I wanna be the best.”
Jack set his mug down and looked from Luke to Walker. He hadn’t just missed the first nine years of Owen’s life. He’d missed much of his brothers’ lives, too. Now he was traveling across the country to miss the rest of it, and it all felt—wrong.
What if he stayed? He could practice law here as well as he could there. Would Luke and Walker really want that after all that he’d missed? Could Ava forgive him for letting logic make his choices when he should maybe start listening to his goddamn heart?
“Jack!” Owen said after swallowing his food. “You have to come next time. And Mom, too. You could do a date at the rodeo, right?”
Ava was the one to look away this time. He hated this tension between them, especially after last night. Damn it, nothing had ever shaken him to his core—utterly changing how he looked at his life, his future, the possibilities—like the way he felt when he was inside her.
He should have told her about selling the vineyard. But she terrified him. Because up until last night he’d convinced himself that what was brewing between them was nothing more than residual chemistry from when they were eighteen. That he could live without it like he had for the past ten years. But Ava wasn’t the girl he remembered. She was a strong woman now, someone who’d put her own future on hold to raise an amazing kid. She was beautiful, and sexy, and full of so much passion that she couldn’t keep it bottled up if she tried. It made him wonder if what he’d been doing since he left had really been living at all.
“So are we gonna watch some baseball or what?” Walker asked, pushing his chair from the table.
He had been sober last night when they’d returned home from the rodeo, Walker carrying a sleeping Owen in his arms. And this morning proved the same. Ava and Owen’s presence seemed to be affecting all of them for the better. So why couldn’t he pull the goddamn trigger and decide to stay?
“Are all of you really coming?” Owen asked. “That’s so awesome,” he said, not waiting for an answer. “Walker, can you show my friends the pictures you took of Luke on your phone? I’m gonna learn how to trick ride someday. You’ll teach me, right?”
His eyes shifted from Walker to Luke. Ava coughed on her sip of coffee, and Jack just watched everything play out before him.
“I’ll teach you whatever you want to know, Shortstop,” Luke said.
“If you ever take a breath and stop talking,” Walker added, but he winked at the kid.
Was this what it would be like if he gave up a future in New York for a life he hadn’t realized he’d ever want? Family breakfasts, Walker sober, and Luke teaching his son how to ride?
Every puzzle piece fit—except for Ava’s trust in him not having any more secrets—and his trust in himself that he and his father shared nothing more than a name.
Ava, silent through it all, finally looked at her phone and spoke. “We should go,” she said. “I need to drop Scully at home before we head to the field. We’ll meet you all there.”
At the sound of his name, Scully sprang up and started spinning in circles, and whatever invisible thread had held them all together in that makeshift family moment snapped.
Everyone was up and moving. Jack piled cereal bowls and coffee mugs into the sink, knowing he’d be the one to take care of them later. Because that’s what he did. He took care of things so others wouldn’t have to.
He’d sent money to his brothers when he’d finally started earning more than he needed to live on. He’d only allowed himself the barest of necessities. He didn’t need any more, and he certainly never let himself want. That was his penance for leaving.
Because he’d wanted to leave. That was his one luxury. Ava was right. He’d escaped the life that had tried to break him, taking care of his brothers from a distance instead. It was the only way he knew how to show them what they meant to him without having to be in a place where he’d lost all of his good memories.
But look at what they’d done in only a couple of weeks. They’d created new ones, and with one tiny omission about the vineyard, he’d possibly destroyed that.
They deserved more. Ava and Owen deserved more.
The screen door banged shut a few times as people—and a dog—exited. An engine revved in the driveway, and he guessed it was Luke starting up the truck. But Jack remained in the kitchen—separate, where he was safe. He might have been ten years older, but it seemed not much had changed. Even after a couple of weeks in this house, he still couldn’t let the past go.
“You coming?”
He turned from the sink to see Ava lingering in the hallway leading to the front door.
“Yeah. Why would you—?” Damn. “Did you think after how we ended things last night that I was just going to cut my losses? I messed up by not telling you about the vineyard, but I’m in over my head here. I don’t know how to be the guy you think you see in me, Ava. I’ve spent ten years convincing myself that everyone was better off if I kept them at arm’s length. I don’t know how to see myself any other way.”
She shrugged. “And I don’t know how to want anything less than the world for Owen.” She forced a smile. “And for myself.”
Cowboy Brave Page 47
