Can't Let Go--A Bad Boy Romance

by Gena Showalter

Seriously. The woman could charm anyone with a penis.

  “Our Coni would be glad to know you’re happy again, Jude.” Carrie’s posture changed—stiffened—as she turned her attention to Ryanne. “She was such a good girl, kind to everyone. She was a teacher, you know. Her students loved her to pieces.”

  “They were blessed to know her,” Ryanne said. “She certainly enriched Jude’s life in the best of ways.”

  Carrie adjusted the strap of her purse. “What is it you do, Ryanne?”

  “I own the bar.” Schlepp drinks.

  “Oh. I see.”

  Ryanne gave Jude’s hand a squeeze. “If you guys don’t mind, I’m going to steal Selma and hole up in the kitchen so we can plan tonight’s foam party.”

  Jude gave her a squeeze right back. “Don’t—please don’t leave,” he said. “Stay indoors.”

  Hello, fear. Never far from the surface.

  “Very well,” she said, making a concession. “But do not, under any circumstances, return without Chips Ahoy!”

  “I won’t.” Thank you, he mouthed.

  She nodded and waved goodbye to Carrie and Russ and dragged her mother into the kitchen.

  * * *

  AS SOON AS Daniel arrived at the Scratching Post to watch over Ryanne, Jude took Russ and Carrie to lunch. A hasty meal at Two Farms, located in Strawberry Valley’s town square, where he did his best to sidestep questions about Ryanne. He’d hurt his in-laws today. Unintentionally, yes, but hurt was hurt, and it didn’t sit well with him.

  He’d planned to tell the truth, anyway, but he’d wanted to dole out the information slowly, not drop it like a bomb.

  The moment he’d realized Ryanne understood his dilemma, there’d been no more denying just how deeply he’d fallen for her.

  After lunch, he drove Russ and Carrie to the Strawberry Inn, because they’d decided to stay a few days.

  He got that they were disappointed. Constance had been an only child, and Jude was all they had left. The fact that he was moving on, starting a new family, had to devastate them. But he wouldn’t let Ryanne go. Not now, not ever. Somehow, he would make Carrie and Russ understand that he wasn’t just starting a new family, he was adding to theirs.

  He walked the couple to their door, but when he turned to leave after they’d said their goodbyes, Carrie grabbed hold of his wrist. “I’m concerned, Jude. Did you get that Ryanne person pregnant in an attempt to replace your girls?”

  For the first time in years, he craved a beer. “She’s going to be the mother of my child,” he said, and Carrie blanched. “Please talk about her with respect.”

  The color drained from her cheeks, but she nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “No,” he finally answered. “The pregnancy wasn’t on purpose.” But it had happened, and he wouldn’t change it. “I’m not trying to replace Constance. I can’t, and besides that, I don’t want to. She’s a part of me, and she’ll always have a special place in my heart. But I realized just how impossible it is to hold on to someone who isn’t here while trying to hold on to someone else who is. I had to let go of what should have been and grab hold of what could be with Ryanne.”

  “I just... I think you need to think this through. You were eighteen when you married Coni. Now you’re jumping into a long-term relationship? Shouldn’t you...I don’t know...play the field or something, now that you’re ready to date again? Make sure you’re not going to regret settling down?”

  As if any other woman could compare to Ryanne. She’d obsessed and possessed him from moment one, somehow taking the worst of his pain and giving him a reason to wake up every morning. She’d given him pleasure, erasing his grief.

  And, really, he’d played the field in high school. Had no interest in doing so again. He’d watched Brock and the other soldiers who’d slept with anyone willing; picking up strange women had never made any of them happy. Only more miserable.

  “I love her,” he said, and with the intensity of a lightning strike, he realized the truth of the statement. He didn’t need to think about it. Love was there, a light inside him. A brilliant beacon of hope.

  He loved Ryanne Wade with every fiber of his being, and he hadn’t fallen slowly, or gently. He’d leaped off a cliff and plummeted at warp speed, entrusting her with the fragile remains of his heart.

  He loved her more than life. Loved her wit, her sassy mouth and tell-it-like-it-is attitude. Loved her sex kitten playfulness and the bold passion she displayed for him.

  Carrie backed down, but he suspected she was far from satisfied. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize...”

  He hugged her and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be working at the Scratching Post tonight, but I can come by in the morning and take you to breakfast. We’ll talk then, okay?”

  She looked away from him, nodded. He bid Russ goodbye and took off, heading to the store to pick up a bag or twelve of chocolate chip cookies.

  Along the way, a text from Brock came in. You get that this girl’s name is Savannah “Vanna” White and mine is Brock “Rock” Hudson. It’s freaking me out. Other than that, all is well here.

  When Jude returned to the bar, he found two officers from Blueberry Hill as well as two from Strawberry Valley arguing over jurisdiction while searching the alley for the bullet and shell from last night’s attack. He left them to their work and headed inside.

  Jude still hadn’t decided what to do about Dushku.

  With straight-up murder taken off the table, his options were limited. Threats hadn’t sufficed. Fighting fire with fire had only heralded more violence.

  Fight fire with water.

  Having dealt with criminals in the past, he had a feeling Dushku would respond to only one thing: losing every penny he’d ever schemed to earn. As an added bonus, no one else could rise in the ranks to take his place if he had no money. Win-win. Problem solved.

  Selma puttered around in the kitchen. Jude snuck past her and headed for the apartment. As soon as he reached the hallway, he heard...crying?

  He burst past the door to find a sobbing Ryanne sitting on the floor of the living room, clutching one of the kittens to her chest.

  “What happened?” he roared, rushing to her.

  Daniel, who paced in front of the bay windows, held up his hands, palms out. “I only mentioned Dorothea’s excitement about adopting two of the cats. Then the waterworks started, and they haven’t stopped.”

  Had to be pregnancy hormones. Before this, Ryanne had never cried. And that might have been a good thing. She cried like she did everything else: with her whole being. Red blotches painted her face, her eyes were swollen, her nose running and her shoulders shaking.

  “I’m going to miss my kittens so much, and all I wanted to do was eat Chips Ahoy! but I ate the last one and you weren’t here with a new pack and I considered eating the bag of chocolate chips but they aren’t the same and I want the same and do you think the lords and lordettes will miss me when they’re gone, and what if they get depressed?” Sniffle, sniffle.

  Took him a moment to unpack her statements, but when he did, he rushed to assure her. “We can keep the entire litter, love. In fact, I insist on it.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said between sniffles. “I promised Dorothea and Lyndie kittens, so they are getting kittens.”

  “There are plenty of kittens in shelters throughout the state. Who says we have to give anyone our kittens?” Filled with tenderness for this woman, he petted her hair, kissed her temple. “Also, I brought more cookies. See?”

  “Why did you bring me cookies? Dang it, Jude! What if I get fat, and you stop wanting me?”

  “The more you gain, the more of you there is to lo—like.” She might not be ready for his profession of love, and he didn’t want to scare her. Or have a witness. But, uh, he’d just call
ed her love. He’d have to be more careful. “I promise, I’ll never stop wanting you.”

  She leaned into him, and to his delight, her tears gave way to a hearty chuckle. “I’m sorry I overreacted. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. Well, I do know. I’m baking your bun. I’m also sorry I snot-cried on you. How embarrassing.”

  Damn, he loved this woman with all his heart, and he wanted her happy, always. Can’t lose her. Ever. “Tonight I’ll burp and fart in bed. Then we’ll be even.”

  “Okay, it’s official. You guys disgust me,” Daniel said, clearly trying not to laugh.

  Ryanne gave him a double-birded salute before batting her lashes at Jude. “That would be delightful, thank you. By the way, I hope you weren’t joking about the cookies. I’m totally into a trade. Your cookies for mine.”

  He barked out a laugh. Silly, wonderful woman.

  His tasks for the day changed. Get rid of Daniel, get inside Ryanne.

  No, no. Can’t lose sight of the endgame. Lifelong commitment before temporary pleasure. Even mind-blowing pleasure.

  He gave her temple another kiss before he straightened. “I need to speak with Daniel about tonight’s security.” Among other things. “Do you mind if we use your office downstairs?”

  “Go, go,” she said, waving to the door and tearing into her newest bag of cookies. “I’m now too busy to deal with you.” Crumbs fell out of her mouth. “But don’t you dare worry about me. I want to get laid sometime in this century.”

  Daniel covered his mouth with his hand, but the dude wouldn’t stop chortling like an idiot.

  Jude stayed silent as he led his friend downstairs. Once they were enclosed in her office, where no cameras could relay their conversation to Ryanne or anyone else, he asked for Daniel’s thoughts about draining Dushku’s accounts.

  “It’s doable. Illegal, but doable. If he gets wind of our plans before those accounts are cleaned, he’ll unleash hellfire.”

  “I’m not worried about the legalities. No one will be able to prove we did anything wrong. More than that, we won’t be taking the money for ourselves. We’ll be giving every cent to an organization that helps fight against sex slavery.” And in the meantime, he’d be able to get rid of Dushku for good, protecting Ryanne long-term.

  Speaking of long-term...

  Pacing in front of the desk, he massaged the back of his neck. “Forget Dushku for a minute. You once feared losing Dorothea the way you lost your mom and so many of our friends. How did you stop?”

  “Stop...fearing?”

  A clipped nod.

  “I didn’t, not at first. Eventually I realized I couldn’t have both. Couldn’t keep Dorothea and the fear. When I tried, I drove her crazy. And myself!”

  “I’ve had the same realization,” he admitted, “but it hasn’t done me any good. I’m at the driving-us-both-crazy phase.” And wasn’t it ironic. All he wanted to do was keep her close, but with his words and actions he only pushed her away.

  “Now, my friend, you have to make a quality decision. Stay with her, even though she could be taken from you at any moment, or let her go. Since we both know what you’ll decide, we can skip to the next part. Your thoughts dictate your reality. Think about something, and pretty soon your feelings follow. Every day we make choices, and those choices define our future. Even the smallest decision can have a big impact. The butterfly effect. Thoughts and actions create ripples of energy. Energy creates motion. So start treating fear like the enemy, and one day your feelings and everything else will catch up.”

  “Fear is the enemy.” It was the only obstacle in the way of his relationship with Ryanne. “But I don’t yet grasp how to treat it as such.”

  “Start by killing one thought at a time.”

  “And?” He needed more, wanted an instant miracle cure.

  “Force your mind to think about something else. Something good. About your woman, maybe. Her smile.”

  In other words, no instant miracle cure. “Ryanne suggested the same thing. So far, I’ve failed.”

  “Perhaps you’re being too gentle. Any time fear rears its ugly head, beat it to a bloody pulp by doing what it tells you not to do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  COWBOY: Where are you?

  Ryanne: Why do you want to know? So you can have down and dirty sex with me?

  Cowboy: Wade.

  Ryanne: Aw! You spent the night with me and still remember my name. You must be a unicorn.

  Cowboy: I will find you.

  Ryanne: Like it’s hard. Is it, though? Is it hard? Are you planning to demand I give you an orgasm? I bet you are. The real question is: Do you want me to use my hands, mouth or body?

  No other text came in, and Ryanne smiled. Teasing Jude had become the highlight of her day.

  That, and the updates Brock sent her about Savannah and Thomas.

  Brock: The kid just shouted that he needs an ice-cold beer. How am I supposed to respond to that?

  Brock: Vanna hid the remote control so I can’t change the channel. She’s watching Say Yes to the Dress. I really hope Dushku sends someone to kill ME.

  Once, Savannah stole his phone to send a message of her own.

  Brock: Savannah here. Is there any way you can spare Jude for the evening? I don’t want to steal your man, I swear. As if that would be possible! The way he looks at you, well, I know men and I know he’s all yours. But this isn’t about sex. I just like him better than Brock the Cock. (Please excuse my language.) But Brock sucks!

  If only Jude would overcome his fear!

  Ryanne: I can spare him, but he’s afraid of losing me, and won’t let me out of his sight. It’s driving me crazy. You say you know men—what should I do?

  Brock: Girl, the time to worry is when he can’t stand to have you IN his sight.

  Good point.

  The kitchen doors suddenly burst open, laughter and a hundred different conversations from behind the door assaulting her ears as Jude strode inside, glaring when he spotted her.

  “You’re irritating,” he grumbled.

  “No, I’m preorgasmic. And you are, too. That’s why you’re so irritable.”

  His next step stumbled, but he quickly righted himself. The tension he radiated changed in an instant, from stressed to hungry.

  Doing her best not to gloat, she lined up the necessary ingredients for bacon, jalapeño and jelly sandwiches. Serving meals instead of just snacks had been a big hit at the last event, so she’d decided to continue in that vein. Caroline had been helping her, but the flighty girl had taken a five-minute break ten minutes ago and had yet to return.

  “How’s the battle with fear coming?” she asked.

  “It’s coming,” Jude said.

  “Sadly it’s the only thing coming tonight.” Last night’s loving had been an aberration. He was still determined to resist her until she said yes to his “proposal,” and she was still determined to resist him until he’d conquered his fear.

  That fear had proven to be more contagious than ever; it kept trying to get her, too. What if the gunman came back?

  However, Ryanne refused—absolutely refused—to let her mind play the worst-case scenario game. Worry leached happiness and calm, and both Jude and the baby needed her happy and calm.

  “Must you turn everything I say into an innuendo?” he grated.

  “Yes. What can I say? It’s my superpower. And if you were getting laid regularly, you’d be thrilled about it.”

  With a grunt, he poured himself a glass of water, minus the lemon, and plopped onto the chair at the end of the counter, where he set up his laptop. Great. The kitchen had just become his new workstation.

  He’d hired off-duty officers from Strawberry PD to guard the Scratching Post, inside and out. If Dushku did make another move
against her, he’d be in for a surprise. And really, if Ryanne could wait him out, succeed despite his best efforts, maybe he’d finally give up and move on.

  A girl could hope, anyway.

  “If you stay away from me the rest of the night,” she said, “not texting me or watching me on camera, I’ll believe you’re ready to receive my hand in marriage.”

  He didn’t look up from the screen. “Even when Dushku is gone, I won’t want to spend a night away from you. Give me another task.”

  Danged stubborn man. “There will always be a threat. A virus. Bacteria. Bad drivers. A robbery gone wrong.”

  She thought he muttered something like, “If you and our kid die, I die.”

  “Jude,” she said, stomping her foot. “You better mean those words figuratively because—”

  “I could use a little peace and quiet, Wade.” Type, type, type. “I’m working.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you have a new client?”

  “You’re my only client. The rest of the team is handling the others. By the way, I’m no longer accepting your money. Your security is now free of charge.”

  What! “No way! You run a business, and if you’re going to provide for me and Ryanne Jr., you need to make money.”

  Finally he glanced up. One brow arched. “Are you saying I need to take your money in order to make money to provide for you?”

  “That is how commerce works. Also, you owe me two dollars and fifty cents for the water.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders drooping. Poor guy. He’d never looked wearier. “Use the money for the baby, instead of your trip. Problem solved.”

  Caroline rushed into the kitchen, stopping her reply—not that she knew what to say. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to take so long.”

  The buttons on her shirt were no longer aligned, and her hair had come out of its ponytail to tangle around her flushed face.

  “Make out on your own time,” Ryanne told her, now grumbling like Jude.

  Why would he not want her to spend money on her trip? Did he want her to stay in town with him?

  Did she want to stay in town with him?