The Playboy Bachelor (The Bachelors of Arizona #2)

by Rachel Van Dyken

“It won’t ever be okay. Trust me.” Bentley gripped the bottle with his right hand as visions of Margot’s smile haunted him. She would never trust him—not completely. First she needed to be brave enough to trust herself, to love herself.

  To believe that he really, truly loved her.

  Oh God, the joke was so completely on him. He went from never wanting to settle down to imagining a life with a woman who clearly didn’t trust him enough and most likely never would.

  “The job’s yours,” Brock said after a few seconds of tense silence. “Grandfather made the announcement the minute you got home.”

  Bentley scowled. “I didn’t even finish the list.”

  “It was never about the list.”

  “What?” Bentley finally met Brock’s gaze. “What the hell do you mean it was never about the list?”

  “Come on.” Brock rolled his eyes. “I thought you were smarter than that. Grandfather wasn’t seeing if you could accomplish the tasks. He knew you could—you’re Bentley Wellington.” He made little air quotes, which made Bentley want to punch him. “It was more about you following instructions, taking orders, getting the impossible accomplished, and honestly, he gave you the impossible. Did you know the last time Margot was out to dinner was right after college? It’s been years. The woman doesn’t grocery-shop. She refuses to go into her own garden, and doesn’t even get her own mail. It’s delivered. To say she’s a shut-in would be putting it mildly.”

  “Don’t talk about her that way,” Bentley snapped, and rage surged through him as he grabbed his fist to keep from punching his brother in the face. He missed her. This feeling, this was what loneliness was like: empty, dark—hopeless.

  “My point,” Brock said slowly, ignoring his glare, “is that you tried to accomplish the impossible, which is exactly what we need if you’re going to be VP of marketing.”

  Bentley sneered. “Oh great, now I get to work more hours in a job I hate.” That completely slipped out before he could stop it. What the hell did he care if Brock was aware of just how much he didn’t want the job?

  With a grin, Brock stood. “I’m just the messenger. But Bentley?”

  “What?”

  “You could always march right up to Grandfather’s office and tell him where to shove it.”

  Bentley smiled at the thought.

  “Yeah.” Brock knocked his knuckles against the table. “That’s what I thought. You know I’m not planning on dying anytime soon, so the CEO position isn’t going anywhere…and even if it did, you’d probably rather jump off a building than take it. Which leaves you with VP of marketing.” He shrugged. “Or word on the street.”

  Bentley groaned. “Don’t ever say that sentence again.”

  “Follow your dreams. Even if people tell you they’re stupid. Life is too short to be doing something you hate—when you could be doing something you were born to do.”

  Bentley swallowed as a knot formed in his throat. “Thanks.”

  Brock wasn’t the emotional type, so it was semishocking when he frowned and then awkwardly patted Bentley on the back, only to pull him into a full hug and whisper gruffly, “He’s proud of you.”

  Bentley stiffened. “No, he’s not.”

  “He just wants you to be happy,” Brock said, pulling away and staring Bentley down with his piercing, green-eyed gaze. “We all do.”

  “So he sent me to Margot because he knew she was exactly what I needed? Bullshit.”

  “Of course not.” Brock shrugged and started moving away. “He sent you to Margot because you were what she needed, not the other way around. That was just a happy coincidence.”

  Guilt slammed into Bentley’s chest as the scene unfolded before him, the scene where he threw their fragile relationship back in her face.

  Out of fear.

  Fear that she would never trust him.

  Fear that she would never accept him for who he really was.

  Hell, he claimed he left for her.

  And yet again, he’d proven how selfish he could really be—he’d done it for himself. Just like he did everything else in his miserable life.

  “You okay?” Brock stopped at the door and turned.

  “Where is he, again?” Bentley choked out. “Where’s Grandfather?”

  “His office, he’s in a meeting with—”

  “I have to go.” Bentley grabbed his keys and breezed past him.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Brock grabbed him by the arm. “I’ll drive you.”

  “Thanks,” Bentley choked out. “For—”

  “Don’t,” Brock said in a low voice. “As far as Brant’s concerned, I punched you in the throat and we got drunk.” He leveled him with an amused glare. “There was no hug.”

  Bentley held up his hands. “Hug? What hug? Hey, you did tear up though.”

  “Bastard.” Brock chuckled as they made their way toward the elevator. “You’re not going to take the job, are you?”

  “That’s just the thing, Brock. I don’t think I’m VP material.” Saying it out loud was easier than he thought. In fact, it felt like a giant weight had just been lifted off his shoulders.

  “You don’t say?” Brock mumbled, and a suspicious smile formed across his lips.

  It only took minutes to get to the downtown offices. All too soon, Bentley was standing in front of his grandfather’s solid oak office doors. When he was little, he used to trace the engravings with his fingers. He repeated it, his adult hand much bigger, almost completely unable to fit the intricate designs in the wood.

  The familiar smell of spice and cigars floated through the air. How many times had he been summoned to his grandfather’s office?

  And how many times had he actually gone in on his own?

  This was a first.

  Without knocking, Bentley opened both doors and strode in. “Grandfather, I—”

  Words died on his lips as Margot’s grandmother leveled him with a glare that would probably make a lesser man shit himself.

  Nadine Titus sat near the conference table and gave him a little wave and blew a kiss in his direction.

  Dealing with his grandfather was hard enough.

  But any sort of engagement with Nadine Titus—well, it was like working with a three-letter agency that liked to test new ways to torture people and yet keep them alive.

  This whole situation had started with her.

  Funny how that was where it should end as well.

  “Mrs. McCleery,” he said smoothly, taking his attention away from Nadine. “A pleasure to see you.”

  “Hmm.” She glared at him. “I can’t say the same.”

  Nadine chuckled loudly, while Grandfather barked out a laugh. “Now, Prudence, I—”

  “Don’t you ‘Now, Prudence’ me!” she said, seething. “Your bastard of a grandson broke her heart!”

  “Prudence—”

  Bentley crossed his arms. “Let her finish.”

  “You!” She jutted a finger into the air. “You seduced her, you made her fall for you, and for what reason? For your own amusement! That wasn’t part of the deal! And you showed her the damn list!” The more she talked, the louder her voice got until Bentley was tempted to cover his ears until her lips stopped moving.

  “You’re right,” he said smoothly.

  Silenced, she gaped and then looked from him to his grandfather.

  Bentley cleared his throat and then stared his grandfather down. “And I quit.”

  His grandfather was silent and then a smile spread across his face. “Well, that’s new. You’re quitting before you even take the job?”

  “I’m not happy.”

  “I know.” Grandfather nodded. “You haven’t been happy ever since the day I crushed your dreams and made you feel like less of a man, and for that, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Bentley growled.

  Grandfather’s eyes closed briefly before he bit back a curse. “Prudence, give us some privacy?”

 
She didn’t look happy about leaving, and she made sure Bentley knew exactly how unhappy she was when she nearly took him down with her bony elbow as she shoved past him.

  “Forgive her temper.” Grandfather chuckled and waved Nadine over. “We grandparents can get very protective of those we love.”

  Bentley nodded.

  “I failed you,” Grandfather said softly, as Nadine came behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “And I didn’t even remember I had, until I saw the news, until my damned memory clicked and then…” He shook his head. “You were never quite the same after that day, were you, Bentley?”

  “What day?” He played dumb. For once he wanted to hear the old man out.

  “You told me you wanted to be a veterinarian, and I laughed at you. After all, you’d never taken anything seriously in your life, why start then? I brushed you off, and then forced you into an unhappy life, forced you to work at a job you hated. But I think what was worse is that you took the emotional baggage of this entire family and decided it was your job to be the comic relief, your job to make sure everyone was okay—I broke you, then encouraged you to take on a role in this family that just helped you mask the pain.”

  “Grandfather—”

  “Let me finish.” Grandfather sighed, clutching Nadine’s hand as she locked eyes with Bentley. “Margot may be broken on the outside, but you were broken on the inside, and I played a larger role in that than I’ve ever wanted to admit.”

  Bentley pulled out a chair. “As much power as you have over me—over all of us—I still had a choice. And I chose not to make you upset. I was a coward. You blame yourself for breaking me. But I blame myself for always doing what’s easy.”

  Grandfather stared down at his desk, his massive hands balled into fists. “So, I guess the question is, what do you do now?”

  Bentley found himself smiling. “I think this is the part where I tell you to shove the job up your ass and go rescue the damsel in distress.”

  “Something tells me you just wouldn’t have been a great fit for Wellington, Inc.” Grandfather winked.

  “Yeah, well, I was already planning on purposefully breaking the copy machines on my floor.” Bentley grinned.

  Grandfather let out a low chuckle. “And after you rescue the damsel?”

  “That’s none of your damn business.”

  Grandfather let out a hearty laugh. “No, I guess it isn’t.” He cleared his throat and locked eyes with Bentley. “I would have never cut you off, but don’t tell Brant that. The man’s more unhappy than you and Brock put together.”

  “Hate to break it to you, but he already knows that, too,” Bentley admitted. The thought of Brant alone, without Bentley protecting him, sank like a rock in the pit of his stomach.

  “None of that.” Grandfather shrugged. “We’ve taken care of it.”

  “Brant isn’t exactly—”

  “We have our ways.” Grandfather’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked up at a still-silent Nadine. “Don’t we, dear?”

  “Oh yes.” Humor danced in her eyes. “When Brock offered you and your brother as participants in the auction, I had to call in a lot of favors. Prudence has been worried about Margot for years. The only thing I could think of that made sense was a little visit from a long-lost best friend. And there’s nothing better than getting a second chance at your one true love, is there?”

  He nodded, emotion clogging in his throat again.

  Grandfather chuckled and kissed Nadine’s hand. “Well played, my dear, well played.”

  “I’ll see you after I apologize for being a jackass.”

  “So, next year, then?” Grandfather joked.

  Bentley rolled his eyes. “Hilarious.”

  “Treat her well.” His grandfather stood, his lips trembling. “She deserves to be loved by someone like you.”

  “Thank you.” Bentley’s voice was hoarse as he walked around the large desk and pulled his grandfather into a tight embrace. “For threatening to kick my ass.”

  “It’s what grandfathers do.”

  “Not sane ones.”

  “Touché.”

  “Go,” Grandfather said gruffly. “We’ve got work to do.”

  Bentley laughed and then walked out of the office only to see Mrs. McCleery glaring daggers at him.

  “I’m going to marry her,” he announced.

  She gasped. “Well, I suppose that would be fine as long as you start working on grandchildren immediately.”

  “Tough bargain.”

  “I’m sure you’ll enjoy the process.” She smiled, but it was a sad smile. “She’s refusing to leave the house again.”

  “I’m headed there now.” In the back of his mind, he realized he might still be feeling the effects of his whiskey fest, so even though it was going to kill him, he was going to have to hydrate and wait a few hours.

  He only hoped he wouldn’t be too late.

  A sick feeling washed over him.

  What if this time she didn’t open the door?

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  A sick feeling settled in the bottom of Margot’s stomach, and it had been there since she watched Bentley walk out the door.

  The damn man had ruined her house. Even the door reminded her of him. It didn’t help that the air lingered with his spicy scent or that every time she walked into the kitchen she thought of his stupid eggs and breathtaking smile.

  It had taken him days to break down every barrier she’d put up for the past ten years. What a complete joke. She was back at square one.

  Back to being alone.

  Only this time she was painfully aware of her own loneliness and what it felt like to be a part of something bigger and better than herself—what it felt like when a man’s kiss lingered just below her ear, or the taste of his tongue after he licked her skin.

  With a gulp, she robotically went through her e-mails, answering as many as she could before going back to her manuscript.

  There was nothing left but sadness.

  And anger.

  So much anger that he’d used her for his own personal gain. Then again, hadn’t that been what she’d worried about all along?

  A voice whispered that he wasn’t like that—that he wouldn’t hurt her—but the list proved otherwise.

  The damn list.

  The same list she had thrown into the fire and cast about a billion curses over while getting drunk on the same whiskey he’d favored his entire stay.

  Yeah, she’d looked like a complete lunatic dancing in front of the fire while whiskey sloshed out of her glass and onto the floor.

  The buzzing from her cell interrupted her dark thoughts. With a shaky hand she grabbed the phone and stared at the screen.

  Her grandmother.

  Of course.

  Sighing, she swiped her thumb across the screen and held the phone to her ear. Avoiding her grandmother was impossible. It would be like ignoring a herd of elephants as they charged into her house.

  Elephants.

  Bentley.

  Another sigh escaped between her lips, only it sounded like more of a hiss of pain. Felt like it, too, as her chest once again tightened.

  “I know you’re there, Margot.”

  “Are you there, God? It’s me, Margot” was her only response, and even then she could only conjure up a little laugh.

  “Why?”

  Margot clenched her teeth and stared at the blinking cursor on her computer screen. “Why what?”

  “Why did you mess up the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” her grandmother asked.

  “Hah, you mean the worst thing, right?” She could barely get the words past her lips without crying.

  “You went outside.”

  Margot refused to acknowledge that truth. “We had lots and lots of sex, too, so there’s that.”

  He grandmother refused to be scandalized. “So you could be pregnant with his child, and you still kicked him out?”

  Leave it to her grandmother to fixa
te on that. “Not pregnant,” she huffed out. “And he left me!”

  You forced him.

  He said he loved you.

  The pain sliced through her fresh and new.

  “A man like that”—it wasn’t lost on Margot how her grandmother drew out the word that, as if to prove how amazing Bentley really was—“doesn’t leave unless he feels like he’s already lost.”

  An ache started building between her temples. Margot pressed a hand against her head and tried to count to three so she wouldn’t snap or yell or say something she might regret.

  “Look,” she tried again. “Had he not had the ‘seduce Margot’ list, he would have probably hung out in his room getting drunk the entire time. But no, his crazy grandfather set him on a task, and guess what? He accomplished every single thing on that list.”

  “And you’re upset?”

  “He threw it in my face.”

  “Seems he must have had a reason to confess to you that he’d been working off a list.”

  Margot groaned. “I don’t know! He was upset!”

  “And what would make a man, one who wanted to save animals—”

  Oh good, bring the animals in, lay it on thick! Whose side was she on?

  “—that upset?”

  Margot chewed her fingernail and stared out the open window. She hadn’t had the heart to close it, not after he left. Maybe she was having a nervous breakdown, but the idea of being alone in her house suddenly made her feel trapped. Maybe it was because he’d given her a taste of life again, a taste of freedom.

  The last thing she wanted to do was rehash the fight they’d had.

  The things they’d said in front of the doctor and—

  “Margot? I’m waiting.”

  “He was upset.” Margot hated reliving that moment, the moment he walked out of her life, the moment he looked at her like she was a stranger, like a man defeated.

  Defeated?

  She frowned. “I think we were fighting about the doctor visit.”

  “A doctor?” Grandma shrieked. “Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital? What’s wrong? Why didn’t you tell me?” Margot pulled the phone away from her ear while her grandmother rattled off every disease known to mankind, including malaria—twice.

  “Are you done?” She shook her head in annoyance.