Falling for You

by Becky Wade

  “We don’t have to go to the fundraiser, Willow.”

  “There’s no way we’re not going. I’m determined to wear the dress I brought.”

  “I’ll do whatever you want to do. I just don’t want you to feel pressured to go.”

  “Did I mention that my dress has a taffeta and organza skirt?”

  “No.”

  “And that I’m wearing coral shoes? And long gold earrings?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I am. I’ve been looking forward to this. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  The answering kiss he pressed against the crown of her head assured her he’d take her wherever she wanted to go.

  In that instant, standing barefoot in the kitchen, with a teakettle beginning to whistle and a police officer pretending not to notice what was going on between them, Willow forgave Corbin.

  She’d told him that she’d forgiven him a while back, but now she really did. She forgave him for the mistakes he’d made four years ago. She forgave him for breaking her heart. It seemed possible that the things he’d told her about the events that led to their breakup might all be true. And if so, it was feasible that she’d been wrong not to give him the second chance he’d so badly wanted at the time. It could be that she deserved more than fifteen percent of the blame for their split.

  Regardless of who deserved what percent of the blame, she forgave him for his share. And it felt like freedom to let the last of the accusation and hurt melt away.

  Late that night, Willow lay in bed, eyes closed, replaying and replaying the evening’s events. Unable to sleep.

  At the fundraiser Corbin had put in an admirable amount of time socializing with her at his side. The rest of the evening, he’d been focused solely on her. They’d discussed what happened with Todd at length. They’d both recounted the times over the years when fans had overstepped boundaries. She had a few stories. He had many. It had helped to talk it out.

  The police had found and arrested Todd. He’d rented a boat a few miles down the canal. Run it up onto the sand of the inlet. Then hiked to the main house.

  He’d told the authorities that he’d never breached Bradfordwood’s acres before. Willow decided to accept that as fact because the alternative, Todd watching her on prior occasions, was too creepy to stomach.

  When she and Corbin returned to Bradfordwood near one in the morning, Nora and Britt had been there to meet them. They’d brought their overnight bags and insisted on staying.

  Good sisters. Willow had brought them up well.

  After Corbin had gone home, the three sisters had talked and snacked on chocolate-covered açaí berries before settling into the bedrooms that had belonged to each of them when they’d been young. They’d left their doors open to the shared hall, where one light remained on. Just like the old days.

  Willow opened her eyes and contemplated the ceiling.

  When terror had been racing through her earlier, it hadn’t been Nora or Britt that she’d called. Even John would have been a logical option. He was former military and, no doubt, handy with trespassers.

  Instead, she’d called Corbin. Now, hours later, the fact that she’d done so somewhat surprised her. But there it was. Her fear had stripped away her misgivings about him, and of all people, he was the one she’d called.

  Four years ago his actions had given her cause to doubt him. But today, when it had mattered, his actions had been as dependable as concrete. She’d faced a trial, and he’d come through for her.

  And she might just . . . love him a little for it.

  Oh no.

  Oh yes.

  She loved him.

  She’d fallen in love with Corbin Stewart for the second time.

  Love was an intensely powerful emotion, but it wasn’t always the smartest of entities. Was it possible to control whom you loved? Perhaps in part. But not fully. Sometimes, you just loved. Love didn’t always take direction well.

  How she responded to her feelings for Corbin—that part, she could control. She wasn’t ready to jump headlong into anything with him at this point. She’d promised Joe she wouldn’t. But even if she set her promises to Joe aside, jumping headlong was still ill-advised. She wasn’t staying. Nor was she ready to place all her trust in Corbin. She’d forgiven him, but that didn’t mean she had to be dumb.

  Today had gone a long way toward restoring her battered hopes in him. But the idea of investing herself in him further worried her. Was his relationship with God as strong as she needed it to be? They’d had some great conversations—transparent conversations—about faith recently. He was coming along. But could she count on him to value what she valued? To help her keep their physical intimacy in check? To be faithful to her even though the majority of the female population of America would sell their mothers for a chance to be with him?

  She didn’t know.

  Wearily, she sighed.

  There was a chance that things might end happily for the two of them.

  However, she was also painfully aware of the flip side of that coin. Things might also end very, very badly for the two of them.

  She loved Corbin. But she had no idea whether her love for him would result in joy or heartbreak.

  Text message from Corbin to Willow:

  Corbin

  Still awake?

  Willow

  Yes.

  Corbin

  Upset over what happened earlier with Todd?

  Willow

  A little.

  Corbin

  I can’t sleep because I’m still fuming about it.

  Willow

  You looked a wee bit worried when you rushed into my kitchen.

  Corbin

  I was the most worried I’ve ever been in my life. I didn’t want to trust a fire poker with your safety.

  Willow

  I have a feeling I might have been ferocious with that fire poker, if needed.

  Corbin

  Would it be all right with you if I borrow the fire poker, hunt Todd down, and stab him with it?

  Willow

  No, sir. Todd’s going to get what’s coming to him. I don’t mind him ending up behind bars, but I’m determined to keep you out of jail.

  Chapter

  Twenty-one

  The Bradford family tradition had always been to celebrate Thanksgiving with one side of the family one year and with the other side of their family the next year. This year, the sisters were spending Thanksgiving with their mom’s side of the family, the Burke side.

  Their mom, Kathleen, had one older brother. Uncle Shane was a confirmed bachelor with a very expensive mid-century modern house and a welcoming spirit. He’d good-naturedly opened his doors, and aunts, uncles, cousins, and second cousins descended on him like ants into an anthill.

  As soon as Grandma entered Shane’s house, she asked her granddaughters whether it was cold inside. They replied that it wasn’t. She wore her coat indoors for the rest of the day to call attention to the fact that they’d been gravely mistaken about the indoor temperature.

  Whenever anyone asked if she was chilly, she icily replied, “No, not at all.”

  Britt was one of the few Burke family members with cooking chops. The sublime turkey she’d cooked appeared to be insulted by its surrounding dishes, which had all originated from cans and boxes.

  The Burke family talked and laughed while sitting around Uncle Shane’s metal and concrete table. They ate their Thanksgiving feast off extraordinarily masculine place settings and sipped from sleek, modern glasses.

  After the meal Willow dropped her sisters off at their homes, then drove the night-dark streets toward Bradfordwood. Ordinarily, she enjoyed a sense of peace and gratitude on Thanksgiving Day. She’d behaved all day as if she’d felt those things but—in all honesty—hadn’t quite been able to grasp them.

  She was tired from too little sleep and still a bit rattled by Todd’s appearance yesterday. The prospect of returning to a dark and empty Bradfordwood seemed more frightening th
an soothing.

  Plus, she missed Corbin.

  Corbin and Joe had spent their Thanksgiving with the Dixons, so they’d been in very good hands. She should be pleased that they had a wonderful family to spend the holiday with. And she was. It’s just that the hours of her day had been longer and dimmer without Corbin in any of them. They’d texted back and forth as recently as thirty minutes ago, when she’d let him know they were headed back to Merryweather. But it wasn’t the same as seeing him.

  Today would be their first full day apart since the kissing picnic.

  What does it matter? It was ridiculous to care about going a day without seeing him, when in just a few days, she wouldn’t get to see him anymore at all.

  Which was why she wanted to see him now.

  She groaned and bumped her fist against the steering wheel.

  She’d already slowed to enter the gates to Bradfordwood when she spotted Corbin’s car, parked on the curb.

  He was here.

  Thank you, God!

  She was grinning with surprise when she pulled up beside him.

  “I didn’t want to break our streak,” he said.

  “What streak?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Our streak of seeing each other every day.”

  “Oh.”

  “You know exactly what streak I’m talking about. You don’t want to break it either.”

  “I don’t?”

  “No,” he assured her.

  “Fine. I don’t want to break it either,” she permitted herself to say. “Even though we’re not—”

  “Together? Yeah, yeah. I know.” Humor lurked in his eyes, but so did determination. She suspected he was saying one thing to placate her while resolutely and absolutely believing something different.

  He followed her along the drive, then into the mansion’s kitchen. She’d just set her purse on the counter when he came up behind her and kissed the side of her neck. “Happy Thanksgiving, Willow.”

  She turned. “Happy Thanksgiving, Corbin.”

  “I don’t want to spend another Thanksgiving without you,” he said.

  Elation rushed from the tip of her head to her toes. She should correct him. She didn’t want to, but she should put down the same firm boundary she’d been putting down—

  “Here.” He pulled a wrapped present from his jacket pocket, gave it a small toss, and caught it on the flat of his palm. It was square, short, and covered half his hand.

  “What’s this?”

  “A Thanksgiving present.”

  “Thanksgiving isn’t a gift-giving holiday.”

  “It is now.”

  Reverentially, she took the package and pulled off its bow and paper. “Did you wrap this yourself?”

  “Do I look like someone who could wrap a gift that well?”

  “No.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment.”

  He laughed. That particular exchange was becoming an inside joke between them. She removed the box’s lid. A bracelet nestled within. She released an awed breath as she plucked free the piece of jewelry.

  The bangle-style bracelet had been fashioned of platinum. One small, round charm imprinted with a cursive W swayed from it. It was exquisite. Tasteful. Costly, but not so costly that she’d have to refuse it.

  “I love it,” she said. “It’s exactly my style.”

  “Good.” He looked more pleased than if he’d been the one on the receiving end of the gift. “I know that you like bracelets.”

  “They’re my favorite kind of jewelry. And this is my new favorite of all the bracelets I own.” She placed it on her wrist. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I wish I had something for you.”

  “I didn’t expect—”

  “Oh. That’s right. I do have something for you.” Shooting him a mischievous look, she slid the platter decorated with acorns and autumn leaves (thank you, Williams-Sonoma) closer to them. She’d baked an almond cake this morning for her family’s Thanksgiving. With the leftover batter, she’d created a second almond cake just big enough for two. In case their streak went unbroken.

  Astonishment flared in his face. “You made this for me?”

  She shrugged. “I spent the morning baking.” And I was thinking about you. “And I know you aren’t a fan of pumpkin pie. So I made you a Thanksgiving almond cake. It’s full of butter and I serve it with caramel sauce, so how bad could it be?”

  “Nothing I eat with you could ever be bad.” He gazed at her steadily.

  When asked what qualities they wanted in a boyfriend, no woman ever said, I’d like him to pay attention. But they should. Because that was the thing that slayed her the most.

  Corbin saw her. And not just the outward part of her that everyone else saw. He saw her sense of humor, which usually went unnoticed. He saw the scars that her mother’s abandonment had left. He saw her idiosyncrasies and her strengths and her weaknesses and seemed to find beauty in the whole.

  He grabbed a fork and sectioned off some cake without bothering to cut a slice. He held the fork out to her, offering her the first bite.

  She took it and chewed. Subtle, rich flavors of butter, vanilla, almond.

  He lifted the cake platter with his good arm. “Let’s move this party to the sofa. I’m tired.” He snagged some napkins and another fork.

  “Can’t stand the pace?”

  “I’m not in Thanksgiving shape, apparently.”

  She fed him some of her bites of cake and he fed her some of his. They laughed and joked while her beloved Alison Krauss bluegrass played over the sound system and her new bracelet sparkled on her wrist.

  Leftover concerns about Todd Hill could not coexist with Corbin. It wasn’t scientifically possible because Corbin’s larger-than-life presence filled every corner of the home.

  When nothing was left of her almond cake but one tilting morsel, she snuggled against him and laid her head on his shoulder. Quiet surrounded them like a blessing. She massaged one of his hands. Then trailed her fingertips along his injured arm and across his collarbone. Up and around one ear. Down his neck.

  She was endlessly fascinated with the masterpiece that was his body. The sturdiness of it. The labyrinth of muscles and veins. Its lines.

  He spun her suddenly and she landed half-propped against him with a gasp of laughter. Her face hovered inches above his.

  She waited, staring into his eyes, watching as they clouded with need and his smile faded. Her love for him expanded through her chest like rays of sunlight.

  Then slowly, the torture of it sweet, she lowered to kiss him.

  Within minutes, her body had become a mass of sensation and pleasure. Dark temptation began to pull at her. She wanted more. Of him. Of this. Would it be terrible to go just a little further? Dimly, she knew the right answer. And yet this felt excruciatingly good. Very nearly irresistibly good. Her body’s needs were demanding and loud. Her principles were distant and quiet—

  Gently, Corbin set her about a foot away from him. He held her gaze for a searing space of time, his breath hitching unevenly. Then he groaned as his head flopped against the sofa’s back. He covered his eyes with his elbow. “You’re killing me.”

  Willow realized she’d been tugging the hem of his shirt. She began to regain her senses. Not fully. Just enough to smooth his shirt back into place after getting an eyeful of his ribs.

  Drawing on the small amount of willpower she had left, she moved another few inches away so that no part of her was touching him. She tucked her feet beneath her.

  Great Scott.

  She felt dazed. Her blood was rushing, her skin was flushed. Later, when he wasn’t sitting so close and looking so kissable, she’d probably be very glad they’d ended the kiss when they had. But as of this moment? She yearned to return to him for more.

  Strain tightened Corbin’s jaw. He was having to work at it, but he had himself under control. He’d been the one who’d found the strength
she’d been unable to summon just now to break the kiss before it could spiral into more. Shame mixed with a dash of embarrassment knotted her stomach.

  “That wasn’t easy for me,” he said in a low voice, arm still covering his eyes. “I’m not in the habit of denying myself something I want as much as I want you.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “And yet I’m not feeling too happy about it at the moment.”

  Alison Krauss’s sweet, clear voice continued to quietly hum from the speakers.

  “You did the right thing,” Willow repeated.

  At length, he straightened and extended his arm along the sofa. He skimmed a fingertip from the edge of her shoulder to her collarbone and back, watching its progress.

  When his eyes finally met hers, the banked fire there stole her breath.

  “I’m starting to want your standards for myself,” he said. “But I can promise you that I didn’t stop for my sake just then. I stopped for you.”

  She nodded. “We—or I, as the case may be, came close to crossing a line.”

  “But we didn’t. I want you, Willow. Badly. Whatever attraction you feel toward me, I feel twice that for you. But here’s what I need for you to know.” He concentrated on her intently. “I’m determined to keep a handle on it this time around because I’m not going to do anything that might mess up my chances with you.”

  She longed to believe him. But did she dare?

  “I won’t be careless,” he said. “I won’t do anything to risk you.”

  She took a deep, tremulous breath.

  “Doesn’t it hurt your knees to sit like that?” he asked.

  “Not really.”

  “It’s hurting my knees for you to sit like that.”

  Smiling, she adjusted one of the sofa cushions so that it acted like a back rest for her, then straightened her legs and set her crossed feet on his thigh. “I’m feeling sort of . . . chagrined. I can’t believe I just tried to pull off your shirt after feeling guilty for years over the things we did the last time we dated.”

  “Why all the guilt? The way the chaplain explained it to me, once we ask God for forgiveness, we’re forgiven. Right?”