by HELEN HARDT
And right into Bryce.
Chapter Seven
Bryce
Such a perfect picture.
Marjorie holding my son, comforting him, helping him with his teething pain. For a moment I let myself imagine that she lived here, that Henry was her son as well as mine, and that I was coming home to my family.
My beautiful family.
She stared at me, wide-eyed, and then Henry reached his chubby little arms out to me. I smiled and took him from Marj.
Neither of us had spoken yet.
Finally, I said, “Where’s Mom?”
Marjorie didn’t meet my gaze. “She ran out to get diapers. I guess the movers lost them or something.”
“Oh.” Diapers. Man, I was a lousy father. My son was out of diapers, and I’d been clueless.
“I’m sorry she had to bother you. I’m home now, so—”
“So I can leave.” Still not meeting my gaze. “I get it.”
I ran back through that horrible note in my mind.
I’m leaving…
I have no emotional ties to you…
Nothing happened between us, and nothing more will ever happen…
You are Joe’s sister, nothing more…
I wasn’t staying away from her.
Of course my mother—not I—had invited her here. And why not? Mom had no idea what had gone on between Marj and me. It made perfect sense for her to call Marj if she needed a sitter. Marj was close, and she loved Henry. Henry loved her.
She finally looked up and met my gaze.
Hurt shone in her dark eyes. Those eyes, usually so warm and caring, were distant, devastated.
Devastation I had put there.
I was a jerk. A major fucking jerk.
She cleared her throat. “He’s eaten. The cold teething ring seems to help his fussiness a little. We were just about to read a story.”
“Da-da!” Henry said.
A grin split Marjorie’s beautiful face. “He’s talking?”
“Just ‘Da-da’ and ‘Ga-ga,’ for my mom.”
She grabbed one of Henry’s little hands. “Such a smart boy! Good for you, Henry.”
“Ma-ma,” Henry said.
Marj’s cheeks pinked.
It was a fluke, of course. Henry made all kinds of silly sounds.
If only it were true. If only Marjorie were Henry’s mama and she lived here with me.
If only…
I wasn’t sure what to say. “Is that a new word, Henry? Did you say Marjorie?”
“Da-da,” Henry said.
Yeah. A fluke.
“I haven’t spent enough time with him for him to know my name,” Marj said.
“Yeah. True.”
“So…I guess I’ll go.”
“Thank you for watching him.”
“I’m happy to help. Anytime.” She turned away and walked toward the doorway.
Let her go. Do the right thing and let her go.
I kissed my son’s rosy cheek. Then, “No. Wait. Don’t go.”
She turned, her expression a mixture of distress and hope. I’d offered her hope with just four words.
“Have you eaten?” I asked quickly. “The least we can do is feed you.”
“I made dinner at home.”
“Oh.”
“But I didn’t eat. I wasn’t hungry.”
I wasn’t overly hungry myself. Rejecting the woman I loved had taken its toll. It was clearly taking its toll on her as well, a fact that made me feel like the lowest of the low. Which was true.
“Oh.”
Great conversation, Bryce.
“Henry already ate. Your mom fed him before she left.”
“Did she eat?”
“I have no idea.”
“She usually waits for me. I’m sure she’s planning something. Why don’t you stay?”
She lifted her brow. “Seriously, Bryce? You want me to stay for dinner?”
For dinner. For the evening. For the rest of your life.
If only I could say the words.
“Sure. My mom would want you to stay. You know, for watching Henry and all.”
“Your mom wants me to stay. Great. What do you want, Bryce?”
I want everything. Fucking everything.
Instead of saying anything, though, I stood like a zombie, my little son squirming in my arms.
“What I figured.” Marjorie took Henry from me. “I promised him a story, and then I’ll leave.”
She walked away, taking Henry with her to the nursery. I loved how natural she looked with him. I loved how she commanded the house, which of course shouldn’t surprise me. She’d been here many times before. I loved…
I just loved.
I loved everything about Marjorie Steel.
I loved Marjorie Steel.
I quietly made my way to the doorway of the nursery and stood against the wall. Marjorie’s voice was soothing as she read the words of the classic children’s book. I closed my eyes, seeing in my mind Marjorie in the rocking chair, my sweet son in her arms, as she held the book and read to him with care. With love. It wasn’t a long book, so soon her voice petered out, and the soft sounds of her rising and placing Henry in his crib wafted to my ears.
When she strode out of the nursery, I couldn’t help myself.
I grabbed her and kissed her. Hard.
Her lips remained closed, but I licked the seam, probing her to open.
When she did, I plunged inside.
It was a hard kiss, a kiss of need and urgency.
And no sooner had it begun than my mother returned, bustling through the entryway.
Marjorie pushed against me, breaking the kiss. She looked away, wiping her mouth and hurrying toward my mother.
The wiping our kiss from her mouth got to me. She was wiping me away. Not that I could blame her.
“Good, you’re still here,” my mother said to her. “I saw Bryce’s car and thought you might have left.”
“He’s only been home a few minutes. I was reading Henry a story and he dozed off. He’s in his crib.”
“Thank goodness. The poor thing’s been so fussy with that tooth.”
“The teething ring in the freezer helped.”
“You found that? Good.”
“I put another one in there to replace it.”
“You think of everything, Marjorie. You’re going to be an excellent mother someday.”
I sucked in a breath at those words. She was right. Marjorie would be an amazing mother. She loved me, and I loved her. In a perfect world, Marj’s children would also be mine.
If only…
But she deserved a husband and father to her children who wasn’t a shadow of his former self. That would never be me.
“I’ve got dinner ready to go into the oven,” my mother continued. “Green chile enchiladas. Please stay.”
“It sounds delicious, but I can’t.”
“If you say so. Thank you so much for looking after Henry.”
“Anytime. I adore him.” She padded to the front door, avoiding looking toward the hallway where I still stood outside Henry’s room, and she left.
Taking a big chunk of my heart with her.
Chapter Eight
Marjorie
Crying is for girls.
I’d lived by those words my whole life. Growing up on a ranch with a father and three brothers had made those words not only necessary but also a personal philosophy. Crying solved nothing. You have a problem? Find a solution. Don’t wallow in tears. It’s a waste of time.
I sniffed back the tears that wanted so badly to come pouring out of me.
I didn’t just live with men anymore, though. I had Jade, my best friend in the world, and Mel, who argued that crying wasn’t a waste of time. To the contrary, crying released toxins from the body and relieved stress.
It also left you swollen, red, and ugly.
I couldn’t help a scoffing chuckle. Release toxins? My relationship—for lack of a better word�
�with Bryce was pretty darn toxic. Maybe I needed a good toxin release. Sounded a lot better than a good blubbering cry.
Where, though? If I went back to the house, Talon and the boys would be there. I’d have to hold my tears until I got to my bedroom.
Certainly not on the path to the guesthouse. Bryce could walk out back and see me.
Our ranch was huge. I could go anywhere, but we had hands working around the clock most of the time.
Biggest ranch in Colorado, and I couldn’t find a place to be alone, really alone.
“Damn it!” I said aloud.
I didn’t have my purse with me, just my phone. No tissues, and already the tears were streaming down my cheeks like tiny flowing rivers.
“Stop it,” I said, again out loud. “Crying is for girls.”
I had no choice. I had to go home to get a tissue.
Damn Bryce Simpson. Why had he kissed me? Why had I let him? If he couldn’t give me anything, like he’d said in his letter, if nothing had happened between us, why had he kissed me?
Why?
Nothing could stop the crying now. Sobs racked my body, and I ran toward the main house. My vision was blurred from the tears, but I knew the way. No prob—
“Ow!” I screamed as I fell on the walkway. I’d tripped over something. Not that I could see anything at the moment.
My knee hurt a little, though the fabric of my jeans hadn’t ripped. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Growing up on a ranch, I’d had more than my share of cuts and bruises, and I’d learned how to walk it off the way my brothers did.
Not this time, though.
Not this time.
I cried. I crumpled on the walkway, and I cried and I cried and I cried.
Moments passed—how many? I didn’t know—while I sat on the concrete walkway, hugging my knees to my body as the weeping continued. Did I truly have this many tears to give? Would it ever stop?
I wiped my nose on my arm. Gross, but what other choice did I have? I sniffed back as much as I could, when—
“Hey.” A hand clamped down on my shoulder.
I jerked and looked up. The face was blurry through my tears, but I’d recognize it anywhere.
I sniffled. “Go away, Bryce.”
He didn’t. Instead, he pulled a red bandana out of his pocket and handed it to me. I blew my nose unceremoniously into the soft cloth. Not ladylike at all, but it sure felt good to expel the watery snot. Embarrassment warmed my skin. Or heck, it could have been from my meltdown. Probably both.
With the only dry part left on the bandana, I wiped my eyes. Then I handed it back to Bryce. “Here.”
“Keep it.”
“I don’t want it.” I threw it at him. It landed on the grass next to his feet.
“Look, Marj—”
“Please, spare me your words. I’ve no more use for them. Not after…” I shook my head. I couldn’t finish. Couldn’t bring the words out of my throat.
Bryce sat down on the grass across from me. “Look at me,” he said gently.
What the hell? I knew I was a disgusting mess. I met his blue gaze.
“I never meant to hurt you.”
I scoffed.
“I mean it.”
“The words you chose weren’t hurtful at all,” I said sarcastically. “And you couldn’t even say them to my face. You left me a note, Bryce. A note!”
“I just—”
I held up a hand. “Don’t even try to excuse it. It was cowardly, and you know it.”
“I had to.”
“Really? You couldn’t have dumped me to my face?”
I regretted my word choice as soon as I spoke. Dumped implied we’d been in a relationship. We hadn’t been. He’d been clear on that from the beginning.
“No, I couldn’t.”
“Because you’re a coward.”
“That’s part of it. I won’t deny it.”
“Part of it? Come on.” I rolled my eyes. “That’s all of it. A real man would have said the words to my face.”
“A real man?”
“Yeah. A real man. You’re lacking there.”
He shook his head. “You have no idea. A real man wouldn’t start something he can’t finish. A real man knows his limitations. A real man… Fuck.”
“I grew up with three real men, Bryce. You don’t have to educate me on what a real man is.”
“A real man, Marjorie? Would a real man do this?” He cupped my cheeks and kissed me.
Again.
Hard.
This time I didn’t start with my lips pressed shut.
Chapter Nine
Bryce
Her lips were salty from her tears—tears I had caused. But I didn’t ruminate on that, not in this instant, when she opened for me so lovingly. How could I do this to her? Kiss her like this, when I’d leave her again? I had no control around this woman. These thoughts were jumbled in my mind until they became fragmented and shapeless. Feeling replaced them. Pure, raw feeling. Feeling like I’d never experienced, and I knew instinctively I never would again.
She kissed me back.
She was in love with me. She’d said the words. But she didn’t know I was in love with her.
Had I really thought I could resist her? Had I really thought I could live half a mile away from her, work for her brothers, and still never see her?
I deepened the kiss, taking all her sweetness and goodness that I could. Our mouths molded together as though they were one. As if they’ve been made to produce the ultimate kiss.
I kissed her and I kissed her and I kissed her, sliding my lips against hers, my tongue against hers, exploring every crevice of her warm, sweet mouth. How I wished it could go on forever. My cock reminded me that it couldn’t. If I didn’t stop this kiss, I knew where it would head. To a place I’d been before, a place where I wanted more than anything to stay forever….
Still, I didn’t stop the kiss.
I physically could not.
I didn’t have to. Marjorie pushed hard at my chest, causing the suction of our mouths to break.
Her face was red and swollen with tears, the whites of her beautiful eyes bloodshot, her salty lips swollen from the kiss I’d given her.
She’d never looked more beautiful.
I sat like a zombie, no words coming to me. All I wanted in the world was to finish the kiss, to take it to its ultimate conclusion.
“You’re not playing fair,” she said solemnly.
What could I say? She was right.
“I’m going home.” She turned away.
My hand automatically reached out to stop her.
She looked over her shoulder. “Don’t.”
I dropped my arms to my side. Then I watched her walk away from me, loathing myself for hurting her again.
After dinner, I drove to Grand Junction to meet Joe at the dive bar. He hadn’t arrived yet, and I was sorry to see that Heidi—who I’d nearly had a one-nighter with—was working.
“Hey, Bob,” she said.
I waved and took a seat at the bar to avoid her.
The elderly man named Mike sat at the other end of the bar. I waved to him as well. I didn’t think it was an invitation to get off his stool and come talk to me, but apparently he disagreed.
“Good to see you. Bryce, is it?”
“Yeah. I’m just waiting for Joe.”
“I don’t mean to get too personal on you, Bryce, but you kind of look like you just lost your best friend.”
“Not unless Joe doesn’t show up. He’s been my best friend for pretty much my whole life.”
“Woman trouble, then?”
If you only knew. I didn’t say anything.
“Heidi there seems to know you. Bob.”
“Nothing happened between Heidi and me.”
“Did I say it did?”
Joe had described Mike to me as a kind of guardian angel to the Steel brothers. Frankly, I didn’t see it. In fact, he was being a pain in my ass. But Joe liked him, so I wouldn’t be rude.
“She calls me Bob because—”
“I didn’t ask for any explanation.”
“No, you didn’t. Let me get your drink.” I signaled the bartender. “I’ll have a bourbon, and get my friend here whatever he’s having.”
“Obliged,” Mike said. “Sorry if I got a little personal there.”
“It’s okay.”
“None of my business, but something is definitely bothering you.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
What a damned, damned lie. I couldn’t handle anything. I couldn’t handle what my father had been. What I might become because of him. And I sure as hell couldn’t handle Marjorie Steel.
Joe walked in then, and not for the first time, I thought about what my best friend would do to me if he knew what had happened between his baby sister and me.
“Bryce,” he said. “And Mike. Good to see you.”
“Your friend here just got me a drink,” Mike said. “I’ll drink it at the other end of the bar. I get the feeling he needs to talk. I think it’s a woman thing.”
After Mike moved away, Joe said, “A woman thing?”
Damn. Yeah, partially. Nothing I could tell the older brother of the woman, though.
“Nah. He’s wrong. I’m just a mess about all this shit.”
Joe looked at me, his eyes serious. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. Why would you think I’d divulge anything we talked about?”
“Sorry, man. You know I trust you implicitly. I’m just so fucking on edge.”
“I hear you. Did you contact the Spider?”
He nodded. “Now we wait.”
“How long?”
“He didn’t say.”
“We’re kind of in a hurry here, Joe.”
“You think I don’t know that? I can’t sleep. I’ve got a pregnant wife at home who I can’t share this with for many reasons. It’s killing me.”
“I know. Sorry.”
“We’ve got to keep cool,” he said. “We can’t start fighting with each other, Bryce.”
I nodded. He was right.
Joe ordered a drink, and we sat, silent, for a few moments. I nursed the rotgut bourbon slowly. It was every bit as harsh as I recalled. I was pretty sure it was leaving a trail of ashes down my esophagus.
