No Better Man

by Sara Richardson

  “It sounds lovely,” Avery said, relaxing against the chair. Her attention turned to Bryce. “I’d love to hear more about the ranch.” She braved the glare he cast into her eyes. Now that she knew about his wife, in some ways the pressure was off. The man was appealing, there was no doubt about that. But after watching her Dad grieve Mom’s death for the last sixteen years, after watching him torture himself and ruin every other relationship he’d started, she wouldn’t fall for a man who couldn’t fully give himself to her, who could never fully love her. There were no exceptions.

  Not even for someone as tempting as Bryce Walker.

  *

  Small talk. God, how he hated small talk. What was it with women, anyway? They had to discuss every detail about every little thing, from recipes to china patterns to table linens to the latest in celebrity gossip. So far, in one half hour, Avery and his mother had covered all four. It was just his luck that he had gotten roped into eating a meal with two women who exceled in his least favorite activity. Bryce set his fork on his plate and settled in. It would be a long night.

  “I just can’t believe we get to serve you dinner,” his mother gushed. “Avery King! At our lodge, of all places. This is wonderful!”

  “Are you kidding?” Avery brandished an arm toward her like they were old friends. “I’m the one who’s honored to be here.”

  The food in his stomach boiled. Honored his ass. She wasn’t there to make friends, to get to know them over dinner. She was there for one reason. She’d proved it by snooping around upstairs. What was she looking for, anyway? Information that would give her the ammo she needed to force him into selling?

  “This is the best meal I’ve had in a long time.” The woman flashed him another smile and, yet again, he answered with a glare. She was nice to look at, though, so he couldn’t glare at her too long or his eyes started to wander. Her blond hair had been pulled back into a loose ponytail so that the free curls in the front dangled around her face. And god, what a face. From what he could tell, she didn’t wear much makeup. Her natural coloring was damn near perfect: smooth and creamy skin, a slight blush on the apples of her cheeks. She still wore the flowered button-up shirt that fit snug around her curves. A lacy white tank top peeked out from the V where the top buttons were left undone. He could only imagine what hid underneath…

  And there he went again. Damn it. He shifted his gaze back to his empty plate. Avery King. She was Avery King. She’d probably left those buttons undone on purpose. Especially now that she knew about Yvonne. His traitorous mother had no doubt spilled his life history while he’d regrouped up in his apartment.

  “Just wait until you try dessert,” his mother said with a wink. “I’ll go get it right now.” Rising from her chair, she gave him a pointed look that warned him to behave. But he’d had enough behaving, enough listening politely while the woman lied her ass off about what an honor it was to stay at their ranch. He’d had enough of her.

  As soon as Mom disappeared into the kitchen, he pushed away his plate and targeted Avery’s wandering gaze. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Small talk wasn’t his forte. He preferred to get right to the point.

  Her blue eyes went wide then lowered like the question had hurt, but she quickly seemed to rein in her shock at his rude behavior.

  He battled a grin. Oh, baby. She hadn’t seen rude, yet.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.” To her credit, her eyes didn’t shy away from his.

  “Chatting up my mom…charming her over dinner…it won’t change my mind. I’m not selling.” He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair just in case she hadn’t gotten the hint that this discussion was over. He wouldn’t go there with her again.

  At first, she didn’t say anything. Her shoulders rose and fell with steady breaths. Then she leaned forward slightly, just enough that he could see a section of her bra. Pink. Of course it was. Probably had unicorns and hearts all over it to match her magical, charmed, entitled life.

  Eyes up, he reminded himself, but it was too late. His body had already responded. What could he say? It’d been awhile since he’d seen a bra. Anyone’s bra. She wasn’t special.

  “You’ll lose it anyway, Bryce,” Avery said quietly. “I know you’re facing foreclosure.”

  He shook his head. At least she made it easy to keep himself in check. “That’s none of your damn business.” He leaned halfway over the table. “Mom doesn’t know about the bank, so we will not have this discussion in front of her.”

  She glanced at the door, then back at him. “I can get you a check for twenty-three million dollars tomorrow,” she whispered. “That’s more than enough for you and your mom to do whatever you want. We’re talking seven figures, Bryce.” Her palm hit the table, emphasizing each syllable. “You’d be crazy to pass up that kind of money.”

  Crazy? She was calling him crazy? He pushed back from the table and stood. “This is my family’s land.” And it was part of him. It was his life. He strode around the table and leaned down so that his lips stopped next to her ear. Maybe not the smartest move, considering she smelled real good, so fresh…citrus-y.

  He heard her swallow. She tipped up her chin and gazed at him. Those eyes…the clarity of those blue eyes…

  “I’m not selling,” he managed to say past the tight ache in his throat. Then he retreated back to his chair, before it was too late. Before he didn’t want to.

  Avery folded her hands on the table like a prim headmistresses. “For the record, I happen to like your mom. She’s she sweetest woman I’ve ever met. I’m not trying to charm her.”

  Like hell she wasn’t.

  Her gaze intensified. “Think about her, Bryce. This money could take care of her for the rest of her life. It’s—”

  “Here we are!” His mother scurried back into the dining room with a silver tray balanced in her hands. “Warm apple pie right out of the oven.” She set it on the table, and even though he wasn’t hungry the sugary cinnamon scent made his mouth water.

  “Wow,” Avery gushed, purposely avoiding his eyes. “It smells like heaven!”

  The compliment lured out Mom’s brightest smile, and she placed a plate in front of Avery like she was the queen of England, a huge slice of pie topped with homemade whipped cream.

  Wow. She’d pulled out all the stops. That didn’t bode well for him. Mom taking a liking to Avery. That was the last thing he needed right now.

  “So, what did I miss?” She slid his plate in front of him.

  He opted to shovel in a hearty bite rather than answer that loaded question.

  “Nothing much,” Avery chirped. “I was just telling Bryce we have a very generous offer to make you.”

  His jaw clenched. He swallowed fire. “And I said, we’re not interested,” he muttered.

  “Well good, then.” His mom’s smile attempted to build some kind of bridge between them. “We can move on to other, more interesting topics, can’t we?”

  They did, but he had nothing more to say to Avery King. She babbled on and on about some charity she volunteered for, about her father’s fame and how hard it was to be so filthy rich, blah, blah, blah.

  Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He rose and started to stack plates. “I have to head out soon. Got a game tonight.”

  “That’s right!” Mom jumped up and took Avery’s plate. “We have a baseball team,” she informed her.

  “I love baseball!” Avery scrambled out of her chair and collected the rest of the plates. “What time? Where is it? I’d love to come watch.”

  His grip on the plates tightened until he could feel the tension in his knuckles. Shit.

  “You can do more than watch. We’re down a player tonight, isn’t that right, Bryce?”

  Traitor. His mother was a traitor.

  “Don’t think so,” he lied.

  “Well, of course we are! John is out of town, remember?”

  “We’ll be fine,” he exaggerated the word so
she’d get the hint. “We don’t need a sub.”

  Avery swooped next to him, her eyes round with what had to be fabricated innocence. “Are you sure about that? I’m really good. I played softball in high school and college.”

  “Great.” He made sure his tone was as flat as the napkin he held in his hand. Before she could say anything else, he headed for the kitchen.

  “Oh, this’ll be so fun!” She followed him and set the plates on the counter. “I’ll go change. I’ll be right back!”

  “No hurry,” he called after her, but she didn’t seem to hear. That was because women like her only heard what they wanted to hear. She had no concept of reality, of what it felt like to battle through life instead of skipping merrily along Easy Street while she stopped every so often to smell the damn flowers.

  He carted the dishes over to the sink and flicked on the water, squirted in the soap. Dishwasher. They needed a dishwasher. Another thing to add to his fix-it list. Fingers stinging, he scoured plate after plate until footsteps on the other side of the door warned of his mother’s impending arrival.

  She’d have plenty to say about dinner. Unless he missed his guess, he was in for a stern talking-to. Mom never missed a chance to lecture on manners.

  Sure enough, she plowed through the door with the momentum of a wild stallion. Wouldn’t surprise him if she snorted and pawed the ground before charging.

  He pretended to be completely engrossed in scraping grease off her best platter, but it didn’t divert her.

  She marched straight to the sink. “What was that about?”

  He scrubbed the china, shaped his eyebrows into innocence. “What?”

  “You know perfectly well ‘what,’ Bryce Walker.” She swiped the sponge out of his hand and tossed it in the sink. “You were downright rude to that girl. That’s not like you. Not at all.”

  He retrieved the sponge and took his frustration out on the plate. “She’s so…pushy.” And oblivious to the fact that he couldn’t give this place up. He couldn’t turn his back on every memory he had of Yvonne, of his life here…

  “She’s doing her job. You can’t fault her for that.” Mom’s disappointed frown relaxed into a softer gaze. “Besides, I happen to think Avery is lovely.”

  “You think everyone’s lovely.” He flipped on the faucet to rinse the plate and resume his dish-duty penance for bad behavior. Not that it would get him anywhere with her.

  “Well, she is.” She snatched a towel off the counter and stole the clean plate from his hand. “Didn’t you hear what she said? She’s on the board of a women’s shelter.” She held up the plate and inspected it, then set it on the counter. “She’s obviously very compassionate.”

  “When the cameras are clicking, sure.” She probably rescues kittens from trees and carries grocery bags for little old ladies, too. He kept those comments to himself. Mom had never been a fan of sarcasm. He handed her another dripping plate.

  “For your information, Avery told me she hates cameras.” His mother took great care mopping the plate, then set it on the clean stack. “She said she hates all of it, actually. The hullabaloo. She’d rather be left alone.”

  He shook his head. He couldn’t help it. Sometimes the woman was too gullible for her own good. “And you believe her.”

  “I can tell when someone’s lying.” Elsie crumpled the towel on the counter. “It’s all in the eyes. Hers are sincere.”

  Sure. Okay. He’d give her that. Avery had sincere eyes. Stunning, intense eyes. But that didn’t make her a good person. He faced the sink again and washed the last of the dishes.

  It got quiet. Too quiet.

  When he turned back around, Mom’s gaze gave him nowhere to hide. “Bryce…you don’t have to stay here. You know that, don’t you?” She stepped closer. “You could sell to Mr. King. You shouldn’t hold onto this place for me.”

  “I’m not.” There was a time, right after the accident that he wanted to leave, but this place had everything he needed. Simplicity, solitude, space. Not to mention his memories. How could he turn his back on all of that? “I’m holding onto it for me. It’s all I have left.”

  “But you could build yourself a new life. Anywhere you want.”

  “I’ve been everywhere. This is where I belong.”

  She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. “Yvonne would want you to be happy. To move on.”

  Her name. Even just the sound of her name made him flinch. Someone would say it and she’d appear in his field of vision, a shimmering mirage with her brown hair gathered up on her head the way it always was right before bed. He still saw her that way, dressed in her pajamas right before bed because those moments were some of their best times together. The nights when he wasn’t out drinking. The nights when her depression wasn’t so severe and they’d give themselves to each other, their bodies speaking what their mouths couldn’t seem to voice…

  “Bryce? Did you hear me, son?” Mom interrupted and jolted him back to the present.

  He blinked to blot out the memories and eased in a breath. “I am moving on,” he lied. “Fixing up this place helps.” He ran his hand over the countertop’s chipped tiles. “It’s not much to look at now, but we’ll get there. There’s no way I’ll let them build some fancy resort on Gramps and Gran’s land.”

  “That’s not moving on,” his mother murmured.

  Before she could lecture him on the true definition of moving on, he slung an arm around her and steered her to the door. “Come on. We don’t want to be late for the game.”

  “Wait.” She shrugged out from under his arm and glared up at him like she’d done when he was a kid. “Don’t be so hard on Avery. You be nice to her. Show her you know how to treat a lady.”

  The word “lady” was a stretch for Avery King, but he let it go. “All right. Fine.” He eased his mother out the door. “I promise not to be a complete jerk.”

  Unless she deserved it.

  Chapter Six

  Now this was a ball field. Avery lowered herself from Bryce’s monster F-450 and wandered to the edge of the dirt parking lot. Down a small hill, on a flat section of land surrounded entirely by mountain peaks, overhead lights illuminated the baseball diamond, which had been marked off with white paint. A chain-link fence separated the field from a section of battered aluminum bleachers that had seen better days, but those mountains made up for the condition of the equipment. Who cared about the bleachers with a view like that?

  “Mmmwooofff!”

  Uh oh… she spun just in time to see Moose barreling straight for her.

  “Moose!” One word from Bryce and the dog hit the brakes, stopping just short of knocking her right down the hill.

  It was the first word he’d spoken since they’d left the lodge. After Elsie insisted on driving herself so she could go straight home after the game, it had been quite the silent ride over, minus good old Moose whining in the back of the truck.

  She bent to pet him. “What a good doggie.”

  The dog licked her hand while his tail happily thumped the ground.

  “So sweet, too, aren’t you?” She snuck a glance at Bryce. He wasn’t being sweet. He wasn’t being much of anything, really. Stoic, indifferent… those seemed to be his default settings.

  Her gaze lingered on him a little too long as he unpacked his gear from the back of the truck. How did he do it, anyway? She found it impossible to be indifferent when he was around. One look at him and her heart thrummed recklessly, even when he was wearing black Nike wind pants and a plain gray t-shirt. And oh, sweet mercy, the way his hair stuck up around that faded Denver Broncos ball cap. A slow heat rolled through her and awakened the longing she’d tried to stomp down when she’d learned he was a widow. Bad idea, falling for someone who was clearly still in love with someone else. She’d seen it up close for too many years. For Dad, no one would ever live up to her mother. And judging by the way he’d reacted with that picture, Bryce felt the same way about Yvonne.

  He wandered over. “We s
hould head down.”

  Wow! Four whole words! She fought the urge to give him a round of applause. Not that he would’ve seen it anyway, because he slung the duffel over his shoulder and turned his back to her, trudging down the slope like a big brother who was forced to let his annoying little sister tag along.

  She jogged after him, but had a hard time catching up, what with those long strides of his and all. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was actually trying to run away from her. Good thing she knew where he lived. He could run, but he couldn’t hide from her. Not forever.

  At the edge of the outfield, she finally caught up with him and Moose. People were already clustered around the benches by the chain-link fence.

  The two of them walked in silence, seeing as how he didn’t talk much and she could hardly breathe because of the altitude. Moose trotted beside them, then must’ve caught some delicious scent because he bounded away in that happy-go-lucky way, ears flopping, tongue flapping in the breeze.

  Bryce’s tennis shoes kicked up dust with his swift pace. His face had frozen into a somber expression—eyes focused straight ahead, lips set into a frown. She had half a mind to trip him or hug him or something…anything to snap him out of whatever mood he was in. Seriously. The man really needed to lighten up, smile more. He had the best smile. At least she thought he did. It was hard to remember, seeing as how he’d only smiled once in her presence.

  Lucky for him, fun was one of her specialties. She sidled up next to him. “This is gonna be great. Who’re we playing?”

  “Team Coors.” His eyes lowered for one of his special I’m so above you glances, but he didn’t turn his head. “They’re a group from the local bar.”

  She checked out the opposition’s bench. Sure enough, there were a couple of twelve packs stacked near the gear. Some members of the team already held open cans in their hands. “Sweet. That’ll make it easy. By the seventh inning, they won’t even be able to walk the baseline, let alone run.”