“Don’t talk to him like that.” Amy’s voice was barely distinguishable above the hum of conversation, but the shock of her having spoken so firmly, and so much in opposition of Mr. Montgomery, worked like a moment of stop, drop and roll. “He understands it perfectly. He understands it better than anyone else.”
“Sweetie?” her mother extended a tentative query.
She turned to face her mother—this woman she loved so much, this woman she thought she knew so well. “He understands me because he’s the only one who knows the truth.”
“The truth about what?”
“About how my place in this household has affected me. About what I’ve been doing away from home all these years.”
Amy expected her words to fall like a bombshell, shocking her relatives—all three of them—and giving her a chance to be the one driving the family drama for a change. So she was the illegitimate offspring of Jake’s uncle, was she? Big deal. So she was the accident no one wanted to publicly claim, huh? She could cry about that later.
But wouldn’t they be sorry once they realized she’d spent almost a third of her life wandering the woods, with none of them the wiser? Wouldn’t they feel bad knowing they’d driven her away?
“Do you mean the Enchanted Forest job?” Mr. Montgomery asked. She could tell, from the crinkle in his eyes, that he meant to be kind. She knew, from all he’d just confessed, that he was on her side.
But that wasn’t how she felt. She felt manipulated and alone. She felt even more like nothing in this life had ever been truly hers. Not even her secrets.
“You knew?” she cried.
“Oh, Amy. Of course I did.” There were those crinkles again. Those damnably kind crinkles. “Why do you think I asked if you wanted to be the twins’ nanny when your mom’s health got in the way? You were the first person I thought of. I wanted to make sure you weren’t just hiding out because you were scared of letting me down. I wanted to give you a way to come home.”
Amy promptly burst into tears.
That was the best and the worst thing she’d ever heard. These were the best and the worst people she’d ever known. She hated them and she loved them and she was pretty sure someone was going to have to carry her out of here before the night was over.
But most of all, she just wanted them to leave her alone and let her cry.
Chapter Twenty
Almost everything Ryan knew about families, he’d learned from the big screen.
Large families set the scene for a lot of showing off—usually because there was a big-name ensemble, with every actor vying for the most screen time. Small families usually signaled a drama like killing or kidnapping. Rich families hid their quirks behind big houses and fancy cars. Poor families hid theirs behind caustic wit. Hollywood had a way of breaking down the most complex family relationship into easily definable roles.
But the Montgomerys—or Montgomery-Hawthornes, he should say—flabbergasted him.
“You should have said something about not wanting to be a dancer.” Linda was mostly angry. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why am I only finding out about this now?”
“I don’t know, Mom. Why didn’t you think to tell me that the man who gave me life is also a scumbag millionaire? Don’t you think that’s a pertinent piece of information?” Amy was pretty angry too.
“It was my fault.” Mr. Montgomery wore a mask of contrition. “I thought knowing the truth would hurt you, but I see now that I did more damage by keeping quiet. I’m so sorry for making you feel left out of the family, Amy, or like you had to prove yourself to me. I never meant to do that. I’ve always loved you as if you were my own daughter.”
“Oh, Mr. Montgomery.” Now Amy was crying again. Why was she crying again? “I love you too.”
Ryan slipped away from the table and took a step back, thinking now might be the time to make a discreet exit. He’d done his part, slayed the metaphorical dragon, reunited the princess with her family. No one wanted the knight to hang around in the messy emotional aftermath.
“What do you say, Car Man?” The metaphorical dragon was right behind him—not quite slain, but definitely with a spring or two loped off his step. “Want to slip away with me to the bar? They’ve got a top shelf Macallan that will make this day seem like less of a travesty.”
Ryan shook his head. “Your fancy liquors are wasted on me. I don’t drink.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Jake led the way to the bar anyway and turned the wheel of an invisible car. “Crash, crash, bang, bang. No alcohol for you.”
He actually laughed. Two years he’d lived with the shame of that car wreck, the knowledge that nothing had killed his dreams but his own folly, and no one had been able to make him laugh about it. Not even Amy. “I promise you, Montgomery. The old me could drink you under the table five times over.”
“You think so?” Jake signaled to the bartender and sat at one of the stools before turning his attention to Ryan. “I guess we’ll never find out, will we?”
“I’m not going anywhere yet.”
“Save your growl for someone who cares. I only meant that if you want to keep dating my cousin, you better cling to that sobriety wagon for dear life. Or you’ll have me to deal with.” His gaze was sharp but not unkind. “My cousin. Who’s been working at a theme park. Fuck.”
“You think you’re upset?” Ryan shrugged, but he was far from feeling calm. Not even that top shelf Macallan would make it go away. He doubted anything would. “Amy’s had her entire world turned upside down, and she’s still standing. We could all learn something from her.”
They both looked over to the woman in question, who was bouncing between tears and accusations, between a sunny smile and a more serious, inwardly directed expression. Ryan thought she’d never looked better. Sure, the dress she wore was designed to appeal—and appeal it did—but it wasn’t her exterior so much as the way she was glowing that drew him.
She was happy.
These people—her family—made her happy, even when they made her furious.
“The offer still stands, by the way.” Jake’s drink had arrived, and he turned his back on the family reunion taking place behind him to attend to it. Ryan recognized the telltale signs of a man who was choosing the wrong way to cope with his problems, but he didn’t think he’d reached a point with Jake where that kind of conversation would be welcomed. “About the car. I’m not exactly flush with cash while my dad holds the purse strings, but I think I can manage that much. It’d be fun. Maybe you could even teach me a few things in the process.”
Ryan wasn’t fooled. “You want me to teach you rebuilding engine things, or how to take a turn at eighty mile an hour things?”
“Let’s not be silly.” Jake kicked back his drink. “The second one. I don’t create valuable items. I only enjoy them. And I sense most of my enjoyment is about to come to an end.”
Ryan opened his mouth to ask what that meant, but he felt the heavy press of a hand on his shoulder and knew the worst was yet to come.
“Amy has asked for some time to sort things through.” Mr. Montgomery nodded to where Amy sat alone at the table, twisting and untwisting a napkin between her fingers. “She’s also asked to talk to you.”
Ryan nodded, a heavy sense of foreboding replacing his earlier joy at the sight of her.
“You’ll always have a job at the Manor. I hope you know that. But if, after all this, you decide to take Len up on his offer full-time, let me know. I can have you booked on a plane out of here tomorrow—and I’ll personally back any insurance policy the studio requests. All you have to do is ask.” He paused. “The time-share is also still an offer. If it’s what you want, we’ll find a way to make it work.”
“How will you get back home?” the chauffeur in him couldn’t help asking.
Mr. Montgomery just laugh
ed. “Are you kidding? I’ve been dying to get behind the wheel again. It’s been far too long since I took a pretty girl out for a long drive.” He crooked his arm for Linda to take and, with just one meaningful glance at Jake and the bartender, issued a command to clear the entire bar of its two dozen or so patrons.
Damn. That was power.
Ryan approached Amy’s table cautiously, feeling uncertain of his surroundings and of her. The hum of quiet in the now-empty bar—the French doors shut tight, not even a busboy in sight—felt oppressive and indulgent at the same time.
He wasn’t used to being so pampered. He wasn’t used to existing in a world where he stood on the inside of the money and power.
“Hey,” he said softly, stopping at the table’s edge.
Amy looked up with a half smile and cast a meaningful glance around the room. “Hey, back. Seems we have the whole place to ourselves here. It’d be a shame to waste it.”
He couldn’t tell—was that a hint? Was he supposed to take advantage of the setting to fall into a role, play a game? Dirk Hardcore. Fabian Hunter. A thousand other men who deserved this woman a hell of a lot more than he did. The possibilities were endless and fraught with sexual promise.
Fuck it. He didn’t want to be anyone but himself. He sat opposite her, his hands placed carefully on the tabletop.
“How are you doing?”
Her smile wobbled. “Oh, you know. Found out my parentage. Learned my whole life has been a big, fat lie manipulated by Mr. Montgomery. Discovered I’ve been hiding behind my fears for no reason at all. Your typical night on the town.”
His heart ached—for her, for everything she’d suffered, but mostly for himself. Because despite everything that had happened, Amy still had a home to turn to, people who cared about her without question.
All he had waiting for him was a city of drunks and opportunities, where he’d spent years assuming speed and danger were somehow capable of replacing love. What a stupid, reckless waste that had been.
“I’m sorry it had to happen like this,” he said.
“Are you?” She shook her head, a few strands of hair falling free of the careful swirl that completed her upscale look. The locks glinted in the lights of the chandelier overhead, honeyed gold and tempting. “I’m not. Better to get it all out at once than drag out a series of confessions over weeks and weeks of drama. Though I’m still not convinced this confrontation stuff is all it’s cracked up to be. I mostly want to take a nap.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“Take a nap?”
“Sure.” He gestured toward the ceiling. “You and Jake bribed your way into the penthouse, didn’t you? Why let it go to waste? A few hours in a Montluxe bed should do wonders.”
She played with her bracelet, a delicate band of white gold, as she pondered the idea. “They do have really nice beds here. Soft and fluffy. Decadent. Big enough for two.”
He froze. It wasn’t the response a man liked to give when he was being propositioned, but he was afraid that any movement at all would have him tearing upstairs like a starving man. Which he was. He was starved for human affection. Ravenous for a taste of her. Desperate to know what came next.
“Amy.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I can tell you’re getting exasperated when you say my name in that tone of voice. You should have become a nanny. You’re really good at it.”
“I’m not exasperated. I’m terrified.”
“Of me?”
“Of the future.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hands, unwilling to go any longer without touching her. The forward movement caused their knees to bump, and neither one of them backed away. Over and under, they were connected, if only by touch. “In a weird, convoluted, Amy sort of way, your plan actually worked.”
“My plan?”
“Mr. Montgomery offered me that job in Hollywood—or, rather, a way into it. He said I could leave whenever I want.”
“Ryan, that’s fantastic!” Her eyes flew open as she jumped up out of her seat, taking even the tiny comforting touches away. “Even though I kind of hate him at the moment, I still believe Mr. Montgomery is a decent man. I hope you can understand that now. He’s so good at taking care of his work and the people who depend on him that he sometimes forgets about what his actual family might be feeling in the meantime.”
“Amy...”
“He’ll see his side of the bargain through to the end. He always does. And if he tries to back down, he’ll have me to contend with. I won’t be afraid to confront him this time.”
So that was it. Ryan’s fate was sealed, his departure already half-over.
“And you?” he asked dully. Even in the face of her such obvious exuberance, he couldn’t muster more than a glimmer of joy. “Are you going to keep working at the Manor?”
She bit her lip. “I think so. Don’t be mad—I know it’s not what you want me to do, and it’s definitely not what my mom wants me to do, but I’m happy there. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all this, it’s that I need to start asserting myself more. If I don’t want something—say, a career in dance—I’m allowed to say so. If I do want something—say, to live away from the Manor so I can try to have a life of my own—I have every right to go out and get it. My family won’t love me any less because of it.”
“You’re moving?”
“I’m thinking about it. I’ve always thought your apartment building was nice.”
So was his apartment. It was small and overcrowded and way too high-tech for Ransom Creek, but all that could be changed. He could easily make room for her in there. He could easily make room for her anywhere.
But that wasn’t what she was asking for.
He gave a nervous laugh. “I’m not sure what’s supposed to happen now. Do we shake hands? Should I offer you a ride back?”
“You could always kiss me.”
Hell, yes. That he could do.
Ryan didn’t waste any time getting to his feet and pulling her into his arms. Her body fit naturally against his, yielding to the force that had him gripping her much more tightly than he intended. He couldn’t help it, and he wouldn’t apologize. If this was the last time he was going to hold this woman, he was going to make it count.
He made it count.
He bent her so far backward over the table they might have been lying on top of it. His lips crashed onto hers, demanding that she acknowledge what they had. Maybe not time, maybe not a future, maybe not anything other than these thirty seconds of heady openmouthed passion, but a connection that would last for the rest of their lives, whether they wanted it to or not.
As he pulled away and placed Amy back on her feet, she released a cry. He couldn’t tell if it was a cry of passion or pain, but as she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, he realized it didn’t matter.
“I can’t do it, Ryan.” She reached for him, grabbing his arms, his waist, his neck, her search relentless until her head was pressed against his chest, muffling the sounds of her tears. “I tried, I really did. I thought if I just stayed strong and focused on the positive, I could be happy for you, but I’m not. I’m not happy for you at all. I hate your stupid hopes and dreams. I hate them more than I’ve hated anything in my entire life.”
He ran a hand up and down her back, soothing and comforting, feeling one hundred percent confused. But hopeful. He also felt hopeful. “Shh, Amy. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”
“No, it won’t be.” She still spoke to his shirt, though some of her shaking had subsided. “I can pretend I’m all assertive now and demand the things I want from the people I love, but it’s no good if I let you go without a fight. You’re the one thing I want most of all. Don’t you know that?”
“Amy, look at me.”
She did, her eyes red from crying, her exp
ression so miserable he couldn’t help himself from leaning in to kiss each cheek, wiping the pain away.
“Don’t go, Ryan. Stay. Stay here with me. I know Ransom Creek is the last place you want to be, but I promise to try and make it better. I won’t work so much and I won’t let the Montgomerys dictate all my actions. I’ll show you the best places to have fun and maybe you can fly into California to do a movie every now and then. You could be happy here, I know you could. Just let me have a chance to show you how.”
He silenced her with another kiss, this one soft and sweet, the taste of her tears salty where their lips met. “Yes.”
She stopped in the middle of a sob and pulled back. “What did you say?”
“Yes.” He firmed his hand around her waist, determined never to let go again. “I’ll stay for you, Amy Sanders. And I’ll stay for me.”
He’d stay for Mr. Montgomery, a man who was generously offering a bridge between his past and his future. He’d stay for Holly and Alex and Philip and Katie and the entire staff at the Manor, all of whom were encouraging him to open up and find a place with them. He’d even stay for Jake, who was promising him a chance to rediscover what it was he loved about cars—not just the speed and not just the finished product, but the process of getting there, of building a future piece by piece.
The whole package.
Car guys were notorious for being attuned to the whole package.
“Do you mean it?” Amy’s voice came out as a squeak. “You really want to?”
“Yes.” He’d never meant anything more in his life. He hoisted her up on the table and settled himself firmly between her thighs. They’d all better hope those French doors over there had locks. “But I’ll think you’ll find that Ryan Lucas can be a hell of a lot more demanding than Dirk Hardcore.”
“Ohh.” She wriggled, her body vibrating against his, powerful and strong. “I like the sound of that.”
“You’ll have to take weekends off.”
He kissed her neck, loving the rapid pulse under his tongue.
“And no working overtime unless it’s agreed upon in advance.”
If I Stay Page 28
