by Anna Sugden
She pretended to look at him, but her gaze was more on his nose or forehead than his eyes. So, he took a step toward her, unable to swallow down the irritation simmering in his gut. “You’re bored, huh?”
For a second, her sad attempt at casual ease slipped. “Well, you know. You’re a bit of a homebody. That’s great for you, but I like bars and hanging out with my friends. So. It’s time.”
“Yeah, guess so.”
Her eyes flicked to his for the briefest of seconds, then she shrugged and fake smiled. “Glad you agree.”
But he couldn’t just let it go or keep it in. Not when he saw so clearly that this was not about him or being a homebody. This was so not his fault. He thought they’d walked over this hurdle, but now he realized they’d just sidestepped it.
He wouldn’t let her do that. She could walk away, but he was going to give her something she’d given to him. Honesty. “Just so you know, I see through what you’re doing here, Cara.”
She blinked at him, took a step away. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“And I can deal with a lot of your crap, but lying to me is stupid.”
“I’m not—”
“You want to go? Go. But be honest—that this is about you having no faith or belief in yourself. And having no good reason for that.”
For the first time, anger snuck into her expression. “You don’t know me, Wes.”
“The hell I don’t. You think I don’t recognize someone hiding away from everything? Been there, done that, sweetheart. I had a way better reason for it.”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “Oh, so we’re back to ‘try harder’ and ‘your baggage is bigger than mine.’”
“No, we’re back to ‘you don’t want to see beyond the little fiction you’ve created for yourself because it’s safe.’”
“Go to hell, Wes.” She turned on a heel and left.
He didn’t even feel bad. Angry? Yes. Livid, actually, because he’d finally worked for something real with someone, and she couldn’t see past her own stupidity or fear and damn it if he didn’t feel sorry for her because he knew how hard that was.
It didn’t matter what little hard stuff she’d gone through in comparison to him, because something had made her not see herself.
But he didn’t know what he could possibly do about that. Except maybe hope she figured it out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“EARTH TO CARA.”
“Huh?” Cara looked over at Anna, who was curled up on the couch. They’d been waiting for Mia to show up for more wedding planning, and reruns of Full House, and Anna had been yapping about how much she couldn’t wait to move into her college dorm in the fall.
Cara had been zoning out. Throwing herself a pity party. Because she couldn’t get Wes’s anger yesterday out of her mind. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected when she’d delivered the brush-off, but anger and calling her out had not been it.
It had stuck with her. Curled up in her gut, making her feel sick during her all-night drinking session at Juniors with awful people, which was followed the next day by a hangover and self-pity.
“What is up with you? You are being so weird lately.”
“What’s up with you and Mia being all in my business lately?”
“Uh, we’re your sisters, duh.”
“Anna Catherine Pruitt!” Mom yelled from somewhere else in the house.
“Uh-oh,” Anna muttered. “I’m about to get the ‘penises are evil’ lecture. Save yourself.”
“You are out of your God-given mind if you think for one second I am letting you live in a coed dorm.” Mom appeared in the TV room, hands fisted on her hips, cheeks red with outrage.
Which was Mom’s look about 75 percent of the time.
“Well, it’s too late, because that’s what I signed up for.”
“Those coed dorms are nothing but cesspools of bad behavior. Do you know what kind of trouble you’re asking for by living in one?” Mom walked between them and the TV.
“Oh, here I thought I was being a normal human being who knows how to handle herself.”
Mom wagged a finger at Anna, and even though she wasn’t the one in trouble, Cara had been on the end of that finger wag enough times to feel that familiar folding in on herself.
“Bad choices lead to terrible consequences.” Mom said it the same way she’d been saying it since...since as long as Cara could remember.
“Mom, just because you don’t agree with it, doesn’t mean it’s a bad decision. And just because I live around boys doesn’t mean I have to make bad decisions.”
“You will not defy me on this, young lady. If you live around boys, who knows what kind of things you’ll get roped into.”
“Or, I’ll say no to those things and be fine. Or I’ll even make a not-so-great decision and still be fine.”
Anna hadn’t taken her eyes off the TV, no matter how Mom tried to get in the way. Anna acted as if this was nothing. While Cara had acted as if Mom’s crazy worry was, well, just that—crazy—she’d still felt Mom’s words each time she’d made a mistake.
So, it struck her—Anna’s calm, rolly-eyed dismissal of Mom’s paranoia. Maybe because of everything with Wes or what Mia had said a few weeks ago, but for the first time in her life she saw where that self-defeat came from. Clearly. As if she’d been suddenly cured of blindness.
While she’d spent her life flaunting her bad decisions in the face of Mom’s admonitions and anxiety, when it came down to it, she believed all the bad that befell her was because of that. Of not doing everything right. Because she wasn’t like Mia and Anna, getting things right had never been easy for her.
She’d always been led by her heart, which tended to get her into trouble. The older she got, the more she realized her heart was so amazingly fallible she’d had to ignore it or hide from it.
If something might cause heartbreak, she ran because...how could she not? How was she supposed to face her dying grandmother in the hospital bed? You couldn’t beg someone who was sick and in pain and wanting to die to stay alive. You couldn’t sob and tell them you’d never be able to survive without them.
And those would have been the only things she could have done. Same with James and his friend. She didn’t know how to listen, how to soothe, because then she would have had to relive all the horrible pain of losing Grandma. She would have cried, and you didn’t cry about your own hurt when someone else was hurting.
She’d viewed those times as failures, but maybe they...weren’t. Maybe they weren’t the inevitable Cara way of doing something. Maybe it was simply that bad things happened, and sometimes you didn’t know how to deal. So you dealt the best way you knew how.
Sometimes it was wrong, but she...could be right. She’d helped Wes. She’d found a way to break off from her friends and build the chance at a career. She wasn’t a failure. She was just stumbling along trying to avoid...
She was so much like Wes, and she’d never even realized it. He hid in his cabin; she’d hidden behind a carefree party girl persona. When things got hard, he’d pushed her away. When things had been hard for her, she ran.
But each time they’d come back to each other, determined to do better, be better—for each other.
She kept running away from a man who had actual issues, but he treated her with compassion and forgiveness—repeatedly—in ways her lifelong friends had not. And he was always there, ready to try again.
Her chest ached. That she could be so blind. That he could be so good.
After running out on Wes, she felt terrible. Even delivering pies and getting a compliment from Sam yesterday hadn’t cheered her up. It had made her feel worse, because Wes had been part of the reason she’d even gone after that job after she’d screwed up the interview.
“Tell her, Cara.”
She stared at Anna, then at Mom. She didn’t know what direction the conversation had taken, but she did know one thing. “I think Anna is one of the smartest, strongest people I know
. You should trust her, Mom.”
Anna and Mom both blinked at her. It hadn’t been a typical “Cara” thing to say, but she meant it. From the bottom of her heart.
Maybe it was time to trust her heart again and pray it would do a little better leading her than her head had.
* * *
WES COULDN’T WORK through the frustration dogging him. Everywhere in his house there were little reminders of Cara. She’d forgotten the stupid sparkly leash she’d brought for Sweetness. Anytime he saw the Stone logo, he thought of her having it made for him.
Then there was his bed, and he didn’t want to think about that at all.
So, he paced. Phantom watched uneasily from the door.
This was stupid. He finally wanted to be with someone, and she had to be just as screwy as he was. Didn’t that figure.
He should rewind the time in his head. Forget that this whole weird spring had ever happened. At least until she showed up for work Monday. If she still would.
And that really pissed him off, because she’d done so much for his business. Not just organizing everything, but the logo, the labels and naming the treats. And he knew she’d smoothed a few clients’ feathers on the phone without telling him as much.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
But he wasn’t required to sit here fuming. There weren’t any rules for the right thing to do in this situation. Which meant he could do anything.
That used to be terrifying, but honestly, when it came to Cara, it was kind of a relief.
Because he could go talk to her. Demand an explanation. Tell her that her devaluing herself was stupid and useless, and she needed to get over it. She needed to try harder, and if she didn’t like it, she could shut the door in his face.
It couldn’t be worse than sitting around here muttering to himself.
* * *
“I’M FINE WITH the green, Mia. Really.” Cara switched the phone from one ear to the other so she could snuggle into the couch with Sweetness.
“I want you to like it.”
“Why? It’s your wedding.”
“But—” A loud banging on Cara’s door muffled whatever Mia said.
“Look, we talked about this ad nauseam over dinner. I’m done, Bridezilla. And someone is at the door.” She forced herself off the couch. Maybe it was Mackenzie, ready to ply her with more liquor. God knew she needed a little liquid courage to figure out how to deal with the Wes situation, and maybe there was some way to redeem her friendship with Mackenzie. Maybe they could grow up together.
“I’m not being a Bridezilla, am I?”
At the hurt note in Mia’s voice, Cara felt about two inches tall. Which, hey, seemed to be the way things were going lately. “No, honey, I’m—” Someone pounded at the door again. “I gotta get that. Talk tomorrow.” Cara clicked End. She was not fit for human contact today.
When she looked out the peephole, it was full of beard, and her heart stopped. She flung open the door, Sweetness yipping at her feet.
“Wes. What are you doing here?” What could he possibly be doing here? She was going to have to face him tomorrow, but she hadn’t found the words to apologize. To, well, put into words whatever her epiphany had meant, tell him what it meant for them.
And now here he was, looking angry.
“I want Sweetness back.”
“What?” she screeched.
“She’s my dog, and I’d like her back.”
She stared, openmouthed, in shocked silence. After a few moments, she managed to get her mouth to work again. “But you gave her to me.”
“So? She’s just a dog. Give her back.” He knelt down toward Sweetness, but Cara moved fast enough to stop him.
She couldn’t believe this. Sweetness was hers. “You can’t have her. I lo—” At the little smirk on his face, she realized she was being played. So well it hurt.
“You care about her? Developed a bond with her? Want to keep spending time with her?”
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. And comparing yourself to a dog is insulting.”
“To who?”
“Wes.”
“Let me in.”
“I know I said I liked Bossy Wes, but—”
“Let me in, Cara. We need to talk.”
“Are you going to steal my dog?”
“Not now that I know you care.”
She swallowed. How could he have thought she didn’t care? She cared so much she didn’t know what to do with it all without making an idiot of herself.
Oh, wait, all this running away from him meant she was already making an idiot of herself.
She moved out of the way so he could step inside, trying to remember what her epiphany had been. That maybe she wasn’t destined to have bad things happen to her just because she made bad choices.
Could Wes maybe, just maybe, not be a bad choice? He was so much nicer than all the other guys she’d dated. He saw and cared that she wasn’t always her own biggest fan. Had anyone besides her sisters and grandmother ever picked up on that?
“So, what do you want to talk about?” She tried to find a casual way to stand, to look at him, but everything was awkward and wrong.
“Us. Because I think there should be an us, and I think you breaking up with me was not because I did anything wrong or because we weren’t a good fit, but because you were doubting yourself. I know I’m a mess, and you don’t think you can handle it but you have been. Admirably, until yesterday.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. And that’s kind of what I do.”
“You haven’t hurt me yet.”
“B-but I will!”
“How do you know?”
She turned away from him. She was all jumbled up. She needed time to think, to figure things out. Not be forced into having this conversation with him. Not yet.
She would hurt him, like she’d hurt other people who’d needed her, expected some kind of care or comfort from her.
Or it’ll be fine. You’ll try and you’ll succeed or you’ll try and you’ll fail, but no one will die because of it, and you’ll be fine and so will he.
She rubbed a hand over her face. Everything felt so raw and scary. She wanted to run away, but she had nowhere to go, and maybe that was the theme of this crisis she’d been dealing with.
So, maybe she had to face it.
But how?
“Cara, the bottom line is, I can’t think of the last person I ever missed being around. My solitude gives me everything I need. Or it did, until you.”
Oh. Oh. It was by far the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. Ever. And it made everything seem even more possible.
“I don’t think you were bored with me. I think you were scared. I recognize scared. If you really are bored by my solitude or my aversion to going out with your friends, tell me. But don’t lie to me because you’re afraid. Please.”
She blinked back the tears in her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. He had to go be all perceptive and right. Geez. But here was her moment. She could run away with a lie like he was begging her not to, or she could try to be brave. Try for something hard.
She’d done it with the pies. Fixed her first interview mistake. She could do it here. And if she didn’t, well, she’d still be okay.
She turned around, forced herself to look him in the eye. “It was a lie.”
“Thank Christ.” Then his mouth was on hers and his hands were on her face, and, okay, yeah, this was kind of worth the trying thing.
His hands smoothed down her back, but then he stopped kissing her. He rested his forehead against hers, looked straight into her eyes.
Whoa, was this the same blushing, stuttering guy? He seemed to have cured himself pretty quickly. Now she was the floundering one, and that didn’t seem fair.
“I don’t know how to be a boyfriend or whatever. I don’t even know how to be a friend or a normal human being half the time, but you’ll tell me when I’m wrong. I’ll tell you when you are. Like you said befo
re when we were, you know. Making a mistake does not have to be the end of the world.”
She pressed a hand to her heart, because what he’d said was so close to what she’d been knocked over with earlier. All the things she’d done, or not done, or failed at... In her head they’d been the end of the world, but in reality she’d just had to keep going and they hadn’t been the end of anything.
She rested her other hand over his heart, then let her fingers brush down the front of his T-shirt. “You, sir, are absolutely right.” She swallowed at the emotion clogging her throat and smiled up at him. “I panicked a little.” At his raised eyebrows she blew out a breath. “Okay, a lot. I can’t promise it won’t happen again, but I do think this is a turning point. Like, personally, and then maybe that means it can be a turning point for us.”
“For the record, I also reserve the right to panic at some point in the future.”
“Duly noted,” she replied. “Now, I think it is time for the talking portion of the evening to cease.”
“Ah, I can be okay with that.”
“And Bossy Wes is welcome now.”
“That a fact?”
“Very, very welcome.”
His mouth covered hers again, never leaving it while he propelled her back through the hallway.
Jittery anticipation settled in her stomach. Like before a roller-coaster dip. When it felt as if there’d be nothing to catch her in the end, but the thrill might be worth it.
She wanted to be naked before they got to the bottom of that hill, though. She pulled his shirt up until he leaned forward enough for her to pull it off. She tossed his shirt on the floor, then quickly made work of hers. “What do you want to do tonight? Tell me. In great detail.” She tugged at the button of his jeans, but he stilled.
“I...” He cleared his throat. “I don’t like it when you want me to talk about everything.”
She blinked in surprise, trying to make sense of that. “What?”
He didn’t let go of her, but he pulled away, eyes intent on hers. “I don’t like to feel like I have to narrate or whatever. I can’t... I get in my head, and then I’m not thinking about you. About us.”
