Willowleaf Lane

by Thayne, RaeAnne

  He sighed. “I might not have been present at the moment, but I knew she was spiraling down. She had been for weeks. Months, even, and I...didn’t stop it. She needed help and I refused to admit it.”

  “Do you think she killed herself?” She couldn’t believe she dared ask the question everybody wanted to know. She waited for him to lash out but Spence only shook his head.

  “I don’t. Not that anybody cares what I think. Jade was...troubled but she loved Peyton. I don’t believe she would leave her like that. She wasn’t herself, though, toward the end, so I can’t be certain.”

  “Why would Peyton blame you? She had to realize you weren’t there.”

  “You want the whole ugly story?”

  She didn’t but she sensed he needed to share it. All her intentions to maintain a healthy distance between them seemed to float away on the soft breeze.

  “Peyton might not hold me directly responsible for her mother’s death but I believe she thinks the...allegations against me, the scandal, was too much for Jade. Suddenly her so-called friends weren’t calling her back, she wasn’t being invited to the A-list parties anymore, she lost...well, a few people she cared about, people who couldn’t afford to be mixed up in my mess. They dropped her, and Jade couldn’t handle it. She retreated into alcohol and drugs, both legal and not.”

  Like his mother, she thought. Oh, poor Spencer. He must have felt as if history were repeating itself. A troubled mother and a troubled wife and he couldn’t save either of them....

  “I didn’t want to see how bad things had become. I told myself I was dealing with my own stuff. I figured once I didn’t have the threat of prison hanging over me, I could make her go into rehab. Things didn’t quite work out that way. Obviously. I came home from court that day and found police swarming the house and Peyton traumatized. At least she didn’t find her mother. The groundskeeper did, and he and our housekeeper had the wisdom to keep her inside.”

  Charlotte remembered media reports she had seen, the pictures of a pale, gaunt Peyton at her mother’s funeral, and her heart ached for the young girl. No wonder she seemed very angry and troubled.

  “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “For both of you.”

  * * *

  SPENCER HEARD THE sympathy in her voice and couldn’t believe it. He was telling her his darkest failure, the knowledge that haunted him, and Charlotte only gazed at him out of steady blue eyes that were drenched with compassion.

  He felt something hard and ugly shake loose inside him and slink a little further into a corner. He wanted to tell her the rest. Everything.

  “You should probably know, my marriage was over by the time Peyton was about three. We all lived in the same house but Jade and I were virtual strangers. Generally polite to each other, but that was about it. Toward the end, even that broke down.”

  It had been a little tough to be cordial after he found his wife in bed with the man he considered his mentor and best friend.

  “We stayed together for Peyton but...the two of them were very close. Jade made sure there wasn’t a lot of room left over for me to have much of a relationship with her. I can’t blame her. I know I should have tried harder.”

  He didn’t know why he was telling her all this. Charlotte Caine had a way of looking at him that made him want to unload his burdens, to ease into the quiet peace she offered.

  “Is that why you didn’t tell her about how things were for you here?”

  “I’ve spent most of the past dozen years trying to convince myself my life started when I signed that contract with the Pioneers. The rest was just the prequel and who cares about backstory?”

  “Everything that happens to us becomes part of the whole. Your past here in Hope’s Crossing helped shape your drive and your character.”

  They rode in silence for a few moments while he mulled that.

  “On those rare times when Pey would ask about my childhood,” he finally said, “I just told her memories from before my dad died, glossing over our life here. I think she probably figured, since I didn’t want to talk about it, I was still grieving for my parents or something.”

  He did grieve for his father, who had loved baseball and had taken him to a major league game when he was barely a toddler.

  He also grieved for his mother and tried to focus on those happier times. He had loved Billie, even when he had despised her weakness.

  “Well, this is a pleasant discussion to have on such a lovely day. Sorry to ruin your workout.”

  “It’s not much of a workout for either one of us,” Charlotte said.

  He managed a smile. “I ran five miles before Peyton woke up. This was just supposed to be a recreational ride with her. I guess that didn’t turn out so well.”

  They rode for a few more moments, until he realized she was falling farther behind him.

  “Sorry. Can we stop for a second?” she asked when he looked back.

  He braked and returned to her, then waited while she pulled out a water bottle and took a long drink. A monarch butterfly flitted around her and she watched it with a soft smile but when she lowered her water bottle, he noticed for the first time the lines of pain bracketing her mouth.

  “You pushed too far, didn’t you?”

  “A bad habit of mine.”

  They had ridden maybe only a mile from the trailhead—not far, but it would be painful for her to return.

  “As I see it, we’ve got a couple options,” he said. “You can wait and I’ll go see if I can find somebody with an ATV to ride up here and get you. Or I can leave my bike and walk you on yours back to the trailhead.”

  She gave a surprised-sounding laugh, as if she couldn’t quite believe he would do that for her. “I only needed a little rest. Now I’m perfectly fine to turn back.”

  “Liar.”

  “Am I?” With a laughing, defiant look over her shoulder, she set her feet on the pedals. In the dappled late-morning sunlight, she made his mouth water.

  What the hell was he going to do with her? He had told himself he needed to stay away from her, that he couldn’t afford to alienate everyone in town willing to help him with A Warrior’s Hope. But he was rapidly finding he needed Charlotte Caine far more than he needed the approval of everyone else in town.

  “You’re not even going to pretend to let me save the day?”

  “I’m fine,” she repeated. “Yes, it aches but nothing unmanageable. It’s mostly downhill anyway, at least to the trailhead. I can coast most of the way. Go ahead and keep going if you want. There’s a turn that will take you back to the Woodrose Mountain trail, though that would probably take you a couple hours. Well, it would take me a couple hours. You could probably finish it off in half that.”

  “You really think I would just leave you here, Charley? What kind of jackass do you think I am?”

  She gave him a rather pensive look in return but took off the way they had come.

  He could tell her ankle hurt by the tentative way she used her left pedal compared to the right but she didn’t complain. She didn’t even wince, as far as he could tell. Several times, he urged her to wait where she was while he rode home for his Range Rover. He wasn’t surprised when she refused. While he wanted to insist, he sensed this was a point of pride for her so he subsided into frustrated worry.

  By the time they reached her house, she was pale and a fine sheen of perspiration covered her skin. He quickly climbed off his bike, letting it fall to the grass, and barely managed to catch her when she wobbled as she tried to dismount.

  In one movement, she was in his arms. “Come on, you stubborn thing. Let’s get you inside. You’re done.”

  “Put me down, Spence. Right now,” she exclaimed as he headed up her steps then wrestled open her door. “I’m way too heavy.”

  “You’re exactly right,” he repli
ed. He hadn’t meant the words to sound sensuous, but somehow his voice came out husky.

  The mood instantly shifted between them. She gazed up at him, and he saw her gaze flit to his mouth and then quickly away.

  “You’ve really got to stop carrying me.”

  “What if I like having you in my arms?” he murmured.

  And then—because she was gazing at him out of those big eyes, because she made him feel things he hadn’t in a long time, because he wanted to, damn it—he kissed her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SHE FROZE FOR just an instant and then she returned the kiss, tentatively at first and then with growing enthusiasm. Her tongue slid against his and her arms wrapped around his neck and his body went instantly hard.

  She made a low, sexy sound, her breathing ragged, and pressed all those luscious curves against him. Heat exploded in his gut and he couldn’t think of anything but how very much he wanted to touch her, taste her everywhere.

  With their mouths fused, he carried her into her living room and lowered her to the sage sofa he had sat on the other night. She made a sound of protest, her arms tight around his neck, and he followed her down, their mouths still together.

  She squirmed beneath him, her full sexy breasts brushing his chest, and he felt like a kid, desperate to get to second base. He had to touch her. It was a primal need he couldn’t seem to control and, while exploring the wonders of her mouth, he eased a hand to her waist, slipping under the edge of her T-shirt. Her skin was warm and deliciously soft, and she made little needy noises with each inch he moved his fingers.

  Finally, he feathered a touch just on the underside of her breast. She gasped and jerked her mouth away.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You...surprised me, that’s all,” she said after a moment. “You, um, don’t have to stop.”

  Her voice sounded breathy, hollow. He eased away from her and saw her eyes were dilated, her cheeks flushed. She looked wanton and innocent at the same time, a heady combination.

  Some of her hair drifted from her ponytail, and he wanted to pull it all free and run it through his fingers, savoring each silky strand. He was so aroused, he ached with the need to lose himself inside her.

  “Really. Don’t stop,” she said, her voice a little shy, color high on her cheekbones. She shifted restlessly on the sofa then winced a little when she moved her foot. Suddenly, he remembered her ankle. She was still on the DL, had just survived the ordeal of riding her bike much farther than she should have, and here he was mauling her on her own sofa.

  “You’re in pain.”

  “Only my ankle, which I’m fairly sure doesn’t have to be heavily involved in this.”

  Damn it. He couldn’t do this, as much as every particle of his body was crying out for him to carry her somewhere with a little more room, strip them both to bare skin and spend hours exploring those curves.

  He would hurt her. It was what he did, even when he started out with the best intentions. She trusted him, had become the closest thing he had to a friend in Hope’s Crossing, and he couldn’t betray that trust by complicating everything with sex.

  “I find you incredibly desirable, Charlotte.”

  A startled sort of heat flared in her eyes and she gazed at him, her lips parted and her heartbeat pulsing rapidly beneath her skin at her neck.

  “You...do?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  She blushed again. For some reason, he had a flash of memory. Charlotte’s round cheeks used to flare with color whenever he would smile at her in the halls or slap his books down at the booth where she was studying at the café.

  He had some vague recollection that she once had asked him out on a date. A girl’s choice, if he remembered correctly. For the life of him, he couldn’t think why they hadn’t gone.

  Even more reason why he should stop things before they flared out of control. Charlotte was sweet and kind. Decent. She cared about her family, her town, even a troubled young girl who needed a friend.

  He didn’t want her developing feelings for him. He would break her heart, smash it into pieces. She would end up despising him, and he would hate that. “You’re a beautiful woman. I would love nothing more than to follow up on this...heat between us. But I think we both know this would be a terrible idea.”

  She stared at him silently for a long moment, her blue eyes hiding her emotions.

  “Horrible,” she finally agreed, tugging down her T-shirt.

  “Unwise, anyway,” he amended. He suddenly didn’t necessarily want her associating the word horrible in any degree to the idea of making love with him.

  “No. You’re right. It would be disastrous.” Her hands trembled a little as she tucked her loose hair behind her ears.

  He sighed. “Charlotte. You know I’m not...in any kind of position for a relationship.”

  She sniffed. “Who said anything about a relationship? Maybe I just wanted wild, crazy sex with a hot celebrity athlete. Sure, you’ve got a reputation now, but maybe that’s part of the appeal. Maybe I like bad boys.”

  He had certainly been with other women who only wanted to say they’d been with Smoke Gregory. Not many, but enough to add another check in his personal self-disgust column. Hearing sweet, kind Charlotte say something like that seemed terribly wrong.

  He remembered the compassion in her eyes when they had talked about his time here as a kid, the concern when she had asked him about Jade. He couldn’t hurt her.

  “I don’t have many friends right now, Charlotte. I hope...that is, I would very much like for you to be counted among those few. I don’t want to ruin it. I hope I haven’t.”

  For some reason, she blushed an even rosier shade. “It was just a kiss, Spence. Relax.”

  It wasn’t just a kiss. The two times he had kissed her had been explosive. He didn’t like thinking maybe they hadn’t been the same for her.

  She rose, once more composed and in control, while he stood there fiercely aroused and sorry as hell he had put on the brakes.

  “Thanks for helping me home,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”

  It was a clear dismissal and they both knew it. He gave her another searching look, wishing he knew what she was thinking. With nothing left to say, he kissed her on the forehead and walked out of her house, feeling the strangest sense of loss.

  * * *

  LONG AFTER HE left, she sat on the sofa staring into space, trying to figure out what had just happened.

  He had told her he liked having her in his arms, had kissed her until she couldn’t think straight, had obviously been aroused—she wasn’t that naive—and then had come up with an excuse not to take things further.

  He only wanted to be friends. Right. That was just a handy excuse guys used on women they didn’t want to sleep with.

  On the other hand, Spence really did need people on his side. She guessed he didn’t have very many. Maybe he really did not want to ruin their friendship with sex.

  Not that his reasons mattered. The truth was, she was glad things hadn’t progressed further. She had come too far, had worked too hard to let him tangle her up again.

  The ring of her cell phone interrupted that pleasant thought. She considered ignoring it, not really in the mood to talk to Pop or any of her brothers. It could be one of her employees from Sugar Rush, though. Out of habit, she picked it up and checked the caller ID and decided to answer when she saw it was Alex McKnight.

  “We’re still on tonight, right?” Alex said after a preliminary greeting.

  It took her several beats to process what Alex meant.

  “You forgot. Tell me you didn’t forget.”

  “I didn’t,” she lied. “I’ve just had a...bit of a crazy morning, and it slipped my mind for a second. But I remember now. Tonight. You and Sam,
me and one of Sam’s friends whose name I just forgot.”

  How could she be expected to remember her own name when her tongue had just been tangled around Spencer Gregory’s?

  “Garrett. Garrett King. I really think you’ll like him, Char. He’s great looking, he’s super funny, he’s smart and hardworking.”

  She gave a small laugh. “Wow. I’m not sure I’m ready for all that perfection.”

  “He’s not completely perfect. He’s not Sam, after all. But he’s a close second. I can’t wait for you to meet him. We’re coming to pick you up about seven. I think I told you we’re going to Le Passe.”

  “You did. Yum,” she said. She would have to stick to a plain salad for lunch to save calories for the sauce-heavy deliciousness that was Le Passe Montagne, one of Brodie Thorne’s restaurants.

  “I know. Wear something sexy, okay? And promise me you’ll give Garrett a chance.”

  “I swear to you. I’m completely open to any possibilities.”

  “Good. I’ll see you tonight, then.”

  She would love nothing more than to fall hard for Sam Delgado’s friend, she thought as she severed the connection. Or even to seriously lust after the man. Any distraction would be a welcome relief from the inevitable heartache she knew would follow if she were foolish enough to let herself care about Spence again.

  * * *

  USUALLY, SHE LOVED Le Passe Montagne.

  The decor was French elegant—tasteful chandeliers, discreet tables, sophisticated paintings on the walls—and the food was fantastic.

  When she came here, she had to choose her meal carefully. Tonight she had chosen grilled salmon and steamed haricot verts. It might lack the typical rich sauce the restaurant was famed for but she still found it delicious.

  “I’m so glad we were finally able to make our schedules mesh so we could do this,” Alex said.

  Charlotte smiled at her friend and the man beside her. Sam Delgado looked gruff and rather scary on the outside, with his close-cut hair and tattoos, but he was really a sweetheart beneath the layers.