All for This

by Lexi Ryan

  “You still want Max.”

  For a minute, I can only blink at him and wonder how he thinks Max has anything to do with this. I’ll accept this gift because it’s done and I know he can afford it, that he’d insist if I argued. In reality, I’d rather have him—here, in New Hope, making me his first family. I’ll accept the house because I can’t ask for more.

  “I don’t want anyone.”

  He flinches, and for a moment, I wonder how I learned to lie so quickly.

  Three Days Before Hanna’s Accident

  THE BELL at the front of the bakery dings, and I head up front to find a leggy, raven-haired beauty, her lips parted slightly as she studies my shop. A tall, blond Viking of a man follows behind her, his broad shoulders filling up the doorway. There are more dead-sexy men in this city every day.

  “May I help you?” I ask, tearing my eyes off her young-Fabio companion.

  “This town is unreal,” she says. “Like something out of a movie. So flipping cute.”

  I can’t help but grin because most people dismiss New Hope as a dumb, little hick town. I appreciate anyone who can see it the way I do. “Thank you. I think so too. Would you like some coffee? Breakfast? The scones are especially delicious, I’m told.”

  “Oh, I’d love a cup of green tea if you have it.” She flushes sweetly. As she looks at me straight on for the first time, it hits me—this isn’t just any out-of-towner. This is Vivian Payne. The actress. The mother of Nate’s child. “Does asking for green tea make me sound like Los Angel-bitch? Little bit, right?”

  “Not at all.” I fill a cup with hot water with remarkably steady hands and grab a tea bag before handing them to her across the pastry case. “On the house. What brings you to New Hope?”

  “I’m hoping to track down Hanna Thompson?”

  That’s what I was afraid of. I force a smile. “You’re looking at her.”

  “Oh! Wow. Crap. Well, no wonder.”

  I arch a brow. There is no way I can dislike this woman. Sweetness and goodness roll off her in waves. Why couldn’t she just be a bitch?

  “No wonder what?”

  “No wonder Nathaniel’s in love with you,” she says softly.

  Nope. Definitely not a bitch. “Thank you…I think.” I can’t risk having anyone overhear this conversation. I’ve worked too hard in the last few months to make sure everyone in this town thinks that Max and I are still together, and now that I know what Max has done for me… “Do you think we could talk somewhere private?”

  Her eyes light up. “I would so appreciate that!”

  I call to the back for Drew, and she scowls at me as she takes her place in the front. Her aversion to working with the public isn’t as bad as she likes to let on, but she still likes to make a big deal about it every time I ask her to work the front.

  Her scowl falls away when she spots Fabio. “Can I get you anything?” she asks, teenage lust dripping off her words.

  “Drake,” Vivian says, and I’m honestly disappointed his name isn’t Fabio. “Get yourself something. I’ll be back up shortly.”

  While leading Vivian to the back of the kitchen, I do my best to act casual, as if having her here isn’t completely intimidating to me. “Have a seat,” I say when we get into my office.

  “This place is just adorable,” Vivian says. Maybe from any other Hollywood starlet, that would sound condescending, but it doesn’t come across that way from Vivian. She sips her tea and looks around my office with what appears to be sincere interest. “Why would you want to leave this behind?”

  I frown. “What?”

  She blushes. “I don’t mean to presume, but I thought you’d be moving into Nate’s house?”

  My stomach pitches. “Did he tell you that?”

  She bows her head. “Listen, he’d be really upset if he knew I was here. I had to harass Jamaal just to find out anything about you. But I’m sure you understand that I have good reason to be worried.”

  “Worried about what, exactly?”

  “Nate doesn’t fall in love easily. I just want to make sure that you’re after him for the right reasons.”

  I shift in my chair and attempt to lower my hackles, but it doesn’t matter how sweet this woman is. The assumptions behind this conversation are insulting.

  She raises a hand. “I know how that sounds, and I apologize.”

  “What makes you think I’m after Nate at all? Maybe he’s the one after me.” Yeah, my attempts to calm myself? Big, fat fail. But damn.

  Vivian’s eyes fill with tears. “Must be nice.”

  Well, crap. “Do you want to tell me what this is really about?” I ask, calmer now.

  “My husband and I divorced.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  She shakes her head. “No, don’t be. It’s what everyone expects of an actress anyway, isn’t it?” She sighs. “I want my son to be raised seeing what love can be. How intense and beautiful, and how deep it can run. I didn’t have that with my ex-husband. Maybe I could have, but you can’t love someone the way they deserve when half your heart still belongs to someone else.”

  “And you love Nate.”

  “I never stopped,” she whispers. When she lifts her gaze to meet mine, her lashes are damp. I swear I’ve never seen anyone look so pretty from crying. “But loving someone means wanting what’s best for him, and if that’s you, I won’t confuse the issue. But if that’s not you…” She studies me for a moment. “If that’s not you, I’d really like you to step aside so my little family can have a chance.” Her voice pitches at the end, and a tear escapes and rolls down her cheek. “We are a family, you know. Despite everything. I just want to be sure you know that.”

  I think of Nate’s face when he talks about Collin. How desperately he wants to be the best father possible to his son, how he’ll do anything to be part of Collin’s life. “It was nice to meet you, Vivian.” I stand and open the door to the office, motioning her out.

  We walk up to the front together, and Max and my mom are at the front, chatting with Drew. Max’s face lights up when he sees me. He skims his eyes over me in a way that reminds me too well of what used to be between us.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

  Vivian’s eyes shift between us, confusion on her face. “You’ll think about what I said?” she asks. She doesn’t wait for an answer before pushing out the door and leaving.

  “You can’t love someone the way they deserve when half your heart still belongs to someone else.”

  I’m already thinking about it.

  I thought this would be an impossible choice, but there’s only one choice that will give both of the men I love the lives they want.

  I grab Max’s hand and drag him to the back and into my office.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, grinning.

  I push the door shut behind him and shove him against it as I press my mouth to his, searching for answers in the kiss of a man who used to be my whole world.

  He doesn’t hesitate but slants his mouth over mine. His hands seek out my curves immediately, one settling on my ass, the other under my shirt just beneath my breast.

  He rubs his tongue over mine, and I want to crawl into all his heat and goodness and warmth. I want this to work. I need it to.

  He kisses the corner of my mouth and down the side of my neck, and a little moan escapes my lips. His grip on me loosens as he looks at me. “Marry me,” he says softly. If I thought he was releasing me, I was wrong, because the hand under my shirt skims the underside of my breast before finding the front clasp of my bra and unhooking it. “And not just because you want me as much as I want you.” Hand against my bare breast, he cups me and rolls my nipple in his fingers.

  I whimper, but I make no move to escape his touch.

  “Not just because I’m dying to get inside you and make you come.”

  “Max,” I warn. My knees are unsteady, but when I wobble, he pulls me closer to him, sti
ll torturing my breast and making the whirl of desperate, achy, needy pleasure spiral tighter between my legs.

  “The sex is going to be amazing,” he whispers, his mouth brushing my ear. “Waking up with you in my arms is going to be a dream.”

  Effortlessly, he spins me and lifts me onto my desk, sending paperwork scattering across the floor as he steps between my legs. My skirt bunches at my hips, and he slides his hand up my inner thigh.

  I grab his wrist and our eyes lock in that moment before my decision. I can stop him or I can let him touch me.

  I lead his hand farther north. He groans as his hand connects with the damp lace of my panties. My sweet, tender Max vanishes. He tugs them to the side and sinks his fingers inside me.

  I cry out, and the sound echoes in the small office. He sucks my earlobe between his teeth as his fingers pump in and out of me. If he stopped now, I’d die. I need this—and him. My heart hurts, and I need to know that this man can fill the hole Nate Crane will leave behind.

  “God, I missed the way you feel wrapped around my fingers,” he groans in my ear. “So. Fucking. Sexy.”

  His thumb finds my clit, and I slide my hips forward, giving him a better angle while pushing my body closer to his.

  With his free hand, he yanks my shirt over my head and tosses it to the side. Then he dips his head and sucks my nipple between his teeth—as hard and relentless as the hand fucking me between my legs.

  Back arched, hips bucking, hands in his hair, I come. My world shatters into a brilliant blast of light, but as it slowly pieces back together again, nothing feels like it fits.

  Max runs slow, soft kisses up my neck and back to my ear. “We’re good together, Hanna. And our life together, here in New Hope? I’ll do everything in my power to make it all you ever wanted.”

  I draw in a breath—thick and shaky and ragged.

  Suddenly he’s holding me in his arms, murmuring, “Don’t cry,” and kissing away my tears.

  I am a collection of mismatched puzzle pieces, and all I want is to feel whole.

  “MAX! I have great news.”

  I frown at my phone. Other than when she called to tell me that Hanna had decided to go ahead with the bakery with me as her anonymous investor, I don’t think my lawyer has ever left me a voicemail message with good news.

  “A lawyer from California has contacted me, and her client is offering to buy you out of the bakery. The numbers she’s throwing out are almost too good to be true. They’ll more than cover the mortgage and your initial investment and leave you with a nice nest egg for your investment. As we prepare to move forward with your custody case, this would put you in a great position. I think you should take the offer. Give me a call.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. An offer on the bakery. Probably from Nate Crane—this would cut me out of Hanna’s life, and I’m sure that’s what he wants.

  My lawyer’s right. I need the money. But the bakery is my last connection to Hanna’s life, and selling it makes the end of our relationship feel too final. And who is the client? I’m not turning over half ownership of Hanna’s life to just anyone. If it’s Nate, would he use his ownership as leverage to get Hanna to move to LA?

  I dial my lawyer, but she doesn’t answer. She left the message on my office phone last night—a habit we formed when my involvement in the bakery was still a secret—and I doubt she’s in her office this weekend.

  After locking up my office, I find Sam at the front of the club. He’s covering the front for me this morning—something he’s done most Saturdays since I bought the bakery and didn’t have the money for staff.

  “I need to run over to the bakery,” I tell him. “Are you okay to open if I don’t get back in time?”

  Smirking, Sam nods. Saturday mornings aren’t a hopping time for fitness. “Whatever happened to your plans to offer classes on Saturday mornings to get traffic in here?”

  I shrug. “I’ve just had other priorities.”

  “Like paying the bills for the bakery instead of hiring someone who could bring you new business here.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I’m just making an observation. Grab me a cup of the good stuff while you’re over there.”

  “Should I assume Liz knows how you like it?”

  “Fuck off,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of a smile behind the command.

  The bakery smells amazing this morning—always, really, but there’s an extra hit of vanilla in the air this morning, and it reminds me so much of Hanna’s smell that it makes my chest ache.

  “Oh, hey!” Hanna pushes through the swinging door from the kitchen and gives me a tentative smile. For a moment, I forget all the bullshit and almost expect her to come around the counter and rise onto her toes to kiss me.

  I wish she’d forget too—just for a moment—that those days are behind us. I’d hold her fast and keep her close. I’d deepen the kiss until she softened and moaned against my mouth. I’d remind her what’s worth fighting for.

  “Thanks for helping me out while I did interviews last week,” she says.

  “It’s not a problem.”

  “Yes, it is. You have your own business to run, and I know it’s hard for you to get away. But I appreciate it. Can I get you some coffee and breakfast as a thank-you?”

  “I’ll take a coffee. Thanks.” She pours me a cup, and we both do our best to pretend this isn’t as awkward as hell when she passes it across the counter. “How’s the hunt for new employees going?”

  “It’s frustrating. I’ve found a couple of part-timers, which is great, but I really need a manager who can take care of the front of the house while I do the baking, and I need a second baker to take over for a few weeks when the babies are born. Drew is good, but she can’t put in the hours I’ll need.”

  Nate Crane pushes out of the kitchen, and the sight of him hits me like a punch in the gut. She said she wasn’t leaving me for him, and he hasn’t been around, so I was starting to believe it was true. Until I found them on the balcony at Asher’s last weekend.

  “Hey,” he says, locking his gaze with mine.

  I lift my chin as we appraise each other. He looks at Hanna, and I want to pull her into my arms and hold her tight, to keep her close until he leaves. But I don’t have that right, and Nate’s not going anywhere. I can tell by the way he looks at her—all that unveiled love and longing. I know the face of a man who would slay dragons for Hanna Thompson, because I see it every time I look in the mirror.

  “Do you have any more boxes stashed in the back?” Nate asks.

  Hanna shifts awkwardly and shoots me a look. “No, but Liz is bringing some any minute now.” She points behind her and edges toward the door. “I have cookies that need my attention.”

  Then she’s gone, leaving Nate and me staring at each other. He opens his mouth like he’s about to tell me something, but then he shakes his head and goes back to the kitchen.

  I need to follow Hanna and find out what she knows about the offer. Hell, I should have saved myself the trouble and asked Nate. Buying me out would be nothing for him.

  But I’m a fucking coward and I’m afraid to go through that door. Will he be kissing her? Touching her? Hanna’s probably baking cookies—nothing more—but what I saw at Maggie and Asher’s has tormented me for days. A repeat performance might destroy me.

  “Hello?”

  I turn to the door and find a customer. The petite brunette looks familiar, but I can’t place her. Did we go to high school together? Or maybe college? High school’s a better bet. Over half of my graduating class left New Hope for college and never came back.

  She frowns at me and rises onto her tiptoes to peek over my shoulder. “I’m looking for Hanna. Will she be back soon? I could just wait.”

  I lift a brow. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” Forgetting people always makes me feel like an ass.

  “Oops! I’m Elle.” She smiles, and again I feel that sense of recognition, but I just can’t place her. “Janelle Crane. Nate Cra
ne’s sister.”

  “Oh.” Nate’s sister. And a famous actress—thus the recognition. “Nice to meet you.”

  The bell over the door rings as Sam and Liz come in, their arms full of collapsed boxes.

  “I stole Sam so he could help me with these,” Liz says from behind him. “I promise I’ll get him back in time to open the club.”

  Sam stops in his tracks two steps in the door, and Liz runs right into his back. “Ho. Lee. Shit,” Sam manages.

  “Walk much?” Liz says, skirting around him. “Geez.” She turns to Janelle. “Have you been helped?”

  “Yeah. This guy here is helping me. I’m so rude.” She shakes her head and gives me an apologetic smile. “What was your name?”

  I fold my arms and watch her as I say, “Max Hallowell.”

  Her brows shoot up and her jaw unhinges. Suddenly she looks just like her character from Roommates. “Oooh,” she whispers. “Holy crap. And you’re here. Are you…? Did Hanna…? Oh, shit. Wow. Well, who can blame her for ditching my dorky-ass brother? You are a fucking fox. Look at those shoulders. Damn. How much can you bench-press?”

  I don’t answer or correct her. I’m not sure what she knows or when she last talked to Hanna. Sam’s still gawking, and Lizzy is scowling.

  “Who are you?” Liz asks Janelle.

  “Elle,” she says, offering Liz her hand. “Nate’s sister, Hanna’s friend. You’re Lizzy, aren’t you? I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Lizzy’s eyes go wide and she stares at the woman’s hand. “Janelle Crane,” she says, putting it together. “Janelle Crane knows who I am.”

  “Janelle fucking Crane,” Sam mutters. “Holy hell. You’re even more gorgeous in person, which, for the record, I wouldn’t have thought was possible. Damn.”

  Lizzy elbows Sam in the side—hard, judging from the way he doubles over—then drops the boxes and takes Elle’s hand. “Have you talked to Hanna since the accident?”

  Elle shakes her head. “No, but Nate told me briefly about it when he came to see me in India. Does she remember me?”