“You tell me.”
He shrugged. “I can’t give you my grandmother’s brooch.”
She glanced out the passenger door window. She swallowed the hurt. Not because she wanted jewelry but because of the reasoning behind it. He didn’t love her, and he felt guilty.
“I want you to know…I’m happy with our relationship the way it is. I’m happy with you—just as you are.” She looked down at her hands clenched in her lap. “I don’t need a symbol of your affection. You show me in so many ways that you care.” She leaned close and cupped his face in her hands. “You’re a good man.” Gazing into his pained eyes, she fought the urge to confess her love for him. But she couldn’t. Those three words were magical, and should only be shared without any expectation of the sentiment being returned. He may love her one day—like he’d told his grandmother—but it would happen in his own time.
“It’s not that.” He closed his hands over hers, pulling them to his chest.
She could feel his heartbeat, strong and sure beneath her palms. “I agree with her. You’re the perfect woman for me.” He exhaled on a frustrated sigh. “But I can’t ever give that pin to you.”
“I understand,” she whispered, her chest tight. It was enough to hear him say it once, but the second time was hurtful, unnecessary. She pulled back, needing space. She needed to go somewhere quiet where she could lick her wounds in private.
But he held on fast. “No, Elizabeth. Don’t leave. Listen.”
She looked up, drowning in those blue orbs. Now she was the one feeling the pain deep in her soul. Was she a fool, willing to wait for a man who would never love her because he couldn’t trust?
He bit his lip. “I don’t have the courage to tell her.”
She shook her head, her mind whirling with confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t have it. I haven’t had it for five years. When Ashleigh, the girl I was engaged to left me, she took it with her. As if it weren’t enough that she’d stolen my heart and destroyed my dreams. I’d known she wanted it once she’d spied it one time on my dresser, but I’d held back, waiting for the right moment. That should have been a clue, huh, that deep down I knew she didn’t deserve it.”
“She stole the brooch?”
“I thought at first she must have sold it. I discovered the engagement ring in a pawn shop, but never found the daisy pin. I’ve searched everywhere.”
“Why didn’t you confront her?”
“The accident happened the night she left. By the time I’d recovered from my injuries, I was drinking pretty heavy. By the time I noticed it was gone, if I’d accused her without proof it would’ve been her word against mine. I knew she’d just lie about it like she did about everything else and say I’d given it to her as a birthday gift or whatever. There’s not a court of law that would require her to return it.” He dropped his hands to his lap. “So I let it go.”
Until today. “Look at you. You’re eaten up inside over this, still hurting, all because of one person’s callous actions. If I ever get my hands on that woman—”
He shook his head. “She’s not worth it.”
“I know you said you wanted to forget the past, but I’m of the belief that facing it allows a person to move forward. Please tell me.”
He stared out the front window. After a long moment, he spoke. “My past isn’t any more traumatic than anyone else’s. You have your own demons to deal with, too, and I can’t bear to hear about your past hurts.” He shook his head. “I don’t want you involved in this nonsense. I’ll deal with it on my terms.”
Frustrated tears threatened to undo her. Too choked up to say anything more at the moment, she nodded and moved to open the passenger door. “If that’s the way you feel…”
“It is.” He wrapped steely fingers around the steering wheel, eyes everywhere but on her.
“Okay then.” She swallowed hard, wishing he’d change his mind. “I guess there’s nothing more to say.”
He shot her a tortured look, opened his mouth as if he wanted to change his mind but snapped it shut again.
“Drive home safe,” she said, sliding across the seat and opening the door. “You know where to find me.” How could one bad relationship cause such damage? She closed the door softly. Turning slowly toward the house, her heart ached for him. Heaven help the lying thief if they ever crossed paths. That woman would never know what hit her.
*
“I don’t know where we stand,” Jeremy confessed to Ben the next evening. “I couldn’t tell her about all Ashleigh did. It’s so damned humiliating.”
“Jade told me how you two look at each other.”
“Yeah, how’s that?” He shifted the cell phone to his other ear.
“She said it’s breathtaking, and that she wanted to cry with happiness for you. Are you willing to lose this woman because of your pride?”
“Yeah, well. I’ve gotta go.”
“Stop running away.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I’ve lived in Starling my whole life. I’m not my sister.”
Ben snorted. “Jade may have literally run away after high school before she returned home to make peace with her past, but you’ve run away from life. You’re too afraid to take risks. Tell her everything.”
“I don’t know. It won’t solve the issue. I’m never getting the pin back.”
“Maybe you won’t ever find it. So what? I understand it was special to your family, but it’s not a person. It’s replaceable. Think about it. You’re punishing an innocent woman for the sins of another.”
Ben was right, as usual. Jeremy scrubbed his hand across his chin. “I don’t want to end things between us.”
“Then don’t. Talk. To. Her.”
“Got it.” He hung up. It had been a long, sleepless night after he’d dropped Elizabeth off at her summer house. He’d thought about calling her a bunch of times, but hadn’t. Twenty-four hours later, he was still moping around, wondering what the hell he was doing pushing her away.
He reached for his phone, opened the contacts menu, and moved his finger to press Elizabeth’s number when the phone chirped. It was her. “Hey.”
“Barbeque with me?”
He looked in the mirror. He hadn’t showered, in a scruffy pair of jeans and tee shirt he used for painting.
“The answer better be yes, because I’m standing at your front door with the steaks.”
“What?” He walked to the front door and peered out. She stood there, beautiful as ever in a flowing top and skinny jeans. Casual suited her as much as classy. Maybe Ben was right. He couldn’t lose Elizabeth because of something as insignificant as a brooch.
He backed up and opened the door. “What a nice surprise.”
She swept into the house and past him, setting her groceries on the kitchen counter before turning and launching herself into his arms, her legs and arms wrapped tightly around him. “You think you’re getting rid of me that easily?” she breathed.
“I never want to get rid of you.” He breathed in her scent. Damn how he’d missed her today.
“Prove it.” Chocolate eyes challenged him.
He kicked the door shut and carried her through the living room into his bedroom. Screw the past. He was making love to his woman.
An hour later, she looked up at him, a satisfied smile on her face. Trailing a finger across his naked chest, she asked, “Do you think the steak has spoiled?”
A rumble of emotion built in his chest and he laughed. “Suppose we should check.”
“Jeremy, I meant what I said about not expecting more than you can give. I’m sorry I pushed you too far. Maybe you’re right. Maybe some things aren’t worth facing, but better shoved away in a dark room and forgotten about.” Her tone was serious.
He rolled off her to lie next to her, their hands entwined between them. “I talked to Ben.”
She was quiet beside him.
“There are some things a man doesn’t want to admit.�
�� He turned to face her, and propped himself up, chin in hand. “I love being with you, talking with you, lying here next to you. I can’t promise you a future, but I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy for as long as you want to put up with me.”
*
Elizabeth gazed at the man lying next to her. So, he didn’t say those three little words she’d been dreaming of hearing her whole life. But this was real life, not a fairy tale—or her parents’ whirlwind courtship. She just wanted to be with him. He made her happy. That was enough for now. She pulled him close and kissed him with all her heart.
A few breathless moments later, they came up for air.
“I guess that means you’re okay with it?” He teased, nuzzling her neck. “Let’s not fight again either.”
She pulled back to look in his eyes. “That wasn’t a fight. It was a disagreement.”
“Whatever it was, I didn’t like it.” He nipped her bottom lip.
“Me neither.” Damn, if he didn’t stop, she would forget about the steak and want him to eat for dinner instead. She rolled over, taking the satin comforter with her as she stood. “I’m glad we made up.”
“Best part.” He threw her a devilish look and patted the bed.
“C’mon. Let’s make dinner. I’m starving.” She paused for a moment, considering her words. Maybe her recent preoccupation with her weight was over, now that she was adjusting to the reality that life wasn’t perfect, that she never would be either, and that that was perfectly okay.
*
The sun had yet to make its appearance the following Friday morning when Elizabeth saw the headlights pass her summer home’s front window. She walked to the foyer where she’d left her suitcase waiting and opened the front door.
Jeremy stepped out of his car in the dark, wearing an ab-hugging pale blue tee, black denims, and biker boots. Hot.
“Good morning,” she said, locking the door behind her.
“Yes, it most definitely is.” He moved toward her with purpose.
Her heart swelled. He might not be able to promise her forever but he would be hers for three wonderful, lazy days.
He closed the distance between them, his eyes shining at her in the soft light of the house’s porch lamp. She reached out, welcoming him. He was a beautiful man, inside and out. Perhaps if she kept telling him and showing him she believed that about him, he would one day believe it himself.
He wrapped strong arms around her, and they melded there, heated bodies in the coolness of the pre-dawn dark, in that rare, quiet moment when all of nature was calm and asleep, after the crickets and frogs had ended their mating songs and before the birds began their territorial chirping.
“C’mon. If we don’t get moving, I’m gonna take you right here on the porch.” His fingers pressed into the flesh of her hips, letting her know he meant every word.
“Ooh, tempting.” She half-joked. “Yes, let’s go. I don’t want to get caught in that infamous Long Island rush hour traffic on a summer, Friday afternoon.”
“If you insist.” He pulled away slowly with a lazy smile, but not before giving her a soul-wrenching kiss that left her fantasizing about their next private moments together. They just had to survive the road trip downstate.
As it turned out, the first hours of the drive in Jeremy’s Lincoln were tranquil. She adored the CD he’d burned just for the occasion that included her playlist, listening to it while they brainstormed ideas for more items like the cowbell to entice the locals into her shop. They were considering the pros and cons of her shop carrying energy drinks when Dark Side of the Moon played. Her jaw dropped. “I don’t like Pink Floyd. This must be one of your choices.”
“Yup.” He smiled and began singing off-key at the top of his lungs. She might be able to take or leave that particular musical group, but getting to know this silly side of him, a crazy show-just-for-her would make that one song forever special in her heart. She laughed so hard she couldn’t help but regret the two cups of coffee she’d drunk. “Can we stop soon?”
He stopped singing. “Really?”
She nodded, waving her empty travel mug in surrender.
“Hmm. The things you learn about a person on a road trip. Who knew you had a bladder the size of a grape.”
She punched him lightly on his bicep’s tribal tattoo. “It’s not that bad. I can wait.”
“Good. Because you could catch poison ivy if you have to go on the side of the road in these parts.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Speaking from personal experience?”
He smiled. “I’ll never tell.” He glanced at the navigation unit on the dashboard. “Can you hold it an hour or so? I’ll need to fill the tank near Albany.”
“Works for me.” She glanced at the list of items they’d brainstormed earlier that she’d typed on her iPad. “Thanks again for helping.”
“No problem.”
“You’re always so nice to me.” She stared at her fresh French manicure. How would she ask the question that had been plaguing her ever since she’d Googled his name a few weeks ago without insulting his male ego? “Are you on social media?”
He nodded, but his brow furrowed.
“You went indie, right?”
“Who said that?”
“No one.” She slipped her iPad into her handbag. “I just assumed, because when I searched online for you, there was nothing. Well, aside from the reference to your motorcycle accident and some track event you medaled back in high school. That’s cool, by the way. Not the accident, but the fact you ran track. Maybe we could go running together.”
His lips pressed into that flat line like when his grandmother mentioned the brooch last week. “Sorry. No more running for me since the accident.” He paused. “I didn’t go indie.”
She pushed forward. “My sister Tory’s been great helping me the past few years with my online business. Would you like me to talk to her about possibly helping you build your author brand and get you more publicity?”
“I don’t want publicity.”
“But Jeremy, that’s part of—”
“Okay, I’ll think about it.” He turned to her. “When did you say you Googled me?”
“Huh?”
“This didn’t happen last night. When I left you in your bed, you were too tired to do more than roll over and go to sleep.”
“A few weeks ago.” She looked out the window at the rolling farmland lying beside the span of highway.
“That long ago? You could’ve just asked me.”
“Okay then.” She looked at him. “I’m asking you now.” Elizabeth waited. Had she gone too far? Why hadn’t she followed her own advice and allowed him to tell her when he was ready? She squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to cry.
Jeremy covered her clenched hands with his larger one. “I use a pseudonym.”
“Oh.” Oh.
“Want to know it?”
“Yes, but I don’t need to know it now. I trust you know what you’re doing. Jeremy, I want you to know, I was just trying to help.”
“I get it. It’s okay.” He squeezed her hands before returning his full attention to the road. “I probably should have made that clear, but I didn’t give it much thought. Didn’t think you’d bother to look me up. I mean, I’m just me and you’re Elizabeth Marie Desmond, owner of Body Gear Athletics.”
Was he teasing? She looked at him.
The admiration in his eyes stole her breath away. She shifted in her seat. The tough guy sitting next to her never failed to surprise her. Three little words were on the tip of her tongue but she bit them back. So she gazed at him with love instead.
He lifted one of her hands and brushed his lips across her knuckles.
She relaxed into the seat and they watched the sun rise in vibrant pinks and yellows over the lower Adirondacks.
They made that pit stop outside the capital city of Albany as he’d promised and another once they reached the lower Hudson Valley. She told him about her adventures i
nto New York City with her family as a child and later as a teen and young adult with girlfriends, and he reciprocated with anecdotes involving his family friends from Long Island.
They were approaching the Throgs Neck Bridge when she admitted her fear of heights. He didn’t laugh at her irrational concern like some other guys had in her past. Instead, he held her hand as they crossed the roadway that connected the state’s mainland to the island. She didn’t see the beautiful sailboats to their left or the skyline of Manhattan to the right because her eyes were closed tight, but she experienced it through his writer’s eyes as he described the scenes that lay before them.
When they’d reached land again and she could safely open her eyes, she turned and said the first thing that came to mind. “Your first book may not have sold well, but the way you see the world and use words shows such incredible talent. I know you’re going to make it. Just keep the faith.”
He blinked at her. “Thanks, Elizabeth. That means a lot. I promise, I have no current plans to quit. It’s an addiction I can live with.”
“So true. You know how many times my sisters insisted that I’d replaced one addiction for another, from obsessing over calories to obsessing over my company. They accused me of living an unbalanced life. I’d always thought being a workaholic was acceptable.”
“A strong work ethic is nothing to hang your head about. I’m impressed by all you’ve accomplished.” He exited the heavy Cross-Island Parkway traffic onto the ramp leading to the 495-East.
Barring any major traffic slowdowns on the Long Island expressway, they were less than two hours from Holly Point, their destination on the South Fork of the island. She was excited for the long weekend of fun in the sun, having met with Jade for lunch on Wednesday at the Starling Café and hearing all about the new people she’d meet at the Gervais’s annual clambake. She looked out the window. Would she remember all the names and connections? Would she fit in? They’d all known each other for decades and would have all their inside jokes she wouldn’t understand.
Jeremy’s hand, warm on her knee, pulled her out of her thoughts. “Your knee was bouncing like crazy.” He trailed his fingers up her thigh. “I get it. I’m not looking forward to that shindig with you in Placid next week.”
His Kiss (Summer in New York Book 2) Page 13
