Love on a Spring Morning

by Zoe York

  “Get in me, Ryan. Now. I need you.”

  Fumbling in his pocket, he managed to grab the emergency condom he’d brought because he wasn’t stupid, and in a few short seconds, he was sheathed first in latex, then in Holly. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he held her bottom, pressing her against the truck as she adjusted to his girth. Spreading his legs wide, he rolled his hips, fucking her slow at first, then faster, the weight of her making each thrust intense. Perfect.

  “I’m not going to last long,” he groaned, and she cupped his face, kissing him.

  “Same,” she whispered, whimpering as he hammered into her, making her bounce between him and the truck. She took his lips again, this time harder, sucking on his tongue like her pussy was consuming his cock, and he chased that feeling, giving himself to her completely.

  With a choking sound, she tightened her legs around his waist, locking them together as she ground her pelvis against his, and he took three final, jerking thrusts in the tight confines of her body, following her over the edge.

  They both started laughing as soon as the rush of their orgasms faded.

  “Uhm, so…yeah.” Holly pressed her forehead into his neck. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

  “It’s not my fault,” he whispered, grinning into her hair. “You’re really pretty and you made me do it.”

  “I accept all blame,” she said breathlessly.

  “No, it’s our shared madness, sweetheart.” He drew a line along her jaw with his knuckle, tipping her chin up so he could kiss her. “And I loved it.”

  “Me too.”

  They drove back to Pine Harbour, holding hands. Holly’s thong stayed in his pocket. When he drove back, he took her all the way to the lake house and walked her to the door.

  “Thank you for a lovely dinner,” he said quietly, kissing her chastely.

  “My pleasure,” she said, cheeks flushed. “Thank you for the quick fuck against your truck.”

  “My pleasure. Come over after Dani leaves,” he whispered against her mouth. “I’m not ready for this date to be over.”

  — TWENTY-ONE —

  HOLLY turned the details of their date over and over again in her head as she waited for the all-clear. The crazy sex against the side of his truck. Ryan telling her to trust her gut. It’s our shared madness, sweetheart. And I loved it.

  She was twirling as she shimmied out of her black dress and pulled on yoga pants and a t-shirt, then a sweatshirt. She left the diamond earrings in for a bit of sparkle, but the fairytale portion of the night was over. For what she wanted to do next, it was important that she be as ordinary a girl as possible.

  When her phone beeped, she sped up the lane. Ryan was waiting at the door, and he swept her off her feet as soon as she stepped inside, carrying her into the living room. She wiggled her legs in the air, giggling quietly as he lay them down on the couch together.

  “Hi.” She stuck her tongue out at him and he swiped at it with his own.

  “Tonight was fun.”

  “It was.” She touched his face, still in awe that they’d found each other. That she was lucky enough to have this man. She didn’t know how they’d make it work, but they were meant for each other. And she was positive he felt the same way. Everything had changed.

  “What are you thinking?” He flicked his gaze over her face, a lazy, happy smile playing on his lips.

  “So much. All good things.”

  “I’m glad,” he said quietly, kissing her softly.

  They cuddled, kissing and talking, for almost an hour. When they settled into a comfortable silence, she knew the moment was right. Her pulse skipped in her throat, giddy at what she was about to share.

  “You’re the best, Ryan.”

  “I try,” he teased.

  “No, really. You’re so special to me. I…” She smoothed her hand over his chest and wiggled her head into his shoulder. He was so warm, so comfortable. So perfect. “I love you.”

  “What?” The word dragged out of him, raw and extra long. She’d really surprised him.

  She grinned. “Oh come on, you know I do. You light up my entire world.”

  Under her hand, she could feel his heartbeat, pounding faster and harder than a second ago. More seconds passed, and he still hadn’t moved, or said anything. He just stared at her.

  “Ryan?”

  “You don’t mean that, Holly.”

  “I do.” She pushed herself up, scrambling to her knees in the narrow space on the couch when she saw the stricken look on his face. Oh no. No, no, no. “I don’t say it to stress you. Hey, it’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay.”

  “It will be,” she said, pain lancing through her chest. “I know that’s a big thing to hear, and I don’t expect you to say it back. But I do love you, Ryan Howard. So much.”

  “I’m going to hurt you.” His voice was sharp and cold, a heavier weapon than anything she could’ve imagined. “And you’re leaving.”

  “You couldn’t, and I don’t need to, not forever. I can come and go—”

  “No.” He shook his head, but she couldn’t see what was in his eyes, because he’d turned away from her. Her hands shook as she moved to touch him, but he jerked away before she got there, jumping to his feet to pace.

  “You’re just freaking out,” she pleaded.

  “I’m not just anything,” he said, a cruel echo of what he’d said to her over dinner. “And if that’s what you think, then you don’t know anything about me.”

  It was like a physical slap. She jumped her own feet, keeping her voice low because there were children asleep upstairs. “I do know you. I know you’ve been hurt. I know you’ve lost a wife you loved and a future you’d counted on. So I know this is scary, but—”

  “You think I’m just scared about you hurting me? I am, but that’s not the worst possible thing that could happen, Holly. I’m going to hurt you. I’ve already done it.” He twisted to face her, his entire body shaking. “I lost Lynn three times. The first time, she pulled away from me and I couldn’t reach her. Then she was killed, and I thought my life was over. And then I found out that she’d been living with the diagnosis of a debilitating illness for more than a year, and I’d failed her. I lost her three times too many, you hear? And I’m not sure that each one of those times wasn’t my fault. That I wasn’t a good enough husband. Most of the time, I’m sure of that. And the rest of the time? I’m angry. I’m so angry at her for leaving me.”

  “That’s okay. I get that. I’m not pressuring you.”

  “I’m a mess, Holly, inside and out. This? Us? We were a vacation from the mess. You don’t want any part of that. I like you. So much. But I’m never going to be able to love you. I want to. God, you have to believe that. You’re the most wonderful person. You’ve brought me back to life. And yet…the tiny bit of my soul that is capable of love is busy being a full-time parent to three kids who half the time just hate me for not being their mom.”

  The words she wanted to say—that the kids didn’t hate him, at all, that she’d love him, no matter what—died in her throat, blocked by a massive lump she just couldn’t get around.

  On the coffee table, her phone vibrated. She ignored it. This was too important. She should have known this would be a hurdle for them. Maybe she should have known he’d run scared—because no matter what he said, that’s what this was. Fear was zinging off him in all directions.

  But she’d believed him when he said he wouldn’t push her away again. Trusted him when twice before he’d given her ample reason not to.

  And she’d still fallen in love with him.

  She’d do it all over again, in a heartbeat, because loving Ryan was wonderful, even when it was hard. Even when he hurt her. Her therapists would have a field day with that, but she didn’t care. She had faith that he’d realize how special their connection was. He just needed some space to freak out.

  “Your phone is going crazy,” he muttered, still not looking at her. But a
t least he hadn’t kicked her out or stormed upstairs.

  “I don’t care,” she whispered.

  “It’s the middle of the night. What the hell are people doing texting you at one in the morning?”

  “It’s only ten on the west coast,” she snapped. What did it matter what her phone was doing? She grabbed it off the table just to turn it onto airplane mode, but the text on the screen—from Emmett—made her blood run cold.

  Why aren’t you answering your phone? Photo of you and Cute Dad on the Internet. Questions galore.

  “I need to…” She couldn’t form the words. Her mouth was too dry and her tongue had stopped working. She swallowed hard and tried again. “I have to call Emmett.”

  Ryan crossed his arms, still seething. Why hadn’t he kicked her out? It was a moot question. She scrolled through the messages, trying to figure out what exactly was going on before she called her assistant. It wasn’t good.

  Someone at the restaurant had taken a picture of them while they waited to be seated, and posted it to Please Patty, an extra-awful celebrity gossip blog. She was pulling at the front of Ryan’s shirt, and he was leaning over her. The photo was taken from the side, showing a lot of her leg and enough of their faces that there was no question of identity.

  Hope Creswell’s Gone Country! The pretty blonde actress, currently filming in the northern Canadian town of Pine Harbour, might not be known for dating, but anyone who had bets on her batting for the other team can send their pennies to Patty because she was super cozy with an unknown local man last night.

  It didn’t matter that the date had been Ryan’s idea. She should have known better. Hot, fat tears started rolling down her face as she held out her phone. “I’ll find out more in a minute, but you need to see this.”

  He stalked across the room and grabbed the phone. His expression didn’t change as he read it. He didn’t blink, or swear, or do anything. Just stared at the screen for a minute or two, long enough for her to die a dozen deaths.

  “You need to leave,” he said coldly, handing the phone back.

  “This isn’t over,” she said, shaking as she stood. “We’ve done this before, right? You just need some cooling down time.”

  “And then what, Holly? We can have a nice family picture taken for People or US Weekly?”

  “Of course not.” She licked her lips. “This will go away. I have a publicist and they’re very good at their job—”

  “One date,” he said, his voice quaking with cold fury. “And our secret was busted wide open.”

  “I didn’t think I was your dirty little secret anymore.” Her voice was raised as much as she could without yelling. “There’s a difference between discreet and shameful, Ryan. Which hat do you expect me to wear?”

  “Neither. I never expected anything of you, except to respect my privacy. And while I get that you didn’t do that,” he snarled, pointing at the phone. “It was still done.”

  It was true. He’d never led her on. She’d fooled herself because of some good sex and quiet moments. And she’d lost her heart to him. If anything, he had to know that. She furiously wiped away her tears. “I love you. No matter what, I love you.”

  “You should go,” he said, turning his back to her again. Not responding to her last declaration, because it had already been addressed. Repeatedly, although she’d been slow on the uptake.

  Maybe she should.

  The only other option would be to stay and beg him to love her back. And she might be a fool, but she wasn’t an idiot.

  Slowly, she got up, staring at his back as she made her way to the hallway. It took her too long to take the next step. Long enough to hope that he’d turn around, and realize that he wouldn’t. Long enough for her heart to break all over again.

  — TWENTY-TWO —

  SHE might not have drunk anything the night before, but this was the worst hangover of her life. At least she didn’t have to work. She wasn’t getting out of her bed except to pee and find more tissues.

  Her phone had beeped a few times, but she ignored it when she saw the messages weren’t from Ryan.

  Finally, Emmett knocked on her door.

  “Go away,” she called weakly.

  “Can’t. Let me in.”

  “Fine, whatever. I don’t get my way anyway.”

  He cracked the door, and when he’d ascertained that she wasn’t going to throw something at him, came in and climbed onto the bed next to her. “You have a million messages.”

  She knew. Her agent, Liana, someone from her publicist’s team. “I turned my phone off in the middle of the night. Still no comment beyond what I told the publicist last night.”

  “Okay. I’ll handle it.”

  She took a deep breath. “Can you loop Olivia Minelli in on it, too? Tell her it’s…in the past, now, and that I’m sorry.”

  “You shouldn’t be sorry for going on a date.”

  Nope. But she was. So much it hurt.

  The gossip piece didn’t matter. They were over—a single date wasn’t worth any future press. But the real threat that it posed, that Ryan had predicted all along and that she’d ignored…she started sobbing all over again as she realized he was right.

  She’d put his kids in harm’s way, all for a hopeless crush.

  No, not hopeless. Loving Ryan hadn’t been a mistake. She hoped that in time he appreciated their relationship, too. She’d been his rebound fling. At least that was something.

  An awful something. God, she couldn’t stop crying. She didn’t want to be his rebound. She wanted to be his forever.

  After Emmett left her alone, she grabbed her phone. She couldn’t leave it up to Olivia to tell Ryan about the next story that would come out.

  I know you don’t want to talk to me. I just wanted to let you know that my publicist has arranged for what’s called a “re-direct”. Something big to distract the press. At some point in the near future, you’ll see a story about me and a famous actor dating. It won’t be true, btw.

  She re-read it three times before hitting send, crying harder each time. It didn’t say nearly enough, but it was still the longest text message she’d ever sent.

  His response was painfully short. Thx for telling me.

  And that was that. She typed a counter-response many times over the course of the day, and the next day—after sobbing her way through showers and mindlessly eating smoothies she couldn’t taste, after being reprimanded for her red eyes, before and after filming. By the time she crawled into bed the next night, exhausted even though it was barely dinner time, she was all out of potential words.

  Because there’s nothing to say. Not really.

  She just needed to move on.

  — —

  It took until the end of the week for Emmett to convince her to take a call from her agent, and she only did so after she was reassured that it wasn’t about Ryan.

  “Hi Walter, what’s up?”

  “You, my darling!”

  “Oh yeah?” She picked a piece of invisible lint off her knee. “Tell me more about that.”

  “The studio is very happy with what they’ve seen so far.”

  “Seriously?” That wasn’t the impression she’d been getting from James, but it was her first time working with him. Maybe asshole was just his strategy.

  “On my mother’s grave. I know you guys still have some sound-stage shooting to do in Toronto, but provided that all goes well, they’re planning to push this out before Christmas.”

  “Oh my God.” Holly didn’t need her agent to explain the importance of that. A pushed release to keep it in this calendar year…they wanted to do a run for the big awards. “That’s amazing.”

  “There’s a condition, though. They want you to sign a deal for three more films.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Joshua’s…not a great bet right now. Parvati looks good in this film, but they’re concerned about her range. You’re going to be the star. If they throw the money at a bid for an Oscar, they wa
nt to be able to leverage that back into new projects.”

  Leverage her. A week ago, she’d have told them to stuff it. She wasn’t anyone’s puppet.

  But work…throwing herself into new projects sounded like exactly what she needed right now. “Tell me about the movies they want me to do.”

  “You’d have some choice.”

  “Some?”

  “There’s one they already have in mind. The other two would probably be up to you, especially if this next one goes well. But you might not like it.”

  She’d find a way to like it if it kept her distracted. “Send me the script.”

  — —

  “Dad, do you think the lake is warm enough to go swimming yet?” Gavin asked.

  “Not yet, bud.” Ryan set the bowl of fresh strawberries on the table.

  “Nummy berries, Daddy.” Maya grabbed the biggest one and smelled it before taking a bite. “Holly likes strawberries. Can we take some to her?”

  “She’s busy with the end of the movie, baby.”

  “I’m not a baby, I’m Maya.” She grabbed another strawberry and climbed off her chair. “I’m going to take this to Holly.”

  “Maya, you can’t.” Ryan took a deep breath. He’d been avoiding this, but he needed to tell them. “You guys know that Holly lives in California, right? She was only here to make a movie. She’s going home soon.”

  “She’s going away?” Maya frowned at him, and his chest pulled even tighter than it had been.