by Alison Kent
The hope drained right out of her again. For a second there she’d hovered on the edge of something spectacular but Austin’s sudden mood change brought her crashing back down. “You don’t have to pretend.”
Austin finally faced her again. “About what?”
“You couldn’t even toast my job, Austin. I know you hate it.”
Confusion fell over his bright eyes. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
They stood there not talking. People passed and said hello. The music swelled as it reached the chorus. Just when she couldn’t take the blank stare, he opened his mouth. When he closed it again without saying a word she seriously considered walking away.
“Maybe we can talk about this later.” He nodded at the banner introducing the Cassatt exhibit and featuring one of her better known paintings. “I thought you’d show me her work.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
She refused to be derailed, not even by a new chance to show him her world, not when the topic was so important. “Tell me.”
He didn’t pretend confusion. Instead, he leaned one elbow on the bar. The move brought his face even with hers. “I’m not drinking.”
After all that preparation she expected a different answer. “What?”
“No alcohol.”
Something nibbled at the edge of her conscience. She remembered emails with odd comments and her brother’s sharp insistence that everything was fine and she should stay in D.C. The minor accident with the tractor. The memory of the lack of beer at the trailer on the tree lot.
The pieces sat there just out of reach but she couldn’t bring them together. She needed Austin to trust her enough to do it for her. “I don’t get it.”
“I’ve stopped drinking.”
No, that didn’t make sense. With three guys living alone without a woman’s influence the family always had beer in the fridge and a full bar. She couldn’t remember a time when Austin didn’t have alcohol available to him. It was normal to his father who thought the drinking age was a waste of time.
Austin didn’t drink to excess often, but he went out with friends and could throw back a lot of beer at a party, especially if a football game was on. He wasn’t a mean drunk, or really even a drunk at all. For him it was a social event and he got quiet and thoughtful, which is why it never bothered her.
“Since when?” she asked.
He looked at his hands, at the ground, at everything and everyone but her. “A few months.”
The pieces shifted in her mind and landed in a clearer picture. “Six?”
“That’s about right.” He cleared his throat and glanced up. “What’s upstairs?”
“Austin, please. Just say it.”
He pressed a hand to her elbow and steered her to the doorway on the far right side of the room. People came in and out of the exhibit hall, but he’d pulled her out of the main flow of traffic. “I don’t really want to do this now.”
“I think we have to.”
He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth then let it go. “I was drinking too much and stopped.”
“Six months ago.”
“Yes.”
“After I left.”
He hesitated before nodding.
The newly formed picture horrified her. “The accident on your property.”
His mouth dropped open. “How do you know about that? I swore Mitch and Dad and everyone else to secrecy. Even the police stayed out of it since I wasn’t driving a car and hadn’t gone on a public road.”
“And your cousin is a policeman.”
“I took the classes and stopped drinking. I’m not getting special treatment.” He shook his head. “I still don’t understand how it all got back to you. I’m not exactly the first guy in Holloway to get drunk and in trouble. It wasn’t big news or shouldn’t have been.”
“As you pointed out before, we come from a small town. News travels, even the type you want to hide. Especially that type.”
He swore under his breath. “Gotta love that.”
Memories flooded back to her. She’d paced her floor for hours as she waited for Mitch to call her back. The time between finding out about the accident and hearing Austin was uninjured except for a concussion stretched until she’d thought she’d scream.
She’d threatened to get in the car and drive home, but Mitch begged her not to. He convinced her it would send Austin the wrong message so soon after she left. Reluctantly, she’d agreed. Now she knew the people she loved had hidden the truth from her. Probably one of those for-her-own good things, but it sure didn’t feel like it.
“I got emails and that touched off a telephone chain. Mitch promised me it was minor and you were fine.” The explanation sounded so hollow. She knew if she’d been hurt, Austin would have walked barefoot to her across snow-filled fields if he had to.
“See, no problem.” Austin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“You started drinking too much because of me.” Guilt overwhelmed her. It ran right over her until every muscle in her body ached from the weight of it.
“No.” His sharp response echoed off the marble. “I was drinking because of me. The blame is all mine.”
“You have to be furious with me for putting you in that place.” She tried to think of a way to work around this betrayal, to make it up to him, but she couldn’t come up with a thing. She was right to leave, but she would have rushed right back if she knew he strayed into danger territory. That’s what you did for someone you loved, and stubborn or not, she’d loved him for as long as she could remember.
“No, Carrie. Don’t take this on.”
“How can you not blame me?” She nearly choked from it.
“You were here and—” His voice dropped off. When he talked again a husky gruffness moved into his tone. “You clearly belong here.”
Panic whizzed through her, knocking the guilt into second place. “What are you saying?”
“I think we’ve had enough secret telling for one night. We’re here to party with people with hyphenated names. To celebrate what you created here tonight.”
“I don’t care about work right now.”
“Well, I do. This is your big night and we’re not missing it.” He slipped his hand down and grabbed hers. “Show me the museum.”
Chapter Eleven
Austin sat on the edge of Carrie’s bed wearing only his tux pants and his shirt open to his waist and hanging loose. With his elbows balanced on his knees, he rubbed her blue dress between his hands. Just remembering how he’d unzipped it hours ago after a night of partying had his gaze skipping to her head on the pillow.
Taking her to bed had been his only thought when they got back to the apartment. He’d blocked out the truth and flashes of common sense in the rush to get her naked. To make love to her one last time.
Now unwanted thoughts tumbled through his mind as he tried to deal with the memory of the huge smile on her face as she walked around the museum. He’d spent most of the night trying not to stare at his watch and hoping for a reason to cut out early. She thrived, talking and smiling and not caring if the person in front of her was an artist or a dignitary.
She fit there.
After trying to manipulate her and win her over, and doing a whole bunch of dumb male shit to get his way, he finally understood. She wanted to be in D.C. This wasn’t about him saying the right thing or about him at all. Her, the museum, it all made sense. He was the piece that didn’t fit.
Tonight’s crowd moved in a world very different from his own. Lots of money and strange concerns about what people did for a living. He shook his head, thinking the question “where do you vacation?” would stick with him for a long time. He “vacationed” for an hour before bed each night. Weeks in Europe didn’t appeal to him and who the hell had the time and money for that crap?
Even with all the questions about him tonight he’d never spent one minute wishing he had more money or
a different life. He certainly didn’t see people with multiple names and their own tuxes as better than him. That didn’t mean he belonged here. But she did and that changed everything.
Carrie shifted her legs under the sheets and threw an arm over his empty side of the mattress. When her fingers hit only sheets, she sat up with the comforter pulled tight against her chest.
She brushed her hair off her face and blinked a few times, as if trying to adjust to the dark room. “Austin?”
“Right here.”
She reached over and clicked the light on low. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Quarter to five.”
“Like I said.” She threw him a sexy smile as she tapped the ruffled pillow. “Come back to bed.”
“I have to get to the lot.” He had to pack up and end this.
He rubbed his hand against his chest to try to ease the burning underneath. No matter how hard he pressed, the stabbing pain under his ribs wouldn’t let up.
“Are you okay?” she asked with a voice filled with concern.
He heard the rustling of sheets and felt the mattress dip right before her arms wrapped around his neck. Her mouth landed on his ear and her hair fell over his shoulder.
His body jumped to life right before the pain ran down his arm and seeped into every bone. “I owe you an apology.”
She breathed in deep then bit down gently on his earlobe. “I like the sound of that.”
His hand smoothed over the soft skin of her arm. “I convinced myself working in a city museum was some sort of dream you’d get over.”
She froze for a second before caressing him again. “I know.”
He finally turned his head and brushed his lips over hers. “Really?”
“Subtlety is not your best attribute.”
“It was egotistical bullshit. Like you didn’t know what you wanted and I did.” He shook his head. “I should have seen it and not pushed.”
“Your scheme started out rocky, but I’m happy you’re here now.”
Her silky hair tickled his chest. He wove his fingers through it, loving the feel of the strands against his skin. “I was a dick. You should have kicked my sorry butt back to Holloway a week ago.”
“But it’s such a cute butt.” She gave him a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek. Then she grabbed his arm and swung in front of him and got a good look at his face. Her smile disappeared a second later. “Something really is wrong. What is it?”
“You love your job.”
She shifted to his lap, letting her legs fall over his and her hand rest against his bare stomach. “That’s a good thing.”
For her. Not so much for them. “You tried to tell me but I didn’t listen. I’m listening now. I’m not trying to con you or figure out how to get my way. I’m really listening.”
“I believe you.” She kissed him then, short and almost painful in its sweetness.
“Sorry it took so long for me to get it.”
She shook her head. “The timing doesn’t matter. What I’ve wanted is for you to understand that I have this professional side, these dreams that need nurturing. I didn’t want you to dismiss or minimize what was so important to me.”
“I did all those things.” Regret washed over him like a river. “I messed up in a big, stupid guy way.”
“That’s over now. You came here for me and went with me tonight. A woman likes that sort of dedication.” She tapped a finger against his nose.
Her light tone and happy mood made every word he uttered even harder. The syllables stuck in his throat as he tried to push them out.
She acted as if they’d made some breakthrough when they’d really reached the end. All he assumed about her motives and needs was wrong. She didn’t need Holloway or family or even him. She got by fine in D.C. on her own.
That reality kicked him in the gut and kept kicking. He’d always loved her independence and strength. She never backed down from a fight with him. She never hid and cried. She faced him head-on with a feistiness that made him hot.
But he knew what happened when a woman craved something bigger, something better, than the man who slept beside her. She’d leave and run. He’d already lived that story. His mother taught him that hard lesson when she cut out and never bothered to call. Carrie had been warning him she saw a dead future like her mother’s if she didn’t explore now. He didn’t believe the theory then but now he did.
The sharp pain ripped through his chest. He had to close his eyes and clench his jaw to keep from shouting.
“Austin?” Panic showed in her wide eyes and played in the shock in her voice as she shoved his shirt aside and ran her hands over him. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” Dying inside, but fine on the outside.
“You’re pale. Maybe you’ve been outside in the cold too much.” When he frowned, more words rushed out of her. “I know you’re an outside guy, but you are a man. You can get sick like regular humans.”
“I wanted to be enough for you.”
There, he’d said it. She acted like she was on the verge of calling an ambulance or giving him mouth-to-mouth, and he spilled his big secret. He couldn’t imagine what else could go wrong.
She definitely heard his big admission because her hands froze still wrapped in his shirt. “What?”
This was the last conversation he wanted to have with her. It should have meant something that he’d never have to do it again, but it didn’t. “I wanted to mean more than the job.”
“You do.”
He didn’t. Any idiot could see that. She walked away from him not the job offer. He made her choose but he’d kept thinking he could find the right words to change her mind back.
He’d run through the options in his head so many times. There were ways to make the distance work. Not perfect ways, but options. Holloway and her apartment sat two hours apart. Not an impossible gap to bridge.
But distance wasn’t their issue. She wanted something and it wasn’t him. Yeah, she loved him and liked being with him. He knew that wasn’t enough. Thanks again, Mother, for that hard lesson.
“Since Spence covered for me last night, I need to be on the lot first this morning and do all the crap jobs.” Austin shifted her off his lap and stood up.
She stopped him from walking away by grabbing on to the ends of his shirt. “You’ve changed. There’s something else going on here.”
He sure as hell had. “Just an early riser.”
“Austin.”
He leaned down and kissed her, letting his lips linger over hers. When he lifted his head he could barely speak. “I love you.”
The sweet smile matched the sudden wetness of her eyes. “I love you too.”
The pain inside him ran rampant now, shredding everything it touched. “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love you.”
Her eyes got all soft. “You know how to steal a girl’s heart.”
“I will always love you. No matter what or how many years pass.”
She brushed the back of her fingers over his cheek. “I believe you.”
He turned his head and kissed her palm. “Go back to bed.”
When she got up again, he’d be gone.
Austin’s bedroom scene played on Carrie’s mind all day. She’d tried texting him and calling, but he didn’t respond. After all that racing after her, all those plans and the plotting, he seemed to being playing hard to get. Not exactly his style and not her favorite game. And she planned to tell him that.
Playing on the goodwill from the successful party, she was able to sneak away from work early. She got to the lot shortly before two. The crowds had thinned, which was to be expected for the middle of the work week even if Christmas was only three days away.
Spence stepped in front of her, peeling off his gloves as he did. “For the record, you’ve been here thirteen days in a row and haven’t bought a tree.”
“I’m still deciding.”
He slapped his gloves against his thigh. “Do it qu
ick since this is my last day here.”
“What are you talking about?” She noticed his usual smile had been replaced with dark circles under his eyes and the urge to laugh at his joke passed.
“I’m packing up so I’m home and settled in by Christmas Eve.”
All the lightness washed out of her. She’d been so happy last night, this morning. Now anxiety churned hard enough in her stomach to make her worry about losing her breakfast.
“Where’s Austin?”
Spence looked past her. “He took the first batch of trees and some supplies home.”
“He didn’t tell me that.”
“Far as I can tell he only made the decision this morning.”
“Is he coming back?” She grabbed Spence’s arms and squeezed until he looked at her. “Answer me.”
“I’ll admit I’m confused here. I thought you wanted him to give up and go away.”
Her breathing roared in her ears. “I want him with me. That was the point of last night.”
“Interesting.”
Spence’s man-of-few-words thing was ticking her off. He had to see that she teetered on the edge here. “What is so damn interesting?”
“Well, seems Austin learned something different from your evening.” Spence’s hard eyes softened as he peeled her fingers off his arms. “He’s already on the way home, Carrie. He plans on staying there.”
No, no, no. “What?”
“You won.”
“How can you say that?” Spence’s words were too awful for her to answer in anything more than a whisper.
“You told him—”
She willed him to understand. “That was days ago. Not now.”
“Look, he gets it. At least, he finally did. Your life is here. His is there.”
The pounding in her head threatened to pummel her into the ground. “I love him.”
“You’re not the first woman to love him and leave him.”
“Who—” The words cut off as soon as the answer blew into her brain. “Your mom?”
“I wanted you two to make it. I really did. I think of you as a sister. Always have. And believe me, he’s going to be a piece of shit for months over this.” The words were rusty, as if it hurt Spence to say them.
