by Stacy Gail
Was that the gift of self-honesty Geraldine was talking about?
“Miranda? You still with me?”
Her gaze slid back to the man at the center of that tangled-up ball. “Sorry, my mind wandered. For what it’s worth,” she went on when he looked like he wanted to question her, “I do believe you were right to say that—how did you put it?—not letting the assholes of the world get me down is something that’s up to me. I just need a little practice at it.”
His face lit up. “Say that again.”
“What?”
“That I was right.” A grin appeared, but the gentle way he brought her hand to his lips—that odd, courtly gesture that melted her every single time—told her he liked the conclusion she’d come to even more than being right. “That was one of my better lines. Admit it.”
“It’d make a great tattoo.” At the mention of the word, she winced and almost looked to his arm where her name used to be before she made herself shove off the island. If she didn’t want the assholes of the world to get her down—and Coe freely admitted he was one of them—she might as well start now. “It’s getting dark in here. Where’s the switch for the kitchen lights again? I can’t remember.”
“Miranda.” His feet hit the hardwood floor as well, his arms coming around her before she could take a step. “I know you say you’re not a princess, and you sure as hell don’t want to be called one. But here it is—you’re always going to be a princess in my eyes, and that’s not a bad thing. Because in my eyes, princesses deserve the best, including a happily-ever-after, or at least a happily-at-the-moment. You can get that happiness by enjoying where you are right now. And baby, right now you’re here with me. I promise I can put a smile on your face that’ll redefine the term happy.”
Torn by her dislike of the word princess and melting in the worst way at the rest of it, she wasn’t surprised to hear the fangirly flutter of her sigh. “I have no doubt about that, but don’t worry. I’m not about to make you promise anything.”
“Don’t you trust me to keep them?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he caught her chin and forced her gaze to meet his. “Seriously. Do you trust me?”
“Sure.” But even she heard the waver in her tone and she wanted to kick herself for the weakness. Score one for Geraldine, Miranda thought, appalled. She really was allowing Coe’s long-ago rejection to poison how she saw the man he was now. “I...I’m trying.”
The silence stretched out, and it rang so hardcore with his disappointment it almost deafened her. She drew in a breath to apologize when he pushed her chin down so his lips could feather across her forehead, shocking her into stillness. Affectionate gestures from Coe were rarer than shooting stars, and she had no idea what it meant. All she knew was that the tenderness behind the caress made her heart hurt in the sweetest, most inexplicable way.
“That’s cool. Don’t give up trying, okay? If you did, that’d mean you’d be giving up on me.” He brought her chin back up for a brief kiss, then let her go and toed into his shoes. “Dessert’s going to have to wait, I guess. But I figure waiting will make it that much more enjoyable.” With a wink, he snagged up his phone and headed for the door.
Only after it closed behind him did Miranda realize she’d forgotten to press him about his Hill Country trip. For the first time, everything that had to do with her father’s will slipped her mind, and in its place...
Coe.
* * *
The weekend passed with agonizing slowness for Coe. Normally he caught up on any repair jobs hanging fire down at the garage that had built up during the week, but he avoided the place now on the excuse of giving Miranda breathing room to settle into the loft.
And that’s exactly what it was. An excuse.
Hell of a note. He now needed an excuse to stay away from his own place of business because the one woman he gave a damn about outside of Lucy didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.
Given half a chance, maybe Miranda would even enjoy trying to throw him.
Fuck.
He’d never been happier to see the new workweek roll around in his life. He was digging for the office keys when he heard his name being called, but there was no wild flare of hope when the very definite masculine tone had him turning just as Sully climbed out of his truck. He sighed in relief as he opened the garage’s office door when he saw Lucy wasn’t with him. That indicated two things—one, she was probably already hard at work at Pauline’s, and two, she couldn’t bug the shit out of him. No one could read him the way Lucy could. With one look, she’d no doubt know just how crappy he felt, what the source of his general crappiness was, and be a pain in the ass until she got him to uncork on said crap.
The thing was, uncorking wouldn’t help. The one thing that would help would be to have a spare time machine lying around so he could go back and beat the shit out of his younger self for being such a prick. Miranda had given him her heart so freely, trusting without any doubt that he’d take good care of it like the treasure she’d known it was.
But he hadn’t taken care of it. At the time, he hadn’t cared about anything. He hadn’t even known how to care. So like the moron he was, he’d thrown it back in her face without realizing that what he was throwing was both breakable and irreplaceable.
I do have value, even if neither one of you ever saw it.
He swallowed hard. What a goddamn ass he was, putting her in a position where she had to point out her own worth. No one should be made to feel like they’re worthless, but that’s what he’d done. He may not have used his fists on Miranda, but he’d left scars on her. Just like his father, he’d left scars on the woman who’d trusted him. On the woman who’d loved him. On the woman he...
On the woman he...
On the woman he’d been with.
Inside, the solitary island he’d been content to be stranded on began to rock.
“Hey, Sully.” Grateful for the diversion, Coe waved Sully inside and let the warmth of the office wash away the chill that had nothing to do with the cold November morning. Then he caught sight of the framed work he’d left on his desk, a memento from his trip to Kerrville. For a full second he glared pure death at it. When he’d first gotten his hands on it, he’d been ready to fork it over to Miranda while working on her to realize that its existence changed nothing; that she was already free to live her life however—and wherever—she wanted to.
Then she’d thrown him into a tailspin, and he hadn’t recovered yet to know which way was up. The only thing that was certain was that he couldn’t let her leave without first realizing that overcoming the traumas of the past couldn’t be done by handing over a few pieces of paper. It could only come from inside her.
With great deliberation, Coe set the framed piece aside. “What can I do for you? Something wrong with the truck?”
“Nah, it’s good. Lucy sent me over to make sure she’s got a proper headcount for Thursday.” The other man sighed, took off the black ball cap he wore and dragged a hand through his short dark hair. “I’m going to be so happy to see Friday.”
“You’re not getting out of the madness that easily. Remember, Lucy’s nuts about the Christmas season, which starts in earnest on Friday with all those doorbuster specials and decorating and singing and shit.” For a moment he wondered if Miranda was the same way, only to scowl when something in his chest twisted. He didn’t know. Seven years ago their relationship had broken up in a big way right before she left for college at the end of summer. He had no clue if she even celebrated it or something else, or if she’d kicked the entire holiday season to the curb like she had with Thanksgiving.
The things he’d never thought to learn about her could fill the room. No wonder she wasn’t onboard with the whole trust thing. She knew better than anyone that he, while apparently fun to fuck, wasn’t someone she could depend on.
At least he hadn’t been. But he’d grown up, damn it. He was a different person now.
It was up to him to prove that to her.
“So? What’s the verdict?”
“I’m not going to give up. That’s probably what Miranda’s expecting, since I’ve never really shown her I’m someone she can rely on. But giving up isn’t an option.” Then he looked at the other man’s raised brows and blinked himself back to reality. “Wait. What was the question?”
“If Miranda’s joining you for Thanksgiving dinner at our place. But,” he added, while Coe just managed to keep from smacking himself in the head for making a total ass out of himself, “you just gave me all the answer I needed. That’s definitely two for Thursday.”
“She hasn’t officially agreed to go along with me yet.”
Sully lifted a shoulder. “She’ll be there, because you’ve obviously come to the same conclusion that I came to not too long ago with Lucy. You recognized that you fucked up with your woman in such a way that no amount of greeting cards and grocery-store roses can erase, so you’ve chosen to do something about it.”
Coe’s eyes narrowed. Sullivan Jax wasn’t his best buddy by a long shot. Swapping women-trouble stories with him was about as high on his Things-To-Do list as taking up rhythmic gymnastics as a hobby. “What’s Lucy told you about Miranda and me?”
“Not a lot. I got details on how her dad screwed you over, but she didn’t offer up much about Miranda. But from what you just said, it’s pretty obvious you think you’ve got a lot of ground to make up with her.”
“You don’t say.”
“Yeah, I do say, because I recognize that ground. I’m the one who busted things up the first time around with Lucy when I signed up for another tour of duty. Then when I got wounded, everything went to hell, and Lucy was the one who went through the worst of it. I lost my wife because I didn’t take care of her, the most important to person in my life. That was when I realized I had two choices—give up trying to get her back, or keep trying.” Again his shoulder lifted. “I owed it to her to try and heal the damage I’d inflicted on her. Lucy deserved my absolute devotion to winning her back, so that’s what she got.”
Coe would have loved to tell Sully to save it for the daytime talk shows. But damn, his words hit too close to home. “How’d you know you weren’t knocking on a door that she decided to lock on you forever? How’d you know she was willing to give you another chance?”
“Because that door wasn’t locked. Lucy kept trying in her own way to find her way back to me, just like I was trying to reach her. As long as she did that, it meant that deep down something in her still believed in me. Believed in us. No one’s believed in me like Lucy. Just as important as her loving me, her belief in me kept me going. It keeps me going still.” Sully waited a beat as the words took their time to sink in. “Do you think Miranda’s still trying to reach you?”
Memory after memory jammed into his head. Her refusal to accept countless bottles of milk. Her determination to stay at the Nooner rather than accept the loft. Her refusal to say she trusted him.
But she finally did take the milk. And the loft. And she’d stood up for him right away when Sheriff Berry tried to smear his name and reputation. God, that no-holds-barred support and belief in him had made him feel ten feet tall.
I’m trying...
“Yeah.” It was quiet, but Coe nodded without a shadow of a doubt. Miranda’s belief in him was stronger than probably even she knew. No way was he going to let her down now. “She’s still trying.”
“Then we’ll see you both for Thanksgiving.”
Chapter Sixteen
It was a couple of days before Thanksgiving by the time Miranda plucked up the nerve to work her way downstairs and into Coe’s lair. She had a legitimate reason to seek him out, but she was irritated she felt she needed one in the first place. It was so lame hiding behind excuses when what she really wanted to do was just see him again. And maybe, if he was receptive, to say something like, “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, and I completely trust you not to murder me in my sleep.”
Which was a true statement. She trusted him with a lot of things. Like, for instance, the whole not-murdering-her-in-her-sleep thing. And she trusted him with her car. That was a biggie. And she definitely trusted him to bring her a damn bottle of milk if she ever had need of one.
The only thing she didn’t trust him with was her heart.
Though that was rather absurd, if she thought about it. The last thing Coe Rodas wanted from her was her heart, and it wasn’t just because she was a Brookhaven. The truth was that he’d never wanted it from the beginning. She was the stupid one who kept endangering it whenever he was near.
Which meant, sadly, that at the moment she was the one she couldn’t trust.
Coe had treated her amazingly well after they got over the initial hump, going so far as to help her out with a place to live for the duration of her stay. At every turn he found a way to be her hero, even when she wasn’t all that thrilled about being saved. Yet, to her growing shame, she couldn’t find the words to say she trusted him. The more time stretched on without seeing him—and it became increasingly apparent he wasn’t going to come to her again—the more she felt like an ungrateful wretch. True, she had every reason not to trust him from an emotional standpoint; she was completely justified there. But he’d gone out of his way to make her life more comfortable. If it weren’t for him, she would have had no choice but to sleep in her car.
At the very least, she knew it was up to her to bridge the gap that she’d created.
After poking her head into the empty office, she wandered through the open garage bay doors, her eyes quickly adjusting to the gloom. In the very back a van was up on a ramp, with Coe’s long legs sticking out from under it. About ten feet away and set safely by the wall, a state-of-the-art space heater whispered. As she drank in the impressive length of his legs, she couldn’t help but smile at the memory of when she’d first confronted Coe weeks ago.
Funny how she was just as nervous now as she was then.
“You’re not swearing at it. It must be nearly fixed. Either that or you’re having way too much fun to get pissed off at it.”
Just like before, he went still for a full second before pulling himself out. Instinctively she braced for anything, but her defensive stance melted at the softness in Coe’s eyes that seemed to reach out and embrace her. “Hey, stranger.”
“Hey.” Oh God, when he looked at her like that he was the most beautiful being on the planet.
He didn’t get up from his reclining position. “Is everything okay? Do you need anything?”
You. If the garage doors weren’t open to the entirety of Bitterthorn I’d straddle you right now and ride you all over this floor. “Um, no.”
“Okay.” A brow lifted when the silence stretched out. “So...what are you doing here?”
That snapped her out of her increasingly X-rated daydream, and she wished she could sink into the floor in abject embarrassment. At least she hadn’t drooled as she stood there staring at him like a creeper. That was something.
“We made a deal—a fixed car for a website design, right?” And there it was, the lame excuse she’d managed to scrape together just so she could see him without sounding needy. She’d roll her eyes at herself if she could get away with it. “I’ve got a couple of basic website templates for you to look at, when you have the time. I won’t actually use any of them, as yours will be a custom job tailored to what your business needs are. But these templates will give me a fair idea of what you would like.”
“Oh.” A frown pulled his brows together, and he looked toward a spread of tools nearby before dropping the one he’d been using into the mix. “So that’s why you’re here. I’d hoped...”
Her heart stilled. Everything stilled. “What?”
“Sure.” As he rose, she fetched the can she hadn’t even noticed, all the while hating herself for being so wimpy. Damn it, she was better than this. Avoiding giving him the truth when he deserved it made her nothing short of a coward. “I’m here for another reason as well.”
He glanced up, brows raised.
She took a breath, gave cowardice one last consideration, then plunged in. “I do trust you.”
There. She said it. And the world hadn’t ended.
She hadn’t been sure about that last part.
The frown that had darkened his face vanished as if by magic. “You trust me?”
“I didn’t want you thinking that I didn’t. I do, but I’m still a bit locked up inside, which makes me think a friend of mine was right when she pointed out that I’m probably screwing everything up by comparing the boy you were to the man you are now, and that’s so unfair because the man you are now totally puts that boy to shame, not to mention you seriously fill out your jeans way better now than you did back in the—”
Her no-pausing-for-breath, babbling stream of nonsense was cut off in the most effective manner. His mouth came down on hers, taking it immediately into dangerous waters by delving deeply into her mouth. A hand came up to sift through her hair at the back of her head, cradling it in his palm and holding her still as if he feared she might pull away. That wasn’t about to happen any time soon, not before she’d had her fill of the feel and taste of him.
