The Double Deal

by Catherine Mann

  She patted her sweater pockets and realized... “I, uh, I must have left my phone inside.”

  How could she have been so careless? She braced herself for the news, almost afraid to accept the hope Trystan’s smile brought. Royce moved closer, squeezing her hand in support.

  “So I gathered. I am actually the bearer of good news. Your father’s surgery went well. He’s out. Moving his toes. He will be allowed visitors in about a half hour.” Trystan’s shaggy hair lifted with a gust of wind that rocked through the balcony.

  Naomi’s knees went weak, and if she hadn’t been leaning against Royce she probably would have slid to the ground. “Thanks, we’ll be in shortly.”

  Trystan nodded, folding back into the hospital, leaving her alone with Royce once again.

  Naomi tipped her face into the coolness of the breeze, relief warming her down to her core. “Thank God.”

  Royce palmed her back. “That’s great news.”

  His touch left her vulnerable at a time when she was clinging to calm by a thread. That’s all Naomi had been clutching for days, and that thread rapidly frayed. She couldn’t so much as stumble. Not in front of him.

  As a child, Naomi rambled when nerves overpowered her. That old habit manifested again as she desperately tried to gain a firmer grip on her emotions. “Dad’s recovery will take about six weeks, then rehab, but it’s so much better than the old days of needing that metal halo for six months.”

  “Let’s go to the cafeteria and get something to eat while you wait to see him.”

  She bit back the urge to snap at him, frustration firing deep inside her now that the pressure from her father’s surgery was gone. She was tired and cranky and, yes, still irritated with him for telling her family about her pregnancy.

  What right did he have to do that? To take that moment away from her? Somehow, she’d lost sight of the impact of that when she’d been groggy from fainting. Afraid for her child. Terrified for her father.

  She couldn’t let that pass. He couldn’t take over her life this way.

  This wasn’t the time or the place to tell him, with her emotions still too raw for logic, her feelings bubbling to the surface. “Royce, I’m not hungry.” She stuffed her hands into the sleeves of her sweater, refusing to admit that, yes, she was getting cold. “I don’t mean to snap, but I’m an adult. I’m not going to fall off the balcony, and I can feed myself. Drive myself. Keep myself upright.”

  Royce drew in a deep breath, his jaw tight before he spoke, “And you have a reckless streak.”

  Her eyebrows shot upward.

  “Excuse me?” So much for resisting snapping. Logic, reason, calmness—all lost somewhere on that breeze. He’d laid down fighting words. Same ones she’d pushed against her whole life.

  “You’re impulsive.”

  “Perhaps it just feels that way since you’re so methodical—Forget I said anything. I’m going back inside.” She wheeled away from him.

  And her feet shot out from under her.

  Royce caught her just shy of her hitting the ground. “See, you do need me. Think about your baby.”

  Anger fired hot inside her. She loved her baby. How dare he insinuate otherwise? “That’s not fair. Do you plan to stay plastered to my side for the next seven months?”

  “Calm down. You’re being irrational.”

  She leveled her best courtroom gaze his way—and yes, she had inherited more than her fair share of her father’s bravado. “Oh, so I’m impulsive and irrational?”

  “You’re playing lawyer, twisting my words.”

  “If you ask me, you’re the one whose emotions are out of control. You blurted to my family that I’m pregnant. You stole that once-in-a-lifetime chance for me to tell them about my first child.”

  “I was worried for you.” He shot back.

  “I’m not your fiancée.” The woman he’d loved. A thought that burned through her, bringing an ugly green jealousy to the fore. “This isn’t the past.”

  His head jerked back. “That’s a low blow.”

  “I can’t help how I feel, or how it seems that you’re using our relationship to reconcile what happened before.”

  “And I think you’re overreacting because of how your family treated you when you had cancer. Maybe you’re even pushing me away because of the people you’ve lost, or some fear of trusting the future. Hell, I don’t know for sure. I’m not the word expert like you are.”

  “Wow, well, you’re certainly off to a great start.” She crossed her arms tightly. “It’s clear we’ve made a mistake. The storm is over.”

  “You’re pushing me away. Point proved.”

  “If that’s the way you want to see it.” She braced a hand along a rail and backed away from him. “I’m going to see my father. I can find my own ride home.”

  Angling past him, she made her way inside. Just in time to see her father being wheeled past on a gurney by a middle-aged nurse. He groggily sang lyrics to old ’50s songs, his tone loopy. On another day, Naomi’s heart might have burst with laughter at the goofy display.

  Instead, tears burned in her eyes and an ache filled her heart. She wanted to cry her eyes out over the realization that the fear she’d felt when she’d wanted to lean on Royce, the stab of jealousy she’d felt, was for a reason... She’d fallen for the man she’d just shoved out of her life for good.

  * * *

  Delaney raced down the hospital corridor to catch Birch before he made it to the elevator. Keeping her eyes on his broad shoulders in the crowded hallway, she angled past a nurse pushing a vitals monitor down the hall. She could still hardly believe he’d shown up here.

  At first, she’d been afraid he would push the issue of sharing the truth about their relationship when she was feeling too scared and vulnerable to resist. But he’d kept his distance, hadn’t given so much as a hint of their affair, simply stating he’d come because he respected Jack.

  Birch had been such a steady source of support as she waited to hear about her father’s surgery. Although every now and again, she could have sworn his eyes had broadcast his frustration at keeping his distance. Others wouldn’t have seen it. But she knew him too well now.

  Once the doctor had told them Jack was out of surgery, in recovery but not awake, Birch had said his farewells. Relief had taken the wind right out of Delaney so intensely, she’d almost missed the chance to catch him. And that made her feel guilty as hell after the way he’d come to check on her.

  At the elevator, she rested a hand lightly on his arm as he pushed the button. She kept her touch neutral, too aware that someone could see them, but needing to thank him for being so thoughtful. He was a good man in many ways. “That was nice of you to stop by the hospital to check on my father.”

  “It’s what people who care about each other do,” he said tightly, pointedly.

  She shifted, guilt pinching. Looking around at the people gathered at the elevator, she tugged Birch’s elbow, leading him with her to a tucked away corner with two chairs. Thank goodness he didn’t resist, only gestured for her to sit first and then took his place beside her.

  “You have something to tell me?” he asked simply.

  “I know you wanted something more from me back there, but it just didn’t seem like the right time to...”

  “To what? To let people know we’ve been together for over two months? Although I’m not sure what to call whatever we have going on. What are we exactly?”

  Tension pulled tighter inside her, shoulders bracing.

  “My father just went through a life-threatening surgery. Cut me a little slack.”

  “That’s why I am here. To support you. You can’t intend to keep us a secret forever.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Good. Let me be here for you. I can get coffee, we can sit with your sister and Royce.”

 
The possibility of such a gathering sounded...happy. Good. She bit her lip against the hope.

  Birch continued, “Maybe Miller might have worked a miracle with some kind of modifications for the pipeline that won’t bankrupt the company.”

  She knew he meant it as an attempt to ease the tension with a joke, and maybe her emotions were too sensitive at the moment, but just that fast, Birch dashed her hopes of his ability to see her side of things. “Sure.”

  “You mean that?” The skepticism in his tone told her he’d heard the undercurrent in her voice. The pulling away.

  “When the time is right.” She’d been using the same delay tactic for weeks, knowing it wouldn’t last forever.

  “We’ve been sleeping together for over two months.” His dark eyes flashed with a new fire. “We’ve known each other for a helluva lot longer.” He took her hand in his. “When’s the right time?”

  She swallowed past the fear, wishing she could fall into the promise in his gaze. Knowing that would be beyond foolish. Licking her lips, she peered around to make sure no one they knew was nearby while they held hands this way. “Be honest. Where do you see this relationship going with how very different we are?”

  He let go of her, his jaw flexing. “I thought I made myself clear. I want us to go public, to meet each other’s friends and families.” He paused. “But I can see in your face that’s not something that interests you.”

  Panic made her stomach ache. She hadn’t wanted things to end like this, but she couldn’t lie to him about a future together, either. “I just can’t envision how we’ll blend our worlds.”

  “You’re dumping me because I would embarrass you in front of your friends?”

  She flinched at the word dumping. She’d known this couldn’t last forever, but thinking about ending their affair was tougher than she’d expected. “I’m saying I can’t imagine how we’ll blend our very different beliefs.”

  “Let me get this straight. If I don’t agree with you on everything, we can’t be together. Look at your sister and Miller.”

  “It’s not that simple. Not for me, at least.”

  “Then explain it to me.”

  “Of course, people in a relationship can disagree about a lot of things. But there are some core values we can’t compromise on.” She searched his eyes and could see he still didn’t understand. “What if I asked you to give up your holdings in companies that are harming the environment?”

  She held her breath, knowing he’d refuse. But then again...what if he didn’t?

  “I wouldn’t ask you to give up your job.” His dismissiveness chafed.

  Still, she gave it another chance, reframing her position.

  “I’m not asking you to give up your profession. Just a portion of your holdings.”

  “It’s not that simple—”

  She couldn’t help but notice how his words echoed hers from earlier.

  “—people count on me with their futures,” he continued. “If I do what you suggest, unrest could ripple through the investors, causing my whole corporation to collapse in a stock market sellout.”

  His position was expected. But the disappointment that came with it burned so much deeper than she ever could have imagined just a few weeks ago.

  “I suspect you’re smart enough to figure out a way around that. If you wanted to. But I can see that you don’t.”

  She couldn’t compromise on something so intrinsic to her values. Images of her sister’s teenage body ravaged from cancer treatment haunted her to this day. Her family had taken one hit after another. She couldn’t give Birch a way to hurt the Steeles too. Not when she had it in her power to keep him and his business practices at arm’s length. And she couldn’t string him along, either. She cared too much to do that to him.

  The time had come to walk away from Birch.

  Even if it cost her a broken heart.

  * * *

  Somehow on her way to check on her father, Naomi had found her steps slowing as she spotted Jeannie. An urge to stop, talk, comfort the woman had flooded through her. Crazy. Probably. Jeannie Mikkelson had four children of her own ready and eager to hold their mother’s hand.

  But Naomi had felt drawn to something in the woman’s eyes. Something that sure seemed to echo a feeling taking root in Naomi’s heart for Royce Miller.

  To hide the renewed sting of tears, Naomi pulled her hair clamp free and re-secured her ponytail. The past two hours since Jack’s surgery had been emotional, to say the least. Each member of the Steele family had filtered in and out, followed by the Mikkelsons, all eager to see him post-op, a sea of concern and relief washing through the room.

  Naomi had decided to wait until the end by Jeannie’s side since Glenna had left to make sure the house was ready for everyone to crash. Everyone was exhausted. Even Delaney had disappeared. And yes, maybe Naomi was afraid to go home to her solitary suite, where she feared she would fall apart amid the memory of her time there with Royce.

  Jeannie touched her arm, calling Naomi back to the present. Leaning forward, the older woman’s blond hair fell on her pink sweater, making her seem younger somehow. Much more together than Naomi felt. “Thank you for hanging out with me, you’ve been so kind. I’m really okay.” She paused, then looked at Naomi with a narrowed gaze. “But are you okay?”

  Ha. Loaded question for sure. “I’m fine. Just a little tired. This is a day to celebrate.”

  “Yes, we’ve had a miracle here with your father’s surgery and the wonderful news about your baby. I know that no one will ever replace your mother, but I hope you know I am here to listen if you need me. Family is there for each other.”

  Family? Naomi sat stunned as the word shifted around in her mind and realized, accepted, yes, this merger—a blended family—was going to happen. And before she knew it, words tumbled out of her mouth. “How did you juggle it all? Kids, work, a happy marriage?”

  Jeannie laughed, rolling her eyes. “Who said I juggled it?”

  “I’ve heard about you for years, seen the features in magazines.” Read them as a teen, poring over the perfect family photos, wondering what it would have been like if her mother had lived. “You had it all, career and family.”

  “Charles and I loved each other, but make no mistake, we argued,” Jeannie said. “All couples do. I made mistakes at work. Heaven knows there are so many things I wish I could go back and redo as a mother, times I wish I’d slowed down to cherish.”

  “But you still did it all. No one’s perfect.”

  “Exactly, honey. No one’s perfect. Quit expecting perfection from yourself—and from Royce.”

  Naomi leaned forward in the chair. “It’s scary to think about, um, failing.”

  That last word tripped her up, hung in her mind, resonating at the core of so much. Fear of imperfection. Fearing she’d failed her family. That she would cause them more grief. She’d known that cancer wasn’t anyone’s fault, but to see her father broken all over again so soon after losing his wife and a child?

  Naomi’s teenage mind had felt the guilt. Clearly some of that had leaked into her adulthood, pushing her to overcompensate.

  Jeannie leaned back in her chair, nodding. Considering. Heartbeats of silence passed before she spoke again. “Not trying is scarier.”

  “Perhaps we’re more alike than I realized.” Damn straight, Naomi was scared of failing. But Royce? He was worth facing her fear. She realized now that she wanted to fight for him with every ounce of her soul. If only she had some sort of courtroom-style strategy to win him back.

  But as experienced as she was in that arena, when it came to love, she could only follow her instincts.

  Twelve

  Royce had spent the better part of an hour behind the wheel of the SUV, trying to clear his mind after the fight with Naomi yesterday.

  Like Texas, Alaska offered pris
tine roads, perfect for driving and thinking.

  He didn’t know how to approach this problem. There was no scientific method to apply. All the variables and moving parts made the situation with Naomi feel impenetrable and unapproachable.

  For a man who prided himself on his critical thinking skills, he’d come up empty-handed.

  Which was how he ended up back at the Steele compound. Sure, he needed to collect Tessie. But really, he had to admit, he didn’t want to leave Naomi like this.

  Emerging from the car, he started toward the looming main house, feeling dwarfed beneath the towering architecture. Perhaps it had to do with nerves.

  Helluva mess here. His fidgeted with his abacus key chain in his parka pocket.

  Trystan Mikkelson intercepted him on the way to the house, nodding. Jeannie’s younger son, the rancher, sported cowboy boots and a tall black Stetson, a jacket—wind resistant—designed for riding in this weather. He motioned for Royce to follow him. “Let’s nab a couple of Steele horses.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  They walked in silence to the twenty-stall barn, a large red building trimmed by slate stones. Trystan was known as a rugged guy, his lack of polish earning him a behind-the-scenes role in the family.

  Making their way to the barn, Royce passed a few of the Steeles and Mikkelsons on horseback, heading out toward the mountain trails. Marshall led the small group. Naomi, he couldn’t help but notice, was not a part of the group. Heaven help him if he or anyone suggested she might not want to gallop around while pregnant.

  Trystan’s somber features seemed more pronounced in this setting, his Stetson shadowing his face. “You do ride, right?”

  “I’m from Texas.” To his mind, the math was obvious. “I live in Alaska. I ride.”

  “Let’s saddle up, then.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather drive? I would think after Jack’s accident you might not be too eager for a horseback ride.” Royce looked to the line of stalls. A variety of horses poked their heads out, a seeming perpetual murmur of nickers echoing in the modern barn facility. He wondered which horse was Naomi’s. He looked the length and saw sleds, skis and even a horse-drawn sleigh parked in back.