by A. J. Pine
When he finally stopped, he stood right in front of her again, chest heaving, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing.
“Why are you catering this wedding?” he asked softly.
Her brows drew together. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just answer the question. Why, even after finding out that you were catering your ex-husband’s marriage to a new woman, did you insist on keeping the job?”
She opened her mouth to answer, then thought better of it. He was playing their old game, backing her into a corner and trying to outsmart her, and she was not about to walk into his trap. Didn’t he get the memo? She was supposed to be interrogating him, not the other way around.
“Come on, Lil. You know you want to tell me off right now.”
She pouted. “I do not.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. She didn’t know what was worse, the fact that he had the nerve to smile or that she found his audacity even the slightest bit charming.
“Just say it,” he said. “You know this isn’t going to end until you do.” Then he leaned in close, putting those warm rough lips right next to her ear. “Tell me why you didn’t back out of the catering contract.”
His breath was warm, but she shivered despite being wrapped in his comforter.
She gritted her teeth. “I couldn’t,” she said, her words soft but certainly not gentle.
“Why?”
This time his lips brushed against her earlobe, and shivers turned to freckles of goose bumps all over her skin.
“Because.”
“Because why?”
She groaned. He was going to win, and he knew it. She might as well throw in the towel.
“Because I don’t quit. And because I need to prove to myself I can do this whole business thing on my own, that even though I got knocked down, I didn’t stay there.”
He grinned. And shit, it was so unfair. Because that smile of his—the one she felt like only she got to see—had turned her insides straight to goo.
He surprised her by threading his hands in her hair and kissing her. And she surprised herself by melting into it—into him.
His lips were warm, insistent, like he was trying to make her understand something, but he needed to understand too.
“Wait,” she said, dipping her head to break the kiss. “Just—wait.”
He stopped but didn’t back away, keeping his forehead pressed against hers.
“I get it,” she admitted, wrapping her arms—and therefore his comforter—around his torso. “I’ve got something to prove to myself, and so do you.”
He buried his face in her hair. “Knew you’d catch on, sweetheart.”
“But there’s one difference,” she said, knowing there’d be no going back after this. “If you asked me not to do this wedding—if it in any way could hurt you for me to do it—I wouldn’t.”
If she could have convinced her father to stay or done something to make her and Tucker as perfect in real life as they were on paper, she would have. Now here was this man who—like it or not—already had her heart, and he couldn’t promise her he’d stay. Maybe he wasn’t technically walking away, but it was close enough.
“Lily.”
There was accusation in his tone. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d hurt him.
“You’re wrong,” he added, and the strain in his voice made her grateful she couldn’t see those blue eyes right now. “There are two differences.” He kissed the top of her head. “I would never ask you to give up your dream.”
And then, just like that, he spun toward the house and walked away without another word.
The thing was, though, her dream wouldn’t kill her—not in the physical sense, at least. His? His actually could. And even if the worst-case scenario was what another concussion could do to him—it still meant the same thing.
It meant him leaving her.
She made her way back into the house, grabbed two cookies, and tiptoed toward the bedroom. Luke was in the bed, shirtless with his jeans still on, his arm bent under his head as he stared at the ceiling.
She held out a cookie. “You—you earned it,” she said. “So I’m making good on my offer.”
She sucked in a breath, prepared to hold it until he gave her some sort of response, but he reached for the cookie immediately, his head tilting toward her.
He took a bite, then patted the empty spot on the mattress next to him.
Her throat tightened, but she kept it together as she crawled in next to him with her own cookie, trying not to think about sleeping with crumbs.
“You still mad at me?” she asked.
He nodded. “You still pissed at me?”
She nodded right back. “I do have faith in you. So does your family. But this whole situation is bigger than that, you know?”
He didn’t say anything, just stroked her hair.
So they lay there, eating snickerdoodles. And with every rise and fall of her head on his chest, she fell harder for the man who made her absolutely crazy.
Luke needed his support system, but Lily realized she needed hers, too. She needed the one person she’d been afraid to face for more than six months.
She needed to go home.
Chapter Twenty
Luke woke with a knot in his bad shoulder and an empty space in the bed next to him. He paused for several seconds, hoping the scent of bacon or something would come wafting into the room. Not that he expected her to cook for him. It would just be a sign that she was still there. But Luke Everett didn’t believe in signs, and he knew that last night was both a breakthrough and a damned setback.
He pushed himself onto his side and reached for his phone on the nightstand, letting out a breath when he saw the waiting text. At least she hadn’t just disappeared without a word.
Had a friend pick me up. Don’t worry. I didn’t get all dramatic and walk home.
He laughed. God he’d been such an asshole—too many times to count. But he must have done something right to wind up where they’d been last night before he went and messed it all back up.
I could fall in love with you, Luke Everett. But I can’t watch you risk your life just so I can lose you. I know this is selfish, and you can hate me for it. For what I have to do. But I’m leaving first this time. It’s the only thing I can control. Figure you can understand that part.
How about that? She went and used his idea of doing things on his own terms to walk right out the door.
Muscles stiff, he padded into the bathroom where he took a long, hard look at the man staring back at him from the mirror. She’d done a good job cleaning up his cut, and when he peeled off the bandage, it stayed closed. No more bleeding. While the fading bruises on his torso would be easily hidden under his shirt, there was no hiding a fresh injury to his face. He’d have to explain himself to Jack when he got to the ranch.
When he’d dressed and made it into the kitchen, he found the place cleaner than he’d left it before she’d miraculously found ingredients to bake. And the cookies were piled high on a plate, covered in plastic wrap.
At least he had proof that it hadn’t been a dream. She had been here. They were real. She could fall in love with him. Could fall. But what? She got scared and stopped herself? That was bullshit. He’d tried not loving her for three years, and look where that had gotten him. But he couldn’t give up what he’d worked for. He wasn’t calling it quits on someone else’s terms—only his own. And if she couldn’t stick around for that, then he’d live with it. He’d already planned on living with much less.
He lifted the plastic wrap, snagged four cookies, and decided to grab coffee at the ranch before popping into the winery to help with the drywall. He had to hand it to the Callahans. They were fast and efficient, but they didn’t cut any corners.
Luke expected his brother to give him the third degree about the cut above his eye. He expected to have to appease Jack, assure him that he wasn’t doing anything dangerous, that Ace just got spooked
.
What he wasn’t prepared for was his older brother waiting for him on the porch steps, which meant Luke wouldn’t even get a sip of coffee before he had to play defense.
“Morning,” Luke said with a grin as he strode toward the porch.
“Morning,” Jack said, his tone unrecognizable. He could be tired or pissed, but Luke couldn’t decipher.
Maybe he’d judged too quickly. Maybe his brother was just enjoying a bit of fresh air before doing whatever it was needed doing by a lawyer/rancher before 9:00 a.m.
But when Luke tried to pass where his brother sat on the steps, Jack stopped him with a single word.
“Sit,” he said.
Scully, Owen’s chocolate lab, came bounding from somewhere on the side of the house, stopping at Jack’s feet and doing exactly what the man had said.
Luke didn’t let his smile falter when he said, “I’ll assume you were calling the dog, then? Because I’m light on sleep and could really stand to be heavy on caffeine.”
Jack absently scratched the dog behind his ear before saying, “Scully, get!” And the dog scampered off again. “You know I mean you,” he continued, eyes narrowed at Luke.
“Whatever it is can wait until I get a goddamn cup of coffee.”
Luke strode past his brother and up the stairs. He almost made it inside, even had the storm door open when Jack let him have it.
“Tell me about the concussions.”
“You know about every concussion I’ve ever had,” Luke said, his jaw tightening.
Jack blew out a breath. “Tell me about the risks. Tell me what the goddamn doctor said could happen if you get another one.”
Luke’s hand squeezed the door handle so hard he thought it might snap off.
You can hate me for it. For what I have to do.
He’d thought Lily meant leaving, and he’d already forgiven her for that.
“Shit,” he hissed. “She had no right.”
“She had every right,” Jack snapped.
Luke let the door go and turned. He wouldn’t do this from up here, so he took the steps two at a time, stopping right where he’d started, face-to-face with his brother.
Jack was standing now, arms crossed, his blue eyes boring into Luke’s.
Luke ran a hand through his hair and let out a bitter laugh. “I’m a grown fucking man, and you still want to make decisions for me. When are you going to let go?”
“Maybe when you start acting like one.” Jack’s voice was low and controlled, which Luke knew meant a quiet fury brewed underneath. “How about we start with you telling me how you got that cut above your eye?”
Luke gritted his teeth but didn’t respond.
A slow clap came from just behind the storm door, and both men turned to see Walker taunting them from where he stood.
He pushed through the door, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and the same week-old beard as Luke after their time on the road together. He dropped onto the top step, letting his elbows rest on his knees. His little brother somehow looked older and more spent. And he wondered if the guy ever slept.
“Come on, Big Jack,” Walker said, and Luke swore he could smell the liquor on his breath even from four steps below. “How about you make him?”
“Fuck you,” Jack said, and he started pacing. Seemed that was the way of the Everett men these days, either taunting or pacing.
“Looks like for once we’re in agreement,” Luke added, then tilted his head toward Walker. “Fuck you,” he said.
Walker just laughed. “See, I knew this happy-all-the-time, I’m-just-enjoying-life stuff was bullshit. You’re just as fucked as the rest of us.”
Luke crossed his own arms, hiding his clenched fists. “At least I’m not halfway to a liver transplant.”
Walker leaned back on his elbows. “Just some possible brain damage,” he said, then winked. “See? Just as fucked.”
Luke and Jack were chest to chest, only a few inches between them. He’d always thought it would be Walker and one of them that would come blows. Wasn’t Walker the volatile one? Not Jack. Not him.
“Is she here?” he asked Jack. “Is she at the winery?” Not that he’d know what the hell to say when he saw her. Just the other night he’d told her how well she fit into their world. Into his world. Now all he could think was that she’d overstepped—crossed a line she didn’t have the right to cross. And he wanted to hear her admit why.
“No,” Jack said, his voice softening just a bit, like he was about to give worse news than Lily betraying his trust.
“What do you mean No? Would you care to expand on that?”
“This should be good,” Walker said.
Jack broke eye contact for a second and cleared his throat. “She left. Went back to Phoenix.”
Something in Luke’s gut twisted, then dropped.
“She’s got the menu set for the wedding. Said her mom’s not too bad of a cook and that she would help her shop, prep, and freeze everything she needs so she can bring it back for the reception.”
“Fuck,” Luke said, pacing. “Fuck.” He stopped in front of his brother. “What the hell did you say to her?”
Jack pressed a palm to Luke’s heaving chest. “Come on, man. You know this isn’t about me. I think maybe you just need to take a breather. Why don’t you go check on the drywall.”
The storm door opened and then slammed shut. All three men turned to find Ava staring at them, her eyes narrowed, with a bucket of paint supplies at her feet.
Luke stepped back from his brother’s outstretched arm, and Jack clenched and opened his fist before dropping his hand altogether.
“Hey, Red,” he said.
Ava picked up the bucket and took two steps toward Walker. She dropped a paint roller onto the porch next to him. Then she hopped down the few steps, approached Luke, and lifted his arm by the wrist before slapping a heavy paintbrush into his hand. He figured he had no choice but to grab it.
She spun toward her fiancé and pressed a roll of blue tape to his chest, breaking character for a few short seconds to give him a quick kiss.
Then she stepped back, crossed her arms, and grinned.
“I thought we agreed on the design being lots of wood and shit. What the hell is there to paint? They can’t be done hanging the drywall already,” Walker protested.
Ava nodded. “Sam and Ben and their crew stayed till near sundown yesterday to get it done early. Said they had a family thing come up, so they’re taking the day off.”
Luke swallowed, his anger ebbing. “Their dad okay?”
“I think so,” Ava said. But Luke wasn’t convinced. He’d have to check in on them later.
“Anyway,” she continued, “remember how we decided on that little corner for folks to sit, where we’d maybe serve cheese trays and other snacks? That area we’re keeping light and bright, which means you boys get to paint.”
All three of the men started grumbling.
“Christ. She’s headed to Arizona. I need to—” Luke started, but Ava shook her head.
“You don’t need to anything,” she said, her voice softening. “She needs some time to think. And so do you. Plus, we got the ranch hands tending to the herd, and judging by the new injury on that pretty face of yours, you could stand a few hours indoors.”
Jack was next to open his mouth, but she was even quicker to cut him off. “I checked your calendar, and you don’t have any client meetings until after lunch. Consider this brotherly bonding time a rare gift.”
He rolled his eyes, and Luke was tempted to do the same.
“And you,” she said, raising her brows at a pouting Walker. “I just love a good excuse for your brothers to keep an eye on you—and you on them.”
She dusted off her hands, even though they were clean, and let out a breath. “Owen’s at school and going to help out on your aunt’s farm after. I’m headed inside to finish my project for class, since it’s due in about three hours, but don’t think I won’t check on you.”
She kissed Jack one more time. “Paint’s already there. All you have to do is tape and get to work.”
Then she hopped up the stairs and back into the house.
“What about coffee?” Walker asked.
Jack shrugged. “We’ll drive over and pick some up at the bakery.” He turned to Luke. “Are we good?” he asked.
Luke’s jaw tightened. “You still want to run the show?” he asked.
Jack blew out a breath. “That’s not how it is. You know it isn’t.”
“I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree for now.”
Walker stood, grabbing his paint roller. “You assholes are cute. But can we just get this over with?”
“I’m with him,” Luke said, nodding toward his younger brother. “I’ll drive myself over.”
“Fine,” Jack said. “Let’s go.”
Jack and Walker headed to Jack’s truck and Luke to his. And despite his anger, every step he took beat in time with words looping in his head.
Lily’s gone.
Lily’s gone.
Lily’s gone.
The floor had already been covered, thanks to the contracting crew. So Jack climbed the ladder to tape the seam at the ceiling. Walker took the edge against the molding on the floor. And Luke got to opening and stirring the first can of paint before pouring some into a tray. None of them spoke. If it wasn’t for the open windows, the sounds of the outdoors, it would have been a goddamn tomb.
But they worked, Luke edging in once Walker and Jack had finished and moved on to the next wall. Soon all three were painting. Ava had left extra brushes and rollers so that once they each had their own wall, they wouldn’t have to deal with one another much…if at all. And for upward of thirty minutes, they didn’t. Not until Luke went for the ladder.
“I’ll get the high spots,” Jack grunted from his corner of the room.
