“Do my turn, Auntie Wren. And Olivia too.” Kylee tugged on Wren’s gray slacks.
Wren crouched down to Kylee and Olivia’s level, with Emma on her hip. She missed seeing these adorable faces whenever she wanted. “Oh, sweetie, you girls are half as tall as me.” She gently tugged Kylee and Olivia’s matching side ponytails and brushed a finger down their little noses. “I don’t think I can lift you the way I can Emma.”
Kylee’s face fell.
“But I can push pretty princesses on the swings.”
Kylee and Olivia jumped up and down, clapping. Emma squealed, bouncing on her hip in her attempt to copy the older girls.
“Go tell your mommies or daddies that I’m taking you out to the swing set. I’ll grab your jackets.”
“Auntie Wren’s taking us on the swings!” Kylee screamed down the hall, with Olivia following.
She stood, laughing. “I don’t know, Emma, but I think they might be excited.”
Emma clapped. “Da, da, da, da, da!”
“Oh, you agree?” She glanced into the crowded living room, and her gaze locked with Tucker’s as he sat on the couch, a beer in his hand, his arm in a sling, shooting the breeze with Austin and Hunter. Her smile vanished, and her heart did a violent flip-flop. They’d caught each other’s eye all day—when he first walked through the front door with his parents, across the table during dinner, now.
He stood, unfolding his powerful body in khaki slacks and a white polo, starting her way.
She clutched Emma closer. “Oh God, what is he doing?” She’d systematically avoided conversation with him the entire time he’d been here. She took several steps backwards, hoping to vanish among the crowd of family and friends standing around, but it was too late. His cologne already intoxicated her as he stopped in front of her.
“Hey.”
She swallowed, her mouth growing instantly dry. “Uh, hey.”
“Happy Thanksgiving.”
She swept stray strands of hair behind her ear. “Happy Thanksgiving to you.”
“I haven’t had a chance to talk to you. You’ve been busy all day. How are you?”
“Good, good. Great. How about you?” She adjusted Emma on her hip.
“Hanging in there.” He gave her one of his slow grins as he gestured to his arm.
Dear God, why did he have to go and do that? Her stomach clutched as she glanced at his straight white teeth and stared into his gorgeous hazel eyes. “Well, the girls are waiting for me.” She took a step back. “It was nice seeing you again.”
“Do you mind if I hold Emma?”
She glanced from Emma to Tucker. “No. Of course not.”
He moved closer, his arm brushing hers as he swooped in for her niece. “Hi, beautiful girl.”
Emma smiled. “Da da da da!”
“Ah, wrong guy, kiddo.” He looked at Wren, grinning. “Must be the black hair.”
“Must be.” She couldn’t do this. “Looks like she’s settled in. I’m going to get Kylee and Olivia’s jackets. I’ll see you around.” Turning, she walked away before Tucker could respond and made her way down the hall, skirting guests, stopping short at Ethan’s office. She closed herself in the room and sagged against the door, savoring the quiet. One stupid encounter with Tucker and she was shaking—the awkward first ‘conversation.’ Thank heavens it was over.
Sighing, she walked to the plush leather couch and pulled off her black pumps. She’d been doing all right without him—kind of. She’d been too busy to miss him—almost. Her life had been utter chaos since she landed in LA two and-a-half weeks ago. She’d hit the tarmac running and hadn’t stopped. Between her back-and-forth commute from Santa Barbara to the Palisades, unending meetings, mockups, frantic packing, apartment hunting and visits with Patrick, she barely had time to sleep and eat, yet Tucker was never far from her thoughts.
She rested her elbows on her thighs and kneaded with stiff fingers at the tension in her temples. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Nothing was working out the way she’d planned. Santa Barbara was beautiful, but she didn’t love her new hometown. The dozens of apartments and small two-bedroom bungalows she’d looked at were all wrong. On more than one occasion Greta told her she was being too picky. And perhaps she was. She just needed to choose a place and stop spending her nights in a hotel.
A rental didn’t have to be forever. Her position at Clayton Designs wasn’t either, she’d decided the first day she walked through his doors. Clients were already flocking her way. Six months, maybe a year, and she could try again here in the city. The Cartwrights had dropped their lawsuit and headed to Europe with their impeccable reputation in tatters now that word was out about their sociopathic nephew’s decade-long crime spree.
Patrick was making huge strides everyday. His speech was improving, as was his vocabulary, and he could dress and feed himself independently. He’d hit his final milestone yesterday—walking the entire unit with a cane. Now he needed a spot to open up at the private rehabilitation facility. The doctors had warned them both it could take weeks, but Wren had other ideas. Grant Cooke, General’s Chief of Staff, would be calling in a favor tomorrow morning, and Patrick would be transferred over by Monday at the latest. Patrick would have the best. Her friend would be back, sitting behind his desk, whenever he was ready. His slight limp, more than likely permanent, wouldn’t slow him down. She’d already promised him his job and a timeframe—motivation for both of them to work their butts off to get back to where they wanted to be. She had her best friend back—a little different than he used to be, but he was still her Patrick.
So why was she so unhappy? Why did she always feel like she was on the verge of tears? She was no longer being stalked, Patrick was well on the mend, Tucker was back in the office on very limited hours doing paperwork because Ethan couldn’t keep him away. Everyone was safe, everything was fairly close to normal, yet she couldn’t banish her sadness. She missed Tucker; she knew she would, but she didn’t know it would feel like this—like her heart had been ripped out of her chest, like she was forever unsteady.
Maybe she longed for him and dreamed of him every night; maybe she’d almost made the biggest mistake of her life when her car somehow drove to his apartment one evening on her way back to Santa Barbra. Luckily fate had been on her side when she sat at the stoplight, waiting to make the left turn into his complex. She’d stared in disbelief as Tucker and a beautiful blonde hugged in front of his Jeep and walked to his building, the lady’s arm wrapped around his waist. A concussion and bullet wound weren’t slowing him down, and neither was a broken heart.
She’d done the right thing for both of them when she walked away. Tucker may have declared his love and assured her that what they had was special, but the truth of the matter was they’d been in an intense situation, creating equally intense yet false feelings. Utah was long over, and so were they. Tucker had moved on as he had every right to; she was determined to do the same.
She stood, sliding on her heels, wiping at the foolish tear tracking down her cheek. Kylee and Olivia were waiting for their turns on the swings. She walked to the door, yanked it open, and almost crashed into Tucker’s mother and father. “Oh, excuse me.”
“Sorry to startle you, Wren,” Travis touched her arm.
“Oh, no, you didn’t. I was just on my way to grab jackets so I can take the girls out to play.”
“Doesn’t that sound like fun?” Melanie smiled. “We wanted to come say our goodbyes.”
“You’re leaving?”
“We have to get back to Monterey. We still have to see to the details for Staci’s remembrance tomorrow. It would mean the world to us if you could be there.”
She had an eight thirty breakfast meeting with clients and no desire to bump into Tucker again, but as she looked into Melanie’s kind hazel eyes, she couldn’t
say no. “Of course I’ll come. I have an early meeting in Santa Barbara, but I’ll be along directly after.”
“That sounds wonderful. Go ahead and call me later for details.” Melanie smiled as she pulled Wren into a hug. “It’s been so nice seeing you again. Tucker speaks so highly of you.”
Wren held on, ignoring the knife to her heart. “I’ve enjoyed seeing you as well.”
Travis stepped in for a hug as Melanie moved back. “We appreciate your family’s hospitality.”
“Anytime. I know we’re all so glad you could enjoy the holiday with us.”
“We had a lovely time. I guess we’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Definitely.”
“Now we just need to find our boy and say so long.”
“Oh, uh—” she scanned the crowded hall and met his eyes. “Tucker’s right there by the living room.”
“Ah, so he is.” Travis took Melanie’s hand. “Happy Thanksgiving, Wren.”
“Happy Thanksgiving.”
Tucker held her stare as his parents walked his way. Wren hurried off in the opposite direction, determined to find her girls and leave Tucker in the past where he belonged.
Wren hurried down the crushed seashell path as quickly as her heels and snug, black pencil skirt would allow, following the twists and turns through the beautiful gardens encompassing much of the Campbells’ massive estate. The Pacific winds whipped at her hair and plastered her white blouse to her chest as she walked closer to the rows of people seated.
Travis was up front, addressing the crowd. He finished speaking, and suddenly everyone stood and started toward the tents, where music played and waiters roamed. “Damn. I missed it.” Sighing, she spotted Melanie among her guests and rushed ahead.
Melanie smiled as Wren moved closer. “Wren, you made it.”
She gripped Melanie’s outstretched hands and kissed her cheek. “I’m so sorry I’m late. My meeting ran way over, and traffic was a mess.”
Travis stepped up to their side and patted her arm. “We’re just glad you could be here to help us celebrate our beautiful girl.”
“Staci was certainly special.”
“That she was.” Travis’ blue eyes scanned the groups under the tent. “Tucker’s around here somewhere.” He looked out over the manicured lawns. “Ah, he’s over by the trees.”
Wren followed Travis’ finger, watching Tucker stand with his back to everyone. He wore a black suit and stared out at the ocean next to the blond she saw him with at the apartments. She struggled to ignore the clutching sensation in her stomach. “Yes, I’ll have to say hello.”
“Please make yourself comfortable, Wren,” Melanie said. “Have a glass of wine and some hors d’oeuvres. Ms. Hayes is looking forward to seeing you again, and I would love to introduce you around.”
Wren gave Tucker’s parents a small smile. “That sounds nice.”
Melanie gently squeezed her fingers. “We’re glad you can be our guest this evening. Let one of us know when you’re ready to be shown to your room.”
The idea of staying on the same grounds as Tucker left her uneasy, but on an estate this size it would be easy to avoid him. The Campbell home made the Cartwrights’ look like a shack. “Thank you.”
“Oh, I think Tucker’s spotted you.”
She glanced his way. Even with the distance between them and his dark lenses covering his eyes, she absorbed the heat of his penetrating stare. “I’ll go say hello. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Certainly.”
Taking a steeling breath, Wren straightened her shoulders and started in Tucker’s direction, down another crushed seashell path. Her heart pounded as the wind blew his thick black hair about and molded his clothes to his beautiful body. Two encounters in twenty-four hours was proving to be too much, but she’d come because Melanie asked, and she somehow felt a bond with a girl who died long ago. The next few minutes didn’t have to be a big deal. She just had to say a quick hello, then she could head back to the tent and make the best of a horrifyingly uncomfortable situation.
She breathed in Tucker’s cologne as the breeze carried his scent in her direction. The blonde’s perfume mingled with his, and the fragrances fit well—like the man and woman standing in front of her. “Hello,” she said to Tucker and nodded to the stunning blond with huge brown eyes.
“Hey.” He slid his sunglasses on top of his head.
She wished he would put the barrier back so she didn’t have to look into the hazel eyes she missed so much.
“Thanks for driving all the way up here. My mom was thrilled when you said you could come.”
His mother was thrilled, not him. God this was agony. “I was happy to.”
He nodded. “Wren, this is Casey Albright. Casey, Wren Cooke.”
Wren shook Casey’s sleekly manicured hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“And you.” Casey smiled. “I think I’ll go grab us a drink.”
“Oh, please don’t let me interrupt.”
“You’re not. Excuse me.” Casey walked away.
Now what? Wren looked past Tucker to the pounding waves, counting down the seconds until this hellish moment could be over. “How—how are you feeling?”
“Pretty good.”
“Good.” She clasped her hands together, squeezing. “And the arm?”
He flapped his sling about as if he were a bird. “Much better. Couple more days and I should finally be rid of this thing.”
“That’s great.” She licked her dry lips. “This is a beautiful area, and a beautiful day to remember your sister.”
He nodded again. “I’ll always miss her and wish things were different, but I think we’re going to be able to put some of the sadness behind us. My mom’s going to Paris with my dad for a couple of days. She hasn’t been since Staci died.”
“That’s wonderful.” She touched his hand and quickly pulled back as the simple gesture proved to be overwhelming. “I hope you’ll be at peace.”
“Thanks.”
Waves crashed in the background, and she grabbed at wisps of her windblown hair, struggling not to squirm while they both struggled through painfully polite conversation. “I should probably—”
“So, I got a new place.” He jammed his hand in his pocket.
Her brow winged up. “Oh, yeah?”
“Mom sort of freaked when she brought me home a few days ago.”
She chuckled as he grinned. “I take it the ugly couch is history?”
“No way. I couldn’t get rid of my couch. That thing’s too damn comfortable.”
She smiled again.
“Ethan said you’ll be hanging around the Palisades this weekend. You should come by and check out the new digs.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I’m cutting my stay short.” Or she was now. “I have to grab the rest of my things at the old house and get back to Santa Barbara. I think I’ve finally found an apartment.”
“Maybe the next time you’re in town then.”
“Yeah, maybe,” she lied. This was too hard. He wanted to be casual friends, and she wasn’t there; she wasn’t sure she ever would be. “I really should get back to the tent. Your mother wants to introduce me to a few people, and I want to say hello to Ms. Hayes.”
“Thanks again for coming.” He enveloped her in a hard hug, and she hesitated, surprised by the sudden gesture. She clung to his solid body, absorbing the comfort and agony of holding him close, then stepped away. He was ripping her to shreds.
“Wren.” He stepped forward, closing the small space between them, and stroked a finger along her jaw.
She looked deep in his eyes as his thumb swept close to her ear and traveled to her chin. She gripped his wrist, drowning in regret, suddenly wishing all of his promises had
been true. He was supposed to love her. He was supposed to have waited, but as she stepped back, Casey walked toward them, reminding her that what they’d had was gone—if it ever existed in the first place.
She pressed her lips firm, attempting to stop the trembling, and blinked as tears swam too close to the surface. What had she been thinking? She shouldn’t have come to Monterey. She didn’t belong here. “I’m going to—I should—I have to go,” she struggled to say as a well of emotion choked her. Turning, she hurried up the path, bypassing the tents, Tucker’s parents, and Ms. Hayes, making her way to the driveway and her car. She picked up her pace as she hit concrete and ran, desperate to be away from here.
Hopefully the five-and-a-half hour drive back to the Palisades would be long enough to ease this raw, tearing ache gripping her heart, and she could finally convince herself, once and for all—as she’d tried to do over the last two and a half weeks—that she absolutely did not want a lifetime with Tucker Campbell. She would stop off at Costas Drive, grab the remainder of her things, and spend the night with Ethan and his family before she made her trek to her new home in the morning and finally put this chapter of her life behind her.
Tucker sped south on the 405, rushing back to the Palisades in the dark. This wasn’t exactly how he’d planned for everything to work out, but this is how it was. His cell rang, and he pressed ‘talk’ without bothering to glance at the readout. “Yeah.”
“Everything’s all set,” Ethan said.
Tucker sighed his relief as a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. “I don’t know how to thank you, man.”
“Oh, I’ll think of something.”
He grinned. “I don’t doubt it.”
“Where are you?”
“About twenty minutes out.”
“Taking forty-six was the way to go. You’ve got her by a good ten minutes.”
“The Pacific Coast is prettier, but it’s definitely not faster. Thanks again. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up and glanced at the clock. A ten-minute lead wasn’t much, but he was lucky to have that. He’d spent the last five hours barreling through traffic, gaining his slim advantage. When Wren looked into his eyes, tears brimming, her voice tight with emotion, telling him she had to go, he didn’t realize she meant all the way home. He should have stopped her from rushing up the path, but he’d been too busy digesting the idea that Wren was hurting too.
Waiting For Wren (Book Five In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series) Page 36
