This was torture right now. His words. Because how badly did she want that? She imagined cooking with Grant, wearing nothing but his shirt. He’d walk up behind her, place his hand on her ass possessively while she let him sample the sauce from the tip of her spoon. He’d say, “That’s delicious, sweetheart,” in that smooth voice of his. They’d dine by candlelight and then later that night, in bed, she’d straddle him and ride him until they both passed out in exhaustion.
But that was dream Chloe. The one who had her life together, who knew how to have meaningful, honest relationships. A dream Chloe who didn’t fail her family to the point it completely fractured.
Grant was still talking. “It’d be so good, Chloe.”
“You don’t know that,” she whispered.
“And you’re not giving me chance to prove it to you. You’re not giving us a chance. And this surprises the hell out of me, but I want to go grocery shopping and argue over whether to buy Heinz or generic ketchup. I want to drive in a car with you and see if that cute mouth swears at other drivers. I want to go to a baseball game with you and sing ‘Take Me Out to the Ballgame.’ I want the chance to get to know you better. But you’re not going to let me get that chance, are you?”
She couldn’t take the leap. She couldn’t. Her throat grew tight, and her chest constricted. All those things sounded amazing in theory, but she didn’t think she could live up to any of that. She let people down, wasn’t who they expected or needed her to be. She didn’t want to give Grant hope and then let him down, too. “I can’t.”
“Why?” he demanded.
She took a deep breath “I’m not a princess. Or a dirty maid. Or a call girl. I’m not any of those things. I’m Chloe Talley and I’m a mess. I read romance novels and I wear really ugly gaucho pants in my apartment and I usually have stained shirts from cooking.” Her lip was trembling. She could feel it now. “And I’m not strong. I’m not strong at all. In fact, I let people down. I’m not charming like you and I don’t like social places unless I can wear a costume and pretend to be someone else. The reason is because I don’t like what I see. I don’t like Chloe. And everything was fine until you made me want to give you more. And I can’t give you that.”
She brushed the back of her hand across her eyes as Grant’s face went slack.
“So just give up. Please.” Her voice cracked, but she soldiered on. “If you care about me, you’ll give this up.”
She grabbed her purse off the table and stood up, looking down at Grant who stared up at her with a stricken face. “And thanks for the latte.”
Then she walked out, leaving Grant behind. And she hoped, for both of their sakes, this would be the last time he’d have to watch her leave.
…
Chloe could have slapped him across the face and it would have stung less than her words.
A weight was sitting on his chest, and the coffee that had been delicious five minutes ago now tasted bitter in his mouth.
He stared at his hands clasped between his knees. He should get up, throw his cup in the trash, and drive home. He should heed Chloe’s wishes. But that small glimpse of the inner-workings of Chloe’s mind had only succeeded in making him fall deeper.
Plus, he’d never been good at following rules.
Games had always been part of Grant’s sex life. Role-playing was welcomed and encouraged. With Chloe, it’d been amazing at first, but that last time at his house, he’d grown tired of the act. He wanted to look her in the eye—Chloe, not whatever role she’d taken on for the day—and hear her say his name.
He wanted to wake up in bed with her in the morning, roll over and see her smiling at him with a fresh face and bed head. He wanted to curl up with her under a blanket and watch reality TV on his couch. Totally different than his normal date—wining and dining—but Chloe brought out his inner cuddler.
Had he ever wanted that before? Well, no. But then other women weren’t Chloe. He’d been shocked right away at their unprecedented chemistry and then he started to see the real Chloe, the shy girl beneath the clothes, the chef, the loving sister. The woman who was determined to be a role model for his daughter.
The problem was that although he had an agenda to actually talk to Chloe each time they met, she scrambled his brains with her mouth and her ass and her ridiculously perfect tits.
Damn her.
Her determination not to let Sydney down was probably what did him in. His daughter’s own mother didn’t have a desire to stick around, but Chloe had been adamant that she would be there for Sydney. For his baby girl.
He stood up, threw his coffee cup away, and jogged out of the door. He turned the corner of the coffee shop and kept going down the alley on the way to the parking lot.
He caught a glimpse of Chloe’s back ahead of him as she disappeared behind the building. He ran harder, and his shoes pounded the pavement as he rounded the corner. Chloe was there, walking toward her car. She didn’t have a chance to look up before he grabbed her arm, spinning her around and backing her up against the brick wall of the coffee shop.
“Chloe,” he said, crowding her with his body. Her eyes were huge, tear tracks on her cheeks. He cupped her face, brushing away the wetness with his thumb. “I do care, and that’s exactly why I can’t let you walk away from me. Not after dropping that on me.”
“Please—”
He shook his head. “Tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help or—”
“No, I can handle it, I—”
“Chloe, I hate to break it to you, but no. I don’t think you can handle whatever this is because, frankly, you don’t seem to be doing such a good job at it.”
She scowled a little at him, and he liked it, that he’d sparked some fire in her to override her sadness.
“What did you mean when you said you let people down?”
She nibbled on her bottom lip, gaze locked on his. Her eyes skittered away, resting on a spot over his shoulder, before they came back to his face. “It should have been me.”
He furrowed his brow. “What should have been you?”
“In the car with Ethan. Instead of Samantha. Samantha was the one everyone loved. She was charming and beautiful. She had lots of friends. She would have been an amazing mother.”
“Chloe, don’t say that—”
“If it had been me who died, Samantha would have been able to keep the family together. She was strong like that. She would have been able to help my parents through their grief and she would have been able to prevent Ethan from turning into a depressed recluse.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “She would have been able to handle all of this. And I can’t. Chloe can’t. And I know it’s creepy to talk about myself in the third person, but I’m doing it anyway.”
He smiled a little at that. Her heart was huge, his Chloe. He’d seen it firsthand in the way she dealt with her brother and in the way she befriended his daughter. But there wasn’t room for him, he now saw. Which made him want to put his fist through the wall beside her head.
Most of all, though, he saw she was trying to fit everyone else’s problems inside, trying to take them all on her shoulders. He knew Ethan was estranged from his parents, but that wasn’t her fault. And for her to think it was on her shoulders to bring them together wasn’t fair to her.
“Have you talked to Ethan about this?” he asked.
She shook her head. “He doesn’t like to talk about Samantha, or our parents.”
“Yeah? And you think that’s fair to you?” He hated this, that she’d carried this around for years. “You’re not responsible for how your family is dealing with the loss of your sister. It was horrible and unfortunate, but you can’t place all of this on your head.”
“But Samantha was the glue of our family and I was just…an extra. She was necessary and it’s never been more apparent since she died that I’m not necessary.”
She didn’t think she was necessary. His heart was breaking open right there. “Don’t think for one minute that everyone wou
ldn’t have been just as devastated if you were the one who died. Your family loves you. Your brother adores you.”
“Because I’m the only sister left—”
“That’s not true and I think you know it.”
Chloe was cracking; he could see little bits of clarity peeking through the pinholes of her sadness. So he kept talking. “You can’t take all this responsibility on your shoulders. Have you even taken time to grieve her? Or have you been focused on everyone else?”
She didn’t answer, but the holes were getting larger. He was making progress.
“If your family knew what you were putting yourself through, they’d be devastated. I know they would. Ethan would never ever want you to feel like this. So for their sakes, for your own sake, please realize this, Chloe.”
“I don’t know what to do to fix this,” she whispered.
“Chloe,” he whispered. “I think the first step is realize that you can’t fix this. And that’s not your fault.”
She sniffed.
“Talk to your family,” he said. “And then set yourself up with a grief counselor. Have you talked to anyone about this?”
She shook her head.
“I can look some up for you. And I’d go with you, too, if you wanted. Will you let me do that?” If he couldn’t be her lover, he’d be her friend.
Her lips wobbled. The cracks weren’t getting any bigger. Her attention was wavering now and he could see her retreat into herself. “Chloe—”
“I can’t do this,” she whispered. “It’s too much and my life is still so scattered and…”
The extreme high he’d been riding crashed down into the ground.
“But—”
She shook her head and slid out from between him and the wall. He let her go, even though he didn’t want to, even though it felt unnatural. He’d said his piece; he’d pleaded. He thought he’d gotten to her but apparently not.
She swallowed and placed her hand over his. “You’re a good man, Grant Osprey.”
His smile felt brittle. “I’d love to get the chance to show you just how good I can be.”
But she wasn’t giving him that chance, because with a sad, sad smile, she turned and walked away. And Grant wasn’t sure how long he stood there in the parking lot, wondering where he was going to go from here. All he knew was that he wasn’t quite ready to give up yet. And he was pretty sure where he needed to head to next.
Chapter Eleven
Chloe stared at the suitcase on her bed. She could still feel Grant’s hand in hers. She could still hear his voice in her ear, telling her that he’d be there for her.
Her. Chloe Talley.
It had taken all of her strength not to hand over her heart to him right then and there. And that would have been wrong. Now that she was home and had a moment to think, she realized that had been her problem all along—she’d been handing her heart out to everyone else. To her parents, to Ethan, to the memory of her sister. She’d never kept a part for herself and certainly didn’t keep a part to share with the love of her life.
Before she could figure out if she was capable of that with Grant, she had some things to do. She hadn’t wanted to make him any promises, in case she never got to that place she thought she could give him her heart.
But if she did make it there, she hoped he was still willing to put up with her. She had to try. Not just for Grant, but for herself, too.
So she was packing to visit her parents. She’d called and told them and although surprised, they sounded happy to see her.
She’d also called Ethan and the man was prompt so any minute now…
There was a knock at the door.
She left her half-packed suitcase on her bed and walked to her front door. Through the peephole, Ethan stood, his head bowed, hands in his pockets. Chloe opened the door and ushered him in.
He looked her up and down, as if searching for wounds. “You okay? I came as quick as I could.”
She fidgeted her fingers, then stilled them and clasped her hands behind her back. This would be a hard conversation, for both of them, but it had to be done. “Yeah, everything’s okay, but I was hoping we could talk?”
He frowned, but nodded and she led him to her couch.
Sinking down into the cushions, she motioned for him to do the same. He did, holding his body stiffly.
He surprised her by speaking first. “I’ve been worried about you.” She opened her mouth to talk but he wasn’t done. “And I think part of it is my fault, but I’m unsure how to fix it.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Ethan, it’s not your fault. It’s mine. I haven’t been doing a very good at dealing with all of this.”
He squinted at her. “I’m not sure it’s possible to do a good job at dealing with the death of your sister.”
She winced. “Right, I agree with that. But the way I’ve been dealing with it has not been good.” She took a deep breath. “I kept thinking about how it should have been me in that car.”
He blinked at her. “What do you mean? Samantha wanted the ride and—”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
She twisted her fingers in her lap. “Of all of us, Samantha should be here. She was such a light in our family, in the world. I was always the one that blended into the background. Samantha would have made an impact on the world and—”
Ethan leaned forward “What are you talking about?”
She inhaled sharply. “Samantha would have been able to deal with this better. She was a doer, you know? So she would have done something after I died, working on holding everyone together. While all I did was retreat and try to stay in the shadows while the storm raged. And then when it was over, all the pieces of our family were scattered.”
He gripped her wrist and tugged her to him. “I had no idea you thought that. What’s happening between me and Mom and Dad has nothing to do with you. Well, it does because you’re family, but you couldn’t have prevented it. Samantha couldn’t have prevented it.” His voice dipped. “That’s my cross to bear, not yours.”
“I don’t want you to have to bear it alone, though.”
“Well, I hate that you thought you had to take it all.” He gripped her shoulders and pulled back to look her in the eye. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this?”
“I didn’t want to make you feel more guilty than I know you already do, Ethan. I love you, and the last thing I wanted to do was add another burden. I didn’t want you to have to worry about me.” She pursed her lips. “Which I didn’t really succeed in since you were worried anyway.”
He smiled a little at that. “I was worried. But this…makes sense. And I’m so glad you talked to me.”
“I feel better, too. I thought keeping it to myself was the right decision because of the circumstances, but now I see that I was wrong.” For the first time in a long time, Chloe felt like she could breathe. Her lungs filled without that tight band that prevented her from ever taking a deep breath.
She stood up and held out her hand. “I have something else to tell you. But first, I have some chicken salad I made. Would you like a sandwich?”
He took her hand and nodded. “Sure.”
In the kitchen, she grabbed a bag of rolls and the bowl of chicken salad out of the refrigerator. As she made the sandwiches, her hands were shaking. But she knew that she better tell Ethan now before he found out another way.
A chair scraped behind her, and she knew Ethan had sat at the table.
“So,” she said, head bent to her task, “I’ve been seeing Grant.”
Silence.
She’d expected a gasp. Or a curse. Or maybe a fist pound. But all she heard behind her was silence. She kept talking. “I met him at the Philly Comic-Con. I didn’t know who he was then, and he didn’t know who I was. But we… Well, we had a really good time together. So when we saw each other at the restaurant for dinner, it was a surprise to both of us. I think we both tried to stay away. But we
haven’t been great about staying away. Not at all, really. Plus, I met his daughter at that career-fair thing you made me go to. She’s delightful. And likes me, which has only made this whole thing more complicated.” She took a plate in each hand and turned around.
Ethan was staring out the window of her back door. His face was expressionless, a mask, when only moments ago he’d smiled.
“Ethan?” She placed his plate on the table and sat beside him. “Are you mad?”
“He didn’t tell me.” His voice was monotone.
“Of course he didn’t tell you, Ethan. You threatened him. And I didn’t want you to know either. Telling you would have been betraying me as well. And, well, Grant chose me, apparently.”
“And he didn’t want your number to ask you security questions.”
She cleared her throat. “Uh, no. We’d had a little bit of a disagreement.”
Finally, Ethan turned to her, his pale eyes piercing. “Does he treat you well?”
She picked at her sandwich. “He treats me very well.” When she looked up, Ethan’s eyes were closed, his hands fisted on the table. “Are you okay?”
He met her gaze. “You’re a grown woman, and I can’t tell you what to do. I wish you hadn’t had to sneak around. That wasn’t what I wanted for you.”
She laid her hand on top of his fist. He relaxed it and opened his fingers, palm up. She clasped it. “We didn’t sneak around because of you, not really. I haven’t been ready to commit.”
“And how’s Grant handling all of that?”
She smiled. “He’s the one who pushed me into opening up about this. I pushed him away but I’m hoping when I get my head sorted out, I’ll be able to get him back.”
Playing For Her Heart Page 11
