by Kaylee Ryan
“Definitely, so we’re to focus on new flooring for the entire home, fresh paint throughout, updating all five bathrooms, and a complete demo of the kitchen?” Ridge confirms.
“Yes. Should you have any questions, here’s my card. I know you’ll need input on colors, and styles and I’ll be coordinating with the family.”
“Are they here?” I ask, my voice gruff. “The family?”
Ridge nods. “Yes, will anyone be staying here while we’re working?”
“Yes, the owner is here, and they will be the point person for this project. She will be the one to direct questions or concerns to. You can also contact me if the family is unavailable. The family will be staying here in the home while you’re renovating.”
“Sounds great. Thank you.” Ridge thrusts his hand out for a shake, and just like that, we get to work.
Stepping outside into the frigid January air, I take in a deep breath. The cool crisp air burns my lungs. I should feel relieved and I do, but I also feel disappointment seep into my bones. I wanted to walk into this house and see her. What I wouldn’t give to see her again. My heart skips a beat at the thought of her being here, but I can’t be that lucky. I’m sure it’s her mother. I can’t imagine that woman willingly giving up any kind of control. I’ve thought about seeing her again more times than I can count and each time, I imagine the two of us together, happily ever after and all that. However, I know I fucked up and that will never be. I just hope that during all this, that Delaney is the one who comes to represent the family, not her mother. Even though she might not accept it, I need to apologize to her. Tell her how I messed up and how she’s all I wanted. Hell, she’s still all I want. More and more each day as I watch the guys settle down, I think about her and what could have been.
“Yo, grab the other end of this,” Tyler says, pulling my attention back to the present. He’s got one end of the large tool chest. It’s on wheels and makes packing tools in and out of jobsites so much easier, but the damn thing is heavy as hell and takes two guys to get it in and out of the truck.
Without a word, we carry the chest inside and get to work on the demo of the master bathroom. Ridge decided to start there to give the family member a suite of her own while we work. That is until it’s time for flooring and paint. That all comes last. I’m lost in my head for the rest of the morning. The guys seem to understand that I’m trying to work something out because they leave me alone for the most part. Although they won’t stay quiet forever. Especially when their wives find out. That’s both the blessing and the curse of our tight-knit group.
It’s just past one, and we’re back at the jobsite after a quick lunch at the local diner in town. I expected questions from the guys, but all I got was an “Are you good?” from Ridge once we were seated. I answered him honestly with a “No, but I will be.” I’ve learned from my past and know what not to do in the future.
“I’m heading out for the day, but I wanted to introduce you to the homeowner,” Mr. Garcia says. “Oh, Ms. Nottingham,” he says, looking behind us. I freeze. My heart stalls in my chest. I want to turn, but I can’t seem to make my feet move. He said Ms., not Mrs. Is that because Mr. Nottingham passed? No, it can’t be. It has to be her. She was an only child in this big, lonely house.
“Hello, Mr. Garcia,” a smooth sexy voice answers.
It’s her. It’s Delaney. I would know that sweet voice anywhere. Swallowing hard, I turn to face her. She doesn’t make eye contact with any of us; her eyes are on her attorney. “This is the construction company that’s going to be updating the estate.”
“Ridge Beckett.” Ridge steps around us and offers her his hand.
I hate it. He’s touching her and I’m not. What’s worse is I should have been the one to introduce them. She’s my girl, and I never did let them meet, and I should have and I hate myself for it. I hate that I kept her a secret.
“Delaney,” I croak. The room falls silent and her attention turns to me.
She tilts her head to the side. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?” Her eyebrows are furrowed as if she’s concentrating really hard to decide if she knows me.
What. The. Fuck?
“Really, Delaney?” I ask, not bothering to hide the frustration in my voice. Damnit, I don’t want to be a dick to her, but pretending not to know me? Really?
“I’m sorry,” she starts, but her attorney jumps in.
“As I was saying, Ms. Nottingham will be the point person. If she is unavailable, by all means, contact me,” he says again. “Any questions, I will pass them on to Ms. Nottingham.”
“Can we talk?” I ask her, ignoring him. My hands are fisted at my sides, fighting off the urge to pull her into my arms. It’s been too damn long. I take one small step toward her.
“I’m sorry. I need to go,” she says, backing away before turning and rushing down the hall.
I move to go after her, but Tyler places a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. “Not now,” he says, low enough for only me to hear. I try to shake him off, but his grip is firm. It’s probably better this way. I need to calm the hell down.
Dutifully, I stand still while Ridge and Mr. Garcia finish their conversation.
“Any questions?” Mr. Garcia asks.
“No, sir. We’ll let you know if we run into any issues, and will seek guidance from Ms. Nottingham on the look she wants. The flooring will be replaced last in order to keep it free of damage during the construction phase,” Ridge explains.
“That’s quite all right. We’ll provide you with weekly draws for payment every Friday.”
“That’s great. Thank you.” Ridge shakes his hand and turns toward us. I feel a heavy hand on each shoulder as Mark and Tyler flank me, while Mr. Garcia moves around us and out the front door.
“What the fuck was that?” Ridge asks.
“Nothing.” I shrug Mark and Tyler off me.
“That wasn’t nothing,” Seth says.
“Fine. We hooked up.” It’s wrong that I’m demeaning what she means to me, but fuck, she acted like she didn’t even know who I was.
“And?” Ridge asks.
“And nothing. She wants to play games, I’m done.”
“How long ago?” Tyler asks.
“Five years. Right before we went out of town when Ridge met Melissa.”
They all nod. “And she’s got you all worked up?”
“I’m not worked up.”
“Right.” Mark laughs.
“Fuck off,” I grumble.
“You need me to put you on another job? Maybe have you hang out at the shop with Mara. I’m sure there are things for you to do.”
“Hey, now, if anyone should get to hang out with my wife, it’s me,” Seth intervenes.
“You think I’m crazy? Putting any of us with our wives is a mistake if I want any work to get done.” The four of them nod, knowing damn well Ridge is right.
“No. I’m fine. I’m over it.”
“Sure, you are,” Mark says, shaking his head.
“I’m good. Let’s get this over with. The faster we get this job finished, the sooner I’m out of here.”
“Kent, you do realize we’re going to be here for several weeks, right?” Ridge asks.
“The longer we stand out here cackling like a bunch of hens, the longer it’s going to take.” I stalk off toward the master bedroom, all the while hoping I see her on the way. The guys don’t push me for more; instead, they follow me down that hall, and we get to work.
I can’t believe she acted like she didn’t know me. After all the time we spent together. I’ve thought about how things would go if I ever ran into her again. This was not what I envisioned for our reunion. I didn’t expect her to be pining over me, but damn, pretending she doesn’t know me, that’s harsh. This is going to be a long-ass job. The sooner we get out of there, the better. Even as I think the words, I’m also trying to decide how I can get her alone. How I can convince her to talk to me. Regardless of how she feels about me now, I need to apologize for how I acted
back then. She also needs to know what she meant to me. What she still means to me. Something tells me none of that is going to go as easy as I had anticipated.
Chapter 3
Delaney
I rush down the hall to my bedroom and slam the door. I hate it when this happens. You would think that by now I’d be used to it—running into people from my past. As I rest my back against the door, I focus on taking in slow, even breaths. I hear their deep voices carry up the stairs and I resolve to hang out here in my room the rest of the day. It’s not like I have anything pressing to do. Mom won’t be here until the end of the week. I still can’t seem to comprehend why she hates this place. This house is gorgeous, and it’s huge. So much bigger than our home back in California. Then again, a house this size in Cali would be a considerable amount of money. We do well, but not that well. My dad was an architect, just like my grandfather.
My grandad actually designed and built this house on his own. When he passed, we moved here from a few towns over. Now, with Dad gone, Mom wants me to sell it. Maybe with the renovations, I can convince her that keeping it is a good idea. Then again, I’m an adult, and I don’t need her permission. When I left California, I was in the mindset that selling it, even though Grandad built it, would be the best bet. Our life was hundreds of miles away. However, the more time I spend here, the more that just doesn’t feel right to me.
Having caught my breath, I move to the bed and stare up at the ceiling. I want to stay holed up in here all day, but I know I can’t do that. I can’t hide from the gorgeous man covered in ink. I need to face him. He’s hauntingly familiar, so much so that I see him in my dreams.
Literally.
I’ve dreamed about him many times over the years. I don’t know what that means exactly, but with the way those dark eyes of his were staring at me, the look of disbelief on his face, I know for certain it’s only a matter of time before I find out.
I will face him eventually. For now, I’m going to finish this book I’m reading. It’s a new one from Evan Grace, and I have to know what happens. Grabbing my Kindle from the nightstand, I immerse myself into another world. Reading is my escape from life, from reality. When life gets blurry or messy, I can always depend on my favorite authors to give me a few hours of reprieve from reality.
Two hours pass, and I have a smile on my face. The ending was perfect. As I close my Kindle, my stomach growls loudly, reminding me I didn’t eat this morning. Steeling my resolve, it’s time to head downstairs. If I’m lucky, I won’t run into them. Quietly, I open the bedroom door and peer both ways down the hall. I hear them working downstairs, but it’s hard to tell which room they’re in. Slowly, I take one step at a time. As I grow closer, I hear they’re in the master bedroom, which just so happens to be the only downstairs bedroom. Perfect.
Making my way to the kitchen, I pull out a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter and a container of honey. I’m just about ready to take my first bite when I hear footsteps enter the kitchen. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. I can feel it, which is an odd sensation. My skin prickles and what feels like hundreds of butterflies take flight in my still empty stomach.
“Delaney.” His deep voice surrounds me.
Might as well get this over with. Leaving my sandwich on the paper towel, I turn to face him. His dark eyes stare at me intently. Neither one of us says a word while we survey the other. He’s tall, well over six-foot, ink-black hair, tattoos peeking out everywhere, and dark eyes. He’s gorgeous in that bad boy kind of way. He looks like trouble, but when I peer into his eyes, it’s as if I can see into his soul, and they tell a different story. His dark orbs tell me that seeing me hurts him.
“Hi.” I wave awkwardly. My voice is high-pitched, my nerves getting the best of me. He’s very intimidating.
“What was that about earlier?” he asks.
“What do you mean?” I know exactly what he means, and I’ve been down this road before; it’s just not one I like to travel.
“Pretending not to know who I am.” He winces as if saying those words causes him pain.
Taking a deep breath, I try to explain. “I’m sorry. I don’t know you; at least, I don’t remember you.”
“Fuck,” he murmurs, running his hands through that thick black hair. My eyes take in the ink on his hands. I wish the sleeves of his shirt didn’t hide his arms, so I could see more of the intricate work.
I hate this part. “Look, this is never easy.” I pause, wringing my hands together, preparing to tell the story all over again. I hate the looks of pity I get after I tell my truth. I don’t want to see sympathy in his eyes, but I know it’s coming. “A few years ago, I was in a car accident. I lost my memory. I’ve had to learn my family, my friends, everything all over again. I’m sorry that I don’t remember you. Were we friends?” I ask softly.
His eyes rake over my body. “Accident?” he asks. “D-Do you remember anything?”
“Yes and no. I have flashbacks sometimes, just these small glimpses of scenes that I’m in. I assume they’re memories. You’re in them,” I confess. He’s been a recurring role in my dreams. When I ask my mother who he is, she says she doesn’t recall. Something tells me he was important to me. Especially if the look he’s giving me is any indication.
“Were you hurt?” He takes a step forward and lifts his hand only to drop it at his side and form a fist. “Of course you were. You lost your memory, but I mean, are you okay?” His expressive eyes tell me he’s not asking to be nosey or gossip; he cares. He truly cares if I’m hurting, or that I was at one time. There is no pity in his gaze. Just concern and something else I can’t quite name.
“I was in a coma for a few days, well, fourteen to be exact; at least, that’s what they tell me. I had some bumps and bruises, a broken arm, but the worst of it was the memory loss. I hit my head pretty hard.”
I watch him closely as he swallows hard. “Will you ever get it back?”
I shrug. “The doctors are optimistic. I’ve remembered a few things over the years, all from my early childhood. And then there’s this place.” I tear my gaze from his and let my eyes wander around the room. “This is my first time here since the accident, but it’s so familiar to me in ways. I FaceTimed with my mom last night, and she said the room I chose to sleep in is the room I stayed in when we lived here. My mind does that. Guides me to who I once was without reminding me of the time or place. It can be overwhelming.” I don’t know why I’m telling him all of this. My only excuse is that he genuinely looks pained for me—or for him. I’m not so sure.
“You dreamed about me?” he asks, his voice softer.
I nod. “Yeah, but when I described you, no one in my family could tell me who you were. How did we know each other?”
“We were together. I mean, we dated when you were home from college on break.”
No. It can’t be. My body stiffens immediately. I let my eyes roam over him yet again, and all the similarities smack me in the face. It’s him. I don’t know why I didn’t notice before now. I can only assume my avoidance had something to do with it. My mother didn’t warn me he was from Jackson, or of the chance that he might still be here.
“What’s wrong?” He takes another step closer. His hand reaches for me, but I take a step back, hitting the counter.
“Stop.” I hold my hands up to keep him from moving toward me any further. “You threw me away.” I hate the emotion I hear in my voice. I can’t remember the incident, but I know what my mother told me. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about the man who didn’t want me. The one who tossed me to the side, not bothering to come to the hospital to see me. How could he be so callous? From the look in his eyes, I meant something to him. Then again, maybe that’s just my mind playing tricks on me. I want to believe I was more to him, but the truth is in his actions. He never showed up. All these years later, he never tried to find me or come visit.
“No.” He takes another step and then another until we’re standing toe
-to-toe. My hands press against his rock-hard chest, trying to maintain some type of distance between us. “I made a mistake, but I never threw you away, Delaney. I tried to call you. You wouldn’t answer your phone or return my messages. I came here to see you, and your mother said you’d found someone else, that you were moving in with him and moving on. Without me,” he grits out. His dark brown eyes plead with me to believe him. Is he an actor?
“What? That’s absurd. Why would she tell you that?” I try to think back to the conversations we’ve had about him. She told me he didn’t want me. She said that he told me to leave and never come back. That’s what caused my accident. I was upset and driving. I couldn’t see through the tears and my broken heart. That’s what my mother told me. Why is he lying to me?
“Delaney.” He lifts his calloused hand to my cheek and cradles it. “I promise you, I didn’t throw you away. I made a mistake our last night together. I showed up, but I was a few hours late. I was wrong to keep you waiting.”
“What do you mean?” My voice cracks as the words form on my lips.
“I was supposed to meet you, Laney. You were headed back to college the next day, and it was our last night together. You said you had something you wanted to talk to me about and I chickened out. I wasn’t ready to face my feelings for you.”
“Your feelings?” I whisper.
He nods, swallows hard, and his next words stall my heart in my chest. “I was in love with you.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” the tall guy with longer hair says. “We need some help hauling this out to the trailer.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” the man before me tells him. He doesn’t once pull his eyes away from me.
I realize I don’t know his name. We have all this history. History I don’t remember. History that has only been filled in bit by bit from my mother. History that, from the look in his eyes, I know nothing about. Is he telling the truth? His story and Mom’s don’t add up, but the look in his eyes, it’s clear he believes with everything in him that what he says is true. I can see and feel it coming off him in waves. “What’s your name?”
