Rescued by the Woodsman

by M. S. Parker

  Mom started to sign something, but I shook my head and turned away. I didn’t want to talk anymore. I didn't want to cry. I wanted to hit something, hurt something. I was tired of being the odd one out, never fitting in, never belonging.

  I had been played. Played my whole fucking life, and Jal was no different. Maybe he hadn’t done it intentionally, but it happened anyway.

  “Honey.”

  A lifetime of respect had me turning to face her.

  She brushed my hair away from my face, her milk chocolate eyes full of concern and love. “I can see that you care about him. But if he’d think you would do that sort of thing, then he’s definitely not good for you. Never mind the fact that he’s engaged. Forget your sister, even. We won’t even discuss the fact that the sort of men the Paisley Hedges of the world go after don’t marry girls like you.”

  I managed not to flinch, no matter how much her words hurt. She was only saying them because they were true, but that didn't make them any softer, any kinder.

  She continued, “He doesn't deserve you, Allie.”

  That may have been true, but it didn't stop me from wanting him, even now.

  12

  Jal

  The time I’d spent talking to Kendrick, and then the time I’d spent thinking over everything I’d learned over the past couple days, was enough to give me a headache. Thinking about what I’d said to Allie was enough to make me a little sick.

  Despite all of that, I'd managed to come to a few conclusions.

  First and foremost, I was an asshole. I’d had an easy life. Both of my parents loved me, although my mother spent way too much of her time trying to control me and make me into who she wanted me to be. But still, she loved me. Things had always come easily for me too. Work. School. Women. I'd always thought I was smart, people savvy, but I could see now that it was arrogance. All of those things came together to make me blind. Blind and careless.

  Aside from the realization that I was an asshole, I’d also accepted the fact that I was more easily manipulated than I cared to admit, particularly when it was easier to give in than to fight. And with Paisley, it'd been easy to give in just like I did with my mom.

  I loved my mother, but she looked at life as a battlefield, and she was the general. Granted, her battles were dinners and balls and galas and the social circles she’d chosen to move in, but she treated them like war. Everything she did, every move she made was one strategic choice on that battlefield.

  I didn’t want to marry a woman who looked at life the same way.

  I didn’t want to raise my child to view life the same way.

  Paisley could be just like my mother if left unchecked, but what I didn't know was if she could be any other way.

  I had to talk to her. That’s all there was to it.

  I couldn't let Paisley see our child the way my mother saw me. A pawn in the giant chess game that women like my mother played.

  The final realization, however, was the most brutal one, and that was saying something since none of them had been easy. But acknowledging this last one was taking the wind out of me, leaving me feeling more than a little empty.

  I wasn't any better than Kendrick Hedges, and I despised what he'd done, both to his wife and the girls he'd had with her, as well as to Allie and her mother.

  I didn't want to be like him. I didn't want to be the sort of man who pitted two women against each other, craving one to the point that I chained her to me, even while I married another.

  I had to face my responsibilities when it came to Paisley, but I had to find a way to do that and balance the need I had for Allie…or let her go.

  I didn’t know if I could let her go. Just the thought was tearing me apart.

  “Shit.”

  Leaning against the car, I stared out over the river and drew in a breath of cold air. The scent of rain was heavy in the air, and I knew once the downpour started, it was going to be miserable and freezing. If I were smart, I’d get in the car and haul my ass back to my place before that started, but I was still trying to think my way through what I needed to do.

  Rather, how I needed to do it.

  A cold fat drop of rain fell on my nose. Tipping my head back, I stared up at the sky just in time for another raindrop to hit me square on the chin. The sky opened up in the next moment, but I didn’t move.

  The bracing cold felt…good.

  After nearly a full minute, I finally shoved away from the car and moved around to the driver's side to get inside. I started the car and then blasted the heat, even though I knew it wouldn't really reach the cold deep inside me. I had to go see Paisley and in all likelihood, the conversation would be a pain in the ass. The two of us were going to have a heart to heart, and I doubted I’d like how it went.

  I knew she wouldn’t like it either.

  But it needed to happen.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled out onto the street.

  The rain didn’t let up for the entire drive, but I was glad because that meant I had to concentrate on what I was doing, which didn't leave much room for obsessing.

  Once I reached the protective overhang in front of the townhouse, I tossed my keys to the valet and headed inside.

  Even that warmth didn’t do much to penetrate the chill of my bones, but I’d spent the past fifteen minutes sitting in clothes that were soaked, so that didn't help much. Inside the elevator, I pushed my hands through my damp hair and attempted to straighten my clothes.

  Not that there was much point.

  A hot shower, some strong coffee and a change of clothes were the first things I had in mind. Then I’d confront Paisley.

  Confront.

  Even thinking it made my skin feel tight, but it had to be done, and the longer I put it off, the worse it was going to be.

  The longer it would be before I could figure out how to deal with things with Allie.

  Allie.

  That made it easier to focus as I strode off the elevator.

  So I kept her front and center in my mind as I headed for the door and unlocked it. Absently, I noticed that the alarm system wasn’t on, and I shook my head. I’d have to remind Paisley to set it – again.

  Striding down the hall, mind focused on the hot shower, I almost didn’t notice her.

  She definitely didn’t notice me.

  Of course, if she hadn’t been staring down into a nearly empty glass of wine, if there hadn't been a half empty bottle next to her, maybe she would have been a little more aware.

  Wine.

  What the fuck?

  My gaze locked on the glass and I stared at it for the longest time.

  Blood roared in my ears.

  I wasn't sure if I'd spoken, or if she just felt me looking at her, but suddenly she was turning toward me.

  “Jal.” A guilty flush danced across her cheeks. Her hand fluttered to her throat, and she looked down at the glass, pushed it out of the way as if that would hide what she’d been doing.

  “You’re drinking.” Shrugging out of my overcoat, I threw it on the nearest chair and strode over to her.

  “No.” She picked up the glass, then lowered it. “I…well. Jal, it’s just a glass of wine. Really.”

  “A glass?” I grabbed the bottle and lifted it, studying the bottle for a moment before turning it back to her. “Funny, this bottle was full when I noticed it earlier.”

  Again, her eyes fell guiltily away.

  The anger inside me bubbled up, and I struggled to keep myself from shouting. “How often have you been drinking?”

  “Don't worry about it.” Paisley got up and carried her glass over to the sink. She tossed back the rest.

  “Dammit, Paisley!”

  She put the glass in the sink and turned back to me. “It’s wine, Jal. A glass or two never hurt anybody!”

  “It can hurt the baby!”

  “The baby, the baby! That’s all you care about!” she shouted, throwing her arms wide. “It’s not me. You wouldn’t even be
marrying me if it wasn’t for the baby, would you?”

  I didn't even hesitate. “No.”

  Her jaw dropped, eyes widening. “You can just say that so easily? Don’t you even care about me at all?”

  I sighed, trying to stay honest without hurting her. “I care about you. But that doesn’t mean I ever planned on marrying you, Paisley.”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “This…oh, this. It’s just rich. First, I find out you’ve been seeing my little bastard half-sister behind my back.”

  “Hey–” I took a step toward her.

  She spun and grabbed an apple from the fruit basket and hurled it at me. She missed by a mile, but it was so out of character that I lapsed into silence, and she continued, her voice shaking. “Then you disappear for hours, leaving me alone, and you’re actually angry with me because I needed a glass of wine?”

  “You drank half the fucking bottle, Paisley!” I shouted. “That's a hell of a lot more than a glass!”

  “So what!” She stormed over and jammed me in the chest with a fingernail painted a harsh, wicked red. “Let me guess…you’re worried about the baby!”

  I grabbed her wrist. “Newsflash, Paisley. Alcohol isn’t good for a baby. The baby inside you doesn’t need that fucking wine.”

  “I need the fucking wine!” She jerked away from me and took a step forward. She grabbed the bottle from the counter and spun around, glaring at me.

  “Give me that bottle.” I strode over to her, but before I could grab it, she circled around the island and smacked a hand down on it.

  “I’ll drink the whole damn thing if I want.” Her eyes narrowed on my face. “You know what? I’m tired of this…tired of this…this…this bullshit. I don’t even know why I’m doing this anymore. You’re all moon-eyed over my trampish little sister. She’s going to be just like her mother, but I will not be like mine. I’m tired of this, do you hear me?”

  “Give me the damn bottle and stop your ranting, Paisley!”

  “No.” She brought the bottle to her lips and started to drink, lowering it with a sigh. As I came around the island, she held it out to me. “Here…have a drink. You might want one after I’m done.”

  The glint in her eyes had a chill of trepidation racing down my spine.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

  “You want a drink or not?”

  I hesitated a moment too long because she spun away and sauntered off, lifting the bottle for another long swallow.

  She turned back to me once she’d reached the doorway. “What, aren’t you going to rant on me some more? She took another drink. The bottle more than half empty now.”

  “What’s going on, Paisley?” I approached her slowly, unable to figure out what the hell was going on. “You’re up to something.”

  “No. Not really. I’m just…well, let’s just say I’m going to come clean.” She wagged the bottle. “After all, I don’t want you fretting over a baby and booze. That wouldn’t be very kind of me, now would it?”

  “Paisley. Enough.”

  She sighed, tipping her head back. “Why did I ever even bother with you?”

  Then she looked at me, lifting the bottle to her lips. She didn’t drink though. She just stared at me over it. The ring I’d given her sparkled on her hand, cold, bright…lifeless.

  Her voice was flat, emotionless as she spoke, “I’m not pregnant, Jal. So, here’s to me. Bottom’s up!”

  She tipped the bottle back, and without pause, drained it while I stood there, trying to absorb what she’d just said.

  I’m not pregnant…

  Continues in Book 4

  Book 4

  The Billionaire’s Mistress

  1

  Jal

  I’m not pregnant…

  Not pregnant.

  “Not pregnant,” I said as my brain struggled to process the bombshell my fiancée just dropped. “Did you…” Taking a slow breath, I looked from the wine to her flushed face. Maybe there was a rational explanation for her behavior after all. I forced my voice to soften. “You lost the baby?”

  “No.” Paisley slammed the bottle down and stormed across the few feet that separated us. “I didn’t lose the baby.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, I turned away and shoved the heel of my hand against my eye. My patience was wearing thin, but I didn't want to react based on a misunderstanding. “Spell it out for me, Paisley.”

  She gave the sort of unladylike snort that I would've thought was beneath her. “You know, I never thought you were as smart as everyone seemed to think.”

  I ignored the insult and waited.

  “Can't lose what you never had to begin with.”

  My stomach dropped. “You were never pregnant.”

  “Bravo. Now you got it.” She gave me a smile of mock pride, clapping her hands. “Good job, honey!”

  I curled my hands into fists. “You made it up. All of it.”

  When she didn’t respond, I closed the last of the distance between us, putting my hands on the counter on either side of her waist. I wasn't touching her – I never wanted to touch her again – but she was effectively caged in.

  She swallowed hard, apparently realizing how pissed off I was. A bit of the alcohol haze left her eyes, and I could see her trying to compose herself.

  “You made it up,” I said again.

  I needed to hear her say it, needed to know that I wasn't jumping to conclusions. Still, a part of me was hoping that it was a misunderstanding. That she'd honestly thought she was pregnant, and by the time she discovered that she wasn't, things had gotten away from her. I could forgive her for that.

  Her expression hardened, and she practically sneered her answer, “Yeah. So what? I’m not pregnant. We’ll get married and sooner or later, I will be.”

  “Seriously?” I shoved away and started to pace.

  I ran my hands through my hair, trying to calm their shaking. For the past few weeks, there had been only one positive thing when I looked at what I thought was going to be my future.

  One.

  And it turned out that one tiny thing had never existed.

  Everything I'd done over the past few weeks had been because of the baby. Every choice I'd made, every painful decision. I'd changed everything for that future, and now it was all ripped away.

  Maybe it didn’t make a difference to her, but it made one hell of a difference to me.

  “Does my mother know?”

  Paisley gave me a distracted look, one that clearly told me she didn’t see why it mattered. The threads of my temper stretched taut, and I could all but imagine them snapping, one by one. Taking one step closer, I asked my question again.

  “Of course she knew,” Paisley snapped, waving a hand in the air. “Do you really think I’d do something like this on my own? It was her idea. Well, hers and my mother’s.”

  I stared at her in disbelief, hoping I’d misunderstood what she said. “They both knew? You were lying this whole time, and my mother knew? It was her idea?”

  I thought that repeating the statements would make them seem more ludicrous, less believable, but that wasn't the case.

  “Of course.” Paisley leaned against the island, tapping her nails on it in an aggravated rhythm. “Really, Jal. It’s not like anything else was going to get your attention, now was it? We’d been dating for almost a year–”

  “We went to a couple of functions, and my mother was always pushing you at me at family events. That's not dating, Paisley.” I didn't understand how my entire world could have shifted on its axis in just a few short minutes.

  “And what did you think we were doing when we were sleeping together?” She shoved off the island and glared at me. She seemed angrier that I was pushing the issue than contrite about lying about something so important.

  “It’s called sex, Paisley! I told you I wasn’t looking for any kind of commitment.” I paused a beat and then asked sarcastically, “Or did you think I was just making that u
p? Apparently you do it as easily as breathe.”

  She had the nerve to look insulted.

  As she sputtered for a response, I moved into the living room and headed for the bar service. I'd left a bottle of twenty-five-year old scotch back there and now was the perfect time to break it open. I'd been considering saving it for the baby's birth, but apparently this was more realistic.

  “So exactly what was the plan, Paisley? Pretend you were pregnant, get me to propose, and then lose the baby? A miscarriage would've made me look like a heel if I left you then. Or were you going to tell me the truth somewhere along the way and hope I'd just go with it to avoid the embarrassment of admitting I'd been tricked? Maybe try to get knocked up and fake a super-short pregnancy? Do I strike you as that much of an idiot?”

  Her face had paled, as if she'd only just realized how badly she'd fucked up. “I…Jal, I don’t see why you’re so upset about this. We’re now where we should've been all along. It's the natural progression...”

  I’d been about to pour the scotch into a glass, but at those words, I stopped, lifting my head to stare at her. Her words trailed off, and she nervously cleared her throat, then opened her mouth as if she meant to continue.

  I held up a finger, stopping her. “You don’t see why I’m so upset. So…” I splashed the scotch into my glass and took a slow sip, savoring the taste and the feel as it burned a smooth path straight down. “You got this idea in your head that, at some point, you and I were going to end up on this road, so you decided to take a shortcut to get us there quicker. Am I right?”

  She gave me a smile that wobbled at the edges nervously. “Of course. Not the best idea, I can see that now. That’s all it was. A shortcut.”

  “Wrong.” I tossed back the rest of the scotch like it was pure moonshine and slammed the glass down so hard it was a wonder it didn’t shatter. Bracing my hands on the bar, I glared at her across the expanse of the room. “When I said I wasn’t looking for a commitment, I meant it.”