Chapter 15
Once again, Hunter found himself at Reagan’s door, hesitating to knock on it. The past week, the tension between them was like an extra person in the room. He was still struggling with her knowing about his money, and she was stressed about her business, especially since they still weren’t letting people back on the island yet. It was a combination guaranteed to cause issues.
The hurricane had hit the island, but it had shifted farther south than predicted. It was good news, and at first, Reagan seemed to have handled it well. The last couple of days, though, she’d become withdrawn, and he was worried about her at this point. Not to mention, he was tired of his mom asking him about it. The last straw was Reagan missing lunch.
Frustrated with himself, he knocked on her door, hoping he could talk to her. When she didn’t answer, he knocked again. “Reagan, can we talk please?”
When she didn’t answer, he knocked again. “Reagan.” No answer. He turned the knob and cracked the door a bit. “I’m coming in, so if you’re not dressed, it’s your fault because I’m warning you.”
Silence.
He groaned and pushed the rest of the way in, finding her cross-legged in the middle of the bed with papers strewn all around her and headphones on. “At least you weren’t ignoring me on purpose.”
With that, she looked up and pulled off her headphones. “You could have knocked.”
“I did. You didn’t answer.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Perhaps I didn’t answer because I didn’t want to talk to you.”
He grumbled under his breath. “Well, I want to talk to you.” His attention drifted to the mess of papers spread out around her. “What are all these papers?”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what we were going to be doing here, so I brought the financial records for the bed and breakfast. I’m certain the roof is history. I can’t do it myself, so I’ll have to contract that out. Same with the floors because they’ll have damage as well. But the rooms, I think I can do that. I’ve watched a few videos on it, and it doesn’t seem that difficult. Most of the cost for that will be materials.”
“I’ve been worried about you. I thought…” He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “I thought you’d…”
“Given up? I want to. It seems I’m fighting an uphill battle. With the storm damage, it’ll take a while before tourism bounces back. In the meantime, I’ve still got the equity line to pay.” She sighed. “I honestly don’t know why I even thought I could make it work.”
He took her hand, but she pulled it away. Her eyebrows knitted together, and her lips were set in a hard line. “We’re alone and don’t have to pretend.”
“I’m not. I do care.” Just because he needed a second to think about things didn’t mean he didn’t care. “I really do.”
“No, you don’t. You care about my business. You care about a potential investment. That’s all.” She began picking up the papers surrounding her. “We both know I’m wasting my time and money, but for the life of me, giving up just makes me want to puke.”
He didn’t think that at all. “That’s not true, and you know it.”
“Really? So I’m supposed to trust you, but you can’t offer me the same?” She finished stacking the papers and set them on the nightstand. “That’s not how it works.”
Hunter felt gut-punched. “It’s not that I don’t trust you.” He did trust her. It was just that…he hadn’t wanted her to know about the money. How could he know she wanted him, just him, if she knew about it?
“Right.”
“That’s the truth.” But even as he said it, he could hear the doubt in his own voice. If he were honest, it went beyond his doubts about her interest in him. Reagan finding out about the money bugged him, and he didn’t know how to make it stop.
She glared at him, took a deep breath, and said, “I just wish I hadn’t spent the money you gave me for Black Friday. If I could take the gifts back without making your family suspicious, I’d return everything.”
“Reagan—”
Holding her hand up, she stopped him. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know what? Things worked better when you were on your side and I was on mine.”
He nodded, unable to give a reason why it didn’t have to be that way. “All right, I can respect that.” As much as it bothered him that she knew about his money, this upset him even more.
Taking her hand again, he said, “Listen, you have every right to be angry with me right now. I accept that, but I know some roofers on Tybee, and one owes me a favor. Would you be upset if I had them work on it?”
For a moment, she seemed to weigh his proposal, and then her body sagged. “I want to refuse, but…I can’t see how I can make all of the repairs. I hate it. I don’t want your money. If I could get back to the island, I would have already gone home.”
Man, he’d messed things up good and proper. “I know, but with the evacuation order still in place, you can’t. There’s no power to the island and nowhere to stay even if you could get back on the island. Christmas is coming. Can we call a momentary truce?”
Just as he was beginning to think she’d tell him to go jump in the lake, she sighed. “Yeah, but from this point forward, I’m pretending.”
“I know,” he said and stood. “I’d like to take care of the roof, okay? I’ll call my friend, use the favor he owes me, and have the bed and breakfast first on the list. No strings attached, just…because I want to.”
Reagan nodded, drawing her knees to her chest and laying her head on them. “Okay, but I’m not taking any more of your money. I’ll figure out a way to pay you back.”
That wasn’t a response from someone who was out for his money, and it made him want to help her more, to make it right. “I don’t doubt that, but there’s no need.” With that, he left her and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
Hunter raked his hand through his hair. Two battles were waging. On one side, he missed Reagan. On the other side, he didn’t want to get hurt. Both were giving him a headache, and both were equally valid—at least, in his mind.
His mom appeared at the top of the steps, bundled in jeans and a thick coat, and hooked a finger for him to follow her. He knitted his eyebrows together and headed her way. When he reached her, he said, “Is something wrong?”
She lifted one lone eyebrow and gave him one of her signature mom looks: You and I are about to have a talk. It was the one she reserved for when they’d really messed up, she knew it, and there was no getting out of it. Lumps were coming, and the only thing to be discussed was the force with which they were applied.
He followed her until they were outside on the porch.
She turned to him. “Park it,” she said, pointing to the rocking chair.
Based on the tone of her voice, his rear was going to be leather by the time she got done with him. “Yes, ma’am.”
She pulled one of the other rockers closer and set it across from him. “You must think I’m pretty stupid.”
What on earth was this kind of chewing? “I do not.” This conversation was starting off horrible.
“Did you really think you could lie to me?”
His eyes widened. “Uh.”
Her lips pinched together, and she leaned forward on her elbows, staring at him. It was worse than a police interrogation, but he wasn’t a kid anymore. He wasn’t giving up anything voluntarily.
Minute after minute, the staring contest went on. If it weren’t so chilly, sweat would’ve been dripping down his face. He shifted in his seat, and the unease grew until he blurted, “Fine. I’m not really engaged to her.”
His mom smiled. “Want to know how long I’ve known that?”
“Uh.” Really? Again? Apparently, when he was in Caprock Canyon, his vocabulary took a vacation.
“Since the second I met her.” She enunciated each word.
Hunter’s jaw dropped. “No way.”
She laughed. “Son, there is no chance y
ou’d be engaged to a woman like that and take this long to introduce us to her. I don’t know what the details are or how this arrangement came about, but I do know it’s fake.”
He slowly let out a breath he was holding. “Mom.”
“I like her. You do too.” A smile stretched on her lips. “Why do you think I told her about the lottery?”
“What?” He scoffed. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you boys use that money like a shield, holding it up so no one can get close. I get it. You don’t want to be used and abused. That’s understandable, but that young woman upstairs is too kind to be like that.” His mom sat back in the chair. “You should have seen the look on her face when I told her. That poor thing had no idea what to do with the information.”
His mom knew the whole time, and she did tell Reagan about the lottery. “Mom, why would you do that?”
“Because I wanted to be sure I was right. If she’d already known about the money, the color wouldn’t have drained from her face, and it did. With the kind of tan she’s got, it was like a white flag flying in a tornado.” His mom chuckled. “And I also know she told you she knew.”
Hunter blinked, trying to process everything. “How do you know she told me?”
“Honey, you don’t go from smiles and winks to cold fish for no reason. Why do you think I’m telling you this?” She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “That poor girl is hurting. She’s trying not to show it, but you can feel it in her spirit.”
Nodding, he slouched in his seat and palmed his forehead. He couldn’t refute it. He’d seen the look in her eyes. She was heartbroken, still trying to keep going, and her light was going dim. “I know. I told her I’d get her roof fixed.”
His mom rolled her eyes. “Hunter, you can’t fix this with money. That’s what messed it up to start with.” She shook her head and stood, stopping next to his rocker. “With the little bit I’ve learned, Reagan has been on her own most of her life. Reagan needs you. She needs a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, and most of all, she needs someone who won’t bail the first chance they get.” She patted him on the shoulder and left him alone on the porch.
The second Reagan told him she knew about the money and how she’d found out about it, he should have just believed her. Why hadn’t he just trusted her? She had a list of people who’d let her down, and he was no better. Now, how was he going to make it up to her? What could he do to show he was sincere? Not things, that’s for sure.
Man, he’d messed up so bad. And things had been going so well.
He rubbed his face with his hands and stood. Hopefully, she didn’t hate him so much she was unwilling to hear his apology. He had a sinking feeling she did, but for once, he’d show her someone was willing to fight for her.
Chapter 16
Reagan groaned and walked to her bedroom door. The West-Fredericks Christmas Eve traditions would start in a few hours, and she wasn’t ready yet. It had been over two weeks with Hunter trying to talk to her, but she wasn’t ready to deal with him. Why was it that when he needed time to think, that’s just how it was? But her? Oh, no. No one could ever give her the space she needed.
If it weren’t for the hurricane, she’d have already gone back home, but according to Naomi and Kaylee, no one was being allowed back yet. Crews were still working on getting the electricity back to the island because of downed trees hitting power lines. Add to that, hotels even as far as four hours away were booked solid.
She whipped the door open. “Hunter, I’m—” She stopped short. “Uh, hi, Carrie Anne.”
“Hi, I was wondering if you’d take a walk with me. I promise I asked others and this isn’t a sly move. I just need a little fresh air.” Hunter’s sister smiled.
How could Reagan refuse that? Especially when she liked Carrie Anne. That girl had her brothers running scared, and it was hysterically funny to see four grown men cower in fear of someone who barely weighed a buck-twenty.
“You know what? I’d really like that.” Reagan moved to get her coat.
“Oh, honey, this is West Texas. You can blink and the weather’s changed. You don’t really need a coat today. Do you have a sweater?”
Reagan shook her head. “Um.” She did, but it was ratty. Money for clothes wasn’t a luxury she had.
Carrie Anne waved for her to follow. “Come on, sister. I’ve got plenty.”
“Okay.” Reagan chuckled, and they walked to the room she shared with Israel.
Carrie Anne pulled the closet doors open and turned to Reagan. “Anything I have is yours, so take your pick.”
Reagan smiled. “Uh, are you sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure.” She tilted her head. “I bet you’d look great in a deep green or something like that. I love the color, but it makes me look like a bleached pickle with blonde hair.” Carrie Anne dug through the clothes and pulled out two hands full of clothes. “If you like these, take them. My husband will love you.”
Laughing, Reagan followed her to the bed where she laid out a couple of sweaters, a cardigan, and some shirts. Carrie Anne held them against herself and said, “See? Awful. And I don’t tan. I burn, just burn to a fried crisp.” Hunter’s sister eyed her. “I bet you tan just thinking about the sun, don’tcha?”
“Kinda.” Reagan snorted and quickly covered her mouth with her hand.
“I knew it.” She smiled.
Reagan loved every one of the pieces Carrie Anne had chosen. They were cute, clean, and, most of all, new. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she’d bought new clothes. She’d spent all of the Black Friday money on Hunter and his family rather than herself. “Are you sure you’re okay giving these things to me? Gabby might be able to wear them.”
Carrie Anne’s eyebrows reached her hairline. “She hates this color. Likes it on me, but she won’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.”
“Thank you,” Reagan said and picked up a soft chenille sweater, slipping it on. She ran her hand down the arm and sighed. “It’s so soft. I love it.”
“Well, let’s go for that walk, and when we get back, we’ll put the rest in your room.”
“Okay. That sounds good to me.”
Carrie Anne hooked her arm in Reagan’s, and they talked as they walked until they hit the front steps. Reagan took a deep breath and nearly melted. It was much warmer than it had been; there was a crisp, clean scent in the air; and it was so quiet. Normally, she would have missed the ocean, but right then, the silence was soothing.
“Do you have a directional preference?” Carrie Anne asked, dropping her arm from Reagan’s.
“Nope, I’m with you.”
“All right, then.” Carrie Anne smiled.
They got to the end of the drive and turned left. For a good stretch, they just walked. Carrie Anne didn’t ask any questions, and Reagan didn’t try to start small talk. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d needed to feel that someone was beside her. Someone not dragging her along but letting her go at her own pace.
“Feeling better?” Carrie Anne asked and glanced at Reagan.
She nodded. “Actually, yeah.”
With a nod, Carrie Anne said, “I thought you needed it. I’m sorry about your bed and breakfast. I can’t imagine how that hurts.”
“Yeah, me too. Don’t tell Hunter, but he has no idea how grateful I am that he’s helping with the roof.” Not just the roof, but other little things he’d failed to mention without asking her. It was really sweet because she’d been so angry with him, and there he was, being even sweeter. “I wish I didn’t need the help.”
Carrie Anne waved her off. “Oh, everyone needs help sometimes.”
Reagan balled her fists in the sweater and hugged herself. “I know, but I seem to need it all the time.”
“Yeah, my grandpa, Grandma Jo’s husband, said people go through seasons. Sometimes, the person going through the hardship isn’t going through it for them. Sometimes they’re going through it for someone else who needs it.” Ca
rrie Anne sighed. “I always said it didn’t seem fair, and, believe me, it’s never easy. This was when I got my braces and had to wear headgear for two whole years…starting in seventh grade. I had a crush on Tex Carter. Oh, girl, I thought he’d hung the moon and stars.”
“What happened?” asked Reagan.
“That little turkey started making fun of me the second the bell rang. One day I lost it and popped him square on the nose. Of course, I was the one who got in trouble. I was hurt and mad and sad and every other emotion you could imagine. Mom and Dad chewed me raw, and I was grounded for what felt like an eternity at the time.” Carrie Anne chuckled. “One of my punishments was to pull weeds from my grandparents' flower beds, and my grandpa sat right there with me while I pulled them. We’d talk and talk when I did that.”
Reagan glanced at her. “How long was your punishment?”
“Oh, six weeks, but I liked talking to my grandpa. After all the weeds were gone, I’d pretend to pull them, and he’d sit outside with me. He turned it into our special thing, and I loved it. I learned so much from him.” Carrie Anne rubbed her eyes, and Reagan smiled. “I’m not misty-eyed. It’s dirt.” She laughed.
“Sure.” Reagan worked to keep the smile hidden and cleared her throat. “That sounds like a good memory. My family has owned that bed and breakfast for generations. My great-great-grandparents opened it, and that’s all she wrote.” Reagan’s thoughts whirled with memories of her family, how they worked and toiled for that bed and breakfast. “I don’t remember having time like that. As soon as I learned to cook, I was put in the kitchen.”
Carrie Anne nodded and looked at her. “Reagan, do you want to own that bed and breakfast? I mean, when you took over, did you ever question it?”
Mid-stride, Reagan stopped dead. That had never been a question. It was just what happened. When her parents considered retiring, she was the one going to take it over. There was nothing else presented. No options. “No. I mean, no, I was never asked. I do love it, but sometimes, I get so tired of it. But it’s all I’ve ever known. Everything I am. My very being is attached to that house.”
The Fake Fiance's Billionaire Adversary (Caprock Canyon Romance Book 2) Page 10
