The Second Time Around: a Hope Valley novel

by Prince, Jessica

  “Never had anyone take care of me,” I mumbled as darkness took hold. “Not since my mom. Feels nice, not being alone.”

  I thought I heard him murmur, “Jesus, baby,” but I was too far gone.

  “Never forgot. Not for a second.”

  Something tightened around me, holding me like a steel band. “Forgot what, beauty?”

  “How sweet you could be. Just one of the reasons why I fell in love with you.”

  Then, just like that, the black seeping into the edges of my vision closed everything else out.

  Chapter Eleven

  Bryce

  The ground quaked under my boots as an explosion went off. Dust and rubble filled the air, making my eyes burn as I looked across the room, but I was still able to make out Moss’s and Danielson’s faces . . . just before the roof caved in.

  My eyes popped open as I sucked in a harsh breath. A thin mist of sweat covered me from head to toe. My breathing was shallow and ragged as my heart slammed against my breastbone like it was trying to break free.

  It took me a second to realize it was only a dream . . . a memory. I wasn’t back in that goddamn desert. I was . . .

  A loud crash sounded, and I shot up, instinctively reaching for the gun I kept under my pillow. Only there was no gun. Because it wasn’t my pillow I was reaching under, and it wasn’t my bed I was sitting in.

  I did a quick scan of the room, lit by the early morning sun streaming in through the windows, and remembered exactly where I was. I was at the inn. With Tessa. Only she was no longer in the bed beside me.

  “Shit. Damn it. Son of a bitch.” Tessa’s muffled curses came from behind the closed bathroom door across the room. I quickly threw the covers back and started in that direction.

  “Tessa?” I knocked on the door and waited for an answer. “What’s goin’ on in there?”

  “Nothing.” Her voice came back to me, scratchy and weak. “I just knocked some stuff over when I stubbed my toe.” That was quickly followed up by a loud, hacking coughing fit. For Christ’s sake, it sounded like she was choking on a lung.

  The knob didn’t move when I tried giving it a turn. She’d locked the damn door. “Honey, open up.”

  “I’ll”—more coughing—“be out in”—heavy wheezing—“in a minute.”

  “Now, Tessa,” I commanded, rattling the knob. “Either you open up, or I’m kickin’ the goddamn door in.”

  “Jeez, fine. Hold your horses.” The lock disengaged a moment later, and the door swung open.

  The unnatural flush in her cheeks from the fever was gone, leaving her face pale, with the exception of twin purple smudges beneath her eyes. The hair around her forehead and temples was damp with sweat, meaning her fever had finally broken, but it was obvious she was still very sick. Yet somehow, even in the state she was in, my gut clenched with need at the sight of her.

  Ignoring the way my body heated, I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled. I made sure to keep my eyes on hers. It wouldn’t do to get caught checking out her legs at a time like this. “What are you doin’ out of bed?”

  “I, uh . . .” Her eyes homed in on my naked chest. I was only wearing pair of boxer briefs so I was showing off even more than she was, and while I’d succeeded in fighting back my desire to leer, it was clear she’d lost her battle.

  Her eyes shot back up to mine when I cleared my throat, and I couldn’t help but smirk as two circles of pink stained her cheeks. She was so busted.

  “W-what was the question?”

  Jesus, even sick as a dog, she was adorable. “I asked what you were doin’ out of bed. You’re sick, Tessa. You shouldn’t be moving around.”

  “I need a shower.”

  “Well, you can take one when you’re feelin’ better.”

  Her face pinched into a pout. “I don’t have time to wait until I feel better. I need one now. I have to get to work.”

  “No way,” I clipped.

  The pout instantly disappeared, an angry glare taking its place. “Excuse me, but that’s not your call to make.”

  “It absolutely is when I stayed up half the night, makin’ sure you got meds in you every four hours.”

  “My fever broke. There’s no reason for me to call in sick.” As if to prove my point, she lapsed into another coughing fit.

  “Really?” I arched a single brow, feeling pretty damn smug. “Still want to tell me there’s no reason for you to call in?”

  Her eyelids narrowed. “Anyone ever tell you you’re seriously annoying?”

  Moving aside, I pointed back to the bed and ordered, “Go lay back down.”

  “Whatever,” she grumbled as she moved past me. “I’ll wait until you leave for work.”

  I followed after her, tagging my jeans off the floor by the bed. “Good thing I’m not goin’ in today then, huh?”

  She plopped onto the edge of the bed and pulled the covers over her bare legs, looking up at me with wide, panicked eyes. “What?”

  “I’m playin’ nurse until you’re all better.”

  With a dramatic groan, she flopped back onto the mattress. “This isn’t fair. Bryce, you can’t lock me in here. I’ve got a million things to do. I need to help out at the home, make sure the kids get to school—”

  “I’m sure the other people helpin’ out there can handle it.”

  She sat up quickly, her gaze beseeching. “Then there’s the paperwork. The budget report’s due—”

  “Nothing that can’t wait another day. Or two, if necessary.”

  “But—”

  I decided it would be best to play to her protective instincts. “Look, you really want to go in to work today and risk getting everyone else sick? Getting the kids sick?”

  “Fine,” she relented with a heavy sigh. “I won’t go to Hope House. But I still need to get the supplies to make the kids’ costumes for the haunted house.”

  A chuckle rattled in my chest. “Jesus, beauty. Anyone ever tell you you’re a horrible patient?”

  I’d meant it as a tease, but when her pretty face melted into sadness, I instantly regretted the words.

  “No,” she whispered. “There’s never been anyone to tell me that.”

  Reaching up, I rubbed the tension in the back of my neck before scratching my scruffy jaw. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said—”

  “It’s okay.” Her smile was gentle, almost sweet, but I could see the sorrow in her light brown eyes. “I’m just being sensitive because I don’t feel good. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Feel free to ignore me.”

  My chest felt tight. I wanted to move closer, wrap my arms around her, and hold her against me until her expression cleared. But that wasn’t my place.

  At least, not yet.

  Holding her as she slept last night was one thing. Her guard was down because she was sick. The circumstances hadn’t exactly been ideal, but it had been a goddamn dream come true, nonetheless, and I’d have said or done anything to make her smile.

  “Tell you what. I’m willin’ to compromise. You promise to stay in bed for the rest of today, I’ll help you with all your errands later this week. Deal?”

  Her eyes went wide and her lips parted in surprise. “Really?”

  “Scout’s honor. Do we have a deal?”

  She nodded, even going so far as to shuffle deeper into the bed. “Deal.” I moved, snagging my T-shirt off the floor, mindful to keep my front toward her as I pulled it over my head. The scars that riddled my back didn’t bother me anymore. For the most part, I barely noticed them. But if she saw them, there would be a million questions. She deserved answers, but now wasn’t the time to get into that. Once I located my boots and socks, I sat and began to pull them on.

  “You’re leaving?” I could have sworn I heard a hint of disappointment in her voice.

  Turning to face her, I gave in to my need to touch and reached out to trace her cheekbone with my fingers. “Just for a few minutes. Need to run by my place to grab a change of clothes. I’ll swing
by Muffin Top on the way back if you want.”

  Her face automatically brightened at the mention of the best coffee shop in town. “Yes!”

  “All right. What do you want?”

  “An apple fritter. And one of those blueberry muffins with the crumble on top. Ooh! And a slice of their lemon pound cake if they have it. And—”

  “Jesus,” I said, laughing. “Hold on, I need to write this shit down.”

  She pointed toward the tiny kitchen area. “There’s a pen and notebook in my satchel. Get the lead out, Dixon. I haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday, and I’m starving all of a sudden.”

  With a grin pinned in place, I moved to the bag on the bar top and started rifling around in search of something to write on and with when I spotted a set of documents that made my entire body lock up.

  Right there along the top in bold black letters were three words that nearly made my heart stop.

  Petition for Divorce.

  Fuck me. It felt like the ground had fallen from beneath my feet. My stomach churned, and my hands began to shake.

  She was going to ask me for a divorce. The only tether I had to her was about to be cut. I was going to be sick. Reaching up, I pressed a hand to the center of my chest to make sure everything was in proper working order, because it felt like I’d been cut open, leaving a big, gaping wound where my heart should be.

  “You find it?”

  Her voice shook me out of my living nightmare. Grabbing the items needed, I slipped a blank mask into place and headed back to the bed, every movement feeling brittle and stiff, like splintering glass.

  I came to a stop a few feet away, tossing the items on the bed. She studied my face closely, her forehead pinching between her eyebrows at the sudden change in my mood. “Are you okay?”

  Fuck no. I was far from okay. “Peachy,” I answered, my tone devoid of any emotion.

  I could see the questions swirling around in her honey eyes, but she clamped her mouth shut and bent her head to the notepad to scrawl down her order.

  Once she finished, I took the piece of paper she’d torn off and stuffed it into my pocket. “Be back soon. Try and get some rest.”

  I bolted for the door. I needed air. I needed to think. I needed to figure out a goddamn way to keep her from serving me those fucking papers. Because that was the only hope I had at the moment.

  She might have the documents to end us tucked away in her bag, but she hadn’t given them to me. Yet.

  Which meant there was still time to change her mind.

  And I was going to change her mind. There was no other option.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tessa

  The door clicked closed behind Bryce. I sat and stared at it for several seconds, my face twisted in a frown.

  Something wasn’t right. He’d gone from warm and sweet to hard and cold in the blink of an eye. The chill coming off him was so strong I got goosebumps.

  He’d been just fine, even laughing as he went through my satchel, then . . . my satchel.

  “Oh shit.” Jumping from the bed, I hightailed it to the bar and grabbed the bag, yanking it open. “Shit!” The sudden and abrupt change in his mood now made perfect sense.

  I shuffled back until my heels bumped the leg of one of the barstools, then I plopped down, the boulder in my stomach making it impossible to stand.

  I’d had the divorce papers drawn up weeks ago, after my very first run-in with Bryce, and until earlier that week they’d been on my bedside table, collecting dust.

  After my lunch at the diner with the girls, when I’d finally made the decision to let go of the past and move forward, I’d put the papers in my bag, telling myself it was time to give them to Bryce. But I couldn’t do it. Hell, I hadn’t even signed the damn things.

  Each day I’d spend an hour psyching myself up to do just that, and each day the documents got shoved back into my bag, unsigned.

  It just felt . . . wrong.

  Every time I held my pen over that stupid little line my hand began to shake and my throat started to close up. My body actually seemed to be rebelling. And whenever I thought about actually handing the documents over to Bryce, I had to fight back a wave of nausea.

  I’d been wrong. That wasn’t cold I’d seen in his eyes when he left a couple minutes earlier. It had been pain he was masking with a hard, impenetrable shield.

  Guilt clung to me, holding onto my shoulders and weighing me down as I slowly padded to the bathroom.

  I’d promised Bryce I’d stay in bed, and I had every intention of doing just that. But first, I needed a shower something fierce.

  My fever might have broken, but the cold was hanging on. The desire to wash away the sick was only slightly less than my need to scrub away my newfound shame.

  I stood beneath the warm water until my fatigued limbs couldn’t hold me up any longer. By the time I toweled off, ran a comb through my wet hair, and slipped into a pair of sleep shorts and a tank, not only wasn’t I feeling any better, I actually felt worse. And it wasn’t only because of the stupid cold that wouldn’t go away.

  Crawling back into bed, I curled up into a ball, watching the door as my heart throbbed in my chest. I needed to talk to Bryce. I needed to do something to bring the light back into those wintery green eyes, because I couldn’t stand thinking of him in pain.

  And as I played over what I could say to make things better, exhaustion snuck in, weighing down my eyelids until I couldn’t keep them open any longer.

  * * *

  “Wake up, baby. You need to eat somethin’.”

  The firm pressure on my hip and the tantalizing smell of musk and citrus penetrated my sleep-addled brain and pulled me into consciousness. I let out a big yawn and stretched my arms over my head as I rolled to my back.

  When I opened my eyes, Bryce’s face was only inches away, and my heart instantly flipped at the sight of him.

  “You’re back,” I whispered, those two words chock-full of emotion. Before I’d fallen asleep I’d feared he wouldn’t return after finding those divorce papers, so the relief that washed over me just then was almost overwhelming.

  “I am.” He tugged at strands of my damp hair, letting them sift through his fingers. “Someone broke their promise,” he said, that teasing light back in his eyes, making my belly swoop and flip. God, he really was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. And when he was close like this, that beauty was nearly too much to bear. Like staring into the sun.

  “Just for a few minutes. I had to have a shower.” My lips puckered up in disgust. “I was seriously gross.”

  He chuckled and gave the lock of hair in his fingers a playful tug, and that knot of tension in the pit of my stomach began to unfurl. “Guess I can let that one slide. You were gettin’ a little ripe.”

  “Jerk,” I said as I swatted at him. He caught my wrist easily and used his hold to pull me to sitting.

  “You wanna eat in bed and risk crumbs or move to the table?”

  I arched a brow mockingly. “Oh, so you’ll let me get out of bed to eat? How kind of you.”

  “I’m thoughtful like that.” He winked, a cavalier, charming smirk on his face. “So what’s it gonna be?”

  “Table, definitely.”

  Linking his fingers through mine, he pulled me from the bed and guided me to the round four-seater table tucked into the bay window. He passed me a coffee as I sat, then flipped open the top of a bakery box and began unearthing a bunch of different pastries. “I got everything you wrote down, plus a few extras. They had something called a cronut that I thought you might like, so I got a couple of those as well.”

  My eyes went wide as he sat the little slice of heaven on a napkin and scooted it to me. A deep-fried croissant shaped like a donut and covered in cinnamon and sugar. Pure genius. I quickly snatched it up and bit off a huge chunk, moaning unapologetically at the deliciousness. “Oh my God,” I groaned through a full mouth. “This is the best thing ever.” I barely gave myself time to swallow my fi
rst bite before going in for another.

  Bryce sat across from me, flashing those pearly whites in the most seductive smile. “Careful, Tessa. You don’t slow down, you’re gonna choke yourself.”

  “Then I’ll die happy,” I replied, stuffing the last bite into my mouth. “Death by cronut. I’m not sure there’s a better way to go.”

  His chest rose on a deep inhale, and the blacks of his pupils began to swallow up that stunning green. He looked like a man starved . . . ravenous. I wasn’t sure what brought on the expression. Then he spoke, that husky southern drawl more pronounced. “I don’t know about that. I always thought death by orgasm was the best way.”

  I began to squirm in my chair as my insides heated. Unable to meet his penetrating gaze, I lifted my coffee to my lips and took a drink, needing to soothe my parched throat. Looking down at the pastries lined up on the table, I reached for the apple fritter and pulled a piece off, popping it into my mouth and chewing slowly as I struggled to think of something to say.

  I finally landed on, “Thank you for going out to get this. Actually, thank you for everything you’ve done since yesterday. You’ve been really great, Bryce.”

  “No need to thank me. It’s what I’m supposed to do.” My head tilted up, and at my questioning glance, he explained, “It’s my place as your husband to take care of you. Just doin’ my job, beauty.”

  The sugary sweet bite I’d taken lodged in my throat, causing me to choke. I coughed violently to dislodge it in order to breathe, sputtering like crazy before gulping down more coffee. When I finally managed to meet his eyes, he had a cocky smirk pinned in place. “You okay?”

  “Y-yeah,” I croaked. “I’m fine.”

  A single midnight brow winged up on his forehead. “You sure? I can give you mouth to mouth if you think it’s necessary.”