Undeniable Bachelor (Bachelor Tower Series Book 3)

by Ruth Cardello

  “White horses are notoriously difficult to keep clean.”

  His joke pulls me back to the moment. “I don’t know why I thought you might understand.”

  His expression turns serious. “I’m trying.”

  “Listen. Nothing you say will change my mind because working with Jana is worth the risk.”

  He growls. “You are the most frustrating . . . most stubborn . . .”

  The kiss takes me by surprise. I’m moving . . . floating to my feet. There is no slow burn. No tentative exploration. My hands race to his hair, grabbing handfuls as his arms loop around me. Lifting me. Pressing me to his hard body. I throb all over for the want of him. Everything is instinctive. I move rhythmically against his excitement. Then his hand moves down my back and cups my ass.

  It’s gloriously primal.

  I moan. His grip tightens on my ass, and his mouth moves to explore my neck.

  I’m on the verge of reaching my hand down to explore his hardness when a moment of clarity shines through. I don’t know this man. This is not the plan.

  Jana’s way promises a good and safe man. An experience I can remember fondly. Grow from. Hold with me forever.

  This is passion. Lust.

  Dangerous.

  I’d be just a fuck to him.

  Can I handle the brush-off that will likely follow? What if I can’t, and it sends me running back to Coppertop?

  I’ve come too far to do something stupid now.

  “I can’t,” I whisper as I pull my hand from its path toward his belt. I fold away from him and he lets me. His eyes are wild with desire. I’m sure mine are as well. I don’t care if he hates me for it, though. I’m not ready. “I can’t, Brice.”

  He steps back and nods. “I’m sorry. I told myself that wouldn’t happen.”

  Funny, I told myself the same thing. I walk to the door, take a deep breath, and open it. “If I’d have met you in a couple of weeks. After. Maybe. I don’t know. But you met me before. You met Savannah from Coppertop, Maine, in her stinky wool coat. You’re part of what I need to close the door on.”

  “I don’t understand. You wish we’d met after what? What do you mean you have to close the door on me?”

  “Brice, how many chances do people get for a fresh start? Usually one. This is mine. I need to move forward.”

  “Jana is not a life coach. I’ll find you one, if that’s what you want.”

  “Please don’t dissect this. You won’t understand it unless I explain it, and I won’t.” I think of the contract I signed. The nondisclosure with consequences for breaking it. “Jana is helping me. That’s all anyone needs to know. Good night.”

  Brice walks toward the door then stops beside me. “Savannah, when someone wants to control a person the first thing they do is separate them from their support system. It’s a classic manipulation and abuse move. Remember that the next time Jana tells you to close a door on anyone.”

  Brice walks out, and I quickly shut the door, sagging against it.

  His words echo in my mind.

  His taste lingers on my lips.

  I push off the door and walk to my bedroom. My very empty, very chaste bedroom.

  I’m going to die a virgin.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Savannah

  I wake up in a better mood.

  Good idea or not, I’m staying the course. If I start second-guessing myself, I might as well go home to Coppertop.

  My apartment is cozy. My apartment. Mine. No matter how many times I say it, I still can’t believe it. It’s a short-term lease. I’ll have to figure out a way to be able to afford it long-term. But for now this little piece of Boston is mine. I stretch across the comfortable sheets and smile as the sun cuts through the shades.

  I don’t know what kind of night the guys had, but I’m certain they’ll be here early. Like the tides of Maine, they are reliable.

  I scramble out of bed when I hear the buzzer of my intercom. I tell the doorman to send them up then hunt down a bra.

  They’re laughing as they come down the hallway. I open the door for them and they fill my living room. Lance tosses a plastic bag at me. “Don’t say I never gave you anything. That’s presidential suite shit.”

  I glance in the bag. It’s a stockpile of freebies you get from a hotel. Everything, right down to the extra roll of toilet paper. I roll my eyes, but actually, I’m giddy for the tiny shampoos and lotions.

  “Did you have a good time? Presidential suite? That’s a big splurge for you guys.”

  Jimmy settles himself on my couch. “Your boyfriend paid. I kept testing the limit of his generosity, figuring there would be one, but he either wanted us to have a great time”—he gives me a hard stare—“or he wanted to keep us occupied so he could come back here.”

  I blush, but I’m admitting nothing. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  Lance plops down in one of the chairs. “So he didn’t come back here?”

  I prop a hand up on my hip. “Not that it’s any of your business, but he dropped by to check on me, then left because I hardly know him.”

  Murray comes to stand beside me. “Easy, Savannah. You don’t owe any of us an explanation. We’re only here to make sure you’re okay.”

  I sigh. “I’m telling you the truth.” My declaration is followed by an awkward silence that I break with a question, “Are you guys hungry? We can get breakfast, but I have a lot I need to get done today.”

  “Like what?” Jimmy asks with a frown.

  “Just first day in the city stuff.” It’s not enough to satisfy any of them. It’ll have to do, though, because I’m not about to tell them I’m heading off to get waxed, plucked, blown out, polished, and highlighted. They’d think I’m doing it for Brice, and I’m not.

  Jimmy turns on and off the light on the table beside him as if testing to ensure it works. “No need to feed us. The hotel fed us well.” He rises to his feet. “We don’t like leaving you here, but we’ve got to get back to the bar. The town can’t survive without us for two nights. There’s room in the truck. Want a ride back?” His face contorts and my heart swells. These are not men who do warm and fuzzy very often. Or ever.

  I consider his offer longer. It would be easy to get in that truck. We’d laugh and joke the whole way home. I could step right back into my old life.

  I’ve never been one to take the easy way out.

  “Tempting, but I have an appointment.” There’s another long pause. I know I need to say more. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you drove all the way down just to make sure I’m okay. It’s something I’ll never forget.”

  Jimmy looks around at the other guys before saying, “People are going to ask what you’re doing here. About how you are.”

  “Because they care too,” Murray adds.

  Jay nods once and I find it difficult to choose my next words. How do I separate myself from them without making it seem like I don’t care? Because I do. That was never the problem. “The best thing you can do for me, is tell them nothing. Right now, there’s nothing to tell. When I’m ready, I’ll come back for a visit and see everyone.”

  Lance stands. “We won’t tell anyone anything. Do you swear on a jar of fish eyes?”

  I snort out a laugh. There are some things that will never make sense to anyone in the city. In Coppertop, when you’re trying to let someone know you can be trusted, you stick your hand in the jar of fish eyes and make a promise. It’s disgusting. Foul. But about as legally binding as Jana’s nondisclosure contract. You don’t enter into a fish-eye promise lightly.

  I don’t swear to anything, because I don’t know what the future holds for me. Jana told me I had to cut these men out of my life to be successful. But she doesn’t know how Jimmy always made sure I did my homework, how Jay never let me walk to my car alone, or how Murray went to the store and bought me tampons the day I ran out. I love them.

  Once I have my life in order, I’ll figure out a way to keep them in it.

/>   Jimmy takes a step closer and pins me down with a look. “You’re a smart girl, Savannah. And pretty. People in the city aren’t like back home. You need to be careful.”

  “You sound like Brice,” I say and instantly wish I hadn’t brought up his name.

  “Be careful with him too. Just because a man says all the right things doesn’t mean you should trust him. Men will say anything to get what they want.”

  I place a hand on his tense arm. “I’m not a child, Jimmy. I know how to take care of myself.”

  His eyes blink fast a few times. “You’re the closest I have to a daughter. I couldn’t live with knowing I didn’t do enough to keep you safe.”

  I force a confident smile. “If you all keep acting like you don’t think I can survive a day without you, I’m going to have to kick your asses to prove I can.”

  Murray chuckles. “She’ll be fine, Jimmy.”

  Placing his hand over mine, Jimmy says, “She’d better be.” Then he steps back.

  Jay walks over and stands in front of me without speaking. He doesn’t have to. I know what he can’t say.

  “I’ll miss you too,” I whisper in his ear when I hug him.

  He has a sad smile on his face when he steps back.

  Murry pulls me in for a hug that lifts me off my feet. I laugh through it.

  I’m still smiling when Lance walks over, shaking his head. “If you take too long in Boston, Savannah, I may not be single when you come back.”

  “I’m willing to take that risk,” I say then wink. Lance has always been a little sweet on me, but it never has and never could go anywhere. There’s no spark . . . at least not on my side. If that is ever unclear to me, all I have to do is remember how simply being in the same room with Brice feels.

  He shrugs and struts off. He’s not a bad guy. One day he’ll meet someone who’ll make him forget all about me. Who knows, she might show him that we’d all like him a lot more if he didn’t try so hard.

  Jimmy lingers in the doorway when the others head to the elevator. No one could ever replace my father, but he’s been the closest thing to it over the years. My lashes grow heavy with a dusting of tears as he kicks his head to the side and looks at me sympathetically. Is this what it’s like when your parents drop you off to the bus for summer camp? When they leave you at your new dorm for the first time? Things I never experienced but always imagined.

  Jimmy seems to pluck up the courage to speak all at once and starts blurting out his fatherly advice. “You might find yourself with some fancy friends in the city, but don’t you ever let any of them make you feel like you’re not already wonderful. Make sure any changes you make are on the outside.”

  I nod and blink the blurry tears out of my eyes. He shuffles away, and I watch him turn the corner of the hallway. I want to call out. Ask him to wait. But there isn’t anything else to say.

  This is a solo mission.

  There isn’t room in a cocoon for a caterpillar and a bunch of her friends. Later, when I emerge, this butterfly can take a trip back to Coppertop.

  A short time later, I’m frustrated and more than a little disappointed I didn’t think to set up everything earlier. Every spa I called was booked. I could ask Jana, but I hoped to appear more capable the next time we spoke.

  I could go for a run to clear my head, but I haven’t had time to buy workout clothing yet. After a quick shower, I put on my slacks and blouse again, deciding to remedy that.

  I’m a block from my apartment when I catch sight of a familiar face before it ducks behind a sign. On one hand it’s irritating that Brice is still having his driver follow me. I’m perfectly capable of getting along on my own. On the other hand, Charles might know something about booking spa time that I don’t. I wave to him. “Hey, Chucky.”

  He waves back.

  I cross the street to join him.

  “Have your friends already gone?” he asks.

  “I’m surprised you don’t know. Does that mean your surveillance isn’t twenty-four/seven?” I counter.

  The corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “I’m merely passing through the neighborhood.”

  I nod and fall into step beside him. “A coincidence. Sure. Listen, I have a question.”

  “If I can answer, I will.”

  I sigh. “I’m supposed to go dress shopping tomorrow morning. I wanted to have a little makeover before I do that, but I can’t find a place that takes walk-ins for the kind of overhaul I need.”

  He lifts his dark glasses. “Are you asking me to book beauty services for you?”

  I laugh at the horror in his eyes. “Hell no. I was hoping you’d know of a place that might have openings.” The more I think my question through the less likely it seems he would. “Why would you? I’m sorry. I just hate the idea of trying on dresses with hairy legs.” His eyebrows shoot up. “Normally I’d shave, but you’re supposed to let your hair grow out a little if you want a wax . . .” My voice trails away. “I’m oversharing.”

  He clears his throat and replaces his glasses.

  I stop walking, feeling like an idiot. Really, what did I think he’d do? Wave a wand over my head like a fairy godmother? When will I learn I have to do this on my own?

  Charles stops as well and takes out his phone. He sends my phone the address of a spa just a few blocks away. I’m grateful, but disappointed. “Thanks, but I already tried them. They’re booked.”

  “They won’t be by the time you get there.”

  I fight the giddiness welling within me. “You can do that?”

  He tilts his head as if my question is ridiculous. “When you arrive simply give them a list of what you’d like done.”

  My smile is so wide it almost hurts. He really is Murray’s twin. I hug him briefly, an act that takes him completely by surprise and has him stepping away. Too soon? “Thanks, Chucky. I owe you one.”

  He nods. “You’re welcome, Savannah. Let’s keep this favor between the two of us, shall we?”

  Shall we? See that’s why I can’t be creeped out by him following me. Killers and kidnappers aren’t that formal.

  And they definitely don’t make spa appointments for you.

  He walks away, leaving me looking at the address on my phone and smiling.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Savannah

  Look at me go.

  The next morning I’m strutting down a busy street. I may not yet feel like I belong in Boston, but I’m beginning to look like I do. My hair is two inches shorter, lightened in a natural fashion. Every inch of me has been buffed so smooth I’m surprised my clothing doesn’t slide right off me. My slacks and shirt are new, along with my flats. I’m toasty in the camel wrap coat the sales clerk assured me will never go out of style.

  I almost bought high heels, but without a car, my feet are my best mode of transportation. No wonder everyone in the city is slim. I’ve never walked so much in my life.

  Jana sent me my first task, and I feel completely up to it. I step into a department store with confidence. She challenged me to buy a sophisticated dress . . . something to wear to a charity event she wants me to attend.

  Classic.

  Expensive looking.

  I can do this. The mantra stays in my head right up until I realize I’m wrong. It’s like a reverse little engine that could. I was chugging my way up that mountain and just slid all the way back down in the most embarrassing way possible.

  I knew some parts of this journey would be difficult. I prepared for hard work. I just didn’t know I’d break a sweat and be on the verge of tears in the changing room of a department store. No one warned me about this.

  The poor clerk, Martha, has brought everything in my size. Some are too loose. Some too tight. One looked beautiful on the hanger. Top to bottom silver sequins and tiny hand-strung beads. Strapless. Meant to fall just above the knee. I’m too curvy for it, and it’s too short for my comfort. A solid addition to the maybe pile.

  I try the zipper. />
  It won’t budge.

  My chest tightens with anxiety. What do people do when this happens?

  I want to literally rip the dress off me, but it’s expensive and I don’t want to not be able to afford the perfect dress because I have to also buy a shredded one.

  Do I call for Martha and have her pry me out? Would someone else buy the dress and ask to wear it out of the store? Like they’d been called to some emergency cocktail party?

  If I wait long enough the nervous sweat dripping down my back might act as a lubricant, and I can slide right out of it. Okay, stay calm. I can’t be the first woman this has happened to. I read the sign on the inside of the changing room. Do you know what they don’t list a procedure for? For this.

  Even if Chucky is lurking around, I can’t ask for help with this one.

  I take out my phone.

  911?

  I groan as I imagine how my friends back home would laugh if they saw my face plastered on the news with that story. Sadly, it would not shock them.

  I consider calling Jana then smack the phone on my forehead as I realize how stupid of a choice that would be. Hi, Jana. Remember how you doubted I was someone you should work with? Let me prove to you that I’m not.

  No way.

  My phone starts ringing—butt dialing someone.

  Wait. What?

  I look down at it. It’s not calling Jana, it’s calling Brice. I end the call and drop my phone to the cushioned bench with the vigor of someone swatting a swarm of killer bees away.

  Maybe he didn’t hear it.

  Maybe he won’t notice the missed call.

  I try the zipper again. My fingers slip off because they’re shaking. “I’m fucked.”

  “Everything okay?” Martha asks through the dressing room door. I thought I was alone. Someone needs to put a bell on her.

  “I’m in luck,” I shoot back quickly. “I really like this dress.”

  “Oh good. Should I take it and ring it up?”

  “I’m not ready to take it off. I like to spend some time in dresses before I make my final choice.”