by Zoe Dawson
“Can I help you?”
“Lurlene, cut the crap,” I snapped. Maybe it wasn’t just hormones. “Braxton was just in here. What did he buy?”
“A ring.”
“An engagement ring.”
“Yes. It’s quite beautiful. But I guess you deserve that. Congratulations.”
This was happening so fast. If it had been this morning, I would have been jumping for joy, but with this added layer of complication, I wasn’t sure how to react.
Needless to say, I didn’t have the time to wallow here. I had a full day at the gallery and Jean Claude Malveaux, a renowned French painter, was exhibiting his work at my gallery. It wouldn’t do to be late for our appointment. He did mostly portraits of beautiful women in the nude. Ever since he first saw me, he’d insisted that he must paint me in his studio in New York. I had politely declined. Braxton wouldn’t like that at all.
With my head buzzing with what I was going to do, I parked in front of the gallery. My cell rang and I looked at the screen to see it was Brax. “Hey, sugar,” I said trying to sound as completely natural as possible.
“River, I want to take you out tonight.”
“I love eating at Outlaws. What are you making?” I was distracted by my news, and the fact that my very handsome, very fit appointment was crossing the street, and didn’t catch on right away. I waved to Jean Claude and he waved back, his eyes going over me in a detached, artistic sort of way.
“No, someplace special.” His voice was uneven and sounded…strained. I guess this was a stressful time for both of us. Braxton never did do well with change.
“Oh,” I said, trying not to sound breathless. He was going to ask me. This was the pop-the-question dinner. I was relieved and apprehensive at the same time. I didn’t like the idea that this was stressing out my man. Really, two years was a kind of deadline, but I had more to consider now, like he was the father of my baby, and I was truly, deeply in love with him.
But, then I thought about my momma and daddy, and my stomach knotted up. I had an obligation to the family name. I might be shacking up with Braxton, and my daddy and momma might tolerate it, but they would draw the line at being pregnant with no husband. When should I tell him? I felt like I shouldn’t hold on to this information any longer than necessary. I would start showing at four months, and the cat would be out of the bag.
“Where?”
“Someplace in Lafayette.”
He wanted privacy. I was totally in favor of that. I wanted to be as far away from the busybodies as possible.
“Could you bring my black lace dress?”
He made a soft, sexy male noise of appreciation deep in his throat. “The one with the sexy cutouts in the back?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“Black sandals with the studs?” There was deep appreciation in his voice, and I got a little twinge. How would he look at me when I was as round as a beach ball and big as a house?
“Yes, and look at you, handsome, remembering what goes with that dress. Here I thought you had nothing on your mind except how to get me out of it.”
“You’re giving me too much credit. The only reason I remember is because I took those sandals off you, one buckle at a time.” He was silent for a moment then he said, “Now, I’m imagining how I would get you out of it, and, sugar, I just might do you in it. Strip off your panties and do my kissing and thrusting while you’re still wearing it.”
“Oh, God, I have an appointment, and I’d rather jump in my car and race home.”
“I won’t hold you up. But, I really did miss you this morning, sugar. Don’t take my snuggle time away.” My blood was thick in my veins, and I took a quick breath. Brax had always been demanding, but there was something softer in his voice, a plea. I got a chill down my spine.
He was still a sweet talker, and this felt like one of those sweet-hot-perfect times, when two people were so incredibly in tune. That’s the way I wanted to feel with Brax every time, because my man was deep under my skin.
Shivering and feeling hot, I murmured, “I’m sorry. I was preoccupied. It won’t happen again.”
“How about I get to the gallery at six and make reservations for six-thirty?”
“That sounds perfect,” I said, and heard eagerness in my voice, which had nothing to do with him asking me to marry him. I loved being with Brax, any time, all the time.
“Bye, River.”
I walked into the gallery to find Jean Claude was standing near reception. I met his dark eyes. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s go to my office.”
I led the way and opened the door. I loved this space, and how it had a view of everything in the gallery, from the art to the browsing patrons.
I settled behind my desk. “Let’s talk about what you would like to show.”
He nodded and we talked for thirty minutes about his pieces, while I made notes on what he wanted to have shipped and the prices he would put on the paintings.
“Well, that I think wraps it up.”
“I’d like to ask you again, River if you would sit for me.”
“Jean Claude, I don’t think so.”
“Ah, that is not a no, oui? Do not make this decision now. Here is my card. Please call me, and I would be happy to show you my studio. You would be welcome to bring a camera and do a video with me to place on your website.”
I took his card and smiled. “I will think about it and we can talk.” I rose, glancing at my watch. Brax would be here in half an hour. “Thank you for the absolute privilege of showing your work at River Art.”
He kissed my hand “The privilege is mine. Au Revoir.”
I sent my assistant home and told her I would close up. I was in the back unpacking some paintings, replaying Doc Rust’s voice on the phone telling me I was pregnant over and over again. I tried to think back to two months ago. Had I missed a pill or two? I didn’t think so. But it was possible. I had to have missed one. I was pregnant, birth control had been my responsibility, and I’d somehow messed up.
If it wasn’t for the fact that he was going to propose tonight, I would have been sick and nervous about telling him. Then my family obligations, the reactions, the talk and whisperings. I’m sure Becky Howe would be more than happy to spread the word I had gotten knocked up by Braxton and had no ring on my finger to ensure he wouldn’t just dump me and run after someone else. Or, even worse, insinuate I had deliberately gotten pregnant to force his hand. Like anyone could make Brax do something he didn’t want to do.
“Sugar?”
“Back here,” I called, my heart skidding at the sound of that sexy voice. Warm hands encircled my waist as I reached up to set a painting on one of the racks. “Hey, no fair, my hands are busy.”
“My hands are busy, too,” he said, nuzzling me.
“Where’s my—”
I turned and he kissed me. No preamble, just dropped on me like a juggernaut. “River,” he murmured softly against my mouth. His lips were hot and wet and immediately demanding. Braxton Outlaw in a nutshell, hot and demanding, making me wet. Especially that thing he was doing with his mouth that made me crazy for him.
And I was—shamelessly. The feel of his hard body, the taste of him, intoxicating, dizzying.
Braxton was always heat and intensity, and when he pressed me back against the scaffolding and I cupped the back of his head while we moved, his hair silky against my fingers, his jaw rough-edged, the strength of his arms wrapped around me. I didn’t want to lose his lips. His hands were everywhere, his breathing ragged.
I could hear the traffic in the street. Rush hour and the realization that he was going to make love to me here added a dark thrill to what was typical with Braxton, a heart-stopping experience.
He slid his hand up under my dress, and his hips rolled against mine. Holding my gaze steadily with his own, he gently rubbed his thumb across my mouth. “That mouth,” he said softly. “That golden gasp.” He captured my lips again. He ran his hands over my bre
asts, gently catching my nipples between his fingers and squeezing. A moan slipped out as I arched into his hands, and any thought of stopping this disintegrated with my will.
He dipped his hand into the silk of my panties, and it took only moments before I was bucking against his hand, and he was pulling at his pants with him barely freed before he jerked me against him.
His hands were on my hips, my mouth still on his and I took his thrusts, deep and rapid. He groaned. I bit his bottom lip, making him growl and buck harder, which made me cry out as he set me off again. I tightened my fingers in his thick hair. My body hummed with the pleasure as he hammered against a place that sent sparks shooting, tingling. I arched my back, taking him over the edge with me, groaning with rapid thrusts as he came in a shuddering fury.
It only took us a few minutes to get to the restaurant once we cleaned up and changed. Arnie’s was a quaint little Italian eatery we both loved with its dark wooden floors, contrasted with elegant tablecloths. It had this great open kitchen with an emphasis on comfort, muted lighting, striking antique fixtures and backlit shelves of wine.
“Aubree’s almost ready to pop,” he said, holding my chair for me, brushing his fingers along the back of my neck before taking his own chair. “Boone with four kids. That is going to be something to watch, that chaos.”
“Do you…want that chaos someday?”
“Hell, yeah. Kids are amazing. Henry loves to cook with me. He thinks I’m the coolest uncle because I can make cookies. He always tells me in this really serious voice that cookies are the best food in the world.”
I smiled and felt a little glow inside. Braxton wanted children. Whew, that was a great start. My hands shook a little while I read the menu and ordered their mushroom ravioli and Brax got lasagna. I didn’t know when it was going to happen, but I assumed after the meal.
But the end of the meal came and went. Braxton paid and we left the restaurant. Maybe he was planning to ask me at home.
Since we came in separate cars, I had an empty car and my thoughts to stew in the whole way home. Once we got back at the house, I wasn’t sure what to expect.
Braxton was standing in our bedroom door holding onto the jamb.
“Hey,” I said, leaning forward and bending my head to better see his face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” The lie was barely a whisper. A tremor went through me. I saw the shift of his broad shoulders, the nervous adjustment of his fingers across his brow. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He entered the room and I followed closely behind him. We got ready for bed as usual, and when I came out of the bathroom, my stomach was in knots. I hadn’t been able to eat very much of my dinner.
“Come sit down,” he said and I settled on the mattress. My nerves were pulled tight, and the anticipation was both thrilling and excruciating.
“I love you, River with everything I have.”
“I love you, too, Brax.”
He pulled the velvet box out from under my pillow and handed it to me.
I waited, but all he said was: “Open it.”
This was it? His proposal? It left plenty to be desired.
I opened the lid. Shock immobilized me, my gaze on the pair of delicately beautiful angel wing earrings.
His expression went very still, and I held his gaze for a frozen moment; then I abruptly looked down, blinking rapidly, trying to dispel the burning in my eyes and throat while an awful, shaky feeling slid through me. Earrings?
Not the ring and the heartfelt proposal I was hoping for. Then I would have delivered my news. That I was carrying his baby, two months pregnant with a spring birth. But now the words were jammed in my throat, and pain and uncertainty like lead on my heart.
This couldn’t be right.
My heart fluttering wildly in my throat, I looked at the box so long without comment, Brax nudged me. “Do you like them?”
How was I going to get through this? How were we going to weather this upheaval?
I looked up and he gave me a warped smile. “I can take them back if you don’t.”
I closed my eyes, the bottom dropping out of my stomach. “They’re very pretty. Thank you.” I leaned in for a kiss, feeling completely confused and disappointed.
It said volumes that he hadn’t given me a ring and proposed. There was something wrong. Very wrong. And now I would have to ask him about it. I had no choice.
But the words caught in my throat. I didn’t know if he wanted to end it. If he hadn’t asked me to marry him because he didn’t want to, or because something else was going on.
No. He’d just said he loved me. But not enough to marry me. I felt even sicker at the thought. What had happened between the time he bought the ring in town and our dinner date?
I found myself in another terrible dilemma. I was reluctant to tell him about the pregnancy until this was resolved. If he knew, he would offer to marry me, and I didn’t want him to propose out of obligation.
Why had he taken the ring back?
What did it mean?
I wasn’t even supposed to know about it, and I wished to God I didn’t.
Chapter Four
BRAXTON
For the second morning in a row, I woke up without River, and it once again knocked me off-kilter. Without her warm body in bed snuggled up to mine, it was as if my day started out of step.
I needed the girl something fierce, and I didn’t need two years of waking up to her to tell me she was my one and only. I’d known that when I was a kid. But our road to happiness had been bumpy, and I’d had anger issues to overcome first. So what the hell was my problem now?
Yesterday my brothers had almost talked me into rushing something I wasn’t ready for. I took the ring back and got those earrings for her because she was an angel. Just minus the wings.
I didn’t know why I was holding back. I had no idea what barrier was keeping me from asking her to marry me. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to join my life with hers. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to wake up to her shining, dazzling face every damn day. But until I figured out what the problem was, I wasn’t going to jump the gun and do something quick and dirty. She deserved better than that.
I pushed up off the mattress and pulled on a pair of shorts and walked to the living room. She was outside in the swing again. I could see through the window that it was moving. There was something taut and strained in the air, as if I was walking toward something terrifying and unexpected.
I opened the front door. There was a suitcase at the bottom of the stairs. I stared at the pretty, patterned piece of luggage, then I looked toward the swing, reality striking home, and a cold feeling sluiced through my gut.
Somehow she knew.
Clenching my jaw against the awful, sliding sensation in the pit of my stomach, I forced myself to take a deep breath. It was a full minute before I could find my voice.
“Where are you going?” I asked, my voice coming out rough.
She didn’t look at me, just kept pushing the swing with her toe, staring off to the horizon. Her voice was very quiet when she answered. “To New York.”
The silence was so tense, so brittle, that I could feel it right down to my bones. Suddenly drained, I dragged my hand down my face. I swallowed hard. “For gallery business?”
“No.” She looked at me, and I saw a flash of pain and disappointment in her eyes, coupled with a touch of fear.
I was across the porch before she could take her next breath to speak. I reached down and hauled her off the swing, right up against me. Looking her deeply in the eyes, I had no intention of sugar-coating anything or trying to dodge a damn thing. River was much too important to me to do things the way I had in the past.
“I should have talked to you.”
She stared up at me, her expression softening, her eyes luminous. I melted.
“Why, Braxton? Why did you take it back?”
My pulse hammering in my ears, I curled my hands into her hair, my lungs suddenly tight. Trying to keep
the edge out of my voice, I said, my voice very quiet, very controlled. “It just wasn’t right. I can’t explain it.”
“You don’t want to marry me?”
“Fuck, no. That’s not it. It’s that just I need time. I need something…I can’t explain it. I just need you to understand. It’s not that I don’t want you forever, because I do. It’s not that I can’t make a commitment. I’m committed to everything to do with you. You have to believe that, River.”
“I’m trying to understand.”
Trying to rid myself of the buildup of old anger in my chest, I expelled a breath, forcing my stiff muscles to relax. Holding her gaze for a long moment, I finally spoke, and it came out deadly quiet. “I can’t find the right ring. Nothing seems good enough.”
Her body went perfectly still, and she stared at me while the remaining color drained from her face. “It’s not about the ring, Brax.” She set her hand over my heart. “There’s something in here that is holding you back, and I think we need to take this time apart to figure out what it is. We need a break.”
My gazed locked on hers, I said, my tone flat, “I don’t want to take a break. I want to work this out.”
She looked at me, her expression bleak. “I don’t think I can help you with that.” She hunched her shoulders and turned away, her body tight, as if she was trying to ward off pain. “I think it’s something you need to discover. Until you do, we’re at an impasse. I don’t want to spend years without a commitment. I…don’t want to wait for my life to begin. I want to throw caution to the wind and live it. With you.”
“Don’t go, River. It’s not going to help. At least not for me.”
After a long tense moment, she turned, her face deathly white. She looked at me, her gaze stark. “I would never force you into making a decision you didn’t want because of obligation, or expectation, or because it’s been two years. Our timeline is our own. I don’t give a damn what anyone says. I was swayed by rumors, but I’ve realized that you need to work this out.”