Heart And Soul: A Small Town Fake Relationship Romance (Angel Sands Book 8)

by Carrie Elks

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She looked from him to Carlyn. “Yeah.” She nodded. “We’re just heading home.”

  We?

  Meghan glanced over at Dylan. He was talking rapidly to his bodyguards who nodded at him.

  “The car’s here. Let’s go,” the biggest bodyguard said, touching his earpiece. “Miss, you need to come here now.”

  “He wants to see pictures of Isla,” she said to Rich.

  “Yeah.” His chest was so tight it felt as though it was going to burst.

  “Um, I’ll call you later. Try to explain.”

  It was weird how quickly the shutters went up. He could feel the distance between them growing. “It’s fine. Whenever. I need to go help Belle now.”

  Meghan bit her lip. “Of course. Please tell her I’m sorry for leaving early.”

  “I will.”

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” Harper asked Meghan.

  “No, it’s fine.” Her voice was tight. “This is something I need to do alone.”

  Of course she did. It was nothing to do with him. He was only her neighbor. He wasn’t Isla’s father.

  She already had one of those. A fucking drummer who’d come flanked by bodyguards ready to take what was his.

  “Ma’am, we need to go.” The bodyguard touched Meghan’s arm lightly, and she jumped.

  “Okay.” She took one last look at Rich. He swallowed hard, giving nothing away. Because right now he had nothing to give.

  “Take it easy,” Harper said, her voice cutting through the silence. “Call me if you need anything. You have my number.”

  “I will.”

  Meghan turned, her beautiful auburn hair lifting with the breeze, as the bodyguard pressed his hand into her back. The next moment she was climbing into a black Lincoln, and the bodyguard closed the door behind her, sliding into the front seat as he spoke into his radio.

  26

  “I don’t understand.” Belle looked up at him, her eyes full of compassion. “Why would Carlyn do that?”

  “Because she’s certifiable,” Harper said. “And for some reason she has this crazy attachment to your brother.”

  “I guess there’s no accounting for taste.” James shook his head. “But seriously, this time you need to get that restraining order. No ifs, ands, or buts. This has gone far enough.”

  Yeah, it had. And it was his fault. He’d thought he could solve it with a grown up conversation.

  When the fact was, he just messed everything up. Screamed at the woman who was running Belle’s show. He could’ve endangered his sister’s career.

  “I’m sorry about all this.” Rich shook his head as he looked at Belle. They were back at her cottage. James and Harper had followed them there. “I’ll speak to Carlyn, make sure she follows through on the sales.”

  “I don’t care about the sales,” Belle said softly. “I care about you.”

  “And you can’t talk to her again,” James pointed out. “You need to get a lawyer and make them deal with her. She needs to know you’re serious about this. This chick is crazy.”

  “Chick?” Harper raised her eyebrow at him. James gave her an apologetic smile.

  “Woman.”

  “Thank you.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Sexism apart, James is right. You need to talk to your lawyer.”

  “I know. I’ll contact him first thing Monday.” Rich pressed his palm to his face. Jesus, he was tired. He wanted to climb into bed and forget that any of this happened.

  “So, now that we’ve got that sorted, what are you going to do about Meghan?” Belle asked him.

  Rich frowned. “What can I do? She’s talking with the father of her child. I have no place there.”

  “You didn’t believe Carlyn when she said they could be together, did you?” Harper asked. “She was talking bullshit. I know for a fact that Meghan wouldn’t do that. She’s in love with you, Rich. All night she could barely take her eyes off you.”

  “Yeah, I know Carlyn was lying. But this thing is between Meghan and Dylan. Isla’s their child. I’m no relation at all. They need to work this out without me interfering.”

  Belle blinked. “So you’re going to go home and just leave it?”

  “I’m going to go home and get some goddamned sleep.” Rich’s voice was thick. “I have a night shift tomorrow.”

  “This is bullshit.” Belle shook her head. “You can’t just wait around for them to sort this out. You and Meghan are together. You’re a team. She needs you.”

  James cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m on Rich’s side. When Harper was pregnant with Alyssa, if some other guy had interfered I would’ve been angry. Alyssa’s my kid, we made her between us. Nobody else had any right to her.”

  “No.” Harper shook her head. “This is completely different. By the time Alyssa was born, we were back together. Neither of us know what we’d do in this situation.”

  “You should at least call her,” Belle agreed. “She might need you.”

  James shrugged. “I don’t agree, but you obviously do.”

  “All I know is that I have no right to interfere in a father daughter relationship,” Rich said, his throat tight. “I saw how losing our parents affected you. I won’t be the guy who does that to somebody else.”

  He could remember that day when the cops had come to tell him the news. That his parents had passed and his sister was in the hospital with life threatening injuries. The sheer horror when he’d discovered they’d been on the way to see him when the accident happened.

  The knowledge that if he hadn’t been so goddamned selfish, they’d still be here today. And Belle would be able to walk.

  The familiar feeling of panic overtook him. The same panic he’d felt when he’d looked down at his sister’s broken body and known that he was the one who’d caused her pain. The one who’d made her an orphan.

  And that day he’d made her a promise even though she couldn’t hear him. That he’d always be here for her. He’d be the parents he’d stolen from her. The brother she deserved. And he’d never hurt anybody like that again.

  “I need to go home,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn’t want to think about this stuff. It needed to go back to that dark place deep inside him, locked up so tight that it never came back again.

  “Stay here,” Belle said. “Please.”

  Harper exchanged glances with James. “Belle’s right. You should stay here. Just for tonight.”

  “I need to be rested for tomorrow night.”

  “You can’t work like this.” James shook his head. “Take a few days off. Be there for Meghan.”

  But work was the only thing he could think of. It was the one thing he was good at. The thing he could rely on. It made him forget all those things he never wanted to confront.

  “I’m going home,” he said, his voice certain. “Thank you, all. But right now I need to be alone.”

  “She was tiny,” Dylan said, leaning over the scrapbook Meghan had made. It was full of photographs from Isla’s first year, starting when she was laying in her tiny heated incubator in the NICU, to sitting upright with a toothless grin as Meghan carried her first birthday cake toward her. She’d been bald for the first twelve months of her life, but you could see a smattering of soft red downy hair starting to come through as she clapped with delight. Looking at those photographs made Meghan feel wistful.

  “She was so tiny I was scared I’d break her,” Meghan told him. “But then her little eyes looked up at me and I realized I was responsible for this tiny thing and needed to get over my fears. I’m her mom and she just wanted my love and attention.”

  Dylan swallowed. “I really fucked up by not being there. I’m sorry.”

  She pulled out another scrapbook, this one of Isla’s toddler years. Dylan was absorbed by the photographs, of Isla’s first trip to the zoo, earning her first swim badge, of her holding an ice cream cone, half of which was smeared all over her face.

&n
bsp; “Will she want to meet me, do you think?”

  Meghan looked at him carefully. It was so weird having him here in her apartment after all these years. “Yes, she will. She asks about you a lot, especially since she started school and saw that most of the other kids have dads in their lives in one way or another. She’s an open, loving kid. She’ll want to know all about you.”

  He looked down at his hands, twisting them as he pressed his lips together. “I have to go back to L.A. tomorrow night. There are things we need to do for the tour, and I know it’s easier for Ger to guard us there.” His eyes flickered to the bodyguard standing by the door. “I’d really like it if you and Isla could come, too. Assuming she’s ready to meet me.”

  Megan’s eyes widened. “You want us to come to L.A.?”

  “Just for a few days. I’d like to spend more time with Isla before I leave the country. I have a big house in the hills, it’s secluded and safe. There’s a pool that Isla will love, and enough guest rooms to house a crowd of people.” He looked up, his eyes pleading. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but the thought of leaving without getting to know my kid…Especially now that I have the chance…” He shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

  “I have a shop to run. I can’t just leave.”

  “Would you be able to find somebody to manage it for a few days? I’ll pay whatever it takes.”

  Meghan’s mind was whirling. A few hours ago she was heading to an art show, and now she was talking about whether she could spare the time to go to L.A. with a rockstar. “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “It’s possible.” And she’d always said she’d let Isla build a relationship with her father if he wanted one. It wasn’t Isla’s fault he was leaving the country in a few days. She deserved to know her family, after all.

  Dylan nodded. “Understood. I’ll do whatever you need to make it work. Just tell me and I can arrange for money or staff or anything else.” He looked over at his bodyguard. “Ger, can you help with that?”

  “Yep.”

  The sound of the elevator pinging made the bodyguard tense his shoulders. With his hand on his gun, he looked out of the peephole, then opened the door. Meghan’s mouth was dry as she saw Rich walking out of the elevator, his jacket slung over his shoulder, his hair crumpled as though he’d been raking his hands through it.

  “Your neighbor?” he asked Meghan.

  He was so much more, but Ger didn’t need to know that. “Yes, Rich Martin. It was his sister’s show at the gallery.”

  Rich’s eyes caught hers through the gap in the door. Meghan stood without thinking, walking toward him. The bodyguard didn’t move, standing between them like a chaperone at a school dance.

  She could feel her heart thumping against her chest. “Hi,” she said, breathless. “Did the show finish okay?”

  “It was fine.” He shifted his feet. He still looked amazing in his suit, even if he wouldn’t catch her eye.

  “And Belle? Was she happy? She sold a lot of paintings.”

  “She was. She’s home in bed now.”

  The bodyguard moved smoothly from between them and walked over to where Dylan was sitting at her kitchen table, pulling a chair out and speaking softly to him. Rich glanced over her shoulder, watching them, his expression unchanging.

  “Um, I guess tonight isn’t going to happen.” She pulled her lip between her teeth. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” The same, low tone. “I have to get some sleep. I have night shifts next week.”

  “Can I see you tomorrow?” she asked. It was like somebody had switched off the connection between them. She wanted to press at it until it came back on.

  “Hey, Meghan, do you think you’ll be ready to leave for L.A. by the afternoon?” Dylan called out. “Ger’s trying to arrange the logistics.”

  Rich’s jaw twitched. “You’re going to L.A.?”

  “For a few days.” Was it possible for a heart to beat this fast? She felt like it was going to hammer right out of her ribcage. “Just so Isla and Dylan can get to know each other.”

  “Right.” He nodded. “Of course.” He stepped backward. “I should go. It sounds like you have a lot to organize.”

  “Rich,” she said, reaching out for his wrist. He flinched away and it felt like a slap to her face. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” He looked anything but. “I just need some sleep.”

  “We can do Sunday evening if it works better,” Ger said, shrugging. “I just need to change over drivers.”

  It was like she was being pulled between her past and her future. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice thin. “I need to think.”

  “Go inside,” Rich said, his face unsmiling. “Figure out what you need to do.”

  “Can I call you from L.A.?” she asked.

  “I’ll be busy. I’m on nights, remember?”

  Yeah, she remembered. But it didn’t stop him from calling her before. She hated the blankness in his eyes. The way he wouldn’t smile at her. She could feel Dylan and Ger’s gazes boring into her back, and she had to push down her intense emotions for fear they might spill over.

  “I guess I’ll see you when I’m back then.”

  Rich nodded. “Yeah, I guess you will. Be safe.”

  That got her. Those two words that he probably only said by rote, and yet made her heart flutter. Right now she felt anything but safe.

  She felt exposed.

  Rich turned and walked toward his apartment, and she watched until he let himself inside. Not once did he turn around. Her fingers curled around the door handle as she tried to push down the panicked feelings her encounter with Rich had generated.

  She needed to be sensible. Maybe he really was just tired.

  Yeah, but he’s a doctor. He pushes through. He always has before.

  Okay then, maybe he was being guarded because Dylan and his bodyguard were there.

  So why doesn’t he want you to call him when it’s safe to talk?

  She had no idea. All she knew was that there was this horrible, nagging feeling pulling at her gut. That she’d lost something precious. Something she hadn’t realized she’d wanted this much.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned to face Dylan and Ger willing the tears not to sting her eyes.

  “Tomorrow afternoon should be good. It’ll give me a chance to speak to Isla and make sure she’s ready for this. If you give me the address, I’ll drive us down after lunch.”

  “We’ll arrange a car and driver,” Dylan said, glancing at Ger, who nodded. “It’s safer that way.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Thank you for agreeing to it. I know this is rushed.”

  “It’s for Isla.” She was the only one Meghan could think about now. “And you don’t need to worry about our safety. Nobody else knows you’re her father. And Angel Sands is the safest town I’ve lived in.”

  “I know.” Dylan’s smile was soft. “But I want to take care of her anyway.”

  Rich couldn’t fucking sleep. Which was bullshit, because he never had any problem drifting off. It was a legacy from his internship days, when they worked crazy hours and caught whatever rest they could before shifts. He’d learned to sleep on a row of chairs, on locker room benches, or on a hospital bed in an empty examination room. Hell, one of his fellow interns had found a mortuary slab that wasn’t being used and managed to fall asleep on it.

  This was all his fault. The whole situation. If it wasn’t for him, Carlyn would never have brought Dylan Nash to the gallery, and Meghan wouldn’t be with him trying to work out what to say to Isla.

  He’d messed their lives around, the same way he always did, and Meghan was paying the price.

  The stupid thing was, he knew better than to get involved. Especially with a mom whose kid deserved better than him. Every relationship he touched turned sour, and everybody he loved got hurt. He should come with a warning written across his brow.

  He turned on his side, his eyes alighting on his alarm clock. It was almost four a.m. His heart w
as pumping so fast it was like he’d given himself an adrenaline shot. If it was any other time of day, he’d pull on some running shorts and pound his feet over the sand. But it was the middle of the goddamned night and he’d already made enough of a dick of himself.

  He hadn’t heard Dylan Nash leave. Maybe that’s what was freaking him the hell out. There was no ping of the elevator, or low voices in the hallway, and definitely no slamming of Meghan’s front door. For all he knew, Dylan was fast asleep in there, getting the rest that was currently eluding Rich.

  Meghan deserved better than being hurt just because he couldn’t figure out how to deal with a persistent stalker. If he’d just shut Carlyn off in the beginning, none of this would have happened.

  And Meghan wouldn’t be trying to pick up the pieces of her life right now.

  When he closed his eyes, all he could see was the way she’d looked up at him with that soft expression, willing him to say something to make this better. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t open himself up the way Harper and Belle had urged him to. His chest was so damn painful already, he couldn’t add to it. The only thing he could do was pull up the shutters around his heart and curl in the corner like a wounded animal.

  When he finally fell asleep, his dreams were fractured and jittery. At one point he was nineteen again, walking into that hospital, escorted by the cops who’d come to his college to inform him that his parents were dead. As he walked into the hospital room, he felt his heart ache at the sight of his sister bandaged and plastered, her face obscured by an oxygen mask. And then he blinked and it wasn’t Belle. It was Isla, her body crumpled and broken because of his decisions. Her eyes opened and her gaze landed on him, and he could feel nothing but his own heart breaking.

  A tear rolled down her cheek and he fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands.

  When he woke, he was covered in a sheen of cold sweat, his breath stuttering as his lungs attempted to get more oxygen into his body. What the hell was that? It had been years since he’d had that dream.

  And now it was back, with a goddamned twist.

  The alarm clock at the side of his bed told him it was eleven on Sunday morning. He dragged himself out of the rumpled covers, rolling his shoulders because they ached from all his tossing and turning, and walked over to his bathroom to step into the shower.