The Playboy Bachelor (The Bachelors of Arizona #2)

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The Playboy Bachelor (The Bachelors of Arizona #2) Page 20

by Rachel Van Dyken


  He was doing everything in his power to try to prove to her he was for real, and at every turn she fought him or unintentionally brought his past up. At least he hoped it was unintentional—maybe she did it to keep her guard up. She had no clue of the hell he was going through, the anxiety that she caused—and he was still there, he was still standing, willing to battle his demons for her.

  Aggravated, he started to pace.

  Margot had gone to grab coffee, leaving him alone in the silence with his dark thoughts. The last thing he wanted was to go home in a week without her.

  But what was his other option?

  Ask her to come with him? And hope that thirty days was enough for her to take a leap—when she still struggled riding in a damn car and was terrified to even go on a date? Right, that was going to go over well. Hey, Margot, want to move in with me?

  He scowled at his reflection in the window.

  “Hey!” Margot exhaled a laborious breath. “I just saw the doctor. He said Scar made it through the surgery! And he’s recovering!”

  Bentley tilted his head. “Scar?”

  Margot blushed. “I named him.”

  “I see that.”

  “Because he’s going to have—”

  “—a scar,” Bentley finished. “Just like you.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. God, he was an idiot, he didn’t even think about how this was affecting Margot.

  “I’m sorry,” they both blurted in unison.

  “Ladies first.” He took a step toward her outstretched hand.

  Briefly, she closed her eyes then opened them. “I’m sorry that I’m a judgmental bitch.”

  Bentley barked out a laugh. “Okay, not what I was expecting, but I’ll take it.”

  Her lips trembled, and then she wailed, “I’m a dog!”

  “Okay, really not where I thought you were going.”

  Margot laughed through her tears and stepped into his embrace. “I’m just like Scar. I bite at people and snap and growl and, and—” She hiccupped.

  “Hey now, some men may like your bite.”

  She sniffled. “Such an optimist.”

  “Go ahead, I don’t mind.” He gave her access to his neck and laughed while she pinched him in the side. “Seriously, I’ll take one for the team. I’ll even let you scratch me.”

  “Leave it to you to make it sexual.”

  “Well, I’m a man, so there’s that.”

  Margot cupped his face with both of her hands. “You’re a good man, Bentley Wellington.”

  Emotion clogged his throat. Sadly, it was the first time anyone had ever spoken those words to him—and looked like they meant it. “You think so?”

  “I know so. And I’m sorry that it took you getting forced into paid slave labor for you to see that about yourself.”

  “I always knew I was awesome.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Bentley, you’re incredible.”

  Guilt gnawed at him. “I use women and drinking as a distraction in order not to have an anxiety attack about the girl I walked away from and nearly killed myself over. What’s so great about that?”

  “You were young. You went through a traumatic event.”

  “And you didn’t?”

  She reached for his hand. “Brant said something…when he was here.”

  “Brant said a lot of things while he was here.”

  “About that day in the hospital.”

  Bentley froze. “Oh?”

  “I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

  “Okay…”

  “He was going to pretend to be you…since they wouldn’t let you out of the room. Of course, I knew it wasn’t you the minute he walked in the door because…I know you. I do.” Tears filled her eyes. “I know the way it feels to hold your hand. I know the sound of your laugh—it hasn’t changed after all these years. I know you, Bentley. You’re stronger than you think.”

  “I would take it back if I could. I tell myself this all the time, and yet now all I keep thinking about is, what if? What if something happens to her again? I’ve done a good job of keeping the anxiety away…the marketing position was the next step in my plan, prove myself to my grandfather, stop dicking around, and then, boom.” He shook his head. “I’m forced to face the trigger—the catalyst—my past—my Margot.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Your Margot?”

  “Mine.”

  She stepped into his arms and rested her head against his strong chest while he wrapped her in a hug.

  “How come nobody at school knew about what happened with you? I mean, had I not dug a few days ago I would have never known.”

  Bentley tensed. “Dug?”

  “The Google search mentioned it, but that’s all. I didn’t know any details.”

  “You were stalking me?” His voice was raspy.

  She pulled away from him, prepared to apologize again, defend herself, but he was smiling down at her, the biggest grin on earth plastered all over his handsome face. “Any naked pictures saved to your desktop, dirty girl?”

  “Eh, I have the real thing, so no.”

  “You do.”

  Her heart leaped.

  “Have me,” he finished. “You have all of me.”

  “Good, now answer my question.”

  Bentley sighed. “A Wellington doesn’t show weakness. They also do what they’re damn well told to do. My grandfather, well, let’s just say my biggest fear wasn’t letting him down—it was turning into my brother Brock, his carbon copy. And then it turned into this intense need to be noticed for something other than being a twin. When you’re a twin you’re constantly fighting for your individuality while at the same time basically protecting the other half of your heart and soul. With Brant…” He shrugged as his throat went dry. God, he hadn’t ever really confessed any of this before. “With Brant,” he tried again, “I felt like it was my job to make sure he was happy. It was my job to keep the brothers together through thick and thin—and then when I finally found something that I wanted to do for me…” His voice cracked. “I was rejected, laughed at.”

  “What was for you?” Her eyes searched his.

  “You’re going to laugh.”

  Margot reached out and touched his hand. “Promise I won’t.”

  He took a deep breath and blurted, “I wanted to be a veterinarian. I had a dog when I was little, he got a tumor and died, and I don’t know, I just—I didn’t realize how much I loved animals until college.”

  Margot didn’t say anything, her eyes filled with tears.

  “Margot?”

  She opened her mouth as tears streamed down her face.

  “Margot, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m your dog!” She hid her face in his chest while he burst out laughing. “It’s not funny, you jackass!”

  “Actually…” He gently pulled her back and tilted her chin upward, capturing her lips in a salty kiss. “It’s hilarious. You aren’t my dog. I was kidding when I said all of those things. I was being my normal jackass self.”

  “It doesn’t make it untrue, though.” She sniffled. Her green eyes flashed with insecurity. “I’m like the broken dog you want to fix—and what happens when I’m all fixed?”

  “Are you asking what happens when you go outside like a normal person? Or what happens when you start driving a car that isn’t made for a first-grader?”

  She gave him a nod.

  “Nothing.” They touched foreheads. “Nothing happens, nothing changes, it’s still you and me, and honestly, Margot, I’m getting pretty tired of you constantly looking at yourself as broken.”

  Her breath hitched.

  “You were never broken to me. Only to yourself.”

  A knock sounded at the door, and the veterinary tech poked her head inside. “Would you guys like to see your dog?”

  “Oh my gosh!” Margot’s eyes widened. “We have a dog together.”

  “Um, congratulations?” the tech offered.

  “And my grandfath
er says I can’t commit.” Bentley winked at her. “I call bullshit.”

  Margot elbowed him. “Baby steps.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  How the hell had he gotten himself into this situation? Bentley kept his grin in check while Scar slept on Margot’s lap the entire way home. He’d been surprised they didn’t need to keep Scar overnight, but the vet was confident that Scar needed human kindness more than he needed observation at the clinic.

  A white-and-pink bandage was wrapped around the dog’s leg. They had a bag full of pills for the poor guy, and since he had no collar, the vet let them keep the one they’d put on him at the clinic.

  “We have a dog,” Bentley said aloud. “Holy shit.”

  “Told you,” Margot whispered. “Probably not exactly what my grandmother meant when she instructed me to stick a needle through the condoms, but it may placate her for now.”

  Bentley turned the car down the long driveway. “Again, that’s why you bring your own condoms.”

  Her face fell.

  Damn it. The last thing he wanted to do was remind her of the sins of his past and make her even more dedicated to pushing him away.

  “Right, but what if the girl in question searches your stuff, finds the packets, and then sticks a needle in them?”

  “The girl’s sure going to a lot of work to carry my child—maybe she deserves to, if she’s willing to rifle through all of my things. But I’m pretty sure she’d have to get me drunk, since I keep my condoms in my wallet, ergo, she’d have to steal my wallet, and why the hell are we talking about this right now?”

  Margot grinned. “Because we adopted a dog. A child is the next logical step.”

  “According to our grandparents? Yes. But let’s just try to keep the dog alive for now, and then we can talk condom breaking.”

  Her smile dipped at the corners. He hated that he noticed something so small, but there it was. “You can’t keep a pet alive?”

  “Of course I can.”

  His eyes locked on the corner of her mouth, where he wanted to lick. Damn it. He was in for a rough night. “Let’s maybe focus on making sure he’s comfortable tonight.”

  “Sounds good.” She blew air out through her lips.

  It wasn’t awkward.

  They were talking about kids.

  Had slept together once.

  And were forced to live together for a few weeks.

  And they were talking about kids.

  Again, how did he get himself into this situation? Where walking into the house at three a.m. with an injured dog and a beautiful woman seemed like the best night of his life?

  No drugs involved, no sex, no all-night orgies. Just Margot and Scar.

  A small bag of vet-approved dog food.

  And a bag of doggy pills.

  Sighing, he started carrying the dog up the stairs when Margot’s arm shot out across his. “What are you doing?”

  “Um.” Bentley was too tired to really think. “Taking the dog to your room? I thought you may want to sleep with him, in case he wakes up and gets scared.” Damn dog! What about him? What if he woke up and got scared? Or horny? Same thing!

  Margot slid her hand down his arm and gave him a little tug down the hall. “I thought maybe we could all stay with you. Together.”

  His heart shouldn’t have reacted the way it did.

  Slamming against his chest so savagely that he had no choice but to suck in a breath and pray she didn’t see the excitement pasted all over his stupid-ass face.

  It was what he wanted.

  Needed.

  Not the dog.

  Just Margot.

  All of her.

  “Yeah,” he finally managed to croak out. “That would be nice.” Hell, it would be a lot more than nice, but bursting out into song and dance would probably scare the shit out of her.

  “Good.” They walked side by side into his room. Margot grabbed a blanket from the bed and placed it on the floor in a little makeshift bed for Scar and then glanced up with hopeful eyes at Bentley.

  “You think he’ll be okay?”

  “Yeah.” He leaned down, gently laying Scar on the pillow Margot had put in the middle of his bed. “This is probably the best night of the dog’s life. A gorgeous woman petting him? I know I’d fake death for that.”

  “Well.” She stood. “I don’t think you need to go to those kinds of extremes.”

  “No?” He moved to his feet and reached out to tip her chin toward him. “What makes you think that?”

  “Because…” Her clear green eyes were hypnotic in the way they locked onto him, with so much trust, trust he hadn’t done a damn thing to deserve.

  He wasn’t sure who moved first.

  But suddenly their mouths were colliding, devouring one another.

  He loved this new, aggressive side of her.

  With a jerky movement, she had his jeans at his feet. He kicked them off and nearly ripped her shirt from her body as she licked the side of his neck.

  Margot collapsed against him and then pulled away, her cheeks red. “I, uh, I should probably…” She pointed down at her leg.

  Bentley’s chest warmed as his heart thudded loudly. “You want me to help you take it off?”

  She gave him a mute nod, then with jerky movements walked over to the bed and sat, her eyes downcast as Bentley kneeled in front of her and examined the prosthetic.

  “Here.” Fingers trembling, she showed him how to unfasten the leg.

  Emotion clogged his throat at the trust she was giving him. She was baring all—it wasn’t just sex.

  No matter what she believed or what the hell she said.

  It was more.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured between kisses as he pulled her into his arms. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

  “So are you.” Her voice shook as she ran her hands down his naked chest, her fingers tickling his skin as she hooked her hands around his neck and pulled him in for a searing kiss.

  “Mmm.” He gently set her back in the bed and with one arm lifted her closer to the headboard. “I love you like this.”

  Hell. Did he just say…?

  Margot froze and then pried her lips from his. “Like what?”

  “Naked,” he teased, kissing her again. “Writhing beneath me.” Another kiss on her neck as he slid his hand between her thighs. “And without your prosthetic—just you.”

  “Are you saying that you like me better without my leg?”

  He nuzzled her neck. “I like you best when it’s just you, battle wounds and all.”

  “You can’t say things like that to me and expect me not to fall in love with you.”

  “I just did.” Their mouths joined in a frenzied rush as his hand explored her body, bringing her pleasure as she moved against him.

  He moved his hand from her thighs to her hips, cupping her ass, pulling her closer while she grabbed him and whimpered, “I need you.”

  “Not as much as I need you.” It was the truth. Another true thing he released out into the universe. Just another piece of himself that he’d given her willingly. Holding back was no longer an option.

  He entered her with one fluid motion.

  Margot gasped against his mouth.

  “You feel so good.” Bentley groaned as a feeling of completion washed over him.

  It wasn’t sex.

  It would never be just sex ever again as long as he was with Margot.

  “You do, too.” She cried out when he increased his movements, only to slide his hand down her injured leg and press his fingertips against the scars.

  Tears welled in her eyes.

  “All of you,” he whispered against her mouth. “I want all of you.”

  But she didn’t answer.

  Instead, she closed her eyes and found her release, leaving Bentley without an answer and wondering…if the silence was his answer.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Margot checked on Scar throughout the night. He was sleeping okay, but he
woke up a few times whimpering. She knew that feeling well—sometimes the pain still woke her up even though she didn’t have a leg anymore. Phantom pain was a very real thing, something that even painkillers couldn’t take away.

  She’d woken up to an empty bed, and for a minute she panicked, thinking that Bentley had left her in the middle of the night—and even though she knew it was ridiculous, it was still a concern that flitted through her mind.

  Time was going by too fast.

  Soon their little whatever-it-was would be over.

  Would he return to his glamorous lifestyle only to leave her alone in this giant house? Would he ask her to go with him? Where did they go from here? And why was she such a chicken? She needed to just ask. They were friends first and foremost, right?

  When she’d hopped out of bed and grabbed her prosthetic, she’d seen a flicker of movement to her left.

  Bentley.

  He was on the floor with Scar, spooning the dog.

  A smile curved around her lips.

  This. This was the man who broke hearts all over the world—slept with other men’s wives—partied until the early hours of the morning only to repeat the process the next night.

  It was unfair.

  Unfair that he let the world see only the playboy millionaire rather than the man who would rescue a dog he didn’t even know, pay for the dog’s surgery, and then sleep with him in the middle of the night.

  Or the man who would kiss a woman’s amputated leg and dare to call her scars beautiful.

  Tears welled in her eyes.

  She wasn’t just falling for him—she was in love with him.

  Damn it.

  That wasn’t supposed to happen.

  She’d known it was risky, letting a man like Bentley Wellington into her life again—but she never realized how deep he’d root himself.

  Or how much it would hurt when he did.

  With one last glance at the man and beast on the floor, she slipped on her sock and fastened her prosthetic, then walked down the hall to make coffee.

  To her utter surprise, Brant was already at the breakfast bar drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. He’d kept to himself since the big blowout with Bentley, and she’d wondered last night if he’d headed back to Phoenix. Apparently not.

 

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