Falling Fast

by Cerise DeLand

  “And a bonus. I’m buying my house.”

  “Oh, darling, that’s wonderful.” She realized when he winced that she’d said too much and not yet enough. She bit her lip, ran a hand back through her hair. “Look, I need to tell you how I hurt you.”

  “Damn, Shana, you don’t need to tell me. I feel it every hour of every day.”

  “No!” She stomped her foot. “Before a few weeks ago, I hurt you. I was the one,” she grabbed a breath, “I was the one who wrote that story about you in the Dallas paper!”

  His eyes widened, and the green went from dark to light.

  “I am S.J. Carpenter, and I wrote the piece that the TV reporters and the national association used to run you out of competition.”

  He hadn’t moved, and she wasn’t sure he’d heard her, so she walked forward, pointing to her chest.

  “Don’t you see, I ruined you. And it was because all that afternoon I saw you yelling at the judges, arguing with your competitors and acting like a wild man!”

  “I was drunk.”

  He said it so softly she had to pause. “What?”

  “I was drunk. Had been for two days. Didn’t know enough not to compete.”

  “I didn’t know,” she whispered. “But…but that doesn’t matter. I still wrote that. I couldn’t believe how the media used it and made it into this huge story. God! On all the channels! They said you were a hothead. Then someone else came along and talked about the way bronco busting was so dangerous. Caused so much brain damage. And I felt like a fool. An idiot. I had ruined you and all the while you were disabled!”

  “I should have quit long before you wrote that piece.”

  “Maybe so,” she allowed, but she was on a roll and went back to her revelations. “But I didn’t know, and I should have done my research on you before I gave it to my editor. I was a terrible journalist. Not dedicated to writing the facts but bent on writing what I thought was true.”

  A tender smile played around his mouth. “Clearly, you are a better event planner and PR person.”

  “Yeah. Wonders never cease,” she muttered.

  “I hope Jeff Wentworth has shown you he’s proud of what you’ve done here.”

  “He has.”

  “Oh?” A mask fell over his features. “Giving you a promotion? To wife?”

  “No.” She stepped forward. Because Kade had jealousy written on every line of his face, she felt empowered, and she used every ounce of it. “He gave me a bonus. And my expenses.”

  “Kind of him. I’m sure there’s more to come from good ol’ Wentworth.”

  “Stop it!” she shouted and stomped her foot again. “Oh, you make me see red!”

  “I make you see red?” He took two steps forward and gripped her shoulders. “Lady, you walk in here after two months off in the wilderness—”

  “Uvalde.”

  “Uvalde? Here, there, wherever! You were gone and now you come back and you tell me Jeff has rewarded you, and you wonder why I’m mad?”

  She smarted at his reprimand. “You are not listening to me! I am telling you I wrote that article!”

  “So what?” He gave her a small shake.

  “I’m ashamed of myself! I hated myself.”

  “Welcome to the real world, baby. We all do things we wish we hadn’t.”

  “But I ruined your career!”

  “I,” he roared at her, “ruined my own damn career! That’s what I tried to tell you all along! I told you about the head injuries and alcohol. I thought once we got through all that, you’d see it didn’t mean a hill of beans to me that you were the reporter!”

  All the air left her body. She groped for logic. “You knew?”

  He stared into her eyes, hauling her closer. “I knew.”

  She grabbed handfuls of his shirt. “Since when?”

  “Since you sent me the proposal with your name on it.”

  Her mouth couldn’t drop open any wider. “You knew! You knew I was the reporter.” She pushed away from him, her mind frantically trying to connect the dots. “I wondered but could never quite see. I guess because I was tearing myself up inside to try to make it all up to you.”

  “You did, baby.” He walked toward her.

  She stepped backward.

  “Look around, honey. All this, you made.”

  Her gaze fluttered over the bare office, and all she saw, all she felt, was the heartache she’d created for herself and him. “I could never find the courage to tell you. That first day, I walked in here I just wanted the job so that I could build something good for you and make it all up to you. Then…then I took one look at you up close, and suddenly, I wanted you so much more. I couldn’t think beyond having you. I got caught up in needing you to want me and love me.”

  “And I wasn’t any help, was I?” He pushed tendrils of her hair back over her ear. “I took one look at S.J. Carpenter and knew I was falling so hard, I’d never hit bottom. I wanted you, baby, just as much as you wanted me. Once we got started, there was no going back.”

  “Not for apologies?”

  “I was ready to wait for them until you were ready to give them. I didn’t want to rush you. I wanted you to come to me in your own time. I saw how you needed a man who was kind and thoughtful. Not a hothead.” He smiled tenderly. “I wanted to be that man. I tried, honey. I tried to be patient and knew you’d really come here to apologize, make it all up to me. You did. Even by just being sweet you. Then you got scared that night at the Long Horn.”

  “I felt like such a sniveling kid. I hated that you might fight with Jeff, and I couldn’t tell you why. Not all of it.”

  “I was ready to fight that night. But I won’t be any more.”

  “When someone does you wrong. Insults you then—”

  He grasped her shoulders again. “Maybe you did me a favor writing that article, huh? Kicked me over the edge with it. Made me see I had to change my ways.”

  Tears dribbled down her cheeks. “I wanted to tell you, but my pride wouldn’t let me admit I was wrong. Oh, Kade,” she sank against him, her face to his warm throat, “so wrong.”

  She sobbed for a bit, and he let her, just holding her and caressing her back. It felt so wonderful to be embraced by him again, she curled her arms around him and let him absorb her.

  “I was wrong, too,” he told her softly, “not to tell you how much I cared about you. I tried to show you instead. But I could see you were afraid if you told me, I’d get angry at you. And you didn’t want to risk that, did you?”

  “No, I wanted you to think the best about me.”

  “Darlin’, don’t you know? I think the world of you and more.” He kissed her ear and hugged her closer. “I’m gonna get better at telling you and showing you that every day, every hour. I promise. If we talk as much as we make love, we won’t quarrel and you won’t become afraid we’re going to argue.”

  “Oh, Kade, it’s true. I would rather talk our heads off and make love than fight.”

  “Well, we don’t have to fight, do we? In fact, I think we just did. And now I can hold you, and you can tell me anything, darlin’. I should have said that the day you told me about your parents, but I was so bone-headed. I was hurt you were leaving me—I could feel it. And I wanted to keep you for myself. I should have told you that morning.” He reached in one of his pockets and gave her a white handkerchief.

  She blew her nose, hiccupped and looked up at him. “You did, and I didn’t meet you halfway. Oh, Kade, I should have.”

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “Promise you will from now on?”

  “Absolutely.” She hiccupped again.

  He set her away from him and walked over to his desk then hitched a hip on the edge. “So then, here’s the next part.”

  She hiccupped. “What part?”

  “You promise to meet me halfway in any argument? Anything we have to decide?”

  “Yes,” she agreed, though she didn’t understand where he was headed.

  “Good. Then promi
se me two more things.”

  “Anything.”

  “That you’ll never leave me.”

  It took her a minute to feel the sweet impact of that promise. “Never.”

  “That you’ll never hurt me again.”

  “No. Never.” She fought back more tears.

  “Because if you ever go anywhere again without me, Shana, I think I’ll die.” His face was blank with desolation.

  “Oh, Kade. How could I leave you? I love you!”

  She began to fall apart again as he came over and caught her up in his arms, tears brightening his own eyes. “Say that again.”

  And when she did, he kissed her once more. “Say you’ll marry me.”

  “Oh, you’ll have me?” she asked like it was the one thing she could never hope for.

  “Aw, honey. I will have you all the days of my life.”

  “And you forgive me?”

  “I love you. I would forgive anything you do, darlin’.”

  She flung her arms around his neck, suddenly saucy with the prospect of having him for a husband. “So then, can we get married soon?”

  “Soon as I can get a license.”

  “That’s good.”

  Her objective tone made him look down and blink. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  “Because I need a place to live.”

  He raised his brows.

  “I let go of my apartment in San Antonio. My aunt’s ranch in Uvalde is two hours away, and I have no accommodations here in Hayward.”

  “Hmm, I do see that.” He played along.

  She fiddled with one of his shirt buttons. “And I’m also really proud of you for getting a raise and a bonus…”

  “Okay,” he chuckled. “I’m ready, baby, tell me why.”

  “Because I quit my job yesterday, and I have no money, and no place to hang my hat.”

  He threw back his head to laugh now and caught her up to swing her around. “You come home with me, darlin’, and you won’t need a hat.”

  “Nor any other clothes?” She brushed his blond hair back from his brow.

  “You got that right. I’m gonna put you in my bed and keep you naked for at least the next eighty years.”

  “Can we start now with that, Kade? I need to show you how much I love you.”

  “You show me every time you look at me, Shana.” He took her hand to lead her out the door. “Let’s go home, honey.”

  The best words she’d heard in all her life.

  About the Author

  Cerise DeLand believes great romances match feisty women with one—or more—men who cannot live without them. And Cerise knows men—all types of them from living in Italy, England, Japan, New York, Washington—and wild west Texas! She blends that intimate knowledge with a passion for European and Chinese art and travel to delightful lands she loves to write about.

  An award-winning author, Cerise has also penned 18 print romances and mysteries (under another name), many of which have been selections of The Doubleday Book Club and The Mystery Guild. And what does this prolific author do when she’s not writing? Ah. She is an excellent cook. To taste and prepare a few of her delicacies, do come to her blog, especially on Thursdays for her Afternoon Delights, elegant simple refreshments to serve after your rendezvous! http://cerisedeland.blogspot.com

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