“I’m over there,” she pointed to her grandmother’s gold Buick in the parking lot.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet me; I had a fun time,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
Taylor nodded as her heart dropped. Was this it then? They’d had their little catch up moment and now he’d fade away and she’d never see him again? She didn’t want this to be it. “Did I say something wrong?” she asked softly.
He turned to her in surprise. “No, of course not.”
“Then why are you ... you seem so tense all of a sudden.”
“Nothing,” he said shortly, then seemed to think better of it. “I’m okay,” he sighed, softening his tone. “I just get nervous sometimes walking and being nervous makes it worse so ...” He trailed off as she laid her hand on his arm, feeling the hardness of his muscles beneath her fingertips.
“Lane, I don’t care about your legs,” Taylor said. “I mean, I do. I hate that it happened to you. But whatever you’re worried about, it doesn’t make any difference to me.”
He stared at her hand on his forearm, then back to her face. “Thanks,” he whispered. “That means a lot.”
Impulsively, she leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “This has been fun, wanna do it again?”
His face lit up. “I’d like that.”
Chapter 7
It was an aggressively ugly quilt—bright neon floral blocks separated by thick, black fabric bands—and for as long as Taylor could remember, it had been at Grandma’s house. No one seemed to know where it came from; if Grandma had made it, she’d never admit to it. But it was soft and fluffy and warm and as a kid, Taylor claimed it as her own. She’d spent many nights curled up under the blanket on the couch watching Barbie movies with Grandma and Cece. Taylor had been thrilled to find the blanket in the back of the linen closet at the condo; she’d thought Grandma threw it out when she moved.
Now she took a seat by the hospital bed and wrapped the ugly quilt around her shoulders, seeking comfort and familiarity more than warmth. She wiggled a little to adjust the blanket, then opened her laptop and navigated to a blank post on her blog.
Sitting in the hospital room; Grandma’s having a nap.
Taylor sat back and stared at the words she’d typed. The white space on the screen seemed to mock her, waiting to be filled with something exciting, something her readers wanted. Just because they’d been so supportive didn’t mean they’d want to read about a nap. She deleted the sentence and tried again.
Met an old friend and we caught up over ice cream.
That was better, much more intriguing. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she wrote about Lane, the words coming easily.
Ten minutes later, she sat back and reread what she’d written, a smile hovering on her lips as she relived their date. Lane had already texted her several times this morning and the promise of more time with him sent a dart of pure joy snapping through her.
She transferred the photos she’d taken at the ice cream parlor from her phone and added them to the post, then sat back and studied it. They made a good couple, both of them looking relaxed and happy as they leaned together, smiling for the camera.
And Lane ... dang, he was a looker! His hair was darker than it had been in school, probably because he spent so much more time indoors, and he wore it shorter now and slightly spiked on top. At the chapel he’d been clean shaven, but yesterday he’d had bit of scruff and the dark whiskers shadowed his firm set jaw and outlined his lips. Her fingers itched to run over his cheek, to feel the rough play of whiskers contrasted to the smoothness of his skin, maybe run her hand up the back of his neck and into his hair as he leaned in for a kiss.
She’d never kissed Lane, but now just the thought sent a shiver of longing through her. She sighed and pulled the ugly blanket tighter as a heavy knock rang on the door. For one irrational moment, she thought it might be Lane, as if she could simply wish him here. But then the door opened and a man stuck his head in the room.
Taylor’s fantasies evaporated and her mouth went dry. It was Brent.
He hadn’t changed much since their divorce. Still shaving his head and from the looks of him, still hitting the gym every day. His blue athletic t-shirt stretched tightly across his chest, outlining firm muscles and the six pack he’d always been so vain about. His designer jeans fit to perfection. He carried a bouquet of peach roses tucked under one arm.
“What are you doing here?” The picture of Lane still filled the screen of her laptop. Taylor slammed it shut.
Brent gave her an easy smile. “I heard about Grandma; thought I’d stop by and say hello. Plus, I wanted to see you again.”
It didn’t escape Taylor that he’d said “grandma” not “your grandma,” as if he still had right to claim a place in their lives.
“Who told you? How did you know I was in town?”
“I read your blog, if you’ll remember.” Brent chuckled, but instead of making him more attractive, his smile made him appear more dangerous. His dark eyes glinted, sizing her up, measuring who had the advantage. Brent treated every interaction as a competition, with a definite winner and a loser. He was never happy unless he thought he’d won.
His eyes narrowed as his eyes raked over her from head to toe and Taylor resisted the urge to pull the blanket even tighter. She was fully covered, but had no doubt he remembered those times she hadn’t been fully dressed in his presence.
She lifted her chin. “Okay, well ... hello. The flowers are beautiful, she’ll love them. Now, goodbye.”
“Really? Aren’t we beyond that?” Brent shot her a look of pity and moved to set the flowers on the table by the bed, barely glancing at Grandma’s sleeping form.
He threw himself onto the loveseat and gave her a broad grin, the veneers on his teeth shining almost a brilliantly as his Gucci sneakers, which were so bright white they almost hurt her eyes. How could anyone wear shoes longer than five minutes without getting a scuff or even a hint of dirt on them? Did he buy a new pair every day? Knowing Brent, it was totally likely he bought a new pair of five hundred dollar shoes every day just to keep them pristine.
“How’s the traveling? Are you getting sick of sleeping with bedbugs yet?”
“I don’t sleep with bedbugs!”
Brent snorted. “Oh please. From the pictures you post it looks like most of those places aren’t even on par with a Motel 6. I guarantee you have bedbugs.”
Taylor grit her teeth. Even if she could have afforded five-star hotels, she preferred staying in small, locally owned places that provided a more authentic experience. It was one of the things that made her blog so popular. Okay, she’d seen her share of dives, but the local places were usually very clean with friendly, attentive staff, even more so than the fancy resorts.
But an argument was exactly what Brent wanted, so she stayed silent.
“Is there anything I can do to help? Do you need some money?” He asked smoothly. Sarcasm was always his first line of attack, but money came a close second.
“No, I’m fine,” Taylor said shortly.
“You don’t have to be so defensive, Tay. I’m only trying to help.”
She hated the nickname “Tay” and he knew it.
“Thanks for your concern, but it seems a bit misplaced. I don’t know what your end goal is here, but if you’re imagining a future with us together, you can forget it.”
“Why are you so upset all the time?” He asked. “It’s like you don’t even know how to hold a civilized conversation.”
“Do you have a reason for this visit or did you just come to insult me?”
“I only wanted to talk for a minute, say hello.” His voice softened. “It’s been a long time, Taylor.”
Caught off guard by his sudden shift, Taylor curled her fingers around the edges of her laptop. Was he trying to tell her he missed her?
“I don’t love you,” she said bluntly.
Brent’s eyes gleamed and heat flooded her face. H
e hadn’t said anything about love. Score one point for him.
He stood and cast his eyes indifferently over the still sleeping figure in the bed. “I hope she gets better soon,” he said as he left, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Taylor let out an explosive breath. She hadn’t seen him in over a year, and yet here they were, back to the same old games. Why did she let him get to her like that?
“Is he gone?” Grandma whispered as she opened her eyes.
Taylor started laughing. “You big faker!”
Grandma gave her a self-satisfied grin. “Darn right I was faking. He woke me up pounding on the door and once I realized who it was, I figured I’d better be asleep. There’s no way I could play nice with him.”
“Wish I could’ve been so quick,” Taylor admitted ruefully. “Maybe if he’d seen us both in here asleep he’d have gone away.”
“You did fine, honey.”
“I don’t know, he always seems to be one step ahead of me and I always feel so stupid,” Taylor sighed.
“That’s because he’s a manipulator, and you’re not,” Grandma insisted. She pointed to the water cup on the table near the flowers. “Could you hand me that please?”
Taylor untangled herself from the ugly blanket and put her computer on the chair. “It’s not very cold,” she frowned as she picked up the cup. “I can get a new one.”
“This is fine,” Grandma insisted.
Taylor held the straw to her lips and she took a long drink. When Taylor sat the cup back down, Grandma’s eyes stayed on the bouquet Brent had brought. “Pretty flowers,” she remarked. “It’s too bad he has such an ugly personality.”
“Marrying him was the worst decision I’ve ever made,” Taylor bit the inside of her cheek, regret flooding through her.
“If that’s the case, divorcing him was the best decision you’ve ever made,” Grandma said firmly. She reached out her hand to Taylor’s.
“Try telling my parents,” Taylor said wryly.
Grandma gave her a steady look. “Believe me, I have.” She gave Taylor’s hand a squeeze and eyed Brent’s bouquet of roses. “But enough of that. Why don’t you go see if the nurses want an arrangement of lovely peach roses on their desk? My treat.”
The tightness it Taylor’s chest evaporated as she leaned forward to give her Grandmother a quick kiss on the cheek, sending up a silent prayer of thanks she would be around for a while longer.
Chapter 8
Terrace Park was a family-oriented place along Covell Lake with towering trees and easy walking trails. The stone terraces and multiple bridges were favorites for family portraits and wedding photos and on this bright Sunday afternoon, Taylor had already seen more than one bride carefully picking her way across the grass, holding her billowing white dress up off the ground.
Taylor snapped pictures of the scenery as she and Lane made their way down one of the asphalt paved trails. She’d been expecting to have to slow her steps for him, but he walked smoothly, with barely a hint of a limp. If he hadn’t been wearing shorts, she wouldn’t have even known he had prosthetics. People they passed eyeballed him with interest, some even stopping to stare, but Lane continued as if he hadn’t seen them.
“Does it bother you when people stare?” Taylor asked. They weren’t touching, but they were walking close enough that their arms brushed once in a while, sending waves of anticipation cascading through her.
“It did at first,” Lane admitted. “But I can’t stop them from staring, so I decided the only thing I could do was stop myself from letting it bother me.” He wrinkled his brow. “I still hate it when they take pictures though without my permission.”
“You’re kidding. People do that?”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “You’d be surprised. But there are also really nice people too. For every jerk snapping pictures, I’ve had at least two others tell me they’ll pray for me. So it evens out.”
“It’s amazing some people can be so clueless. You should start taking pictures back and see how they like it,” Taylor huffed.
“It’s okay,” Lane assured her. “I’m used to it.
“Well, I’d better not see anyone taking pictures today or they’ll regret it,” Taylor vowed darkly.
Lane threw back his head a laughed and Taylor’s heart immediately felt lighter.
“Okay, here’s one,” Lane said, when they’d walked a little farther. “Your idea of the world’s greatest adventure? Go.”
“Just one?”
“Or two or three if you can’t decide on one,” Lane allowed.
Taylor bit her lip, thinking. “I used to think climbing Mt. Everest would be the ultimate adventure, but so many people do it now that almost feels like a cliché. So I took it off my list.”
Lane nodded seriously. “Agreed.”
“I’m going to say diving in the Cenotes, the Iditarod, and hiking the Australian outback.” She ticked them off on her fingers.
“Cenotes?”
“Sinkholes in Mexico,” she said. “They’re huge and have these amazing waterfalls. We were supposed to do it on my trip, but I had to come home. My friend, Summer and her boyfriend are probably there now. Well, maybe. Summer isn’t exactly the best at sticking to a schedule. They are supposed to be there today.”
“Do you have to swim?”
“Some have pools, but there are others you hike into.”
“Looks like you’ve done a lot of research.”
Taylor shrugged. “Well, it’s kind of my job.”
“Yeah, I looked up the link you gave me and spent a couple of hours reading through your blog,” he said. “Sounds like you’ve done some pretty awesome stuff.”
“It’s been crazy,” she admitted, then fell silent. It felt a little like bragging to tell him about her travels, like she was rubbing it in.
It was a beautiful day, warm but not too hot. The flowers were blooming and from the other end of the park came screams and shouts from the water slides. The lake lapped gently at the shore and a crowd of ducks surrounded a group of children who were tossing them bread, under the watchful eyes of their mothers.
“Can I take a picture of you for my blog?” Taylor asked.
“I thought you already did,” Lane said. “When I was stuffing my face with ice cream.”
“I did, but now I need another one for a new post, silly,” she said teasingly.
“How about one of the two of us?” he bartered.
Taylor snagged a passing mom with a stroller and they posed with their backs to the lake while she took several pictures.
“Will you send me a copy of those?” Lane asked after they’d thanked the woman and she’d continued on.
“Of course,” Taylor said. “And thanks for letting me take pictures. Do you ... is it okay if I include your prosthetics?”
Lane nodded. “Sure.”
She gave him a smile, stowed the phone in her pocket, and they continued down the path.
“What you’re doing is very cool,” Lane said, admiration clear in his voice. “When did you discover your love of the outdoors? At school?”
Taylor shook her head. “I think probably at Camp Wallakee.”
“Camp What-a-kee?”
She laughed. “Wallakee. It’s a girl’s camp I used to attend every summer. Well, almost every summer. My parents could never have afforded it, but my grandparents paid for me. It was pretty high class—nice cabins, a lake, zip line, all kinds of programs and activities.”
“Sounds like a dream,” Lane replied.
“Yeah, I loved it.” Taylor said. She hesitated, unsure if she should confide this much, especially so soon. They used to know each other pretty well, but how much had two years and everything he’d been through changed him? “I think it’s partly the reason I married Brent though,” she plowed ahead.
Lane regarded her with surprise. “How so?”
“One year someone had this stupid idea to make this pact ... we signed a contract and took a vow and everything
. Everyone promised to marry billionaires.” Taylor rolled her eyes. “As if a bunch of teenagers knew anything about that.”
“But you obviously took it seriously?” Lane prompted.
“Not at first, at least I didn’t think so. But after I met Brent and found out he had money ... it wasn’t my only reason for marrying him, not at all, but I realized I’d be the first one of the group to get married and I guess that kind of sucked me in along with everything else.” The day suddenly felt colder and she forced a laugh. “It sounds so stupid now.”
“It’s not stupid,” Lane objected. “But why was it important?”
“I don’t know. I guess because they were all rich, or most of them were rich, and I obviously wasn’t. And they were all cute and funny and interesting and here I was, super tall for my age and towering over everyone, awkward, my face all broken out. I loved camp and I loved them, but I always felt kind of inferior ... you know? So suddenly I had this chance to beat them all and get married first, and even though it’s dumb, I kind of fell for it.”
“Did Brent know about the pact?”
“No, I’ve never told anyone.”
His eyes lit with understanding, a secret shared between just the two of them.
“You could do it too,” Taylor replied, ready for a change of subject.
“What? Take a marriage pact?”
She bumped him lightly with her shoulder. “No, silly. An adventure blog.”
“Ha! What kind of adventures am I good for now?” His tone was light, but Taylor caught an underlying chord of resentment.
She stayed quiet for a minute, her mind and emotions churning. Despite all his efforts to the contrary, that one sentence spoke volumes—he was not as accepting of his life as he tried to appear. “I think there’s a lot you could do,” she finally said.
“Maybe,” he shrugged.
“How will you know if you don’t try?”
Lane stopped in the middle of the trail and looked at her, his hazel eyes burning. “I am trying,” he said quietly.
The Adventurous One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance Page 5