She kicked a pair of jeans.
More…
She knelt and plucked a soft, navy tunic off the floor. The hand-embroidered V-neck hit just the right spot—not too low, but still attractive. Elegant.
Swooning over those green eyes, bulky arms, and unkempt hair. Enough was enough. He’d made it clear that she wouldn’t fit into his life, though he’d seemed to regret saying so later, but he was right. Her father wanted the man’s land and Edward King usually got exactly what he wanted, one way or another. That made her mission even more critical. Bryce had to sell before Dad found a way to work his angle. She didn’t even want to think about what that would look like. She’d seen him pay off banks to accelerate foreclosures before. This wouldn’t be the first time.
She yanked the tunic over her head and fluffed up her hair. Next, she traded her comfy yoga pants for a sensible pair of dark, professional skinny jeans.
There. Add a pair of Uggs and she was ready to attend a casual business meeting. Fully platonic. No more quivery muscles when she noticed how Bryce’s shirt pulled tight across his shoulders…
Face blazing, she rifled through her backpack and located the offer package, went over the details one more time. Focus on the job. Not on the way he’d started to look at her. Not the way he’d kissed her…
Ahem. Twenty-three million dollars. That would be enough to convince anyone to sell an old rundown ranch. He’d be crazy not to take it and run to the nearest beach. She carefully folded the printout and slipped it into her handbag.
At approximately 5:55 p.m., she took one last look in the mirror, plucked three fuzzies off her tunic, and pranced down the hall with the elegance of Grace Kelly, if she did say so herself.
In the entryway she looked up and there he was, bounding around the corner.
One look at him and poof her little pep talk vanished in a cloud of longing. He wore a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Dark carpenter jeans that fit him just right. Heavy work boots. His dark hair framed his face in typical disarray. He could’ve just stepped out of the pages of an REI catalog.
Despite a mounting protest from her practical side, her eyes lingered on him. Why was how he dressed so much sexier than the preppy look?
He didn’t seem to see her until the last second, when he almost ran her over. “Whoa. Sorry about that.” He caught her shoulders in his hands. “Have you seen my mom?”
The warmth of his fingertips melted into her skin. She breathed in some kind of subtle pine scent that made her want to lean into him and snuggle into the curve of his neck. “Uh…no.” His closeness made her throat ache. What was all that mumbo jumbo about keeping her distance again? “Haven’t seen her.”
His hands opened as if he’d just realized he held onto her too long. Stepping back, he lowered a blatant gaze down her body. “Wow. You look…wow.”
The compliment muted her annoying inner professional and made her heart prance. What was with that killjoy, anyway? It didn’t hurt to flirt with him, did it? “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she shot back before she could overthink anything. Battling temptation had never been her strong suit.
“Don’t know about that.” He looked down at his attire as though trying to make a judgment call. “I’ve been out baling hay in the meadow.”
Baling hay? Bummer she’d missed it. Did he do that shirtless, too?
“Mom said she’d call when dinner was ready,” he said with a worried frown. “But I haven’t heard from her.”
“Maybe she’s in the kitchen,” Avery suggested. She took the lead across the sitting room and curved around the double-sided fireplace, which blazed with a roaring fire.
“That’s weird.” Bryce angled his head toward the glow. “Why’d she start a fire? It’s so warm out.”
So warm. So very, very warm. She tugged on the tunic to release the building steam. Suffocatingly warm.
Past the fireplace, he stopped cold. “What—?”
Forcing her gaze away from his exquisite backside, she glanced up. The dining room table had been transformed into a setting that would rival any five-star restaurant’s. The red tablecloth contrasted beautifully with the white platters and bowls and plates. She stepped closer. The china had to be expensive, possibly antique. One place setting flanked each side of the table. Two red candles flickered between them. Golden aspen leaves lay scattered across the surface like rose petals.
The sight pounded alarm bells into her heart. Retreat! Retreat! Elsie had set up a romantic dinner for two. Not a business meeting. Well…unless you were in that kind of business. Which she was not. She so was not.
Flirting was one thing, but dinner? Alone? That was asking for trouble.
A folded note card sat on the plate closest to her. She snatched it up and handed it to Bryce.
He unfolded it and shook his head before he handed it back.
Enjoy you two! Love, Elsie
“Well.” Bryce looked around the room. “She’s subtle, huh?”
Oh boy. This wasn’t what she’d planned for. She thought they’d have Elsie to be the buffer, to calm the palpitating chemistry that seemed to flare between them when they were alone.
“Uh…” She did a two-step in the direction of the entryway. “I can eat in my room, if you want. I have work to do, anyway.”
He caught her elbow and gently tugged her back to the table. “That’s okay.” His eyebrows raised hopefully. “I mean, I’m fine with it if you are.” He let go and looked into her eyes.
His were so steady and clear. Uncomplicated. Why did she have to be such a mess? “I’m fine with it, too.” The squeak in her voice exposed the blatant lie.
“I guess we should sit, then.” He stood behind his chair and waited.
She pulled out the chair in front of her and sat as stiffly as one of those log beams that held up the ceiling.
Bryce slouched across from her, completely calm, and dished up a helping of the perfectly seared scallops and strawberry spinach salad. “Looks like she went all out.”
“She sure did.” Why? Why would Elsie do something like this when she knew where Avery stood? When she knew Avery didn’t want to be someone’s second best?
Bryce seemed oblivious to the questions that crowded her thoughts. His eyes were focused on the food, of course. Typical man.
A curl dipped down over his forehead. His button-down pulled tight across his broad shoulders. He was good-looking in a “rugged outdoorsman” way, but that wasn’t what made him so appealing. No. There was something else, something deeper.
“You look better.” Bryce set his fork down and gave her that bold stare again, the one where his eyes wandered slowly down then back up, like he wanted to focus on all of her. “I mean, your color’s back. You look like you feel better.”
“I do.” Suddenly too aware of her appearance, she smoothed her hair back. She knew how to navigate a date—with Logan, and before him, with the other high-society eligible bachelors Dad had sent her way. But sitting across from Bryce felt so different. He didn’t fill the air with meaningless small talk. He made his words count. He didn’t act like silence made him uncomfortable. He seemed to enjoy it. How could she hold onto her boundaries when she had no idea what to expect from him?
“You tried this yet?” He took another hearty bite of scallop as if he was actually enjoying himself—the date, the food, even the company.
“Um. No. Not yet.” She wished her heart would stop beating so hard. That would make it easier to think.
“It’s really good.”
She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. His eyes would’ve trapped her and she never would’ve found herself again. That didn’t seem to stop him from looking at her, though. He gazed across the table like she was the only thing in the room he wanted to see. After a few minutes of her squirming and his staring, he set down his fork. “I’m really glad you’re here. That we have a chance to talk.”
“Mmm hmmm,” she hummed, feeling the heat from the fire spread across her fac
e.
“The answer to your earlier question is yes.” A long inhale raised Bryce’s shoulders. “I’m still in love with Yvonne. I knew her most of my life.”
She gripped her fork harder. “Of course you are. Like I said, it was a silly question. You don’t owe me—”
“We were in a Jeep accident.” His eyes widened as if he were still in shock. “On our third anniversary.”
Even though her face still flamed, her body felt cold, like somehow the chilly mountain air was seeping through the walls. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Sorry that it had happened, but even more sorry she had forced him to relive a nightmare that still seemed to haunt him.
“We were about fifteen miles back toward the Bells on an old forest service road. Half washed out. Too narrow.”
A lengthy silence tempted her to speak, to say “how awful” or “it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.” Instead, she lifted her fork and tried to eat a few bites. The determined look on his face made it clear he had to tell her. For his own purposes.
“I don’t remember how it happened. Cops told me the ground gave. We rolled, though. A hundred feet.”
Avery peeked up at him.
His body remained eerily still, eyes focused on something unseen, face expressionless, hands dead at his sides. “Yvonne was injured.” A blink brought life back to his eyes. They focused on hers again, as if he’d suddenly awakened from a nightmare.
A nightmare he relived every day.
Her heart ached for him, for what he’d lost—a future with the wife he adored. Everything.
What had he been like before that had happened? Before she was taken away? Maybe he’d been the person the pictures on the walls depicted—easygoing and quick to laugh, maybe even the life of the party. “I can’t imagine,” she whispered.
“I knew it was bad.” The words trembled through his lips. “She had a broken arm, but she said she was fine.” His mouth tightened.
Avery gave in. “It’s okay, Bryce. You don’t have to tell me…”
His head shook, but his eyes changed again, wandered back to a dark, empty place. “I didn’t have cell reception.” A helpless look gouged his cheeks. “So I hiked. I went as fast as I could but it took hours. By the time I got back to the accident site, she was…gone.”
It required a strength she didn’t know she possessed to remain seated on her side of the table instead of rushing over to try to soothe that haunted look off his face. “How did she…?” She couldn’t even bring herself to say the word. “What happened?”
“Head injury. A hemorrhage in her brain.”
Well, no wonder he’d been so worried about her when Buttercup had thrown her. The poor man. His sorrow seeped into her with a cold shiver. She looked across the room and glimpsed the mountains outside. How could the world be so beautiful and so ugly at the same time?
“I never should’ve left her out there alone,” Bryce said. “I should’ve stayed with her.”
“You couldn’t have known. There’s no way.” And even if he had known, he couldn’t have saved her. Not out there. Not by himself. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said, desperate to take that burden off of him. It was too much for anyone to carry through life.
“That’s what everyone tells me.”
Avery straightened, lifted her head so she could beam the truth into his eyes. “You don’t believe them?”
“Most days I do. Now. I’ve come a long way. Trust me.” Pain shadowed his eyes, but they held resolve, too.
That was it, what made him so appealing—his quiet strength, his deliberate nature.
“Avery…” he hesitated, then targeted her eyes again. “You should know that I’m an alcoholic.”
That word. She hated that word. When she was little, when things got bad with Mom, people had whispered that word when they didn’t think she was listening. Then finally, one day, her nanny had said it to someone on the phone. She was ten, old enough to know what it meant. “She’s my mom!” Avery had screamed, because people were forgetting who her beautiful mother really was, and she didn’t want to forget. “She’s not an alcoholic. She’s my mom!”
Gulping water, she attempted to quiet her own memories.
“I just got out of rehab a few months ago. It was a long time coming,” Bryce said, his face coloring. “It started in college, got worse after we were married.” His stare lifted to hers, hard and intense, like he was battling the temptation to look away. “We didn’t have the greatest marriage. We were young. She struggled with depression, but we never talked things through.”
“I get that,” she offered. It reminded her so much of her parents, dancing around the issues that chipped away at the foundation of their family, because no one had seemed to know how to fix them.
“Three days before the accident, we had a fight.” His pause stretched into a weighty silence, but she let it be. He had to do this. She could tell. He had to share it with someone.
Finally, his eyes wandered back to hers. “She confronted me about the drinking, about how I was never there for her. She was right. I wasn’t.”
“You were sick.” Avery understood that, too, better than he could ever realize. Mom had wanted to be there for her, but she couldn’t be. And that only seemed to make everything worse…
“That day, she screamed at me. I screamed at her. It was ugly, but it felt like we were finally getting somewhere, you know? Being honest?”
“Yes. I know,” she murmured. Honesty might have changed everything for Mom and Dad.
“The day of the accident felt like a new start. It was our anniversary. We packed a picnic and got in the Jeep…” The words trailed off, but another pause seemed to replenish his strength. “We talked about getting her on some medication and me joining an AA group. So both of us could get healthy before we started a family.” His eyes closed. “God, Avery. I wasted so much time. I wish I would’ve gotten sober before…”
“All that matters is that you did it,” she said firmly. He had to know that proved how much he loved his wife. “My mom never did. She drank herself to death.” Until she was sick and wasted away. She’d lost her mother little by little. “You loved Yvonne enough to go, even though you couldn’t be with her anymore. She’d be so proud of you, Bryce.”
“I still love her.” He shoved his unfinished plate to the center of the table. “I’ll always love her, but I know I need to move on. That’s not a clear answer to your question, but it’s honest.”
It was clear. At least to her. He was exactly like her father, tethered to his dead wife by guilt. He may not be committed to Yvonne anymore, but he was committed to the guilt. And that made it easier for her to remember why she sat across the table from him.
This offer, the money, could lead him away from his past. It could give him a new future. But she had to finesse it so he didn’t get all defensive again. “Yvonne must’ve been an amazing person,” she said, forcing herself to look at him with a genuine smile so he wouldn’t see through her next question. “Did you two ever dream of living someplace else?”
“No.” Those green eyes steeled with defiance. Never had one syllable said so much.
But she refused to accept it. Everyone had a place they dreamed about when the stress of life pressed in too hard. Mom used to dream about living in a cabin in the mountains, surrounded by beauty, away from the noise and the rush. She’d dreamed of a place exactly like the Walker Mountain Ranch, a place protected from the ugliness of the world.
Avery set down her fork. “But if you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?” Because I’ve got twenty-three million dollars in my pocket and it’ll take you wherever you want to go.
“Don’t know.” He rested his elbows on the table and leaned over them in a casual I am so laid back pose. “I traveled all over in college. Backpacked through Europe. Surfed in New Zealand. But I can’t imagine living somewhere else.”
“Come on, Bryce.” She bounced her eyebrows with enticement. “Anywhere. Do
n’t tell me that’s not tempting.” She knew she sounded like an overbearing big sister, but they were so close. All she had to do was encourage him to chase his dreams and the signature would be a formality.
He glanced out the windows. Something held his gaze. “I guess …well, here’s the thing. It doesn’t matter where I live.”
“Of course it matters. I’m talking anywhere. If price was no object. If you didn’t have to work.” Because he wouldn’t. Not with twenty-three million dollars.
A weighted silence yawned between them, then Bryce drilled his gaze into her. “I guess I care more about who I live with.”
The intention, the thought behind those words, stilled her to the point that she no longer heard the fire’s crackles, the wind’s sigh against the windowpanes. The haunted look on his face told her that he would never take another relationship for granted. He wouldn’t live for thrills or beauty or luxury or quiet solitude. He would live for the people he loved. For Elsie and his friends, and maybe someday for a woman who gave him a reason to let go of his past.
Oh, Bryce. A sigh welled up and came out in a whoosh of longing. That woman, the one he chose, would be the most adored woman in the world. She had no doubt. But she also knew it couldn’t be her. She was not enough to make him forget. She couldn’t heal that deep wound.
Avery forced herself to maintain eye contact, even though her eyes burned. “You’re right. That’s so much more important.” A hard swallow dissolved the lump in her throat. Forward. She had to move forward. “Maybe that person is out there somewhere.”
He kept his eyes trained on her. “Maybe.”
The tips of her ears burned. An opportunity loomed in front of her. She had to take it now, or she’d lose the courage. “Don’t you think you should look? I mean, this place is great, but doesn’t it tie you down?”
His shoulders tightened and he sat straighter.
Avoiding his captivating eyes, she fished the offer out of her handbag. Because she had to. For him. For Dad. “Our offer still stands. We’re prepared to give you twenty-three million dollars for this property.” Hands shaking, she placed it flat on the table and pushed it across where he could read it.
No Better Man Page 17