The shock on his face forced her to her default setting—talk. Say something. Anything. “I know it might seem —”
“Did your mom leave you anything?” he asked, the hard edge in his words making him sound dangerous.
“What?” Why would he ask her that?
“Your mom. Before she died. Did she give you anything?”
Her chest tightened with a familiar grief. “This isn’t about my mom. This isn’t about me.”
“What was it?” He demanded.
A sting shot down her neck and pierced her chest. How did he know?
“You can tell me,” he said quietly. “What’d she give you?”
Her neck tensed as she prepared to shake her head in a hearty no, but she couldn’t lie to him. “She…gave me a necklace.” A simple beaded necklace that probably cost her five dollars at Walgreens. Sixteen years later, she still had it safely zipped into the inside pocket of her purse, as if it was some priceless artifact she could never replace.
“You protect it, don’t you? You keep it safe?” He watched her carefully.
She said nothing. Surely he saw the answer on her face.
“My grandparents gave me this.” He glanced around. “I know it doesn’t seem like much. But when you look at this place, you don’t see what I see.”
She couldn’t argue. He probably saw memories in every scuffed wall, in every dent on the floor. But that didn’t change the fact that it was about to go into foreclosure. “You’ll lose everything,” her professional tone slipped into a blatant pleading. “Don’t you see that? The bank will take it all away.”
“Avery.” His eyes pinned hers down. “You don’t have to worry about me. I have some potential investors.”
“Investors?” Her shoulders went limp with relief. That meant she could stop pushing him. She could walk away.
“Yeah. I mean, nothing’s set in stone, but—”
“You have to hurry,” she interrupted. If he didn’t, he’d lose the ranch. And after what he’d told her tonight, she didn’t want him to lose anything else. “Don’t wait.”
“I won’t,” he promised, then fired up that heart-stirring smile that lured her back into the land of possibilities. No. Not possible. Bryce was not possible. Time to go. Before it was too late. Her job was done, and so was she. She pushed back from the table and stood. “Thank you for dinner. For everything.”
“Wait.” He stood, too. “You’re leaving?”
She picked up the printed offer, folding and refolding it in her trembling hands. “I should get some sleep.”
“Okay…” His eyes narrowed. “Are you in pain? How’s your head?”
“I’m great. Everything’s great,” she choked out. “I’m happy for you, Bryce. Really. I’m so glad you get to stay here.” It was where he belonged. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She started to walk away.
“Hold on.” He followed her into the sitting room. “Can I call you tonight? Every couple of hours?”
Call her? She tried to read the look on his face. “Why?”
“You have a concussion. Someone should wake you up. Make sure everything’s okay.”
Right. The doctor had told her that she was fine, but after hearing Bryce’s story, she knew it probably wasn’t best to argue with him. “That’s fine.” She pasted on a smile. “Sure. You can call my cell.”
As quickly as possible, she gave him the number, then escaped to her room before she could change her mind.
When it came to Bryce, she couldn’t trust herself. Not even a little bit.
Chapter Seventeen
Buzzing. Incessant, mind-numbing buzzing. God, he hated that sound.
With a groan, Bryce rolled over and smacked the damn alarm. Hopefully broke it. He peeled his eyes open. Hadn’t he just closed them ten minutes ago? Squinting at the clock he tried to focus. Two o’clock. In the morning. Yeah. He hadn’t been asleep long. Tossing and turning didn’t count as sleep, and after Avery’s disappearing act, he hadn’t been able to get comfortable.
What had gone wrong? Dinner was fine, at least in his book. He’d had a great time, learned more about her, thought maybe they’d end up sitting by the fire, and after that, who knew what could happen?
Man, had he been mistaken.
She’d spooked for some reason, then run away from him. Talk about role reversal. That’d been his M.O. since she’d arrived at the ranch, but now when he’d finally manned up and told her about Yvonne, she’d bolted and left him wondering what the hell had happened.
He groped a hand across the nightstand until he found his phone. He had to call her. Maybe he should just come out and ask her what had gone wrong so he didn’t have to wonder all night.
Without bothering to raise his head from the pillow, he scrolled through, found her number, and dialed.
The phone rang. And rang. And rang.
“Great.” He threw off the covers, eased to the side of the bed and tried again. No answer. What the hell? He’d told her he was going to call. “Come on, Avery. Wake up.” He reached for the landline on the nightstand and dialed the extension for Room 5. Incessant ringing blared in his ears and cranked his neck tight. He slammed the receiver down and tried again.
And again.
Nothing.
Everything’s fine. But the scenes he’d tried so hard to delete from his memory played for him again as clear and crisp as if the accident had happened yesterday: Yvonne’s lifeless body slumped over a rock, as if she’d tried to crawl to find him, to get help. He could still smell the oil that had leaked from the Jeep, the acrid burning of the battered engine. A rising panic submerged the last shreds of sane logic. His pulse thrummed in his ears, the familiar precursor of impending panic.
He snatched his phone again, tried one more time. Avery would answer. She had to answer.
A series of lonely rings resounded in his ear.
Damn it. Why wasn’t she answering? He jolted off the bed and shoved on his boots. Without bothering to grab a shirt or a coat, he shot out of his apartment above the office, down the steps, outside, and across the parking lot to the lodge. Hands unsteady, he barged through the main entrance and sprinted to Room 5.
His fist pummeled the door. “Avery?” He stilled his body, listened.
No response.
He knocked harder. “Come on, Avery! Wake up!”
Silence.
He blinked against the images that had gotten stuck on replay and gripped the doorknob, shaking the whole thing hard. The door popped open.
A scream drilled into his eardrums.
“What the—” Bryce darted into the room.
Avery was sitting up, clutching the covers against her chest. “Bryce! It’s you!”
Who else would she expect? He looked around the room. “Why didn’t you answer the phone?” Adrenaline taxed his lungs. He could hardly breathe.
“I didn’t hear it.” Her voice was wispy and high, sleep-laden.
“You didn’t hear it.” He tightened his hands into fists so they’d stop shaking. “I called three times.”
“I’m a heavy sleeper.” She swiped her phone off the nightstand and studied it. Her eyes lowered sheepishly. “My ringer was off. I’m so sorry…” She shimmied out of the covers and stood next to the bed.
Holy…
Stripped pajama shorts and a white tank top clung to her curves. Curls cascaded from her ponytail and framed her face. Even with the bruises, her features managed to stun him. Those rosy cheeks, full lips. His gaze lowered to the perfect swells of her breasts, down to the sexy curve of her hips.
He couldn’t stop looking her over, every part of her. Nerve impulses fired all over his body. Hot, cold. Desire, anger. His body couldn’t decide.
“Is everything okay?” she asked through a sleepy yawn.
He swiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm and felt the cold shudder of shock. “You didn’t answer. You didn’t…I thought …” The explanations died in his throat.
&nbs
p; “Bryce?” She approached him slowly, her delicate hands outstretched. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He backed away before she could touch him, remnants of primal fear still squeezing a hand around his throat. “Nothing. I wanted to make sure you woke up. That’s all.” Yvonne never did. She never woke up…
His back collided with the door.
Avery crept closer, her gaze never leaving his, and damn it, he couldn’t stand that look in her eyes. He didn’t want her pity. He only wanted her.
“Bryce…” She reached for him.
Flinching, he stepped back. No. Not a good idea for her to touch him. Emptiness and need thundered through him, shaking the grounds of his rationality.
“It’s okay.” Her open hands raised to his face and cupped his cheeks. Her soft skin, the warmth of her palms, soothed that deepening ache.
His eyes closed, his jaw locked. He couldn’t take what he wanted so badly, not like this, not when memories crammed his thoughts…
“I’m fine,” she whispered gently.
Her thumbs stroked his skin and loosened his knees. His jaw worked, but he couldn’t form words. She was too close. The memories were too close. Everything jumbled together.
“Look at me.”
The blend of authority and empathy in her tone forced his eyes open. He stared into the blue depths of her eyes, concentrating on the silvery flecks that seemed to make them shimmer.
She guided his face closer to hers and stole his ability to swallow.
“I’m okay. Everything’s okay.”
He blinked at her, stilling himself, fighting the onslaught of desire that guided his hands to her shoulders, that curled his fingers around her bare flesh. God, she was so soft and warm and sweet with that orange blossom scent…
“I’m sorry I scared you,” she breathed, then brushed her lips against his.
The heat of her breath on his mouth, the softness of her skin against his, unlocked a rush of want that swept through him and flooded out the memories. He wanted to forget. He just wanted to forget.
Her lips sunk into his again, harder this time, more sure, and he couldn’t hold it off. Not anymore. He slid his hands down her back and pressed her against him, breathing her in, feeling her strength and her generous curves until he had to pull his hands back so he didn’t take more than she wanted to give him.
Avery leaned away and found his hands. She pressed her palms against his, then weaved their fingers together.
Gaze fused to his, she guided his hands back to her body and placed them at the swell of her hips, tempting him with a small smile that invited him to do what he wanted.
So much. He wanted so much. Too much… desire trembled through him, all the way to his hands, making them wander lower until they molded to her perfect ass and he could lift her up.
She wrapped her legs around his waist as his lips found hers. He lightly ran his tongue over her mouth and she opened hers to let him in. Her sigh ended in a moan and he felt the weight of her breaths against him. The jolt of her desire electrified the beat of his heart until his entire body pulsed.
Smiling against his mouth, taunting him with her tongue, she tangled her fingers into his hair.
“Bryce…” The breathless pant glowed against his skin. “Oh god, Bryce…”
Oh God was right. He held her tightly and kissed her harder, until the pictures from the past blurred and faded into an alternate reality. He pinned her against the wall and moved his mouth across her cheek, kissing his way down her neck…lower, lower.
She tipped back her head, giving him more access, so he kept going, kept kissing her sweet flesh all the way down to her collarbone.
Her legs tightened around him and his hands gripped her ass harder, caressing, savoring the feel of the thong through the thin fabric of her shorts.
“The bed,” she gasped, and he didn’t have to be told twice. Fitting his mouth to hers again, he carried her to the mattress and laid her on her back, then lowered himself down next to her.
Smiling again, she bit her bottom lip like she didn’t know what to do next. But he did. It’d been a damn long time, but he hadn’t forgotten.
“You’re perfect.” He moved his hands low on her stomach and slid them up, catching the hem of her tank top and raising it until he pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. Then he took his time letting his eyes wander over those curves, tracing a finger from the center of her chest down her to bellybutton. “Every inch of you is perfect.”
Starting just below her belly button, he kissed his way up her body, straining not to rush, not to touch her flawless breasts until she wanted him to…
“Oh, Bryce,” she murmured against his hair.
Taking that as a yes, please, he moved his lips higher, kissing her, stroking her flesh with his tongue.
She tightened her hold on his shoulders, then let her nails trail down his chest, gliding over his bare skin. That soft touch. Oh God, her touch. It throbbed through him, made him want to give her everything. All of him. He took his time exploring each millimeter of her upper body, moving slowly over the most sensitive parts of her, his own drive spurred on by her ragged breathing.
When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he raised his lips to hers, tasting her carefully to protect the wound on her forehead, the bruises on her face.
She pulled away and removed his boots, tossing them to the floor. Then she shimmied his pants right off his body, leaving his boxers on, unfortunately. He dammed back a breath. But no. He wanted it slow, wanted to explore her, to know her, to feel every part of her. Because she wasn’t just another girl. She was deep and real, and she’d managed to do what no one else could’ve. She’d managed to break through the barriers of his guilt and freed him to feel again.
Desire. Want. Desperation.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he grunted, then pulled her body over his.
Shooting him that tempting grin, Avery pushed her hands against his chest and sat up to straddle him. “I have an idea…” Her fingernails teased up his chest slowly and lightly until he was almost writhing underneath her.
Lowering her head, she touched her lips to his neck, grazing his skin with her tongue, pounding blood to the lower half of his body, moving her hips over him.
A feeling of pure ecstasy forced his eyes closed. How could he have lived without this for three years? “I want you, Avery,” he grunted against her skin. “I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone.”
“Mmm…” her lips worked their way down his chest, and that was that—she had him right where she wanted him, under a spell, breathing so heavily he felt like he was climbing to the top of the Bells.
Reaching over her, he massaged her shoulders, then hitched her up and pulled her over him so he could feel her body against his.
She arched her back, pressing her perfect breasts into him as his fingers dug into the soft flesh on her back. Then he moved his hands up to the sides of her face so he could pull her into another kiss before he slipped off her shorts and got a better look at that thong…
But when his hands cupped her cheeks, the bandage on her forehead came loose, draping over to one side and exposing her wound, the smears of dried blood. He blinked. The sight of his hands so close to the blood churned the past back into the present until red flooded his vision. Blood. So much blood. He’d held Yvonne’s head just like that, begging her to wake up, pleading with her to open her eyes…
“Bryce?” Avery’s voice broke through the chaos. She didn’t ask if he was okay. She didn’t say anything. She simply pressed the bandage back into place and stared down at him, her face warped with pity.
His heart sped into a painful rhythm that tightened his chest and closed his throat. No. Not now. But it was too late. The shakes started in his shoulders, convulsing down his back.
Avery slid off of him and bent so her face drew close. “Everything’s okay,” she whispered in a soothing tone. But she was wrong. Everything was not okay.
> Flames of humiliation licked at his face. He tore himself away from her and hunched over on the edge of the mattress. Breathe. Calm the blood flow.
Her hand crawled across his shoulder but he didn’t want her pity. He stood and faced the wall, lungs heaving now.
“Don’t go,” Avery’s voice wavered. “Not now. Not like this. Please.”
“I’m sorry.” He didn’t look at her. “I have to.” He couldn’t battle the rising panic there. Not in front of her. He couldn’t battle the craving to submerge it with a scotch on the rocks. He had to battle it alone. He’d always battled it alone.
Swiping his pants off the floor, he stumbled to the hallway.
“Bryce. Wait!” she called.
But he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to.
Chapter Eighteen
All set. Avery zipped the carry-on and set it on the floor, glancing around to make sure she’d gotten everything. With her legs confined by her black pencil skirt, feet teetering in her shiny black heels, she edged around the bed and carefully made it, smoothing out the quilt, already missing its weight over her. Who knew quilts were so warm?
After Bryce had walked out on her, she’d found comfort under that quilt, though she hadn’t slept much. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him…felt him, his hands on her, his lips against hers. The memory sparked again, moving through her in a slow heat. Battling it back once again, she arranged the pillows on the bed.
As soon as the early pink sunrise had glowed in her window, she’d gotten up and reclaimed Avery King, the professional, because that side of her, the logical and practical side, made much better decisions. So she’d packed away the jeans, the flowered tops, and the hiking boots, and dressed the part she played so well. Maybe a skirt and silky blouse and uncomfortable shoes would make it easier to say good-bye to Bryce.
With one last look around the room and an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, she opened the door. Rolling her luggage behind her, Avery tried to maintain a confident posture as she marched down the hall.
She shouldn’t have gotten that close to him. She’d known better, but he’d been so shaken. Goose bumps spread down her arms. God, the way Bryce had held her and touched her… like he needed her. A shiver coursed through her body. She hadn’t been able to think, not even one clear thought under the influence of his powerful hands, of his body against hers. Seeing him so vulnerable had gotten to her.
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