The Good Girl's Second Chance (The Bravos Of Justice Creek 2)

by Christine Rimmer

  “And then you’ll block him from Tilly’s. After that, he’d have to get them delivered from Boulder. All I’m saying is, why make it easy for him? Not to mention, Jody can send you a copy of the original order and of the note that came with the flowers, meaning you’ll have proof that he sent them.”

  “Hmm. Well, proof would be good...”

  He studied her worried face. “You’re still not on board with this. Why?”

  She reached up and pressed her soft hand to his cheek. “I’m ashamed to admit it...”

  “You got nothing—nothing—to be ashamed of.”

  “Yes, I do. In the end, I’m my mother’s daughter through and through. I don’t want to call Jody because I’m worried about what your sister’s going to think of me.” He probably shouldn’t have grinned at that, but he did. And she shoved at his shoulder. “Don’t you laugh at me.”

  “I’m not laughing, and you’re worried about nothing. I can tell you what my sister’s gonna think.”

  “Oh, really?” She kind of looked a little like her mother right then, one eyebrow raised, all superior and cool—not that he was fool enough to tell her that. “Now you read minds?”

  He shrugged. “Jody will think that you’re engaged to me and you don’t want flowers from other guys.”

  She blinked. “Oh. Well. That’s a good point. She probably will think that. I would think that.”

  “Damn straight.” He bent close and nuzzled her throat. God, she always smelled so good.

  She wrapped her hand around the back of his head, threading her soft fingers into his hair. “Come to bed now,” she whispered.

  He kissed her once, hard and fast. “We’re not done here.”

  She groaned. “I can tell by the look in your eyes. I’m not going to like whatever it is you’re going to say next.”

  “Probably not. You need to call your mother. We need to have a talk with her.”

  “Quinn! How can you say that? I’m not speaking to my mother.”

  “Yeah, you are. At least long enough to get what we can out of her. You said she’s been in touch with Davies.”

  “Which is why I don’t want to talk to her. She betrayed me.”

  “Chloe. Think about it. We need to know exactly what she’s told him—and what he’s said to her.”

  “That’s assuming she’ll answer a single question we ask her.”

  “We need to try.”

  “No. Really, I don’t want anything to do with her. Everything else will be plenty, more than plenty.”

  He ran a finger down the side of her throat. Smooth as satin, every inch of her skin—and he needed to keep on task here. He explained, “So far, Ted’s the aggressor. Always has been. So far, the way it’s always been, he chases you. You see that, right? You see that has to change.”

  “But I don’t want to chase him or aggress on him. I just want to be finished with him, to have him completely out of my life.”

  “Yeah, well, Chloe, sometimes the only way to get rid of a problem is to make yourself ready to stand up against it. So if the time ever comes when you have to go toe-to-toe, you’re in the light.”

  “What does that mean, the light?”

  “It means that whatever you can learn about your opponent, you learn. You don’t hide from the facts. You don’t lie to yourself. You don’t go brushing things under carpets and worrying about what other people are gonna think. You admit your own weaknesses and work to get stronger. You never deny his strengths or refuse to admit how far he might go. You bring everything out in the open. Into the light.”

  She dipped her head close and rested against his shoulder. In a small voice, she asked, “My mother? Really?”

  He tipped up her chin to him. “You can call her in the morning.”

  “Ugh.”

  “You watch. It’s going to be fine.”

  “Keep telling me that.”

  He gathered the fabric of her big shirt in his two fists. “Right now I got other things on my mind. Lift up your arms.”

  * * *

  Grateful that they were finally through discussing what to do about Ted, Chloe lifted her arms. Quinn took her pink shirt up and away.

  “Come here.” She tried to reach for him again.

  “Wait.” He got up, but only to pull back the covers. “What’s this?” His eyes had that gleam in them. And the look on his face sent heat surging through her.

  “Tap pants.”

  “Pretty.” He bent close and ran a slow finger along the lace band that crossed her stomach just below her navel. Goose bumps chased themselves across her skin, and longing pounded in her veins with every hungry beat of her heart. He eased the tap pants down and tossed them over his shoulder.

  By the time he rose to his height and yanked his T-shirt over his head, she’d all but forgotten about her mother, about Ted, about the unpleasant things she needed to do in the morning to bring the situation “into the light,” as he called it.

  For now, for the rest of the night, there was only Quinn. Only this beauty they had between them, only the feel of his hands on her yearning flesh, the deep rumble of his voice filling her head. Only her need to be with him, held by him, filled so full of him that there was only her love for him and the hope and joy he brought her, day by day.

  Naked, he came down to her. She wrapped her arms around him, breathing in the clean, male scent of him, loving the feel of him under her hands. He rolled them until he was on his side of the bed, on his back, with her on top. With a gasp and a short burst of laughter at the suddenness of the move, she gazed down at him. Such a beautiful man, inside and out.

  “What?” he asked, gathering her hair and lifting it, wrapping it around his arm the way he loved to do. “You don’t want to be on top?”

  Any way he wanted it was fine with her. “I’ll be on top.” She bent and pressed her mouth to his. “On top is perfect.” Even better because they didn’t have to fumble for condoms anymore, not since the talk they’d had a couple of weeks before. She’d been on the pill for months, long before the first time he came up the hill to her. As for safety, well, there’d been no one for her since her divorce. For him, it had been over a year. And since that slipup that became Annabelle, he’d never gone without protection.

  More kisses, deep and wet and never-ending. He unwound her hair and smoothed it back over her shoulder. It only fell forward again, curling between them, tangling around them.

  He caressed her with long, lovely strokes. She rose up to her knees above him as he touched her, his big hands moving down her body, cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. When he found the heart of her, she cried out. He answered with a low groan of satisfaction as he dipped inside and, oh, she was so wet and so ready.

  She couldn’t wait any longer. She reached down and wrapped her eager fingers around the thick, hard length of him. The sound that escaped him then was like a groan of pain.

  But it wasn’t pain. It was pure pleasure. She guided him into her and sank slowly down, taking him deep and then deeper still. He surged up, meeting her, filling her all the way, until she let her head drop back and gave herself up to him.

  The only word in her mouth was his name, the only thought in her head was of him, of the two of them, together, with nothing between them but heat and wonder and the slow, thick pulse of their shared pleasure, their mutual desire.

  He came first, his big hands at either side of her waist, holding her down, tight to him, hard. She felt him pulsing and that sent her over, too.

  In the end, she collapsed on top of him. He wrapped her up close in those muscled, inked arms of his. And he brushed kisses against her cheek. He breathed them into her tangled hair, laid them in a sweet, hot line along the curve of her shoulder.

  A little while later, before they went to sleep, he told her about his bedtime conversation with Annabelle. When he finished, his sea-green eyes full of fatherly doubt, he asked, “You think I did okay?”

  �
�You did beautifully. Just right.”

  He grunted. “But I’m not out of the woods on the subject of Annabelle’s mom yet, am I?”

  “Truth?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “The good news is you’ve told Annabelle what she needs to hear for now. She probably won’t bring it up again for months, maybe years.”

  “But she will bring it up again. That’s what you’re tellin’ me, right?”

  “Almost certainly, yes.”

  “Crap.”

  “Lighten up, Quinn. It’s human nature to want to understand where we came from.”

  “Yeah. Okay. I know you’re right.”

  “I am right—about this, anyway. And you really are a good dad.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Absolutely. You love her. She knows it. She’s a happy little girl. That’s what matters. The rest, you’ll work out as you go along.” She turned to glance at the bedside clock. After midnight. “Let’s get some sleep.” She sat up and turned to reach for the switch.

  He touched her shoulder. “Chloe...” His voice was hesitant now. Careful.

  She dropped her arm and focused on him. “Now what?” She said it teasingly, with a silly eye roll and a breathy laugh.

  But he wasn’t laughing. Far from it. He stared at her, a burning kind of look, his eyes gone dark as night. “I want to set the date. I want us to be married. And soon, like you said when you told me yes. I want you living in my house. Or we can buy another house that you like better. Anything you want. It doesn’t matter where we live. It matters that we belong to each other and that the whole world knows that we do.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “I...” Chloe had nothing.

  It was getting to be a habit with her. Quinn brought up setting the date, and instantly her mind was a muddy swirl of all the stuff she hadn’t worked through yet, of Ted and her mother, all the leftover threads of her old, screwed-up life that kept popping back up to remind her of her mistakes, her questionable choices, her longtime fear of facing hard truths.

  Quinn’s gaze burned right through her. And then he echoed her. “‘I...’? One little word. That’s it? That’s all you got?”

  It wasn’t all. Not by a long shot. There was so much. Starting with I love you. She desperately needed to tell him that. But she just didn’t feel she had the right yet. She wanted to be good for him, someone who made his life better, not someone who dragged him down. “There’s so much going on.”

  His full mouth became a hard line. He wasn’t falling for her excuses. “Lame, Chloe. You’re better than this.”

  “But that’s just the thing...”

  “What’s the thing?”

  What if I’m not better? What if I’m not all you think I am, Quinn?

  What if she never really got beyond the stupid choices she’d made in the past? What if he married her and ended up wishing he hadn’t?

  She had all these horrible doubts about herself. But he didn’t doubt her. He believed in her, so completely. In a way that no one else ever had.

  Somehow she needed to prove herself, needed to be certain that she wouldn’t end up letting him down. But how to do that? She didn’t have a clue.

  “Nothin’, huh?” His voice betrayed his disappointment, but his expression had softened. “Go ahead. Turn off the light.” He said the words so gently, giving in for now, letting her off the hook once again.

  She knew she should do better, say something meaningful and true. But what? He was right. Right now she had nothing more to offer him on this subject, and they both knew it.

  So she switched off the lamp—and then didn’t have the nerve to cuddle back against him. Instead, she rolled onto her side, facing away from him. Wrapping the covers close again, she clung miserably to her edge of the bed.

  His wonderful voice came out of the dark, all rough and low and grumbly. “Come here.” He reached out and hauled her back against him.

  Shamelessly, she snuggled in tight. She felt his warm breath stir her hair. Safe in his strong arms, she closed her eyes.

  * * *

  When she woke in the morning, Quinn had already left. She turned off her alarm before it could start chiming and lay back on her pillow and pictured him across the street, sharing breakfast with Annabelle and Manny. She wished she were there with them.

  And she could be there, living in his house with him, never again having to wake up and slide her hand across the sheet to the cool, empty space on his side of the bed. Even if she wasn’t ready to say “I do” yet, he would agree to her moving in if she asked him.

  But somehow that didn’t feel right, either. When she moved in, it really should be forever, for everyone’s sake. And she wasn’t ready for forever.

  Chloe showered and dressed for work. Before she ate breakfast, she called her mother. No way could she eat anything with that call ahead of her.

  Her mother answered on the second ring. “Chloe? This is a surprise.” Linda’s tone was etched in acid.

  Chloe ignored the sudden knot in her stomach and got right to the point. “Will you come here, to my house, tomorrow night at seven? I have a few things I’d like to clear up with you.”

  “What things?”

  “We’ll talk about them when you get here.”

  “I don’t like your tone, Chloe. I don’t like any of this. I don’t understand what’s happened to you. Your father told me that you’re engaged to Quinn Bravo—not that he had to tell me. Everyone in town knows. Everyone is talking.” She started firing off angry questions, not even bothering to pause for Chloe to answer. “Have you lost your mind? What’s the matter with you? This insanity is not like you. Are you going through some kind of life crisis?” She stopped for a breath at last.

  And Chloe spoke up before she could get rolling again. “Seven tomorrow night. Yes or no?”

  A long, nerve-racking silence and then, more softly, almost hopefully: “Yes. All right. I’ll be there.”

  “Good. I’ll see you then.” Chloe hung up.

  She had two cups of coffee and some toast and then went to work. Tai came in at ten that day. It was her first day as a full-time Your Way employee. She’d decided to go to a few online classes for at least a semester and then reevaluate whether to return to CU or not. It was a stretch budgetwise for Chloe, but Tai was willing to take minimum wage for a while, and her presence would free Chloe up to spend more time designing and working with clients. As soon as Tai arrived, Chloe let her handle the showroom and went to the small office room in back to call Bloom.

  “Chloe!” Jody Bravo seemed happy to hear from her. “Hey. What can I do for you?”

  “I...” Great. She was at it again. Doling out one-word sentences consisting of I.

  “Chloe? You there? Everything all right?”

  She started to lie, to chirp out a cheerful Oh, yes. Everything’s fine.

  But then she thought of all the years she’d told people things were fine when they were anything but. She thought of Quinn last night, telling her she needed to be “in the light.”

  “Chloe...?”

  “Oh, Jody. I’m sorry. This is difficult for me.”

  “It’s okay.” Jody really seemed to mean it. “Honestly. Whatever it is, whatever I can do, I’m happy to help.”

  Chloe forged on. “A month ago you got an order for me. You sent me a beautiful arrangement. Orchids and roses in a gorgeous square vase?”

  “Okay, yeah. I remember that. Do you recall the date?”

  It was burned in Chloe’s brain. She repeated it. Jody said, “Let me look... Got it. Came through FloraDora dot net. From a Ted Davies in San Diego.”

  “That’s it.” The truth was right there caught in her throat, pushing to get out. So she let it. “Ted Davies is my ex-husband and I don’t want any more flowers from him.”

  “Whoa. I hear you.” Computer keys clicked on the other end of the line. “Okay. That’s handled. If I get another order from him, I’ll refuse it.”

  “
Thanks. Thanks so much. And one more thing...”

  “Just ask.”

  “Do you have a copy of that order and maybe the text of the card that came with it?”

  “I do.”

  “Could you email that to me?”

  “The text of the card, absolutely. I can’t send the actual order form. But I can send you a confirmation that I received and filled the order. A confirmation would include the date of the transaction and that Ted Davies in San Diego had the flowers sent to you.”

  “That would be perfect.” Chloe rattled off her personal email address.

  Jody said, “Great.” More keys clacked. “I’ve sent what you asked for. And if he tries again, I’ll let you know.”

  “That would really help.”

  “And, Chloe, just so you know...”

  “Please.”

  “If he starts sending them anonymously from Tilly’s or elsewhere, you’ll probably get resistance from the florist when you ask for information about who sent them.” Jody lowered her voice. “The customer is king and all that...”

  “I understand. And I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.”

  “Anytime. And, Chloe...?”

  “Um?”

  “Maybe it’s none of my business, but...” Jody hesitated again.

  Chloe felt a curl of dread that the conversation was about to veer way out of her comfort zone. But then again, Jody was Quinn’s sister. And Chloe had already all but said that her ex was a stalker. Comfort zone? Forget about it. Chloe reminded Jody, “We’re family, remember?” Or they would be, if Chloe ever agreed to choose a date. “Ask me anything.”

  “Does Quinn know about this?”

  “Yes.” It did feel good to be able to reassure his sister that she hadn’t kept him in the dark. “Quinn’s the one who suggested that I call you.”

  “Perfect.” Jody’s relief was clear in her voice. “Exactly what I wanted to hear. You need anything else—anything—you just let me know.”

  Chloe thanked her again and they said goodbye. She disconnected the call—and the phone rang in her hand.

  It was Quinn. “Thought I’d check and see how you’re doing.”