Worth the Trouble (St. James #2)

by Jamie Beck

  Jackson stopped himself and glanced at Hank. “You’re the only person I trust, and it would make me feel better if you’d let me compensate you somewhat for what’s happened. I’d still be available by phone when needed. Maybe we could set up weekly conference calls or something. And, when I come back, you can keep working for me unless you find something else you’d rather do.”

  Hank sat back in the chair, dumbfounded. When Jackson had arrived earlier, he’d never anticipated this conversation. Run the business for a couple of months? Could he do it? He wouldn’t mind the pay upgrade or help with his mom, and this wouldn’t be charity, either. “You need to hire at least one new carpenter before you go.”

  Jackson smiled. “I know. I’ll take care of that, but you should meet with the prospective candidates, too. I mean, if you’re willing to help me out. I know I don’t deserve it, considering how I ignored your warnings.”

  “I’m glad you’re stepping back. I can probably get you through the existing projects, but don’t count on me to actively seek out new ones. I don’t know enough about bidding work to feel comfortable with that responsibility.”

  “Deal.” Jackson stuck out his hand.

  Hank stood to shake Jackson’s hand, but Jackson yanked him into a man hug and slapped his back. “Thanks, man. I’d hoped you’d say yes.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Jackson tilted his head. “So, I’ve got one more task to complete, then I’ll get out of your hair.”

  Hank raised a brow and held his breath.

  Jackson nodded toward the envelope on the table. “Whatever is in there is from my sister. She asked me to give it to you, and for you to return it ‘when you’re done,’ whatever that means.” Jackson lifted the envelope off the table and handed it to Hank. “I know it’s none of my business, but she seemed damned sad the other night. She’s not as tough as she likes to act. I don’t know what happened with you two, but if you think it can be fixed, try.”

  When Hank remained mute, Jackson held up his hands again. “Okay. Don’t answer. Just thought I’d give it a shot. I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll work out how to transition things before I take off. My goal is to be out of here by October first, if possible.”

  “Where are you going?” Hank asked. “Rehab?”

  “I’m not sure.” Jackson stopped and looked at the sky. “I’m thinking Vermont. Maybe private counseling, hiking, fishing, and kayaking will give me time to settle my mind and recharge.”

  “Good luck with that,” Hank said before Jackson turned, waved, and went to his truck.

  Hank leaned his body against the closed door, mulling over Jackson’s remarks about Cat. He’d spent the past two weeks in agony, in large part from regret about the way he’d handled their situation, the things he’d said to her in Chicago.

  Sitting back on the sofa, he tore open the envelope, half expecting it to be the legal documents necessary to dissolve their short-lived company. Instead her diary landed on his lap with a thud.

  Stunned, he turned it over, remembering the first time he’d seen it in her room at Block Island earlier this summer, when she’d been so drunk all her defenses had fled and she’d asked him to stay.

  His heart thumped hard in his chest. The most guarded woman he knew had just handed him her most private thoughts. He stared at it, rubbing the soft leather with one hand. The trust she’d just thrust into his lap humbled him beyond words. So much so, he almost didn’t want to invade her privacy by reading it. Almost.

  Before he opened the journal, he decided not to read any entries that preceded the wedding weekend. Whatever had happened before that had no relevance to everything that had occurred since.

  Resolved, he opened the book and flipped to the weekend of June 11 and began reading.

  Hank approached Cat’s apartment door with a dry mouth and nervous stomach. Too late he remembered it was Sunday. She’d be going to Esther’s this afternoon. Maybe she was already there.

  He should’ve called before coming, but he didn’t want to risk her shying away.

  He blew out a breath and straightened his shoulders before knocking. He licked his lips and stared at the door. Nothing. He raised his hand to knock again but she suddenly opened the door.

  “Hank.” Her eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in?” Her beauty had always kicked his knees out from under him, but today all he saw were shadows of sorrow dimming her face. When he held up her diary, her lips parted with a slight gasp.

  “Of course.” She took it from him and stepped back, granting him entry. Her gaze rested on his splint. “I’m sorry about your injury. How’s your wrist?”

  “I won’t know for a few months.” He extended the splinted arm. “I’ll start therapy soon, then we’ll see.”

  “What about your mom?” Her brows pinched together in concern. “How will you manage?”

  “She’s in a facility for now. Not sure when or if she’ll ever return home.”

  Cat moved toward him but then stopped and linked her fingers together in front of her body. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s the last thing you wanted to have happen. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Come back.

  “Not really. Turns out you were right. There really wasn’t anything I could do for her after all.”

  Cat shook her head. “I was wrong to force you to choose. I panicked, and I let it get the better of me. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for the way I behaved.” Her mouth twitched into a grim smile. “I suppose it doesn’t surprise you. Seems I’m always having to apologize for my bad behavior.”

  “Actually, I owe you an apology, too. I did make you promises I didn’t live up to, and I’m sorry I didn’t stop to consider what you needed that day.” He hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. He decided to take a page from her playbook and change the subject . . . ease into the conversation. “Jackson told me about the intervention.”

  “It was unpleasant, but necessary.” Cat wrapped her arms around her waist. She gently twisted her torso side to side as if she were rocking an infant in her arms. That thought saddened him because, after reading her diary, he knew she believed she’d never be anyone’s mother. “I hope it works.”

  “I think it did.” Hank waited to catch her eye. “He says he’s making some changes. Even asked me to step in for him while he takes off to figure stuff out.”

  “What?” Cat’s eyes widened again, this time with alarm. “Taking off to where? How do we know he’s not running off just to get away from us and do whatever he wants?”

  “I believe him. Between what happened with Doug, and Vivi and David’s big news, he sees the need to change. Don’t worry.”

  “So you know about David and Vivi.” Cat straightened her spine and smiled, but he could see pain behind her eyes.

  “Yes. It’s wonderful for them” His voice dipped. “But after reading about your diagnosis, I have to ask, how are you feeling? No one would blame you if it hurt a little.”

  Her eyes met and held his for a few seconds. He kept his gaze steady and reassuring so she’d know he didn’t pity her. So she’d realize he wasn’t going anywhere, either.

  “I’ll probably experience mixed emotions throughout her pregnancy, but I won’t let it interfere with their happiness.” Cat’s rueful smile tugged at his heart. “Don’t worry about me. I’m tougher than I look. By the time the baby arrives, I’ll be fully ready to be a loving aunt.”

  Hank ached to comfort her. To figure out how to lessen her sorrow. But first he needed to convince her that he didn’t care about her diagnosis and that he wouldn’t regret that decision—ever. “Can I sit?”

  “Sure.” She sat in a chair, fidgeting with her hands and the hem of her shirt. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thanks.” Hank shook his head and cleared his throat. He tugged at his shirt collar because, despite the air-conditioning, his body temperature spiked about ten degrees. “Listen, I’m going to say
what I came here to say, and I want you to hear me out. Really hear me.”

  Cat nodded and sat on her hands.

  “First of all, thank you for trusting me with your journal. After the way things ended, I don’t think I deserved it. I’ve chewed myself out many times since leaving Chicago, but didn’t know what to do or say. After getting that text from you, I decided to give you the out you seemed to want.

  “Second, I want you to know I didn’t read everything in your diary. I only read the pages since Vivi’s wedding. Now I understand why you looked so fragile that weekend, why you drank so much, and a big part of the reason why you’ve been pushing me away. I wish you’d have felt safe telling me the truth sooner. Maybe then I could’ve convinced you that you aren’t any less of a woman in my eyes just because you can’t have kids. If you believe nothing else I have to say, know that you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing.

  “I know you think you did me a favor by walking away. And one day I might’ve found and loved some other woman, but she’d never be you. She wouldn’t dream big dreams for herself and everyone else she cared about. She wouldn’t try to have it all, or push me to my limits. She wouldn’t challenge me when I was wrongheaded, or tease me just to push my buttons, or teach me that the only way to have a life worth living is to create it myself instead of waiting for it to happen.” He cocked his eyebrow and grinned. “And she sure wouldn’t be a woman with your sexy lingerie.”

  Cat’s eyes misted, but she remained stock-still. Hank leaned forward.

  “If you don’t love me—if you can’t see yourself being happy with me and my simpler life—then I’ll accept that and walk away. But don’t push me out because you’re afraid I can’t be happy with you. ’Cause the truth is, I’m not happy without you, Cat.”

  His eyes stung from his own damned tears. “I’m not pretending the fact we probably won’t ever create children together is insignificant, but it also doesn’t mean we can’t create a family. Somehow, some way, we can. It’s too early to make lifelong promises, but let’s at least be willing to take a chance. To figure out if what’s between us is something that can last. You won’t be the only one risking your heart, Cat, ’cause I’m already there.”

  Hank crossed the room and kneeled beside Cat the instant he noticed her lips trembling. He raised her hand toward his mouth and kissed her wrist. “Please trust me when I tell you I know my own heart.”

  “I want to believe you.” She wiped beneath her eye and sniffled. “You have to know how much I want to believe you.”

  “Believe it. Roll the dice with me,” he said before he pulled her into a kiss that carried two weeks’ worth of emotion and longing. Home.

  “I missed you, Hank. I missed you so much.” Her wet cheeks brushed against his neck as he held her tight, thankful to God for giving him another shot.

  “I missed you, too.”

  An urgent rush of desire caused him to push her deeper into the chair and claim her mouth with the hungry kisses of a starving man. Cat’s hands slipped beneath his shirt and scorched his skin. He locked eyes with hers, reveling in her heated gaze and swollen lips.

  He glanced down at her shirt. His voice turned husky. “What skimpy underwear are you hiding under there? More red?” Using his good hand, he tugged her open collar aside to expose a white floral-embroidered underwire bra. The contrast between the innocent appeal of the fabric and the sinfully sexy woman aroused him beyond measure. “I love your fancy bras.”

  He dragged his mouth across her cleavage and over the sheer material, sucking it hard. Cat arched her back and moaned.

  “I missed this,” Hank uttered against her skin. Goose bumps broke out along his back wherever her hands brushed his skin. “I love the way you taste.”

  “I love the way you make me feel,” she murmured into his ear.

  Hank held her close. “I love you, Catalina. Don’t shut me out again, okay?” His thumb was caressing her cheeks when he felt a tear. “What’s wrong?” She shivered, so he tried to hold her tighter despite his splint. “Tell me.”

  “I hope you don’t ever regret me.”

  “Don’t be afraid, Cat.” Hank smiled and kissed her collarbone. “I’ll never, ever regret you.”

  EPILOGUE

  Mom,

  This is the first Christmas I’ve looked forward to since you died. I put your lighted angel on the top of my tree and made a wish, although it seems like most of my wishes have already come true. One will never happen (your meeting Hank), but I finally believe some day, some way, I will be a mother.

  When that happens, I hope I can be half the mother—half the woman—that you were.

  Cat pulled into Hank’s driveway and parked behind his truck. She swung open the front door and called out, “Hello?”

  No answer. She crossed to the master bedroom, which he’d moved into recently. Although his mother never returned home, Hank had left her room untouched until she died the week following Halloween. Two weeks later, Cat had helped Jenny clear out the room and then convinced Hank to repaint and decorate it for himself. She popped her head inside the door, but it was empty.

  Swiveling around, she walked through the house and into the backyard. A faint melody emanated from his shop, and she saw lights on through the garage windows.

  Once his wrist had healed well enough to be optimistic about a full recovery, they’d revisited their plans for Mitchell/St. James and taken a private commission to build David and Vivi a dining room table.

  Cat loved watching him work, so she sauntered over to the garage to peek inside.

  Hank sat on the floor, wiping down the legs of a gorgeous burled-wood writing desk. When the door creaked, he swung around.

  “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you this evening. I thought you had a final today,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be studying?”

  “Early morning test, which I’m sure I aced. I’m free until January now.” She crossed her arms to fend off the cold. “What are you working on?”

  “This isn’t for a customer.” He grinned. “It was going to be a surprise for you, but now you’ve busted me.”

  “For me?” She stepped closer, confused.

  Hank stepped aside and gestured toward the desk. “I figured you could use a desk now that you’re pursuing a marketing degree.”

  “I love it!” Cat ran her hand along the top, then frowned. “Did I just ruin my Christmas gift?”

  He reached for her and pulled her in for a kiss. “Not entirely. You’ll have to be patient for the rest, though.”

  “Not my strong suit,” she admitted. She glanced over his shoulder at the desk again and noticed two shallow drawers. Easing out of his arms, she started to open one, but he batted her hand. “Oooh, now I’m really curious.”

  “Don’t!” he said, too late.

  Unfortunately, she’d already managed to duck beneath his arm and open the drawer. Inside sat a ring box. “Oh!”

  Hank rested his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Now you’ve ruined your Christmas, and all my plans.”

  Cat should have felt sorry and apologized and maybe even been a little sad, but all she could do was smile and bounce on her toes. At least her response made Hank grin—a good thing under the circumstances.

  “Guess there’s no reason to make you wait another five days, is there?”

  Cat shook her head, which elicited a chuckle from him.

  Hank withdrew the little velvet box from the drawer, his grip so tight with anxiety his knuckles were white. “I had an elaborate, romantic scavenger hunt planned, but maybe it’s better that I do this here in the dusty garage where you first opened up to me about who you really are and what you need.

  “We’ve certainly had our ups and downs since we first met, but even in our worst moments, you captivated me. I can barely remember my life before you blew into it like some crazy monsoon, turning everything inside out and upside down—in the very best way. I can’t imagine life without you, and
I don’t want to have to try. So I hope you’ll agree to continue down this road we’re on. Together I know we’ll build an amazing business, family, and life if you’ll agree to marry me.”

  He’d barely finished his sentence when she jumped into his arms and kissed him.

  “Don’t you even want to see the ring?” He laughed.

  “Of course I do!”

  He opened the box and withdrew an emerald-cut diamond set in a band of pavé diamonds. Classic, elegant, perfect. As he slid it on her finger, he whispered, “Merry Christmas, Catalina. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, and I can’t wait to be your wife.”

  Hank ran his hands along her thighs, grabbed her butt, and kissed her. “Jenny’s not home. Wanna go inside?”

  “You know it.” She kissed his neck.

  He lifted her up and spun her around in his arms, sending a flurry of sawdust into the air around them, which caused Cat to sneeze.

  “Bless you.” Hank set her down. He regarded her with reverence as he trailed his finger along her jaw. “Bless you, Catalina,” he said before kissing her.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. Bless us.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks to my family and friends for their continued love, encouragement, and support.

  And none of this would be possible without my agent, Jill Marsal, as well as Chris Werner, Krista Stroever, and the entire Montlake family believing in me, and working so hard on this story.

  A special thanks to Tom Throop of Black Creek Designs, who patiently answered my questions about his background and his handcrafted fine-furniture business (and for making me the most gorgeous desk). For the sake of fiction, I took liberties with the information he provided, but I so appreciate all of his time and input.