Sweet Dreams (Sweetwater Book 2)

by Rivi Jacks

  He smiles almost tenderly. “And that is what makes you brave, Sofie. You don’t let your fears stop you from doing what you feel you need to do.”

  “Sam sure had a lot to say,” I grumble.

  Lucas tugs on my hand to pull me close. “He did, and he said something else. Possibly the most important advice I’ve ever received.”

  “What?” I ask warily. Lucas reaches to tuck a curl that has escaped from my up-do behind my ear.

  “He said that if I wished to keep you in my life,” —Lucas speaks slowly— “I’d learn to accept and appreciate all that about you. You being the little warrior that you are.”

  I huff out my breath in a half laugh.

  “So,” —he continues— “I choose you.” My heart feels like it flutters and I hold my breath. “I’ll do anything I have to, to keep you in my life, Sofie. I’ve told you that before, but I didn’t realize how hard you were going to make it on me,” he teases, his eyes dancing with laughter.

  I laugh and blink away the sudden moisture in my eyes.

  “In the future, you don’t have to worry about me changing my mind, and I won’t plot to control you—”

  “You plot?” I ask in surprise.

  “Oh, yes.”

  I shake my head. He takes hold of my other hand. “I choose you, Sofie, but more importantly, I choose us.” His alluring eyes hold mine as he smiles down at me. “But you need to know—you scare the hell out of me sometimes, my sweet.”

  I laugh as he squeezes my hands.

  “There is one thing that will help that situation, though.” I arch an eyebrow not sure where he’s going with this. “Sofia Walker Reece—marry me.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  My jaw drops and all I can do is gape at him.

  I can usually tell when I blush, but I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the exact opposite. I feel light-headed, and I’m certain all color has drained from my face because all warmth has left me.

  Lucas reaches to pull my chair over. “Here, sit.” I gratefully drop down onto it. He squats in front of me, taking both my hands in his. “Not quite the reaction I was expecting.” His eyes drop to my hands, his forehead furrowing. “Your hands are as cold as ice.” He lifts his gaze to mine.

  “Lucas—” I breathe his name.

  He shakes his head. “Don’t say it.”

  “I’m so sorry—” I can barely speak.

  He abruptly stands and turns to walk back across the deck. He stands with his back to me, his hands in the front pockets of his slacks, his legs braced apart. Tears well in my eyes and I stand. I want to go to him, but I steel myself to remain where I am.

  “You know I love you,” I say softly. When he doesn’t respond, my heart nearly breaks knowing the pain I’m causing him. “I never imagined—”

  He turns to face me, his eyes piercing as he stands there watching me. “Didn’t you?” I shake my head weakly, and he runs one of his hands through his hair in frustration. “Where’d you think we were going with this, Sofie?”

  I start to reach out to him but quickly pull my hand back. “I never understood what you saw in me—” My voice trails off when I see the anger in his eyes.

  “I want to hear you say you don’t want to marry me.” His voice is tight and controlled.

  I shake my head, startled to realize how hard it would be to say that to him. “Please don’t make me say it,” I plead.

  A crease forms between his eyebrows. “Then explain why you don’t want to marry me.”

  I can’t stand to see his pain. “It’s not you. I just don’t want to marry—anyone.” I see the muscle in his jawline clench. “Lucas, if I were to ever marry, it would be you. Only you. But I can’t—”

  “Why?” He demands, his voice understandably angry.

  He’s asking a simple question, but the answer is very complicated. There’s no way I can explain without telling him about my parents, and I’m not sure I can do that.

  “You are going to answer me, Sofie, so stop stalling.”

  “I’m not stalling. This is—difficult for me.”

  “It won’t get any easier with time. Let’s have it.”

  “I—” I glance across the clearing to the Chevy Suburban where the chef Marcus is loading his supplies into the SUV.

  “Sofie,” Lucas says firmly, and my eyes dart back to him.

  “I can’t.” I reach over and snag my shawl hanging on the back of the chair and head for the road. I don’t get very far before Lucas’ hand clamps around my upper arm; his fingers tightening like a band of steel.

  “Don’t!” I need to be alone. I need to think.

  “You won’t make it back to the cabin in those heels.” He changes direction, leading me toward the Hummer. “And besides, I always deliver my dates safely home.” I see him smirk when I glance up at him.

  Neither of us say another word as Lucas drives back to the cabin. I stare out the window knowing if I look at him, I’ll start crying. I feel so sad, and I’m frightened that not only has our beautiful evening ended badly, but there’s a very real possibility our relationship may end.

  He follows me inside, and I head back to the bathroom, needing to get out of my dress. It just adds to the heartbreak of the situation. When I look at myself in the bathroom mirror, I’m shocked at the hopelessness I see in my eyes, and I tear up again. The thought of losing Lucas, never seeing him again, fills me with a fear that almost suffocates me with its intensity.

  I change into jeans and a soft gray sweater, deciding to leave my make-up as is and my hair in its up-do. It’s a ridiculous thought, but I’m not ready to erase all traces of the pleasant side of our date. I need a subtle reminder to hold onto. It’s frightening to know that how I handle the rest of the evening may very well define the rest of my life. I have to make Lucas understand why I can’t marry him. The small ache in the vicinity of my heart intensifies.

  When I enter the main room, I don’t see Lucas, and I panic thinking he’s left, but the French door off the kitchen area opens, and he steps back inside. His eyes immediately find mine and the fierceness I see there in the flashing silver is unsettling.

  I watch as his expression softens, and I’m sure it’s because he sees the relief in my eyes once I know he’s not left. Just as quickly, I feel unreasonable anger rear its ugly head. I know that in the initial intensity I saw in the depths of his eyes, I also saw a deep determination to railroad me into agreeing to his marriage proposal and I also know he will do so by any means. I do my best to control my temper, but it’s a natural response for me to get angry when I can’t handle a situation. It’s not one of my finer traits, I know.

  I take a deep breath and cross the room. “I’m going to have a cup of coffee; would you like one?” I ask as I move toward the coffeemaker. I feel a flush move over me. His intense perusal affects my body like a magnet, and the sensual pull is hard to ignore. My hand stills as I reach toward the cupboard for the coffee. I look at him my eyes narrowing as I assess whether or not he’s attempting to compel me.

  “No, thank you.” He walks to the liquor cabinet. Maybe I should have something stronger to calm my nerves.

  My eyes follow him as he moves with a fluid, sensual grace. He’s still wearing the black shirt and slacks with his suit jacket lying on the back of a kitchen chair. I continue to watch as he pours the caramel colored tequila into a crystal glass. Lucas exudes a magnetism that demands attention, and there’s an exciting possibility of danger about him that is more alluring than off-putting. He’s a temptation that you’re drawn to, a beguiling, dangerous creature that was designed in this way to attract his prey. On top of all that, the aura of power that surrounds him is impossible to ignore and it all adds up to a force to be reckoned with. Do I really think I can handle that force if he chooses to use his considerable charm
to induce me into marrying him?

  He looks up meeting my gaze dead on.

  I quickly turn back to the task of making coffee. The fine hair on my nape flutters softly, and I close my eyes. I can feel the heat of his body against my back as he draws one finger down the length of my neck. My breath escapes in a soft rush.

  “Your skin is as soft as velvet,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion.

  “Please, don’t,” I whisper as I fight to control my traitorous body. I need to keep distance between us if I’m going to be able to explain why I can’t marry him. It’s imperative that I keep focused and make him understand.

  “Sorry, my sweet, I’ve never played fair where you’re concerned.” He quickly spins me around, and I find myself looking up into his bold gaze.

  He’s going to kiss me. And with that thought he abruptly releases me and moves in that disconcerting way he has of being right in front of me and the next instant across the room, standing in front of the fireplace watching the flames.

  “What—” I lean back weakly against the cabinet and shake my head in a bid to right my equilibrium.

  “Come sit down, Sofie.” He turns and watches as I cross the room on shaky legs.

  I perch on the edge of the couch under his sharp scrutiny. It makes me nervous, and I shift uncomfortably.

  “You were going to explain why you won’t marry me,” he says.

  I frown at his tone. “It’s not that I won’t it’s—”

  “It’s what, Sofie?” he asks brusquely.

  My eyes widen. What the hell? I feel as if he’s attacking me.

  He closes his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry.”

  I take a deep breath. I need to remember that he’s hurt and confused. He has no idea— “If you sit down, I’ll try to explain.” He just stares at me. “Please, Lucas,” I plead softly.

  He holds my gaze a moment longer and then steps over to sit in the oversized armchair adjacent to the couch.

  I take a sip of my coffee before pulling my legs up to sit cross-legged. He watches me as I decide how to begin. I finally decide to just be honest.

  “I’ve never wanted to marry.”

  When I don’t say anything else, his eyebrow lifts. “That’s your explanation?”

  I swallow with difficulty. “I know you’re angry at me, but please be patient and… and I’ll explain… as I can.”

  His gaze holds mine, assessing I think, and then he nods.

  “I’ve never,” —I shake my head to emphasize the word never— “wanted to marry or have children.” My breath expels softly. “Just in case what my parents suffered from is hereditary.” I bite my lip looking at his impassive expression. “My parents—” Shit. “My parents had the kind of marriage that left me with scars.”

  “Sofie,” he says lightly. “Most children don’t escape their parent’s relationship unscathed.”

  I shake my head again. “I pray no other child had parents like mine.” I laugh a little harshly. “My folks were probably one of a kind.”

  Lucas takes a sip of his drink.

  “I’m not explaining this very well.” He doesn’t respond.

  I look into the fireplace and watch the flames as they dance and spark. “The problem wasn’t my parent’s relationship with each other, it was their lack of relationship with me.” My face warms with my embarrassment. With my admission of unworthiness.

  I clear my throat. “They didn’t want me,” I murmur, looking down at my hands. I shake myself mentally, and my quick laugh sounds a little brittle. I look up but avoid meeting his gaze. “They didn’t want any children, but I was a further inconvenience because I was a girl.” I raise my chin. “They sent me here to live with my grandparents when it was time for me to start school.” I’m not going to say anything about how hard that was for me. How much I missed them and how I cried for my mother every night for weeks while Gram held me in her arms. Add the horrors of my nightmares and— It’s a blessing I was ever able to be happy and that I managed to hold onto my sanity.

  “They traveled a lot, but they’d stop in occasionally to see me.” I look over at Lucas. “They always brought me a gift, though.” I nod as if that were a good thing. “They’d leave and time would pass, and I’d start to feel better—happier—and then they’d show up again—” I take another sip of coffee and turn to set the cup on the sofa table behind the couch. “I remember that at first, I’d beg them to take me back home with them.” I look over at him and quickly add, “It’s not that I wasn’t happy here or that I didn’t feel loved by my grandparents and my aunts and uncles. Actually—after being here for a few years, I realized that what they offered me was true love and acceptance. What my parents felt for me—” I look down and pick at a spot on my jeans. “I’ve never been able to figure out what my parents felt for me.” I look up to see the frown on Lucas’ face.

  “At about thirteen, I started going to them. To visit them in California. My father’s business kept him closer to their home base there.” I push loose hair back off my forehead, and my fingers move unconsciously to the pins holding my hair in place, pulling them free. I comb my fingers through the length of my hair, pulling it over my shoulder.

  “Of course, they continued with their social obligations, rarely spending more than an hour or two a day at home. They had to keep up appearances.” I look at him again. “I wasn’t alone, they had live-in help who were very kind to me.”

  I’m quiet then, watching the flames in the fireplace, delaying the inevitable.

  “When I was sixteen—” I begin softly. This is the part I’ve dreaded the most, the most painful and I’ve never told another living soul. I take a deep breath. “I went for a visit and my father informed me that—I was going to marry the son of one of his business associates.” From the corner of my eye, I see Lucas lean forward in his chair. “I told him he was crazy.” I cross my arms over my middle and frown at the memory. “I’d never spoken to my father like that. It angered him and—” I bite my lip, willing the hurtful memory to finally lose the ability to hurt me. “He struck me.” My voice is barely a whisper, and my face burns with humiliation. I shift uncomfortably and then push forward. “He said everything was already arranged—a done deal, and if I didn’t cooperate, he’d just marry me off by proxy.” I look at Lucas’ angry face. “He could do that,” —I nod— “he knew a lot of important people. Judges. Friends in politics.” My hands move to my stomach as I straighten my shoulders, and then one hand moves up to my forehead. “I was terrified. We had a horrible fight and when he realized there was no way I’d agree—he told me he owed his—business associate a lot of money. The man was a powerful businessman in his country, but it was essential to him for his son to marry into an American family. One with the connections my father had. So—” I shrug. Even with the passing of years and the death of my father, the shame is a visceral pain. I’ve never known such pain. Even at the hands of the Kihn.

  “Essentially—my father sold me.” I look down at my hands because I can’t bear to meet Lucas’ eyes. “He told me it was finally time for me to be of some use to him and my mother.” The gut-wrenching emotion of this confession makes it hard to breathe, my chest is tight, and I’m not sure I won’t be sick as I struggle to compose myself. I keep one thought as a lifeline, I have to finish this.

  “He took my phone, my purse—everything and locked me in my upstairs bedroom. I discovered from my mother when she came to talk some sense into me that we were scheduled to fly to Texas the next day. That’s where my father’s closest friend lived. He was a district court judge.” I look up with a rueful smile. “Fortunately, I had forty dollars in my pocket and a knack for climbing trees,” I say with false amusement.

  “And luckily, my parents couldn’t even stay in for the last night before their daughter’s wedding, so when they left for one of
their social gatherings that evening, I opened a window, climbed out onto the roof and scaled down a tree outside their bedroom window.” I glance at Lucas. He’s standing now, watching me intently but gives nothing away of his thoughts.

  “The first thing I did was to call my uncle Ben. I made him promise not to ask any questions and then I told him I needed to leave California—immediately.” God bless my uncle, he kept his word and didn’t ask a single question when he picked me up from the airport in Springfield. He’s never even brought the episode up. Ever. He also covered for me with Lucy and the others, informing them that something came up and my parents had to make an unplanned trip out of the country, hence the reason for my quick return. “Ben had his own connections, and he arranged for me to fly back here on a friend’s private jet. I was home by daylight, and—” I look down before whispering, “I never went back.” I look back up, meeting Lucas’ eyes and add softly, “At least not until after my father’s death.”

  “I was so afraid he would come for me—but he never did.” Knowing my Uncle Ben, I’m sure he had something to do with that. “I almost told Ben because I was terrified my father married me off by proxy as he’d threatened, but I was mortified at what my parents had planned and too ashamed to tell him.” I focus on the fire for several minutes.

  “Later I searched the internet for any record— I never found anything. When I went back to California for my father’s funeral, I tore his office apart. My mom eventually confessed that he didn’t go through with his plans. I made her let me into their safe deposit box though, just to make sure there was nothing in there.

  “They had no place in their lives for me.” I’m aware my voice sounds hoarse with tears, but I know I won’t cry over this. I never have. “My mother loved David Reece so much that she gave up everything to focus on him.” I look over at Lucas. “She just cut her whole family out of her life.” I frown. “What kind of love is that?” I ask softly. “The type where you have no room in your heart for anyone else. Not even your own child.” I bring my fingers up to press against my lips and swallow deeply, for the first time in danger of crying. It pisses me off that I can still be hurt like this.