The Stubborn Love Series: Books 1-5 Contemporary Romance Series

by Wendy Owens

  “How could you forget? It’s all I’ve been talking about for the past couple days.” I laugh.

  “All right, I confess. I didn’t forget. I just didn’t know what else to say,” he says with a smile.

  I pause for a moment, wondering what that means. Is he trying to tell me something without actually saying it? I shake my head and continue walking; I need to quit reading into things.

  “Something’s not right with you,” I reply, pulling open the door of the ancient truck and stepping up inside, the door creaking loudly as I do. I’d have loved to take the Prius, but I know they need to keep that in case they have to run somewhere with Olivia.

  “That’s what you keep telling me. Have fun.”

  “Oh, I plan on it!” I exclaim, pulling the door closed behind me. I watch Christian’s face contort. What the hell did that mean? Why did I say that? It sounds like I’m going to strip down in the airport parking lot and have my way with Henry. Of course, let’s be real. It has been a month since I’ve seen him. There’s a very good chance that this may happen. But still … to say that to Christian? I must seem like such a slut.

  Just drive, I tell myself. The last thing I want to do is be late when Henry gets off that plane. I throw the truck in reverse, carefully maneuver around Christian’s truck, my thoughts briefly shifting to the fact that two of my friends now own trucks, and though their businesses require it of them, it still feels very odd. Pulling onto the old road behind the shops, which parallels Main Street, gravel sprays out behind the tires.

  For the first ten minutes on he road I keep thinking about the comment I made to Christian. I need to quit thinking about it. I flip on the radio but am unable to get a station on the ancient device. Finally, I give up and play music on my phone, dropping it in the hollowed compartment next to the door handle.

  Singing at the top of my lungs, I enjoy song after song—Adele crooning her woes, then R.E.M. groaning about the world coming to an end. My heart skips a beat and a lump forms in my throat when the next song comes on. “Only In Dreams” by Weezer. I glance down at the tattoo on my wrist, staring at the words, ‘I just might take the chance.’ The memories of that night come flooding back.

  When Christian and I first split, I used to listen to this song over and over, crying myself to sleep. I soon figured out that not listening to it at all was best. I thought of his match to my tattoo on his wrist that read, ‘She’s in my bones.’ We were twenty and at a music festival. We were young, in love, with the rest of our lives ahead of us. At the time we thought there could never be another for either of us. After all, we’d been together since our mid-teen years. We’d seen it all. Together we endured the death of his parents, the destruction of my family life, and any hope of reconciliation with my mother. We were in a place where we trusted each other completely.

  I was so naive. Weezer came on, the crowd was electric, and the energy swept us up. After the encore, we didn’t want the night to end. Our friends went out drinking, we knew that wasn’t a good thing for Christian. We walked around, under the stars, quoting the lyrics from our favorite songs to one another. I don’t remember whose idea it was first, but once the idea was out, there was no stopping either of us.

  The tattoo guy told us it was a good idea that we were tattooing lyrics instead of names, because when we broke up, it wouldn’t be something that was hard to explain to your next partner. Christian proudly told him it didn’t matter because he was going to marry me one day. There would never be a need for such an explanation. He was naïve as well.

  As the song comes to an end, I see the airport exit coming up on my right, and with a quick glance over my shoulder I swerve across two lanes, narrowly catching the exit. With a deep inhale, I tell myself to put Christian out of my mind. I love Henry, and Christian is just a friend, I think.

  I weave my way through the lanes of traffic and make my way into the airport parking lot. Driving the truck is completely foreign to me; I might as well be driving a tanker. I park at the end of a row with empty spots all around me. I don’t trust myself to park next to another vehicle.

  I jump from the truck, slam the creaky door, and head for the entrance. My heart begins to race. I’m about to see Henry; I’m so excited I can hardly stand it. I want to hold his hands in mine, kiss his tender lips, and feel him pull me close with his masculine grip. Damn it! Being away from the man you love for a month can really make a girl horny.

  The sign says his flight is slightly delayed. I pace at the gate. I’ve been looking forward to this moment so intensely. With Christian’s hard body in front of me day in and day out, it’s hard to keep focus on my fiancé. I need to hold him, look at him, feel him, and that will put all those other thoughts, which I didn’t want racing through my mind, to rest.

  Finally, his plane lands, and though it feels like the disembarking process takes five years, he is here, walking off the plane, and smiling at me. His eyes have dark circles around them, and I can see he’s clearly exhausted, but he still has a smile for me. Running across the waiting area as fast as I can, I leap into his arms. He sees me coming and doesn’t hesitate, dropping his carryon and bracing for my approach.

  “Paige,” he cries, and then wraps his arms around me, moaning softly. A sensation of home fills me. Almost instantly, though, I feel the change in his body. Pulling away from him, I examine him closely, squeezing his side.

  “You’re so thin.”

  “I guess I miss your cooking,” Henry answers with a smile, shifting uncomfortably.

  “No,” I continue. “This is more than that, plus we both know I can’t cook at all.”

  “You’re learning,” he defends me chivalrously.

  “I’m serious. What’s going on?”

  He shakes his head. “I’ve lost a little weight. It’s not that big a deal.”

  “Please, tell me what’s going on,” I plead pointedly.

  “It’s these headaches. They’ve gotten so bad I don’t have much of an appetite.”

  “I thought you were going to go to the doctor?” I press, my heart heavy with concern.

  “As promised, I did,” he says, raising a hand in defense. “The doctor thought maybe it was lack of rest and stress, so he tried prescribing a few things, but they didn’t really work. Now he’s saying it could be an allergy to something, so I go in next week for some allergy tests.”

  “You poor baby,” I say, squeezing his somewhat unfamiliar frame close to me.

  “I’ll be fine. Doctor Abbott will figure this out,” Henry says with a smile, and I feel his lips press against the top of my head.

  “I missed you,” I say instinctively.

  “I missed you, too. I love you, baby,” Henry adds, never letting go of me as he picks up his bag with his free hand. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

  “Thanks,” I say softly, my smile hidden in the side of his chest.

  Reaching down and placing his fingertips under my chin, he lifts my face until my eyes are staring into his. I’m no longer looking at the dark circles or noticing the exhaustion. We are so close at this point; all I can do is get lost in the blue. As his lips come in, grazing mine, I close my eyes, drinking in every moment of the kiss. As I feel a flutter in my stomach all the passionate moments we’ve shared come flooding back, and I want to rip his clothes off immediately. I wish intensely we weren’t in public. I moan my frustration into his mouth.

  “What is it, darling?”

  “I just missed you so much.”

  “Really?” Henry asks, and then leans close to my ear, his hot breath tickling it. “Because I’ve missed screwing you.”

  The second the dirty word is breathed into my ear, I feel my legs go weak. This man! He knows exactly how to turn me into a pile of goo.

  “Oh hell,” I blurt out, realizing the logistics of this kind of sucked.

  “You don’t like the idea of me screwing you?” He asks, confused.

  “Oh no!” I exclaim. “I very much like that idea. It’s
just, well … I’m in the guest room of my friends’ house. Not exactly the best place to get our freak on.”

  “Well then, you’ll be happy to know I’ve booked a room at the inn.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t want to impose on your friends any further, so I booked a room before I left.”

  “Oh Henry, I could not love you any more right now.” I squeal.

  Even though Henry and I have been apart for an entire month there is no awkwardness. We fall right back into our roles, exchanging jokes and laughing, a loving couple, sure in who they are. He finds it particularly entertaining that I’m driving around in what he calls a monster truck. I kind of pride myself on the fact that he seems just a little more city than me now.

  There isn’t a moment of silence on the drive back. Of course, this is mostly due to the fact that I can’t seem to shut up. I want Henry to know everything, well, almost everything. We talked on the phone every night, so most of what I tell him is things he already knows. Henry just watches me, jabbering on, smiling, and content to just listen.

  Pulling into the vacant parking space in front of the inn, I glance down the street to see if perhaps Emmie or Colin is outside. I don’t see anyone, but I can hear the sound of Christian shaving away in the courtyard.

  Hopping out of the truck, I walk around next to Henry. “Should we go say hi to everyone or check in first?”

  Henry looks at me with a sly grin.

  “What?” I ask innocently, even though I already know exactly what that sinister look means.

  “I know what I want to do.”

  “Henry, what about everyone else?”

  “I haven’t seen my fiancé in a month. Sorry if I don’t give a damn about them right now,” he explains, pulling me close. I feel nervous for a moment, like someone is watching us, but with his strong arms wrapped around me that feeling melts away. “I want you so bad.”

  “Okay,” I say with a soft giggle. “Let’s go.”

  He leans in, kissing me. You would have thought we’ve been apart for a year from the intense passion. He pulls away, and before I can catch my breath, he turns, pulling me up the stairs of the quaint inn in record time.

  Chapter Twelve

  PULLING ON MY cardigan, I stare at myself in the mirror. It’s quite evident from my tousled hair what has just transpired between Henry and me. Glancing around the room, I suddenly realize I hadn’t paid any attention to the decor when we entered. My mind was clearly in other places.

  The bed is covered in a grandma-style floral quilt, and the drapes on the windows look like they were hung thirty years ago, the lace at the edges now yellowed with age. Besides the dated feel, the room is clean, but I can’t help feeling we somehow violated the room.

  “Are you sure you want to stay here and not over at Colin and Em’s?” I ask. I’m now quite used to my little room with the short ceilings in my friends’ home. The idea of staying in these foreign surroundings for the next few days does not seem appealing.

  “No, this place is fine. After all, here I won’t have to worry about how loud we get,” Henry replies with a devilish grin. I’m not so sure I agree with him. I can only imagine who might have their ear up against the wall in the room next to us.

  “So, how do I look?” Henry asks, holding out his arms and doing a turn for me, as if he were on the runway.

  “What?” I laugh, surprised by the question.

  “Hey! These are your friends; I want to make a good impression. I doubt they even remember me from the wedding.” My heart grows warm, the sweetness of his gesture washing over me.

  “They’re going to love you no matter what you’re wearing,” I reassure.

  “Well, of course they are. I’m quite lovable, as you well know.”

  I walk over to him, slipping my hand between his button-up gray shirt and navy blazer. I pull his body close to me, resting my forehead on his chin. “That you are,” I whisper.

  “Ready?” he asks. Suddenly I feel a rush of butterflies. I’m nervous. Why am I nervous? I’ve talked so much about Henry it is like Colin and Emmie already know him. There is no reason to be nervous. Unless … it isn’t Colin and Emmie I’m worried about at all. How will Christian act when he’s actually face to face with Henry? It is very clear—by that night on the dance floor—that Christian is still feeling something for me, no matter how well he is able to hide it.

  What if he’s rude to Henry? How will Henry react to that? What if Henry starts to suspect something is going on between us? There’s nothing going on! I want to scream the words, but know that would prove very confusing for Henry.

  “Babe?” Henry questions, his voice vibrating through my forehead. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course,” I say, pulling away and flashing him a smile. “Let’s head over. It’s almost dinner time, and I’m famished.”

  “Yeah, you need some good, Texan food to fatten you up for the wedding.”

  I take hold of Henry’s hand to lead him from the room. He pulls away, to turn and walk over to his overnight bag, removing a small bottle from the pouch on the side.

  “What are you doing?” I inquire.

  “Oh, nothing, just something the doctor gave me to help with the headaches,” Henry explains.

  “Are they that bad?” I ask, staring at him sympathetically.

  “No, not all the time. You’re not reconsidering are you?”

  “What are you talking about?” I’m confused.

  “Marrying me. Are you thinking about trading in your nerdy allergy-ridden fiancé? You know the vows specifically say ‘in sickness and in health.’”

  “Hmm …” I begin, pretending the idea needed some serious consideration.

  “Hey!” Henry gasps and then laughs.

  “Never,” I confirm. “But seriously, how often are you getting these headaches?”

  “Babe, I promise, they’re getting better. They’ve got me on an elimination diet, so we’ll have this figured out in no time. I’m also going in after the holidays for a scan just to be safe.” He steps forward, grabbing me by the arms, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I promise, I’m taking care of it, and there’ s nothing to worry about.”

  But I am worried. I love Henry, and I can’t stand the idea of him being sick. “Maybe I should fly home with you.”

  “No!” he exclaims. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to have you home with me, as my personal nurse, but you need this. And honestly, it’s either work or rest for me these days. You’d be bored out of your mind.”

  “You need to let me know if things get worse, and I’ll come home. Promise me,” I demand.

  Henry laughs, pulling me close and hugging me tight, “I promise, if I get worse, you can come home. But I won’t get worse. I’m already feeling much better. I think the elimination diet’s working.”

  We turn and walk out the room, Henry pulling the door closed behind us. “So tell me, how ready are you for the show?” He changes the subject as I link my arm through his, preparing to cross the street.

  “I actually have all of the designs sketched, a few designs are completed and some of the other pieces are taking form. My biggest problem now is that I don’t have any room to work,” I explain.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have fabrics bursting from all corners of my room. What I really need is a studio with a bunch of figures. I’m constantly having to reuse the same figure, and I spend most of my time looking for the right thread because it’s buried under my masses of supplies.”

  I look up at Henry; it’s obvious his wheels are spinning.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask, knowing him all to well.

  “Just brainstorming solutions,” he replies. That’s Henry—always trying to fix whatever problem I have.

  “It’s not a big deal, babe. It will be a great story to share when I’m a famous designer one day.”

  “Ahhh!” Emmie shrieks as she emerges from the entrance of the gallery, Olivia on her
hip. “Henry, we’re so glad you’re here.”

  Colin follows close behind her, reaching out to take the baby from her, allowing Em to close in for the hug. She wraps her arms around Henry. I can tell he’s not sure how to respond. Henry is more like me when it comes to affection from people. We’re fine with one another, but an ‘outsider’ makes us terribly uncomfortable. Emmie is family to me now; it is time he learned to accept her as the same.

  “Hello, wow,” he says, smiling as Emmie pulls away, staring at him. “What a warm welcome.”

  “Are you two hungry? I’ll warn you, the entire place smells of pork. I threw some meat in the crockpot when you left earlier so we could have carnitas tonight,” Emmie explains. In true Emmie fashion, she continues talking. I notice whenever she has guests she rambles on incessantly.

  “I’m not sure if Henry has ever eaten food from a crockpot,” I interject.

  The group falls silent, and everyone turns to look at me in disbelief. Henry’s brow furrows.

  “What?” I ask. “Your family isn’t exactly the crockpot type.”

  “I’m not from outer space, sweetheart,” he laughs. “I got through college thanks to a slow cooker.” I wonder how I don’t know this detail.

  We head inside, the flow of conversation never stopping. They ask him about his work, about New York, all the things that are part of the world I used to be a part of. I suddenly start feeling insecure, like I don’t have a home. Am I a New Yorker? Do I belong in Texas now? Good Lord, Paige, who in the hell are you?

  We move our way through the gallery, back into he kitchen area, and the small dining nook off to the side. I suddenly realize Christian is nowhere to be found. Even though I’m nervous about them officially meeting, I’m also looking forward to getting it over with and moving on with our vacation together.

  “You’ve got an amazing set up here.” Henry remarks.

  “It works for us right now, but if our family gets any bigger, we might have to think about a house.” Colin explains. “For now, though, it works really well for us.”

  “So, Paige tells me your brother has a shop right next door.” Henry says. I’m surprised by his topic transition.