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

by Wendy Owens

  Colin looks at me, then back at Henry. I can tell the subject shift makes Colin uncomfortable. “Yeah, I’d planned to turn the space next to this into additional living quarters, but when Christian came back, he decided he wanted to give his carving business a try. It seemed to work out for everyone.”

  “You’re a very generous brother to simply give him the space like that,” Henry comments, leaning over and looking out the window, his words feel a little sharp.

  “Well, he does pay rent for the space, so I’m not really sure if that’s very generous.” I can sense a tone of defensiveness in Colin’s voice. “So sorry you won’t be able to meet him on your visit, though.”

  “What?” I gasp before thinking. The entire group looks at me. “I mean—I don’t understand. He didn’t tell me he’d be gone.”

  “Oh, it was last minute. He got a call this afternoon that the rush order he was working on needed to be delivered right away. Apparently he couldn’t find a delivery company that could take it on such short notice, so he decided to deliver it himself,” Colin explains.

  The group is quiet as I contemplate the information. That makes no sense. In the entire time I’ve been here, Christian has not left to make a single delivery. I know I heard him in the courtyard when we got back. Is he trying to be rude to Henry on purpose? Is he playing games of some kind? I’m not impressed and actually quite pissed off about his behavior. I thought we were past this kind of crap.

  “Ah well, more carnitas for us,” Henry says with a smile.

  I shake my head. Why am I letting Christian get to me? If he wants to act like a complete ass, then that is his choice. The man I am going to marry is here, spending time with my closest friends. I’m not about to let my ex ruin it.

  “So, Colin, I noticed the space across the street is for rent,” Henry comments.

  Colin looks at him, puzzled. “The old Stone Mill Bakery?” he asks.

  Pressing his lips together, Henry shakes his head. “I don’t know. Would that be the one a few doors down from the inn?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Emmie replies.

  “Do you know the story on it?” Henry asks, and I find myself just as clueless as the rest of the group.

  “The Meyer family owns the space. The parents ran the bakery for forty years—until they were too old. The kids didn’t want to go into the family business so they closed up shop. They’ve been trying to rent it out for the past six months. Why?” Colin questions.

  “Do you think they would consider renting it out for a month?” Henry asks.

  Colin tilts his head. “Just a month?”

  “Paige needs some place to spread out, and if it’s just sitting there, I thought they may consider letting her use the space. I’m happy to pay a month’s rent, of course.”

  “Henry—” I say. “Are you serious?”

  “Of course, I want this show to be perfect for you, and if you need more room to work, then let’s find you some space.”

  “Well, yeah, I’m sure they’d be happy to rent it out for a month,” Colin says, smiling. “I’ll call them first thing tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

  I bury my head in Henry’s chest, fighting back tears. He’s always thinking about me. I wish I could give him a piece of what he’s given me, but I don’t even know where to begin. He has this instinct when it comes to taking care of me. I’m not a woman who allows herself to be cared for. My mother never took care of me, I took care of Christian, and for my entire life, I was used to this role.

  I take a deep breath, concentrating on purging thoughts of Christian from my mind. Henry is my soul mate, and this visit is exactly what I need to remember that.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I’M NOT SURE how long I’ve been laying here, in this bed, staring at the curtains blowing in the open window, lost in my thoughts. I took Henry back to the airport earlier this morning. I told him I wanted to go home with him. I’d been away long enough, and I was home sick.

  He wouldn’t hear of it. He told me there were far too many distractions in New York, and if I am honest with myself, I know he’s right. I have a circle of friends there that always have a hard time of taking no for an answer. If I went home, I would find myself at a club every night, never working on my designs. But I don’t care, being away from Henry for a month was tolerable, but I feel like I’ve reached my limit.

  While he was here, he managed to rent the space across the street, and we moved most of my stuff in, except, of course, what’s in Christian’s shop since he never came back. My thoughts drift to him, in an instant outrage consumes me again.

  Christian has always had a way of figuring out the perfect ways to hurt me. He makes me think we’re friends. That our past is behind us, that I don’t have to worry about all the baggage of our previous relationship. He even told me he was excited to meet Henry, and then he disappears. I don’t know why I thought he’d actually changed.

  Suddenly I hear a door slam. Hopping to my feet, I make my way to the window. I lean out, searching for the source. My stomach twists as I see Christian walking around the corner, and with a jingle of his keys, opening the door to his studio.

  The anxiety in the pit of my stomach quickly shifts into sour, hot anger. Christian behaves the way he does because nobody ever calls him out on it. I mean, really, should everyone walk on eggshells because he manages not to binge drink these days? Being a recovering alcoholic doesn’t give you a license to be a complete asshole.

  I race to the bedroom door, no longer moping about Henry heading home. I’m on a mission now … a mission to set Christian Bennett straight. If nobody else is going to tell him how immature his behavior can be, then I’ll be happy to step in and take care of what needs done. He’s the one who reached out to me, who wanted to be friends. Well, he’s about to get a dose of what a real friend does—they tell you the things that are sometimes hard to hear.

  Thudding down the stairs, I don’t say anything to Emmie as I brush past her, the heat now emanating from my face. She might have said something as I walk out the back door, but I can’t be sure as the blood pulsing in my ears is deafening.

  I don’t knock, and I don’t hesitate. I throw open the door to Christian’s studio and walk in as if I own the place. He is on the other side of the room, and when he catches site of me he freezes.

  “Christian Bennett,” I say sternly, cringing slightly as I quickly realize I sound like a raging bitch. I pause, considering my next words carefully. Then I remember why I’m so angry. He says nothing, only continues to stare at me.

  “What’s wrong with you? I mean it. I really want to know—what exactly is broken inside that thick head of yours?”

  He shifts his weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable by my tone.

  “Well? Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to say something?”

  “I would say something if I had any clue what you were talking about,” he answers calmly.

  “Oh, please, don’t play dumb with me. You knew exactly what you were doing from the moment I came here.”

  “No, really. I don’t know why you’re so angry,” he insists.

  I’m insulted that he thinks I’m so stupid. If this is how he wants to play it, though, I am more than happy to lay it all out for him. “I come down here with the intention of working and spending time with my best friend. I didn’t even know you were here when I decided to come.”

  “And you’re mad at me for what exactly?”

  “Are you kidding me? You spend the last month telling me how we can be friends, and there’s no reason for things to be weird between us. Then you take me to that damn bar and—Jesus, I don’t even know what the hell that was.”

  “You were just as much a part of that as me.”

  “Let me finish!” I demand. “You even tell me that you want to be friends with Henry, and no sooner than he gets here, do you take off.”

  “Oh, that’s what this is about,” he huffs,
taking a step closer to me.

  “Yeah, now you suddenly get it. I mean, really, I thought we were past all this childishness,” I grumble, crossing my arms and glaring at him.

  “Childishness?” His mouth falls open. “I had a last minute delivery to make. I didn’t know I was supposed to clear my schedule with you. I don’t think that means I’m childish.”

  “You really must think I’m stupid. You leave the minute Henry gets here, and then suddenly get back as soon as he’s gone. A delivery took four days?” I question, not hiding my disbelief.

  “Actually, yeah. It was a day’s drive there and a day back, and then they paid me to do the installation job. Some of the work had to actually be done on site. I shouldn’t have to explain my business to you Paige,” he snarls, turning and walking across the studio, retrieving some tools from a table.

  “Oh my God, you’re totally going to stick to your story, aren’t you?” I snap, walking to the door. Before exiting, I look back at Christian, who is now staring at me, again. “What I don’t get is, why the games? I told Henry you wanted to meet him. Was it just to make me look stupid? You really haven’t changed, have you?”

  I don’t wait for him to answer. It doesn’t matter what he says. I know he’ll tell me whatever he thinks I want to hear—that’s how Christian works, and I’ve had enough of it. I should have trusted my gut and left him in the past, where he belongs.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “PAIGE? YOU IN here?” I hear Colin’s voice call from the entry of the shop.

  “Behind the counter,” I yell back from the table where I set up the sewing machine.

  “I’ve got some boxes for you,” he explains. “Where do you want them?”

  “Anywhere is fine,” I answer. “Are they deliveries from Henry?” I’ve been expecting some of the sample books from Henry’s grandmother. I need to confirm the color choices on the flowers, as well as make sure the linens are to my liking. I’m not really sure how a tablecloth can’t be to one’s satisfaction, but she is adamant I sign off on them.

  “No, they’re the boxes of fabric from Christian’s.” His name is like a punch to the gut. I pull my foot off the pedal of the sewing machine and stand up. I look at Colin who is now setting the boxes next to the various others along the wall.

  “He’s sending you to do his dirty work, huh?” I’ve managed to avoid Christian for the past two days, which, considering he eats every meal with Colin and Emmie, has not been an easy task.

  “Why are you so angry at him?” Colin finally asks. He usually stays out of our business unless he feels absolutely certain one of us is being a complete idiot. Based on his questioning, I can only assume he thinks that person is me.

  “He needs to be held accountable for his behavior, Colin; nobody around here seems to do that,” I say pointedly.

  “Look, I don’t know what you think he did wrong, but he really did have a delivery he had to go take care of.”

  “You can leave the boxes,” I say, making it clear I have no desire to have this conversation with him. He leaves without another word.

  Walking to the front window of the shop, I peer out across the street. My pride won’t let me tell Colin I’ve already doubted my reaction with Christian. Two days to think about my blow up has made me realize there is probably a good chance I didn’t respond in the best way. Christian and I always had a heated relationship. Both of us have tempers, which is probably why the passion between us was always so intense.

  Christian had made a point I’m struggling with. Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean he has to run his schedule by me. In the courtyard I catch site of him playing with Olivia, spinning her around like she is on an airplane ride, her head tilted back in laughter. Colin walks over to join them.

  Watching the boys like this, playing with Olivia, I start to actually feel guilty. Damn it! Maybe I am wrong.

  As I exit the shop and make my way across the street, Colin turns to say something to Christian as he sees me. He grabs Olivia and heads into the gallery. My paranoia is heightened by the exchange, and I wonder what was said about me. Seriously, Paige? Who are you? Since when do you give a damn what anyone thinks? I try like hell not to cave to the insecurities I’m not even aware I have.

  Approaching Christian, I feel a lump forming in my throat. He begins waving his arms in front of his face before saying, “Whoa, truce, before you bite my head off again. I didn’t think you’d want to see me, but you might need what was in those boxes. That’s the only reason I sent Colin over, all right?”

  I give a half smile, then with a deep swallow, proceed to deliver as sincere an apology as I can, still not fully convinced he hadn’t avoided Henry and I on purpose.

  “I may have overreacted the other day.”

  “Wait, was that an apology? It’s so hard to tell with you.”

  “Funny,” I groan with a glare.

  “It’s fine,” Christian says flatly, turning and walking away from me, toward his wood shop. “I shouldn’t have promised to meet Henry and then disappear without notice. That was rude, and I’m sorry,” he adds over his shoulder.

  Is he seriously walking away from me while we are having a conversation? I can’t believe what I am seeing. He turns, gives me a short wave, and calls out for me to have a good night before heading inside. There is no way it just went down like that. I’m going to get to the bottom of what is going on with him—sooner rather than later. Walking up the narrow concrete path through the courtyard, I waste no time in pushing open the front door of his studio. Christian is already walking into the back room when I enter.

  “Christian!” I yell after him.

  “Did I forget one of the boxes?” he calls back, never leaving the room he hides in.

  With heavy steps, I cross the long room. “What is going on with you?”

  “Huh?” I hear him groan from the other side of the wall.

  I rush across to the opening of the back room. He’s looking at me, his eyebrows lifted, distressed by my presence. “Something is up with you. For a month we’re fine, hanging out even, and I thought we were actually becoming friends again. Then you ditch us when Henry comes.”

  “So we’re back to this again?”

  “No, I mean—I just apologized, and then you walked away. What the hell is your deal?”

  Christian looks at the large chunk of wood in front of him. “I don’t have a deal. What I have is a lot of work to do, so if you don’t mind, can you tell me how I should have reacted so I can get back to it?”

  Using every ounce of energy I have, I refuse to give him the satisfaction of me losing my temper and shouting at him. “I do mind. I mind that you act like my friend when you’re clearly interested in being anything but. Jesus, are you drinking again?”

  That comment clearly gets his attention. He lifts his chin, dropping the chisel in his hand to the floor and races across the room, his jaw clenched tight. “You should really be careful what you say. I haven’t touched a drop since Olivia, and I told you that. You can do a lot of damage to someone with unfounded accusations.”

  “Then why are you acting so strange?” I push, remorseful for my words.

  He looks away, frustrated.

  I reach out and grab his arms.

  “Tell me, what’s going on? Did I do something?” I ask.

  He hesitates, then says, “I thought I could handle this, handle you, but I can’t.”

  “What are you talking about? What did I do?” I beg.

  He looks down at the ground, tracing shapes with his shoe in the sawdust on the floor. Then, looking up at me, he says something that changes everything. Something that can never be undone. “I don’t think us being friends is such a good idea.”

  “I don’t understand what changed. Is this because I yelled at you? Is it about what happened at the bar?”

  He shakes his head, struggling with something he doesn’t want to say.

  “Please, just tell me.”

  “I did have
a rush order when Henry came, that part was true. But … I had time to stay and talk with him before I left.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “I saw you two in front of the inn,” he says. I remember hearing him working in the courtyard, but I hadn’t seen him. I wonder at what point he saw us.

  “So?” I continue. “You knew he was coming.”

  “Knowing you’re in love with another man is one thing, seeing you in his arms is another.”

  “No,” I say, my head now shaking wildly. I raise a finger and point it at him. “You can’t do this to me. You can’t tell me you’re okay with Henry, then get all weird on me.”

  “Jesus, Paige, you had to know,” his voice cracks.

  “Know what?”

  “Why do you think I’ve been over at Colin and Em’s every spare second since you got here?”

  “You always are, that’s what you do,” I insist.

  He shakes his head. “No, it’s not. I’m there because I feel whole again when I’m around you.”

  “No, that’s not right.”

  “I thought maybe, the other day, with the way you reacted when we danced, you might have felt it, to0. But then, when I saw you with him, I realized I was wrong.” His voice was quiet as he spoke.

  “You can’t do this to me,” I plead. “I thought I was getting my friend back.

  “You think I want to feel this way? When I saw him take you inside, and you didn’t come back out, I—I couldn’t think about it anymore. I loaded up my truck and got the hell out of here.”

  “What we had is over, Christian. I thought we both understood that.”

  Pressing his open palms against his face, he pulls downward, stretching out his expression as he does, clearly frustrated with the situation. “I was wrong. It was never over for me. We were never over.”

  And before I know it, we’re having the post break up conversation we never had. “You were the one who told me to leave all those years ago,” I remind him.