by Tara Wyatt
“Carly, please, don’t. Can we talk about this?”
She shook her head and started to back out of the office. “My mind’s made up. I’m sorry that I ruined our friendship.”
She spun and left the office, and he pushed out of his chair. “Carly, wait.”
She turned, and he was surprised at the fire in her eyes. “I’ve been waiting, for two damn weeks, Dean. I’m done.”
And with that, she was gone.
But he wasn’t letting her go. Not this time. Because he knew, clear as day, that not having Carly in his life was so much worse than having to face his fears. Than having to be vulnerable. Than maybe getting hurt in the process.
And all she’d had to do was put her heart on the line, get rejected, be ignored by him for two weeks, and then quit to make him see it.
Yeah. He really was an idiot.
* * *
Carly pulled into the parking lot of the Tipsy Bison, frowning at the lack of cars. A sign on the front door read “Closed for Private Event.” She frowned, pulling her phone out of her purse to check her work schedule. Tonight was supposed to be her second-to-last shift, and Dean hadn’t mentioned anything about a private event. Granted, they weren’t really talking, which was a big part of the reason she’d found another job in the first place. Oh, well. She could just as easily pour drinks for some private event as she could for regular customers.
She stepped out of her car and pulled open the bar’s front door, stepping inside. It took her eyes a second to adjust to the dim light around her. When they did, she gasped.
She’d never seen the bar look so beautiful. Candles dotted nearly every surface, and a string of lights glowed softly along the bar. An enormous vase of pink and white flowers stood in the center of one of the larger tables. Music floated softly on the air.
“Hey.” Dean emerged from the direction of his office. Her stomach flipped over on itself at the sight of him. It was unfair that the man could make a simple white T-shirt and worn jeans look so good.
She swallowed, managing to free her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Hey. What’s, uh, what’s going on? Private event?”
He took a few steps toward her, his hands in his back pockets. The candlelight flickered against of his chiseled features, and there was an openness in his gaze, something almost raw. Something real. Her heart beat a little bit faster in her chest.
“This is for you. I wanted to make sure I had your attention.” He took a deep breath and held his hands out at his sides. “Please don’t quit.”
She snorted softly. “You do this every time one of your employees resigns?”
“Only the ones I’m in love with.”
Her entire body went numb, and her purse slipped to the floor with a soft thunk. “What?”
He took another step toward her, taking her hands. Oh, God. They were shaking. “You were right.”
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “About?”
He smiled, and her insides felt all warm and melty. “Everything. As usual.” He took a breath, and she could tell it was costing him a lot to do this. To be honest and real and vulnerable with her. “You were right about us. What we have is worth taking a chance on. And you were right about me being an idiot, about hiding behind my bullshit. You were right, and God, Car, we were right.”
She nodded shakily. “We were. But you threw it away.”
He closed his eyes for a second, pain flashing across his features. “I know. Remember the part about me being an idiot?” The corner of his mouth turned up. “I’m sorry I hurt you. It was the last thing I wanted to do. I just . . . fuck, I just went about it all wrong.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Here’s what I should’ve said in Mexico: Yes. Let’s do it. Let’s take a chance and see where this goes, because the truth is . . .” He took a shaky breath. “I’m in love with you. And I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out. And I’m sorry for all the stupid shit I’m going to do in the future, because this is new and weird and scary for me. I’m an idiot, but God, I want to be your idiot.”
She smiled up at him, her eyes stinging with relief as the words she’d so wanted to hear flowed over her. “I might be a little bit in love with you, too. Even if you are an idiot,” she admitted.
A smile broke out across his face, and he dipped his head, brushing his lips across hers. “Give me another chance to get it right.”
“Yes. You’re forgiven.” They were the easiest three words she’d ever spoken. Her world made so much more sense with him in it. She made sense with him.
He kissed her, and it was a kiss full of heat, and hope, and promise. Full of love and happiness, and all the things they’d found together. Soon, the kiss changed, becoming deeper and hotter, hungry and urgent.
“God, I missed you,” he groaned against her mouth. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull her shirt off over her head.
“Show me how much,” she whispered.
And he did.
Twice.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my family and friends for your continued support and for listening to me ramble on and on about made-up people. I’d also like to thank my agent, Sarah Younger, and my editor, Holly Ingraham, for all of your hard work and enthusiasm. You guys are the best!
About the Author
Known for humor and steamy love scenes, Tara’s writing has won several awards, including the Librarian’s Reader’s Choice Award, and the New England Reader’s Choice Award. A librarian by day and romance writer by night, Tara lives in Hamilton, Ontario, with her dog and husband. Visit her online at www.tara-wyatt.com, or find her on Twitter @taradwyatt.
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Also by Tara Wyatt
Like Fresh Fallen Snow
When Snowflakes Fall
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Tara Wyatt
Copyright Page
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
UNTIL THE SUN SETS: A GRAYSON NOVELLA. Copyright © 2017 by Tara Wyatt. All rights reserved. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover photographs: couple © Jan Jirous/Shutterstock.com; tree © Vibrant Image Studio/Shutterstock.com
ISBN 978-1-250-14376-1 (ebook)
First Edition: July 2017
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