by Stacy Gail
“I was made to feel like a pariah because of what I did. What I thought I did.” The words came out no louder than a breath. “This is my hometown, Ry, but I was ready to pull up stakes because I believed I had no chance at building a future here. Do you have any idea what that’s like? To think you might not ever have a shot at one day settling down with someone and having a normal life? That might not sound like a big deal, but something as simple as hoping for a normal life is everything when you think you can no longer have it.”
He winced. “I didn’t know what was going on until a couple months ago, when I asked Lucy’s husband to bring you to our Christmas party. He was cold as hell and asked me if I’d finally grown up enough to forgive you. I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, and that’s when he told me everything you’d been going through. From that point on, I did every damn thing I could think of to get close to you, but no matter what I did, you avoided me.”
“Of course I avoided you,” she said hollowly. “Considering what happened the last time I’d crossed your path, I figured just talking to you would make the rest of the town turn against me.”
Again he winced. “Nobody turned against you, Celia.”
“I’m getting that. But at the time, that’s sure as hell what it felt like.”
“If I could go back and undo all that hurt, I would. But I can’t. All I can do is tell you that it never should have happened, I’m sorry as hell that it did, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. But you’ve got to give me that chance.”
She closed her eyes and tried to ignore how they burned. And how the feeling of being betrayed burned even brighter deep in her heart. “I’m having trouble absorbing this all in one go. I’m trying to get my mind around it, but I can’t just shrug it off like these past few months didn’t leave a mark. I need some time. Alone,” she added when he opened his mouth. “I need you to go, Ry.”
“Celia—” He looked like he wanted to debate the matter before he blew out a short breath. “I don’t want you going to bed being pissed at me. Bad shit happens when a man allows his woman to go to bed being pissed at him.”
It didn’t take a degree in psychology to know he was thinking of his parents. “I’m not angry anymore. Just overloaded and overwhelmed, and if I don’t get some space to sort through all this, that’s what’s going to piss me off.”
He stared at her for what felt like forever before he nodded once. “All right, darlin’, I get it. You need time alone. Know that I’ll give you whatever you want, and bring to you whatever you need to make you happy. That’s a promise.”
Happy. She’d had that only a few hours ago, yet it now seemed like another lifetime. “I appreciate that.”
“Fuck appreciation. It’s the truth—the only truth I’ve got to give you, you understand? I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy, because that’s the only way I can be happy, too.”
The knot in her throat was back, larger than ever, so all she could do was nod.
“I’ll fix this screen door tomorrow,” he added gruffly, heading toward it. “Lock up behind me, yeah? And close your curtains. I want you safe.”
* * *
It came as no surprise to Celia that sleep was hard to come by. By the time the sun peeked over the horizon she was up and in the garden, harvesting a ton of spinach and the last of the broccoli. After putting away her tools, she headed for Pauline and Willard’s with a basket of garden goodies in hand. But she came to a halt at the foot of the driveway that led to the whitewashed gabled farmhouse, with its welcoming front porch complete with porch swing and rockers.
But she saw none of that. Her attention was on Ry’s truck parked out front.
What the hell...?
Before she could figure out if exhaustion was making her see things, the front screen door opened with a squeak and Pauline appeared, wrapped in a fuzzy pink robe and slippers. As Celia slowly approached, the older woman hobbled to the porch swing and settled in before turning patient eyes to her.
“Been watching for you,” Pauline said, her voice hushed. “Come on up and have a seat, sweetheart.”
The soothing aura her friend exuded was just the tonic she needed. With her first smile in what felt like forever, Celia climbed the porch steps, handing the basket over as she sat next to Pauline. “That’s the last of the broccoli, so enjoy.” Like Pauline, she kept her voice pitched low as her gaze wandered inexorably to Ry’s truck. “Why is Ry’s truck here?”
Setting the basket aside, Pauline gently nudged the swing in motion. “Ry’s truck is here because Ry is here.”
Pauline Padgett, mistress of the obvious. “Isn’t it a bit early for visiting?”
“He spent the night pacing between the front room and that last porch step, looking like all he wanted to do was march back down the lane to your place,” she added, a chuckle playing through her low murmur. “He fell asleep on the couch, poor boy. That’s where he is now.”
Something painful twisted in her chest. “Why didn’t he go home?”
“Silly girl, why would he do that? There’s no home to go to if you’re not there.”
Her breath caught. “He didn’t say that, did he?”
“He didn’t have to. That man clearly couldn’t bear to take himself that far away from you, and all the proof I need to back that statement up is sleeping on my couch. He told us what happened,” she added unsurprisingly, and she reached over to hold Celia’s hand. “It wasn’t fair what was done to you, Celia love. Not one tiny bit. But knowing how molehills can blow up into mountains in small-town life, I can see how it happened. Can you?”
With a tired sigh, Celia nodded. “Somewhere around four in the morning, when I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, I stopped feeling sorry for myself and started looking at it objectively. All the Brody brothers did was tell the datable guys in our tiny part of the world to stay away from me, and it just sort of snowballed from there.”
“That’s Bitterthorn in a nutshell.”
Tears of remembered loneliness burned her already gritty eyes. “I just wish Ry had told me about this from the beginning. He knew what his brothers had done. Maybe if he’d just told me about it that first night he took me out to dinner, it wouldn’t have hit me so hard or hurt so much, like it did yesterday.”
“Oh, honey.” At last the chuckle that had been lurking behind Pauline’s words came out, and she gave Celia’s hand a squeeze. “You just described life when you’re in love.”
Celia blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Love magnifies every emotion to the point of insanity. The truth is, if you didn’t care so much about that man, you wouldn’t be feeling so hurt now over something that really wasn’t his fault, or waking up like a crazy person at four in the morning. But no matter how much heartache the man you love can potentially bring you, you know all the way to your soul that he’s worth it. Unless I’m wrong,” she added, lifting a wry brow Celia’s way. “Maybe you’re not in love with Ry Brody. Maybe you’re still determined to cut your losses, get out of this hick town, live an exciting life in Houston or Dallas, and to hell with silly thoughts of love and whatnot.”
Ha. How she adored Pauline. “I can tell by your tone that you already know the answer to that one.”
“She might, but I don’t.”
Both Celia and Pauline glanced up as Ry pushed through the screen door, looking as haggard as Celia felt. Pauline chuckled again, squeezed her fingers once more before letting her go, only to hold her hand out to Ry.
“Ryland, be a dear and help me up off this swing, please. These old bones just ain’t what they used to be.”
“Yes, ma’am.” In a heartbeat he was guiding Pauline to her feet, though his eyes never left Celia.
“Thank you, son. Now, you go sit beside Celia and keep her company while I get some coffee going. Fair warning—I don’t move as
fast as I used to, so this might take a while.”
Subtle, Celia thought as she handed Pauline the garden basket and watched the older woman disappear inside. But the moment she was alone with Ry, her humor vanished and some of the tension from the night before crept in.
“So?” Instead of sitting beside her, Ry reached down and pulled her to her feet, his hands curling around her upper arms as if he thought she might somehow pull a ninja move on him and disappear. “What’s the answer?”
Her heart nearly stopped. Sheesh. Leave it to Ry to demand a coherent answer right out of the damn gate about whether or not she loved him, when there she was, feeling like a freaking exposed nerve.
“Do you still want to leave Bitterthorn for that job up in Dallas?”
Oh.
That.
“I turned down that job with Velni and Associates.”
He took a moment to absorb this. “But there are other firms out there. Other job offers that have come your way?”
“A few.” Not that she’d given them any thought.
“Have you turned them down, too?”
She shook her head. “No, I—”
“Look, I get that the thought of staying probably turns your stomach after my idiot brothers fucked things up for you here,” he talked over her until she gave up. “And I know you think there’s nothing here that would make you want to stay.”
“Actually—”
“But you do have something here, darlin’, I swear you do.” His hands let go of her arms to cup around her neck, angling her jaw up even as he bent to rest his forehead against hers. “You have me. Utterly. Completely. You have me.”
The sweetness of his words nearly killed her. “Ry—”
“I would set the world on fire for you, Celia, you understand that? As long as I draw breath, you’ll never have a lonely day, a lonely second. I’ll be by your side every damn minute of your life if that’s what it takes to convince you that the one thing you’ll never have to worry about is a future where you’re forced to be alone.”
She almost smiled. That sounded good. Really good.
“And I don’t want to hear any bullshit about you moving back out here like you don’t need me, because that is fucking unacceptable, you hear me? I need you, and since I don’t want to be alone in that boat, you’re going to have to learn how to need me, too. I need you to need me, and I will not stop until you’re just as crazy about me as I am about you. So find a way to cope—this is how your life is going to be from here on in.”
“Ry, stop.” She went up on her toes and stilled his mouth with hers before backing far enough away to look into his stormy eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m staying.”
He went still. “You’re staying?”
“Yeah.”
His face was like granite as he took this in. “In Bitterthorn? Or with me, at home where you belong?”
She smiled even as her throat tightened with emotion. “Both, baby.”
For a moment he closed his eyes before he swept her up, turned and eased down on the swing with her draped across his lap. Her arms went around his neck, giddy from the sudden change of position while he all but crushed her to his chest.
“I’m serious this time, Celia,” he grated roughly against her ear, his voice ragged. “We are not going through this shit again, you hear me? I cannot take being away from you when I know you’re upset. Yell at me, throw things at me, tell me you hate my guts. Whatever you have to do, do it. But do not tell me to leave you when I know you’re hurting. I can’t fucking take it.”
“It’s a deal.” Her arms tightened, and she turned her head so her mouth was against his strong neck. “And I could never hate you, you know. I could sooner sprout wings and fly than hate you.”
“Yeah?” He pulled back just far enough to search her face. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“That’s something, then.” He brought a hand up to cup her cheek. “When did you decide you were going to forget about moving away to a big city?”
She thought back. “Remember when you said a person can only be truly happy when they find that one place where they belong?”
“Yeah.”
She smiled into his eyes. “I’m at my happiest when I’m with you.”
The hand at her cheek tensed. “So does that mean Pauline was right? Are you in love with me, darlin’?” When she merely shrugged, his grip tightened. “Celia, damn it...”
“Okay, okay.” Struggling to remain calm, she looked into his eyes and hoped what she saw there wasn’t just wishful thinking. “You should know that I tried hard not to fall in love with you, the man who swatted my bottom in public and called me a naughty child, but it didn’t work. I’m in love with you, Ry. I must be. If I weren’t so hopelessly in love with you, I would have been out of this town a long, long time ago.”
“Then I’ll do my damnedest to make sure you keep on being in love with me, because I’m not anxious to go to jail for keeping you prisoner.” Like magic, the tension drained from his expression before he brought her mouth to his for a fierce, quick kiss. “You’re mine now, you know. You’ve been mine since you grabbed my ass, so there’s no point in you trying to say otherwise.”
She laughed softly. “There you go again, being bossy.”
“Hey, I’m yours too, woman, so it’s a fair swap.” His smile was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen—relieved and happy and so much more it made her chest squeeze just looking at it. “I have loved every last little thing about you from the moment you told me you wanted me for your belated birthday present.”
Fireworks went off inside her at his words, words she’d remember even if she lived to be a thousand. “You love me?”
His brows went up. “You have to ask? ’Course I love you. Why do you think I came up with that scheme to hire you?”
“Because you’re a smart businessman who recognized an awesome PR asset when you saw one.”
“Hiring you turned out to be the best damn thing I could’ve done for the ranch, true. But keeping you here, with me, is the best move I’ve made in my whole damn life.” He kissed her again, shifting her in his lap so her hip nestled snugly against the increasing bulge behind his zipper. When he finally broke the kiss to nuzzle his face against hers, she was positive they’d raised the area temperature a good ten degrees. “You know you’re going to marry me, right? I need to get us living under the same roof as soon as possible.”
“Married?” Dizzy joy screamed through her, along with a healthy dose of surprise. “Wow, talk about acceleration. Isn’t that a little fast?”
“Hell, no. I’ve waited long enough for you, and I’m officially done with that. I can’t go another day without trying to tie you to me in every possible way that I can think of. I had to camp out on Willard and Pauline’s sofa like a damn idiot because I couldn’t stand to be any farther away from you. We’re getting married next week.”
Her head spun. “Next week? Are you serious?”
“Damn straight, I’m serious. Once we’re married, when we have another blowup—which is bound to happen, because that’s kind of what we do—you can go slamming into the next room instead of driving across town to hole up in that old barn. I’ll give you the space you need.”
That put her freak-out on pause long enough for her to lift a brow. “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, for a while. Like maybe an hour or so. But after that, we’re working things out. Then we’re getting naked and working things out even better.”
She began to laugh, and she wasn’t at all surprised by how dazed she sounded. “God help me, what have I gotten myself into?’
“The best thing in your life—or at least that’s what I’ll try to be every damn day that we have together, if you’ll give me that chance.” He leaned in to kiss her once more, slow and deep, and the
arms that held her contracted as if he had to fight not to crush her to him. “Say yes, darlin’. Say you’ll marry me.”
With a shaky breath she looked into his eyes, saw the center of her world, and slowly began to smile. “Yes.”
Epilogue
Several years later
“Happy birthday, darlin’.”
Celia’s eyes opened in the semi-darkness. Automatically her gaze zeroed in on the crib near her side of the bed, and only when she found all was peaceful did she roll onto her back to loop her arms around Ry’s shoulders. “’Morning, baby. What time is it?”
“Six-ish. Normally I’d let you sleep in, but I heard the girls talking about what they wanted to do for your birthday. I have it on good authority they’re planning on a big breakfast-in-bed thing for you, complete with their very own made up recipe for birthday cake pancakes. Sprinkles will be involved.”
“Oh, God, Ry.” She tried to shake his shoulders to wake him up to the looming calamity, but as usual he was too darn big to move. “Tell them no. Put your foot down. Bar them from the kitchen. Send them to France. Send me to France. Anything but breakfast in bed created by a seven, five and three-year-old. And...wait. Where are they going to get sprinkles?”
“I went shopping with them yesterday. Every now and again I like to inflict my spawn on the rest of the world, just to watch the madness.”
Despite the dismay over the culinary terror that was about to be inflicted on her, Celia couldn’t help but grin. When it came to madness, her girls were natural-born geniuses. “In other words, you’re enabling them to torture me on my birthday.”
“Yep. It’s your own fault they love you so much,” he added, smiling down at her. “If you were a crap mother, they wouldn’t give a damn about you or your birthday. As it is, Fiona and Hannah are fighting over who gets to make the pancakes, and Bridget has ordered them to make you coffee, tea and orange juice. Hopefully they know not to put it all in one cup.”