So now I have to re-evaluate my thoughts as well as accept that I am in love with a man I know nothing about.
Shit.
“And don’t go telling me you don’t love the boy, Sissy. I can see. Now tell Mama what had you running wild this morning. And don’t you dare try to bullshit me.”
Jesus, had I really forgotten what a hard-ass my mama can be? For years I’ve put her in this role of the poor little ranch wife who’s ruled—and totally adored—by my father, but that is so far from being the truth.
My mama can give as good as she gets, and she frequently has Daddy running around like a headless chicken just to keep her happy.
“Okay, so maybe I do have…sorta feelings for him, but you yourself showed me those tabloid pictures, Mama. The man is a total player.”
“There’s whores and then there are men who don’t take to love without a struggle. If he fucked that model, cut him loose. But if he didn’t…”
I watch her shrug prosaically and swallow back a startled giggle.
“Did y’all just say fuck?”
“You think I was born this old, little girl? I’ll have you know I had a whole life before I married Beau Bennet and had you and your siblings. Lord, when I remember those days…but don’t try changing the subject, Cecelia. What’s going on?”
Shoot.
“I’ve been sick—”
“Is something not healing right? Come on, we’ll get you straight to Doc Bear’s.”
“No, Mama,” I say, pulling her back down and staring into my now melted milkshake. Just the thought of all that thick, gooey cream hitting my stomach makes the thing turn with disgust. “I came into town to get one of them home tests.”
She frowns for a second, and then I see the light dawn in her eyes before a delighted squeal assaults my ears.
“Oh, Sissy!”
“Christ, calm down. You’re squealing like a cheerleader,” I mumble, picking at the fries with a grimace.
I’m so hungry all the time, but I know that if just one of those fries passes my lips I’ll be ear deep in the porcelain, so I push them away and flop back with a huff.
“You’ll still need to go get a blood test, and then you have to call—”
“Don’t even say it, Mama.”
Telling that asshat—cheating ball of handsome slime—that I’m knocked up with his child will only make him that much more determined to have me back under his thumb.
Oh, really? He hasn’t even called you once since he watched you get in that limo with your parents. Face it, Sis, the guy has obviously moved on.
“But, honey, he deserves to know.”
“And I’ll tell him. After the test and the holidays. I just need some more time.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Thanks for getting me out of jail.”
I laugh at Bee’s eye roll and pull her down onto the sofa with me, enjoying the slightly cushiony feel of her arm when she falls down beside me and stares out at the patio and the pool beyond.
I’d called her parents and even Jeffrey yesterday after the results of my blood test had come back. Yup, positive. I love my mama, really I do, but if I have to listen to her gush about babies in that covert way—I’d made her swear not to tell Daddy yet—which is as obvious as a wart on a witch’s nose, I was gonna scream blue murder.
I need Bee and her level head, not to mention how truly terribly I’d missed her these last few weeks. Thanksgiving is in two days, and that’s keeping Mama busy—thank you, Jesus—so I’d swung a mutual agreement between our respective families.
The whole Parker clan have joined us for the festivities.
“You’re most welcome. So how are you feeling?”
“Fine, I guess. Better. I picked up four pounds, thanks to my mother’s feeding habit, and the stylist says she saw some regrowth of hair, so I won’t be bald come Christmas.”
We both look at each other a beat before we start laughing hysterically. This is why I’ve needed her here; her sense of humor has gotten me past some really gloomy times.
“How you feeling about…”
We haven’t spoken about what had happened that night because, honestly, I know exactly how fragile she must be if I’m still struggling to get over the horror.
She pales and looks away, but not before I see a tear track slowly down her right cheek.
“Honestly? I feel like this whole thing is my fault.”
“Oh, Bee, no.”
“Yeah. I knew that something was really wrong when he started getting so controlling, but I made excuses for him. I told myself he was just stressed with his job, that yeah, I had put on a little extra weight, and that if he wanted to spend more time with me it was a good thing. I let it all go so far.”
“Bee—”
“No. That night? He called me, crying about how much he missed me. God, I was so weak! I missed him too and…”
Please don’t tell me—
“I let him in,” she says in a rush, her eyes spilling over with fat tears of misery. “I just wanted to talk to him and—”
“I warned you how dangerous he was, Bee! I had the codes changed and everything because I knew he meant it when he said he’s hurt us!” I yell, slamming my fist into the cushions.
“I’m so sorry.”
I huff impatiently and turn away, ignoring her pleas for forgiveness and her quaking, muffled sobs. I’d laid awake at night, wondering incessantly how he’d gotten into the apartment in the first place, and now I know.
Not only had Bee endangered her own life, she’d almost gotten me killed because she’d broken her promise to me. That’s the part that really chaps my ass.
She’s never gone back on her word before, and I now know that she’s not worth trusting.
“When this is all over and we go back to New York, I’m getting my own place,” I say, rising shakily to my feet.
I’d been so excited to get her here and share my news and angst over the whole Vincent situation, and now I just feel empty. Looks like I can’t trust anyone anymore.
“Sissy, no,” she sobs, jumping up to rush over and throw her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Sissy. Please, you have to understand.”
“Leave me alone, Bee. You did the one thing I can’t forgive. You broke your promise.”
“Sissy. Stop being such a bitch.”
I pull away from Bee and whip around, almost squealing when my brother Justin walks in, his Stetson tipped back and sweaty, his boots dusty, just the way I’ve always remembered.
“You stop interfering. You have no idea—”
“I do. I heard what she said. She made a mistake.”
From the way Justin is staring at Bee you’d swear she’s the only woman left on the planet. I feel a twinge in the region of my heart and push it back ruthlessly. That’s the very same look Vincent had given me before I’d left.
“A mistake that almost got me killed,” I hiss. “You shut up and give me a kiss,” I mutter, throwing Bee a scathing look while I wag a finger at him. “I’ve missed you.”
He obliges, wrapping his strong arms around me to give me a bone cracking squeeze.
“God, twerp, I’m glad you’re okay. I was out in the far pastures checking for water. I didn’t know what happened until this morning when I got home. Lousy cell reception up there, and Dad didn’t want to overwhelm you with the whole family, so he didn’t come get me. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay. As you can see, I’m alive and in one piece. No thanks to her,” I snarl, throwing a thumb and a nasty look at Bee.
“Now, darlin’—”
I ignore his chiding and peck him on the lips, walking away with a frustrated growl that shuts him up.
“You wanna coddle her some more, you go right ahead. I’m done. It’s gonna take more’n a few crocodile tears and a sad tune to make me forgive her.”
Rushing upstairs, I lock myself into my studio and get to work, smiling darkly at the canvas and cursing everyone within a fifty mile ra
dius. Hours later, I stand back to survey my progress and feel what little is left crack and crumble.
Everything on the canvas is dark and gloomy.
For the first time in my life.
Chapter Nineteen
I can’t believe—of all the goddamned gall!
“Mama!”
“Oh, Sissy dear, calm down, stress isn’t good for the baby,” she trills, cutting more pumpkin as I stand at the kitchen counter and glare at her. Casting surreptitious glances at the door every time I hear a footfall.
“Sssh, would you quit that! Someone will hear you!”
She keeps peeling and dicing pumpkin for tomorrow’s pumpkin pies as if she hasn’t got a care in the world, while I’m standing here freaking the hell out.
“Mama!”
“Well, what did you want me to do, Cecelia?” she asks, finally losing patience. “Beau invited him. I couldn’t just turn him away when he got here, now could I? Anyway, you have something to tell the boy, so you should be grateful he came to you.”
I feel myself bubbling with angry resentment, and for the second time in my life I explode and neglect to show my mother the respect she’s due.
“Grateful? He’s sitting in the den sharing drinks with Daddy and Justin while I… All I asked for was a little time, Mama! Why can’t you just understand that!”
“Time for what, Sis?” she asks, raising a regal blonde brow at me. “To stick your head in the sand and hide? You think now that fancy shmancy art gallery called for more of your work you don’t need him?”
Goddammit, how does she know I’ve made a good amount of money and that my art has finally taken off? I haven’t told a soul.
“I overheard you on the phone. I know you, Cecelia, and I know how your mind works when you think you’re in trouble. You ignore the issue and just keep going till it’s either gone or your daddy has taken care of the problem. Well, not anymore. You tell that boy, or I will,” she says harshly, pointing the tip of the knife at me for emphasis.
I… It’s silly to be this afraid of something, but I truly am. Not because I’m not happy, because I am. I’m twenty-eight years old, and the thought of a soft, cuddly baby makes me giddy with excitement.
I’m just not sure that having this permanent connection to Vincent is a great idea. I’ve only just managed to shake loose the sadness that had been dogging me and resolved to move full steam ahead with my life.
And now I can’t.
“Just give me some time. Please. They’re already so batshit crazy about that whole Eric thing. If they find out…” I can’t say it for fear he’ll all of a sudden come barreling in and sweep me off my feet. “You know how daddy and Jus can be. Vincent’s worse. I got a paper cut and he acted like I needed stitches!”
This made my mother laugh so hard I had to grab the knife out of her hand for fear she’d either cut herself or me.
“It’s not funny!”
“Of course it is. Your father was the same way with me. And don’t even get me started on the childbirth. He almost had a heart attack when Justin and Kristen were born. He flat out fainted in the delivery room the night we had you.”
“Seriously?”
It’s hard to compute. I mean, my dad is over six feet tall—not quite Vincent stature, but darned close—and still muscled despite being close to sixty. I can’t imagine the great big Beau Bennet fainting for any reason.
“Yeah. That year I went into the hospital to get my knee checked? He threatened to cut the doctor’s balls off if he so much as hurt a hair on my head, and then he cried when I came out of it fine. So you see, our men are hard and tough, but gooey inside when it comes to us. If that boy don’t love you, I’ll eat my gardening gloves.”
The words freeze me for a second, shooting thrilling shards of heated longing through me. If only that were true. But I know better. Vincent might like me, and even respect me, but the man has no feelings of love for me, and I know it.
And now I have to sit across from him at dinner and pretend not to feel anything besides an acquaintance that is killing me. I wish I’d never gotten involved and fallen in love with Vincent Blake because I know that when I finally break the news to him my freedom will be short-lived.
***
“You can’t avoid me forever, dove.”
I shiver as those husky words wend a warm trail over the skin of my nape and turn around, surreptitiously eyeing the patio doors and the people milling about in the living room.
Justin is glued to Bee like a vine, the Parkers are laughing and joking with Mama and Daddy, and Jeffrey seems lost in his thoughts where he’s sitting alone off to the side, despite my attempts to draw him into conversation all night.
That leaves me alone on the patio, where I’d come for some fresh air and to walk off the nausea of a dinner I’d been forced to eat under the watchful eyes of my parents and Vincent.
Who seems to not take a hint and has followed me outside.
“I’m not avoiding you, Vincent, I just needed some fresh air.”
“Come now, dove, I thought we prided ourselves on honesty. No games, remember?” he chides, taking my face in one hand to bring my gaze to his.
“Like that game you played with me? ‘Oh, dove, I’ll call you. I can’t wait to hear your voice again. I’m dying to see you’,” I mimic, shooting him a scathing glare and curling my lip to let him know how disgusted I am. “You couldn’t go five measly days without sticking your dick in another woman. You seriously are a player.”
His eyes flare for the briefest second before the usual mask of urbanity falls back into place, and I panic somewhat when his full lips curl in a mocking show of humor.
“Jealous then, dove?” he drawls, spearing his hand into my hair to pull my face to his.
“No!”
But I am, I realize, resisting the urge to lean that scant inch closer and taste his sensual lips. I hate him for turning to another woman, as if what I’d offered wasn’t enough to hold him, and I hate myself more for wanting him anyway.
“Ah, but I think you are. I think the thought of me with another drives you crazy. Does it bother you to think of my lips caressing her skin?” he muses, blowing a puff of heated air onto my trembling lips. “Can you stand the thought of my hands stroking over another woman’s skin, her mouth, as I bring her the same pleasure I’ve given you?”
No! I want to slap his smug face and rip out his hair for doing this to me. I have never been one of those woman who would willingly humiliate herself for a man, and yet, as he stands here taunting me, I want nothing more than to hurt him the same way he’s hurt me.
But I can’t, and not only because of the secret joy I now carry, but because I will never forget his savageness when he’d come to my rescue. Vincent Blake may not love me, or be worthy of what I feel for him, but the man is honorable enough to have earned my respect and gratitude, if nothing else.
“I’ll be returning to New York after Christmas,” I say, changing the subject and pulling away to wander over to the lit pool. “I’ll call you when we get back. We need to talk.”
Thank God he remains a few paces behind me and seems content not to push the subject, oddly enough, because I think he regrets the faint sheen of tears I’m not able to stem.
“Tell me now, dove.”
That damnable name! Every time he uses the endearment he shreds another sliver of my stupid heart.
“No. Not here. I just want to get through the holidays with my parents and get Bee the hell out of my world. Then we’ll talk.”
“Bee? What’s wrong?”
I smile humorlessly and shake my head, turning back to the pool and the soft breeze whispering through the trees before turning back to him.
“Nothing. We’re just not seeing eye to eye at the moment.”
I’m not about to tell him that Bee is solely responsible for my brush with death. I haven’t even told my parents—thanks to Justin’s pleading—because I know that no matter how much they love Bee, they will g
o nuts.
At Mama’s instigation I now recall every pounding slam of Vincent’s fists that night, and while I know he’d never lay a hand on Bee, I’m not sure he won’t do something else to punish her.
He may not love me, but he wants me, that much is clear, and he’ll be furious to learn that Bee’s recklessness almost robbed him of something I’m very sure he considers his property.
“Dove, can you not talk to me? We’re still friends, aren’t we?” he asks, sending another arrow of pain through my heart.
Yes, as much as I want to deny it, we share as much friendship as we did sexual need. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of whatever time we spent together mainly consisted of ripping each other’s clothes off and going at it, wherever and whenever we could, but I can’t deny that Vincent had spent as much time talking to me and making me laugh.
“Yes, but I can’t… It’s not the right time for this. I just need some space to work things out in my head.”
And figure out how the heck I’m going to convince you not to overtake my life. Because I know that once he finds out about the child he’ll be on me like white on rice.
Damned controlling tycoon.
I hear him sigh deeply before joining me to tug me down. He’s rolled up his pant legs, and sighs when his feet dip into the cool water as he sits on the side.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Brennan,” he finally says when I capitulate and join him.
“I don’t—”
“We’ve scoured New York City and the surrounding areas, but besides that one sighting in the Bronx, he’s still at large. As much as it annoys me to admit, I don’t think returning to the city is a good idea.”
“Well, too bad. I refuse to hide out here because that asshole is a maniac. My father already knows what I want, and he’s getting me a new apartment and having security set up. I’m going home.”
Wyatt (Lane Brothers #1) Page 22