by Karen Cimms
Preston’s mood had taken a much more serious turn from the more casual banter we’d shared in the bar.
He poured a splash of cream into his cup, lifted his spoon, and stirred. His pale blue eyes grew darker, more intense.
“Rain, I—”
“How’s that team of farmers doing?”
His eyebrows slammed together. “What?”
“Baseball, remember? Didn’t you once tell me you owned a baseball team for farmers?” I knew I was way off base and sounded like an idiot, but the mood need some serious lightening.
His head rolled back, followed by a low rumble of laughter. “A farm team. I own a farm team. Players usually start there and try and work their way up to the major leagues.”
I flashed him a ditzy smile. It had worked. If my acting like the brainless halfwit he was used to kept the conversation from getting too serious, then that’s what I’d give him.
“What do you grow on that farm?”
He cocked his head. “You’re kidding, right?”
I sipped my coffee and smiled at him over the rim of the cup. “Maybe.”
“Okay. Since I’m not quite sure if you’re pulling my leg or not, let me tell you how a farm team works.”
He launched into an explanation of baseball and stats and things I really didn’t care all that much about, especially not being a Yankee fan, while I smiled and nodded.
I hated to admit it, but as long as we weren’t talking about Chase or Suzanne, or God forbid—us—I was actually having fun.
It was the most I’d laughed in eight months.
The waitress arrived with our plates balanced along her arm like an old pro and carrying a coffee carafe in her other hand. She topped off our mugs, then pulled a pen out from behind her ear. “Anything else?” she asked in a voice that had just enough gravel to hint at a habit of at least a pack a day.
“I think we’re good for now,” Preston answered, dismissing her without as much as a glance in her direction or a thank you.
He laughed when I grabbed the ketchup. “You still put ketchup on your eggs?”
“Some things never change.” I rolled my eyes, referring not only to my love of ketchup on eggs, but his disregard for those who served him in some capacity.
My comment lost on him, he smiled. “Just like you. You haven’t changed one bit.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to argue that he was wrong, that I had changed, but over the last couple days, I’d come to realize that was untrue. I was a single mother working the same two jobs as I always had, left behind by a man I loved who was in love with someone else.
I smiled ruefully. “Yep. Just like I said. Some things never do change.”
He wolfed down his eggs while I pushed mine around on the plate, no longer hungry. When he seemed certain I was finished, he leaned closer.
“Want to get out of here?”
I pulled out my phone and checked the time: 4:13 a.m. “Yeah,” I said, dropping my phone back into my purse. “It’s really late—or early, depending on how you want to look at it.”
He dropped two twenties on the table, which more than covered what we’d eaten plus a generous tip. I would have been more impressed had he treated the waitress with dignity. It just reminded me that his version of reality was that being rich meant you could behave badly, and if that wasn’t enough, just throw enough money at it until it went away.
He waited as I slid out of the booth, holding out his hand to help me up. I tried not to squirm away from the warmth of his hand on my lower back as he guided me toward the exit.
The ride back to Blondie’s was silent other than the hum of the Vette’s engine, and quick, given the streets were empty at four o’clock in the morning. I was already regretting all the caffeine I’d just had. Between Chase’s camping trip and Preston’s sudden reappearance, I might not sleep until Tuesday.
Preston pulled up next to my dinged-up station wagon, and thankfully, left the motor running.
I pulled the handle, cracking open the door. “It was really nice to see you again. And thanks for breakfast.”
Preston’s hand wrapped around my wrist. “Wait. Is there someplace we could go? To talk?”
We’d talked for hours, and honestly, I couldn’t think of a thing left to talk about. And certainly nothing else I wanted to discuss. Before I could say as much, Preston filled in the blanks.
“Please, Rain. There’s something I need to talk to you about, and it just didn’t seem like the right time or place here,” he waved a hand at the locked-up tight bar, “or back at the diner. It’s really important. It’s nobody’s business but ours.”
Ours? There was no ours. I gripped the door handle tighter as warmth from his hand seeped into my arm.
“I know you’re hurting. I saw your post on Facebook last night. That’s why I knew I had to see you. I’m hurting. You’re hurting.”
Facebook post? My mind clicked backwards, spinning through the past twenty four hours. Shit! I was on Facebook last night, but I didn’t post, did I? And if I did—
I couldn’t hold back my groan. “I was drunk. I can’t even remember what I wrote.”
“It doesn’t matter. It was a cry for help, and I heard you.”
I dug into my purse, dug out my phone, opened the Facebook app. A low, guttural sound came from somewhere deep inside me, like a wounded animal, which might not have been that far off.
“Your heart called out to mine.”
My drunk and disorderly heart. My loud, stupid heart. No one needed to hear that shit. And if it was calling out for anyone, it was to the jerk in the woods with his new girlfriend.
Twelve comments. Twenty three sad faces.
I was fucking pathetic.
My hands shaking, I clicked edit, and then deleted the humiliating post. Stupid technology.
“How did you even see it?” I asked, dropping my phone into my purse, even though I was tempted to throw it onto the cracked asphalt and drive over it. “We’re not even Facebook friends.”
He shrugged casually. “You’re posts are all public. You don’t post much, but I can see when you do.”
I blinked at him, forgetting for a moment that I’d been Facebook stalking myself last night.
“Why? Why do you care what I post? And why the hell are my posts public?” That last question was more for me and something that needed to be remedied. Who else had I bared my soul to last night? Scrambled eggs and coffee percolated dangerously in my belly.
I pushed the door open. “I have to go.”
Preston grabbed me again; his grip stronger this time. “Seriously, Rain, we need to talk.”
All I could think of was getting home and figuring out how to change my privacy settings. Izzy would know. But Izzy wasn’t home. She was in the woods with her brother. And Chase. And fucking Callie. My Circle Diner breakfast was threatening a repeat performance.
I yanked my arm from his grip. “Fine. Follow me back to my house. We can talk there.”
After jumping into my car, I backed out and made it about a half-mile down the road before I pulled over, and let loose whatever was in my stomach.
At least I’d made it out of Blondie’s parking lot.
Chapter Forty-Four
After putting on a pot of tea and brushing my teeth I joined Preston, who was making himself comfortable in the center of my sofa. I’d made both cups decaffeinated. The sooner this night ended, the better.
I handed him a mug and sat in the far corner of the sofa, angling myself toward him but still keeping my distance. Despite the ease with which he was handling himself, he looked out of place. And for good reason. He didn’t belong here. This was Chase’s home. At least it used to be, and Preston didn’t belong. I didn’t have a clue what he wanted to talk about, but the goosebumps springing up along my arms and the tingle snaking down my spine had me regretting my decision.
“It’s nearly five, and I need my beauty sleep.” I was trying to make light in a situation where I felt
anything but. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”
As if I’d given him the green light, Preston set down his cup on the coffee table and propelled himself across the faux leather sofa, pressing me further into the corner. After wresting my mug away from me and setting it beside his, he captured my hand and covered it with his.
“Not a day goes by that I haven’t missed you and what we could’ve had.” He drew light circles over the back of my hand with his thumb. “I can’t even hear the weather report without thinking of you.”
“It doesn’t count if you’re just trying to decide if you need an umbrella or not.”
His pale blue eyes looked darker, more intense, and he ignored my teasing “Even without a prompt from the meteorologist, I think of you. Actual precipitation allows me to drown in your memory.”
“C’mon, Preston,” I said, reclaiming my hand. “You’re still married. Just because you might be having some rough times doesn’t mean you should try to start things up with me. I’m—”
“You’re what? Alone? Lonely?” He inched closer. “You’re divorced, Rain. It’s over. What’s his name again? Chance?”
I swallowed hard, feeling as if Chase had just walked in and sat down in his favorite chair, waiting to hear what I had to say.
“Chase.” My voice was barely a whisper.
“Whatever. He was an idiot to let you go.” Before I could point out that he’d done the same thing, more or less, he found my hand again and did it for me. “I know firsthand letting you go was a stupid thing to do, but in my defense, I never intended my marriage to Suzanne to be permanent.” He lifted my hand and kissed it. “I didn’t expect it to even last six months. You know that. I sent you those notes. Didn’t you get them?”
The notes, the flowers—and Chase’s reaction. The memories only served to remind me how wrong it was that Preston in my house, sitting on my couch.
“It killed me to learn that just a short time after you broke it off with me, you found someone else. Let’s just say I wasn’t very easy to live with.”
I was flattered and appalled at the same time. Before I could point out that he proposed to Suzanne just a couple days after I called it quits, he continued as if the past few years hadn’t happened.
“It doesn’t matter now. We still have a chance. We can see if there’s still that magic between us.”
Magic? The man had balls the size of King Kong. “You can’t be serious?”
The slow knitting of his eyebrows told me that was exactly what he was. He also had to be crazy.
His eyes had been fastened on mine, but drifted to something behind me. Wouldn’t it be just my luck that Chase would finally come to his senses, come home, and find me with Preston? When he continued to stare, I glanced over my shoulder to see what had caught his attention. There were a few odds and ends on the table behind me, but when I realized what he’d likely zeroed in on, the ominous feeling I’d had earlier ratcheted up.
A framed photograph of me with Zac and Izzy that my mother had taken at Easter sat beside a small silk-flower arrangement the kids had given me for Mother’s Day. The three of us were wearing bunny ears, and the kids were holding baskets of pastel-colored eggs.
No, no, no!
I stood abruptly, cutting off his view, and snatched my phone off the coffee table to check the time. “I’m really tired, Preston. The sun will be up before too long, and I really need to get some sleep. Maybe we can continue this conversation another time.” Like never.
Preston rose slowly and took a few steps toward me. The relief I’d felt that he was leaving dissipated when I caught the hungry look in his eyes.
I was the stupidest woman on the planet.
My steps faltered as I drew back. “Preston.”
“Rain,” he answered just seconds before his mouth came crashing down against mine. One hand swept down my back, pulling me closer, while the other pressed against my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. I tried to push against him, but there wasn’t enough room for me to work my hands between us.
A kiss that had once claimed me, tortured me, set me on fire, had me feeling nothing except sad. And a little angry.
Preston’s lips left mine and his hold loosened. He pressed a kiss to my forehead. When he looked down at me, I knew that he truly expected us to pick up where we’d left off.
“I’m sorry.”
His forehead touched mine. “For what?”
“It’s not happening. I’m sorry.” I tried to pull away, but he wasn’t ready to let go.
“Give me another chance, Rain. I love you. You know I can make you happy.”
I shook my head. “No. I don’t think you can.”
His jaw tightened, and I didn’t miss the flash of anger in his eyes.
I felt like a lamb looking into the eyes of a wolf.
“Is it Chance, because he’s moved the fuck on and you know it.”
“Chase! His name is Chase, and how the hell would you know?”
He stepped back and discreetly adjusted himself. “Jesus, Rain. When did you get so fucking stubborn?”
“I think it’s time for you to go.”
When he looked at me again, his eyes were soft and repentant. “I’m sorry. I just—” He scrubbed a hand over his face, and I could almost hear him counting to ten. He looked exhausted. Why he wouldn’t give up and go home, I didn’t have a clue.
“You’re right. It’s just . . . being alone with you after all this time. It’s hard to control myself.”
He sucked in a lungful of air, pushed his shoulders back, and started again. “Sit. Please.” He motioned to the far corner of the sofa where I’d originally been sitting. “I’ll sit on this end. I promise.”
If hearing him out was the only way to get this night over with, then I had no choice. I wanted—no, needed—him to leave. My body was on high alert. Unlike the energy and bright white light I had always felt around Chase, Preston’s energy was dark. Red. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it. I pulled a throw pillow onto my lap like a shield and nodded.
“Suzanne and I, we’ve had . . . issues. Turns out she can’t have children.” He cleared his throat and looked away.
“We tried everything. She wants to adopt, but I just don’t think that’s a good idea. Things aren’t great between us. They never were, and that was exactly what I expected.” He looked at me pointedly. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s over except for the paperwork. Which means, it could finally be the right time for you and me.” He raised his eyebrows. “Of course, that’s up to you.”
Up to me? Five or six years ago, I would’ve been ecstatic. But now? Now I wanted him to leave me alone, to go away, to take his dark energy with him, but the words were frozen in my throat. I snatched the mug of tea I’d left on the table earlier and drank until I was sure I would be able to form actual words. Words that would finally end this night. I centered the mug on a coaster, buying a little more time.
“I think it would be a mistake.” I spoke so softly that I wasn’t sure he’d heard me at first.
“C’mon, you know we were meant to be together. The rest is just bullshit.”
Bullshit?
“You should’ve waited for me like we agreed.” He sat up and looked at me the way I imagined he did when someone fucked up one of his designs. “What’s done is done. At least we can fix it.”
“Fix what?” I asked, shaking my head. Had he lost his mind? Forgotten to wear his hard hat out on a job site and been struck in the head with an iron beam? “There’s nothing for you and I to fix. We were a mistake from the very beginning—but like you said, what’s done is done. I’m still in love with my husband, although that’s also done. But you and me, that’s been over for a long time. I need to move forward in my life, not backward. There’s nothing for us to gain from a relationship.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” His eyes narrowed to ice-blue chips and his demeanor turned cool and businesslike. “I already gained something from our relations
hip four years ago, and now it’s time I claim it.”
My heart thumped, and my stomach turned over. “I don’t have anything of yours.”
“Now, Rain. We both know that’s not true. I bet even your ex-husband”—I began to hate him for that emphasis, and for what I knew he was about to say—“I bet even he knows the boy isn’t his.”
The hair on my arms stood straight up. “That’s not true,” I said, choking on the words. “Zac is not your son.”
He stood. Suddenly, he looked a lot more formidable.
“Remember when I said you owed me? This is what I meant. You kept my son from me. Now you can make this easy or you can make it hard, but either way, I will have a relationship with my son. If we do it the easy way, I’ll set you up in a nice house and make sure you and both kids are well taken care of. If you want to thank me now and then, I think you know exactly how that could be accomplished. If not, that’s up to you—but I still get full access to Zac.”
Hard and flinty eyes stared down at me as he threw his arms open. “If you want to do it the hard way, I’ll haul your sweet ass into court, and we’ll fight it out there. My lawyers will eat you alive in no time. I’ll have them draw up the order for a paternity test, and you can sit down and explain it to Zac yourself. And I expect full visitation, by the way: weekends, holidays, summer vacations.”
I shot off the couch, wanting to launch myself at him, and balled my fists to keep from scratching his eyes out. This couldn’t be happening. All these years and now, out of the blue—
He looked down with mocking eyes, his voice thick with false sympathy. “Look at how you live.” His hand swept contemptuously over my cozy living room and small but neat kitchen. “Now think of everything I can give him. You know I always wanted kids. Suzanne can’t give them to me—but you already have. I just want what’s mine.”
“He’s not yours.” My throat felt as if it had been sealed shut, and I had to force the words out. It came out as a growl.