“Lord, seriously, if You could just keep the whole snow spigot turned off long enough for Will to leave—and maybe miraculously melt the snow around that car—that’d just be amazing.”
Because the sooner Will left, the faster she could get back to the process of forgetting about him again.
She was happy without him. Life was moving on. People were forgetting about her—them—finally. She already had a few leads on teaching jobs starting in the fall.
The RESET button was being pushed, and she could pick up where she’d left off a year ago after she’d signed up for that stupid show.
Yes, she was very much content with where her life was heading, and Will just needed to skedaddle on out of here so she could get on with setting everything back to rights.
After putting away the last dish in the cupboard, she hung up the dishrag and headed for the den. It would be awhile before they returned, hopefully with good news, so she grabbed a novel—a non-romance unlike what she used to read pre-Will—and settled on the couch.
She was starting chapter three when Dad and Will stomped through the door, looking like abominable snowmen. She dog-eared her spot and set aside the book. “Any luck?”
Her dad shook his head. “Nope. We’ll need a tow truck, and have you looked at the weather lately?”
God, please— “No, let me see if any news is on.” She picked up the remote and clicked to the weather channel.
A map of the United States appeared on the screen, and it was as clear as if they’d written, “Ha, ha, Hanna! You’re stuck with him!” at the top of the map.
The whole northern portion of Minnesota and North Dakota was covered in bright pink, and a blizzard warning scrolled at the bottom of the screen.
CHAPTER FIVE
Funny beaches.
Warm sand sifting between her toes.
A dip in the pool to cool her sun-kissed skin.
A nice fruity nonalcoholic drink with a cute little umbrella in it just for fun.
No snow forcing her archnemesis to stay at her house for an undetermined period of time.
Hanna opened her eyes, her daydream replaced with flurries of self-pity.
The sight of Will and her father playing checkers at the kitchen table made her want to scream. Didn’t they realize her agony over here? Couldn’t they mope around and be glum with her?
Scratch that. She’d rather them be far away from her right now. Especially Will.
Her dad turned in his chair toward the den and raised his eyebrow. “Hanna, you gonna play the winner?”
Considering he was a master at checkers, and maybe it would make Will go to another part of the house for a while, the idea held promise. “Sure.”
He scooted his chair back and stood. “Good, because this young man just beat the pants off me. Besides, it’s past my bedtime.”
The big stinkin’ liar. It was barely eight o’clock. And her dad never, ever lost at checkers.
She stretched and faked a yawn. “I don’t know. Now that you mention it, I’m kinda beat myself.”
Will’s expression turned to a smirk. “Afraid I’ll win?”
Hanna gave her best snarl back at him. “No, I’m afraid I’ll make you cry like a girl when I wipe the floor with you.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll take my chances.”
Trying not to stomp too hard, she walked to the table and slouched into the chair her dad had just vacated. “Fine. But I’m red.” Wordlessly, Will began arranging the board with red on her side. When finished, he nodded to her. “Ladies first.”
She tried not to snort her irritation at his fake gentlemanly manners, but the noise left her nose before she could stop it. Still, she moved her first piece and raised an eyebrow to him.
The game continued in silence, jumps, moves, kings, until all that remained on the board were three red kings and two lonesome black pieces.
Hanna smirked. “Give up yet?”
He studied the board and responded without looking up. “Do pigs fly?”
“They’ll be flapping their wings long before you win this game.”
Will tapped a checker with a finger while staring at the board. Surely he didn’t think he could really beat her at this point in the game? The man was quite stubborn, though, as she recalled.
He looked up from the board and caught her eye. “What about a truce?”
The man had some gall. He was in the losing spot. There was no way he could win, yet he wanted her to call it even? She looked him in the eye, ready to give him a piece of her mind.
His burning gaze stopped her short.
He wasn’t talking about the game anymore. And given that she had no desire to talk about the thoughts running through his head, she pushed away from the table. “Fine. It’s a tie. I’m going to bed.”
A voice laced in desperation beckoned her back. “Please, Hanna? Can we please just talk about it?”
She stood against the island in the kitchen, her hands grasping the edge of the counter. Talking wouldn’t help. It would be like ripping duct tape off an already gaping wound. “What you did to me was wrong, Will. No amount of talking will help.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him stand from the table and take a step closer. “I know it won’t solve everything. But I don’t know what else to do.”
Did he really think they could just talk through this? He’d crushed and humiliated her then left her heart crumbled. He needed to be reminded of that. “Wait here.”
Running up the stairs, she went to her room. Lying flat on the ground, she pushed aside the lacy, homemade bed skirt and stretched her arm far underneath the full-size bed until her fingers grazed cardboard.
After pulling it out, Hanna stared at the old shoe box.
When she’d first started it, the collection had been an obsession. Her dad had told her to ignore it all. But something drove her to keep every single one. In a way, it had been a reminder to her. Every piece within confirmed that letting the walls of her heart down was a horrible idea.
At one point, she’d almost started believing the lies. What if there was some truth to them? What if she’d done something that had not only tarnished her name but God’s as well?
But slowly, the news had slowed to a trickle until now, where there was little if any mention.
She hadn’t opened the box in over a month. Had slid it under the bed, deciding the past was best left where it was. In the past.
The box in hand, she turned, more determined than ever, and made her way back downstairs.
Will still sat at the table, the checkers game put away. He glanced up, and she vowed not to let the puppy-dog look in his eyes stir her heart into pudding like it used to.
He eyed the box. “What’s in there?”
She slammed it down on the table in front of him, bracing herself for the memories sure to come flooding back. “Open it and see.”
Will stared at the box, more than a little nervous about its contents.
Lifting the lid, he frowned at the crammed papers inside.
He picked up the one on top, a tabloid article. The heading read HANNA’S NOT So HOLY AFTER ALL. Thumbing through the others that included newspaper clippings and online printouts of blogs, he felt bile rise in his stomach, and he wanted to puke. He’d done this to her. Sure, he’d seen a few papers at the time but hadn’t let himself read them. Had turned his back at the sight of them, not wanting to know the full impact of his stupidity, except for how it affected his business.
But the truth was spelled out in black and white, and in the case of one magazine article, in full color.
REALITY CHECK: VIRGINITY ISN’T ALL IT’S CRACKED UP TO BE.
AMERICA’S REALITY SWEETHEARTS SEAL THE DEAL, BEDROOM-STYLE.
HOLY HANNA’S FALL FROM GRACE.
DENIAL, THY NAME Is HANNA.
Will put the papers back in the box and started to close the lid, but Hanna shook her head and opened it again. “Not so fast. That stuff you knew about.” She
dug to the bottom and pulled out a thick rubber-banded stack of letters. “There are also e-mails and letters from pastors, women’s ministry leaders, and a host of other people all calling me to repent from my sin and turn away, offering their assistance. A few fun ones even told me how I was going to burn in hell because I disgraced the Christian religion and Jesus Himself. I had to change my e-mail address and shut down my Facebook account.”
Will gripped the side of the table. He wanted to take her in his arms, hold her, and tell her how very, very sorry he was, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough to erase the pain and humiliation he’d caused.
How do I fix this? Think, Will, think.
At his heart, that was Will. A fix-it man. He researched problems. Found solutions. And empowered others to implement while he oversaw. It’s what made him a great researcher. It’s what helped him rise through the ranks and achieve the level of CEO at the rare age of thirty-five.
But this problem was proving to be the hardest one yet.
“Hanna, I don’t know what to say. I had no idea.”
She snorted. “Of course you didn’t. You were too busy shacking up with other women at the time.”
He stood so fast the chair toppled over behind him. “That’s not true. I haven’t slept with anyone since—”
“Since you told everyone you slept with me?”
He closed his eyes in shame. A few months ago, he’d have denied her words, claimed that he hadn’t said it, that the press just took his jesting and ran with it. But deep in his gut, he had to admit that his arrogant words claiming they’d “gotten to know each other real well” had been meant to spark the host’s imagination. “Yes.”
“For some reason, I have a hard time believing that.”
Not that he blamed her. His history wasn’t the most stellar. And the media hadn’t been kind to him either. “Believe what you want, Hanna, but I promise you, I haven’t.”
She shrugged, her fingers letting loose a pile of papers, sprinkling clippings all over the table. “I guess it doesn’t matter if I believe you.”
Will watched as she walked back into the den, picked up the remote, and flipped the TV on as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Looking back at the clippings and letters, Will clenched his jaw.
He would make this right.
He just had no clue how.
A gasp from Hanna brought his attention back to the den. She sat frozen on the couch, the remote lying on the floor, her mouth gaped open.
“Hanna?” He walked closer, but she didn’t respond.
Then he saw the entertainment news channel on, their faces plastered across the screen. Fear furrowed into his gut. “What are they saying about us?” He grabbed the remote and clicked up the volume.
“…over six months ago that America’s reality TV heartthrobs turned into enemies after the CEO of Foster and Jones, William Preston, claimed to have gotten the oh-so-religious, would-be virgin, Hanna Knight, to be, shall we say, not quite so religious in the bedroom during their free weekend on the reality TV show, The Price of Love. But could this feuding couple be getting back together again?
“Sources tell us they may be secluded away together up in the frozen North Minnesota area, waiting out a massive blizzard that slammed the area yesterday. And given the pictures of Hanna’s suspicious baby bump a month ago, this might not have been the first time Will has journeyed up North. Could we be hearing baby rattles soon instead of wedding bells?”
He clicked the POWER button as the news switched to some other, most likely untrue, celebrity gossip. His hand gripped the remote so tight, he felt the plastic threaten to buckle, but it was either that or throw the stupid thing across the room.
How dare they put such idiotic, untrue news on TV like that? Well, the part about them secluded in a snowstorm was accurate, but how had they found that out? His mother, Hanna, and Jim were the only ones who knew where he was.
And the board of directors. Surely they wouldn’t…
But then again, their edict for him to come up here and “fix” things had been pretty clear. As in, emergency board meeting scheduled after the latest dip in sales figures came in for last month.
Clearly, they didn’t feel he was up to doing the job himself.
Neither did he. But this was over the top, even for them.
Hanna sniffled beside him, and he choked down his anger when he saw the tears cresting over her eyes, leaving a sorrowful path down her cheeks. Every inch of him desired nothing more than to take her in his arms and hold her. Well, that wasn’t completely true. Quite a few inches wanted to jump through that old TV screen and blacken a few TV producers’ eyes.
Then yet another inch wanted to wring his own neck because he knew if it wasn’t for his big mouth and ego, they wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.
Not able to stand it any longer, Will sat and put an arm around Hanna and tugged her to him. To his utter amazement, she came willingly and burrowed her face against his chest.
Memories of their whirlwind relationship jammed into his thoughts with the same force as the bitter wind that slapped against the farmhouse, all brought back by the incredible sensation of having Hanna in his arms. Her silky blond hair tickling his chin, the scent of whatever fruity shampoo she must use luring him.
The last time they’d been like this, Hanna hadn’t been crying because she was sad. She’d been sobbing because she was so happy. They’d picked each other, and their future together was finally theirs to live. He’d even proposed to her on national television, much to the delight of their fans and the groans of all the show’s critics who claimed there was no way to fall in love in so short a time with cameras rolling and millions of people watching.
His board had been happy then, too. Their plan had worked.
He, however, hadn’t been quite so ecstatic. As much as he liked Hanna, the whole show was a sham. His love life used to increase sales. He’d already felt uneasy about the whole thing. Maybe that’s why it had been so easy to go with the flow in that stupid final interview.
There was one moment he thought it all might work out. After the final taping, they’d spent one wonderful, glorious evening together, just the two of them. No cameras to capture their every movement. No microphones to record their every word. No producer to dictate the scene. And most of all, no other women waiting for their turn at a date. It was perfect.
Then the show began to air. And his careless words ruined it all.
CHAPTER SIX
Pregnant. The world now thought she was having a baby.
Hanna snuggled in closer to the flannel shirt beneath her face. She wanted to call herself all kinds of a fool for letting him hold her, but she couldn’t relinquish the warmth she felt being in his arms again. His hand rubbed her back while she listened to his heart beating strong and steady against her ear.
For a moment, she allowed herself to dream. What would it have been like had Will not been such a prideful, arrogant jerk? Would they still be engaged, planning a wedding, or would they have settled on a date for sometime in the last six months and already be enjoying wedded bliss? They’d never even talked about children, but she’d wanted them eventually.
Acid burned in her stomach as she realized she might never get her dream. What respectable guy would want to marry a girl who’d been the reality TV scandal of the year? The possibility of a camera at her side, shooting pictures and extorting the truth, would always linger.
A warm sensation pressed against her forehead, spinning her back toward reality. She was snuggling with the very man who had caused this whole rotten mess. Where was her head? Pushing out of his arms, she looked in his eyes but caught her breath. She wanted to scream at him, beat him with her fists for what he had done to her. But the compassion and sorrow that shone through those eyes made it impossible.
Could Will have really changed?
No. It was all an act, just like the whole show had been.
Pushing back, she scoote
d to the other end of the couch and brought her knees to her chin, forming a much-needed barrier between them. “It looks like you’ve made things even worse now.” Will’s face hardened, then he blinked and shook his head. “If I did, I’m sorry. I didn’t think they would find out I was here.”
“Who all did you tell?”
He sat back on the couch, covered his face with his hands and let out a low growl of frustration, then lowered them to cross his arms over his chest. “Only Mom. And she swore she wouldn’t tell a soul. And—”
Hanna wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the and part. “Yes?”
“I was going to tell you eventually, but—”
Hanna pushed up from the couch. “What, did ENC put you up to coming back out? Want to do a reconciliation show or something? It’s not happening, Will. I’m not going back on TV. Ever.” Will stood and put a hand on her arm, but she shoved him off. “Don’t you dare touch me. I can’t believe you thought I would go through with this.”
Will’s strong, square jaw locked. “It wasn’t ENC who asked me to come.”
“Then who?”
“Foster and Jones.”
Hanna shook her head. “Your company? What do they care?”
Will put a hand through his hair. “Sales dropped.”
“And what does that have to do with me? I mean, I’ll be honest. I haven’t bought Skintell or any F&J makeup in ages, or any of that other stuff. Except for when the show dolled me up, I’m pretty much a lip-gloss-and-go kind of girl. And my lotion and soap are whatever I get on sale. But I doubt my nonpurchases warrant a personal appearance by the CEO.”
Will shook his head. “No, but our customers are mostly women. And evidently women weren’t too keen on how I handled myself with you either. Our sales took an initial dive after the show finished airing, the exact opposite of what they’d wanted.”
Realization blasted her like a gun going off directly into her stomach. “Wait a second. You mean to tell me, the only reason you did the show was to boost sales?”
The Engagement Plot Page 4