Ready For It (MacAteer Brothers Book 2)

by ML Nystrom

  I knew my words lacked what I really meant. I wasn’t ready to admit to him or to myself where my heart stood. All the romance novels I’ve ever read say love is the most wonderful state and that when the right two people find each other, it’s magical. Books were great, but I lived in the real world where love can be used as a weapon. Too many times in my life, love had either let me down or been fashioned into a sharp edge that cut me off at my ankles. I trusted Bevvie more than anyone else in the world, but she still didn’t know everything about me. No one did. Owen came close. Real close to my heart, and I hovered on the edge of telling him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t say the words. I wasn’t ready to take that leap of faith and let someone in that far.

  On impulse, I stepped in to hug him, and for the first time, he didn’t hug me back.

  “Buy it. Good one.” He opened the truck door and climbed in, leaving me alone.

  I watched as he backed into the cul-de-sac and drove off. He didn’t look at me. Not once. A sense of abandonment hit my gut, followed by a succession of rage and resolve. Fuck this, and fuck him. I’m not going to cry. I’m not!

  Junior chose that moment to wake up and play trampoline. The distraction of my kid jumping on my diaphragm broke me out of my unhappy state. I turned back to the house. The agent lingered around the front door, trying to be discreet. Suck it up, Mel. You’re doing just fine on your own. “Well, kiddo, what do you think? We have a winner here?”

  Junior executed a flip and punched my liver. “Cool. Let’s go buy a house.”

  Owen drove away from the suburb and past the streets that would take him back to his camper. Instead he went to the closest exit and pulled on the highway. He didn’t have a particular destination, he just needed to leave before he unmanned himself any further in front of Melanie. He sniffed hard and resisted the urge to pound his hands against the steering wheel.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why had he ever let himself fantasize a woman like Melanie Miser would consider him for more? He’d thought he could let it go and be satisfied with friendship, but the house shopping got to him more than he wanted to admit. At first, he pictured her in the house, cozied up on her nice furniture in front of the gas fireplace. A baby sat in her arms, cooing and waving tiny fists in the air. He put himself in that image with her curled up and leaning against his side. Then the image changed. Someone else sat on that sofa taking her weight against his side as she smiled up into his face. The sudden thought struck him that the friendship card meant eventually she would find another man to be with on that sofa, watching the flames dance. There would be another man in the house he helped to pick out and fix up. There would be another man to hold her as she slept. There would be another man to be in her bed and in her life, leaving no room for him.

  He ended up on the Blue Ridge Parkway and pulled over to the first overlook he came to. Night had descended, and the black sky sparkled with dots of light. He got out of the truck and walked to the stone wall that separated the road from the scenic vista. His breath puffed white in the cold air. No other vehicles passed by. No nighttime sounds of insects twittered. He was alone. If he wanted to let tears fall from his eyes, no one would see.

  Most of his life, he’d sat unnoticed in the background. The workhorse. The quiet laborer. The one to call when there was a need for something to be fixed. All other times, he simply existed.

  He leaned over the wall and looked down into the abyss. The outline of the rocky crags below him were hidden by the dark. He could make out a few shapes of the tops of trees, but the bottom stayed invisible. For long minutes he stood, marble in his frozen stillness while his heart cracked down the middle.

  She only wants me as a friend.

  She only wants my help as a handyman.

  I mean nothing real to her.

  She’ll never care for me as I do for her.

  His thoughts beat him up, circling around and around. Memories of past attempts at finding someone to love came to his mind, and his heart sank even lower. The time a high school girl made fun of his stutter. Another one when a woman said his body looked too big and bulky for her taste. Yet another date that ended early because she told him his education level would become a problem and she didn’t think she would be happy with a man who did “manual labor” for a living.

  Melanie didn’t have a problem with his occupation. She never said a word about his size or shape, and never mentioned his speech issue. When he first moved to this area, the idea of being close to her thrilled him. Now, it hurt.

  “Amadán,” he whispered. “Your own damn fault for letting it happen.”

  For months, he’d had almost constant contact with the woman he desired more than any other. He held her sleeping. He defended her to her asshole brother. He showed up when she called for help. He resisted the urge to fuck her when she was in a vulnerable state. He had kissed her, tasted her potent flavor, and made her come. Yet she still didn’t see him as a man worthy enough to love.

  A single tear fell from his face, and he watched it as it dropped to disappear into the deep black below him. The first time he’d cried had been at his mother’s funeral. She spent his short life taking his back against the bullies who tormented him about his speech. She had been his support, his rock, his anchor, and he had loved her with a fierceness like he had no other. As her plain casket was lowered into a deep black hole in the ground, sheer loneliness had filled him. Even surrounded by his beloved brothers, he felt an acute sense of isolation. He stood silent and rigid as tears leaked from his eyes to make trails down his young face. Tonight was the second time he’d ever cried.

  His phone buzzed in his back pocket, startling him. He hadn’t thought he had a signal up this far in the mountains. He pulled it out and saw it was Jerry calling.

  Owen let out a sigh and tapped the green icon. “Yeah.”

  “Owen, buddy, been trying to reach you for a few days. I know it’s late, but you remember Jodie’s sister I mentioned?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I sat in the plush chair of the First and Trust bank in Woodfin. It was the furthest branch away from the main bank in downtown Asheville, as I had no intention of accidentally running into Robert. I decided to put a sizeable down payment on the house and go with a fifteen-year mortgage that I could handle on my teacher’s salary. My accountant informed me of the tax advantages and how that would help my bottom line.

  The small lobby looked as utilitarian and plain as any generic office space would. Beige carpet, beige walls, beige furniture. Even the tellers wore muted colors, as if in fear of standing out. I had no such problem. I wore black maternity slacks with a gold-patterned blouse and a bright red blazer. Red was supposed to be a power color, and I needed all the confidence I could muster. The certified check I was waiting to get was the biggest one I’d ever cashed from my account.

  Junior punched my diaphragm with impatience, and I glanced at my watch to see how long I had before closing. The bank manager had said I needed to make this transfer in person because of the huge amount. I supposed that made sense, but I’d never had an issue before when I moved money around in my accounts. It figured this time I didn’t have that option. I’d made an offer on the house, and it was accepted. Now I had to move quickly to get money in the right place before I closed on the deal. Excitement and dread hit me. It was a big move to own a house, but the anticipation of a great future for Junior and me thrilled me.

  The manager put me in his private office to wait for a few minutes. I sat in an uncomfortable straight-backed chair and played a game on my phone. I was daydreaming of paint colors, blinds, and curtains when a pair of tasseled designer loafers came into my downward view. Crocodile made by Zelli, if I guessed correctly, and retailed at just over one thousand dollars. My palms started to sweat, and a slow-burning panic hit my stomach. No, no, no, no, he can’t be here. Not now. Every muscle in my body tensed in readiness to fight or run. I swallowed the bile that raced up my throat, and I raised my eyes to meet Robert’s gri
nning face. Handsome, stylish, worldly, smart, and the last man I ever wanted to be around.

  “Hello, Melanie. Bill told me you’d be coming in for some paperwork. I’m surprised you came all the way out here. I would’ve been glad to help you at the main branch.” He closed the door, and I jumped at the loud click of the lock.

  Fucking control yourself, Melanie. You’re a grown-ass woman. Act like it! “I like the customer service at this branch.”

  He smirked at the lie and moved to stand closer to the chair arm, his hips near my head as he looked down on me. Intimidation had always been his favorite game, and he enjoyed getting in my personal space, trying to play with me. “We’re always ready to service our customers anyway they need it.”

  My gut clenched and rolled at his thinly veiled words and the invasion of my personal space. Robert’s smug smile made me want to vomit and only sheer will power kept me from doing it. He reached out a finger to run over my shoulder. “The transfer you want is more than we can cover at this time. It will take several weeks to get it through. Might be tough for you to have it done before you buy this house of yours.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  He shrugged. “The bank president has to approve transfers of this much, and since I’m the bank president, I get to decide when it happens.”

  His finger traveled over my collarbone. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where this was going. “If we came to some sort of arrangement, I can push the authorization forward. You make me happy; I’ll make you happy.”

  I froze as the finger he touched me with moved over my neck and down between my cleavage. I prayed the bank manager would come through the door, papers in hand. Robert’s hand started to slide under my shirt toward my breast, and I thawed in an instant. I leapt from the chair, almost knocking it over.

  “Keep your hands off me!”

  His smile turned predatory as he threw back his head and laughed. “Goddamn, you’re still the same little spitfire from years ago. The ice princess, too good for anyone. Always kept her fucking nose in the air.”

  He pushed into me, and I had no choice but to move back until my spine hit the wall. My legs trembled and panic had my stomach twisting violently.

  “Well then, princess, looks like you need my help to get what you want. You want that mortgage loan to go through, I need to get what I want. And I want a lot.” He unbuckled his leather belt and unzipped his pants. I glanced down to see one of his hand holding and stroking his hard dick. He put his other hand on my shoulder and pushed down. “Let’s start by you getting on your knees.”

  I panted. My control, my power, my iron will were no longer in me. My head buzzed with white noise, and I left my body. Melanie Miser disappeared, and only her shell remained. My knees started to bend.

  A loud knock on the door startled both of us. “Excuse me, sir. I have those papers you wanted.”

  I came back into myself, and nearly puked on Robert’s shoes. Fuck this! I grabbed the dick he waved at me and twisted it. Robert yelled in pain and shoved me back. I kept my grip on his favorite toy and cranked it harder. He got the message and stood still, gritting his teeth and seething with fury.

  “Don’t you ever touch me again, you slimy bastard. I remember everything.”

  “Fucking bitch!” he bit out as his face turned redder. “I’ll get you for this!”

  “No, you won’t. You do anything to hold up my money, I’ll be making an appointment with your daddy dearest. Former mayor and CEO might not appreciate his precious family honor smeared around. I’m not the same little girl you think you know. Don’t try me.”

  “Sir? Is everything okay?” The timid voice at the door followed the rattling of the knob as the bank manager tried to open the door.

  I let go of Robert’s softened dick, and he gasped huge gulps of air. I turned to open the locked door, and he scrambled to get behind the desk, plopping himself in the fancy executive chair. The bank manager gaped at the sudden movement but kept his comments to himself. Probably a good thing, as I was sure Robert would fire him in an instant.

  I reached out my hand for the sheaf of papers. “I’m not feeling very well right now. I’ll take those home with me and look them over.”

  The confused man gave them to me without question, and I strode out of the bank, my head up, and my aura full of confidence.

  That lasted only until I got outside, where I emptied my shaky stomach in the parking lot. My hands started shaking, and I barely kept my knees from collapsing. One of my hands rested on my pounding heart and the other on my belly. I could still smell Robert’s expensive cologne mixed with the sickening musk of his arousal. The impulse to call someone, anyone, flew through my brain. Owen, or Bevvie. I fumbled for my phone, dropping it twice and cracking the screen. Dead battery. Fuck.

  I bleeped the locks on my car and crawled inside. Once I locked myself in, the shakes started so bad, my teeth rattled. Stop this, Mel. Stop this right now. I fought for control. Not gonna let him get to me. Not gonna let him win.

  Gradually my panic attack subsided, and I calmed enough to drive away. The urge to spend money and lots of it hit me. My therapy. I needed to get my phone fixed anyway, so I pointed my car in the direction of the mall. My safe place.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Owen pulled at the collar of his shirt. He owned only three polo shirts, all of them printed with the green shamrock Irish Pub Builders logo. The majority of his clothes were for work, with a few casual shirts and a pair of “nice” jeans and a pair of khakis. He sat at the mall coffee shop sipping a chai tea and wondering how he got into this mess. The woman he was supposed to meet had texted to say she was running late. Owen appreciated punctuality but realized circumstances didn’t always make that possible.

  Three kids screaming about Halloween costumes ran by, followed by a frazzled woman yelling for them to stop. He wondered if he should buy any candy in case some stray trick-or-treater made it to his camper doorstep on Tuesday night. Highly unlikely, as Connor’s bunch had made plans to participate in their church’s trunk-or-treat event. Maybe he’d go. Maybe not. He knew the chances of running into Melanie were high, but he couldn’t live his life avoiding her. It had been only four days since he saw her at her new house, and they hadn’t spoken or texted.

  “Owen MacAteer?” A pretty brunette came up to him, her deep brown eyes questioning. He nodded once as she sat down across from him.

  She looked different from Jerry’s wife. Jodie regulated every bite she put in her mouth and then spent hours on the treadmill working off any errant calories that might have made their evil way into her system. This woman was tall enough to make it to his shoulder and had a nice, robust build.

  “Hi, I’m Bernadette, but everyone calls me Bertie. Thank you for dealing with my sister and brother-in-law. I know how pushy they can be.”

  She seemed very comfortable in her own skin. A waitress came by, and she asked for a plain coffee with cream and sugar. “I hope you’ve not been waiting long. I bought a farmhouse recently, and there’s a lot of work to do on it. I’d hoped to do a lot of the work myself, but it’s harder than I thought.” Her easy, secure smile did a lot to dissipate Owen’s anxiety in meeting her.

  “Not long.”

  “Good. I hate being late, and I didn’t anticipate the traffic here around the mall would be this thick. Do you come here often?”

  Owen shook his head.

  “I understand. I don’t do a lot here either. I just moved back here recently, and there is so much work for me to do right now, I don’t get out often.”

  Owen took a sip of his tea and tried to come up with something to say.

  The waitress brought a steaming cup to the tiny round table. Owen had his wallet halfway out when Bertie thanked the woman and handed her some cash. “Keep the change.” He didn’t expect the move and tucked his wallet back into his pocket, waiting for her to speak.

  “I’m sure you don’t have time to waste, and I don’t either, so if y
ou don’t mind, I’ll get right to the point. My sister Jodie is a wonderful person, and I love her to death, but she’s been pushing for months for me to get out and meet new men. She’s been nagging Jerry to set me up with every available single man he knows, and I’m afraid you’re the latest victim.”

  Her face showed the same serenity as her words. Owen relaxed and smiled. “No problem.”

  She let out an easy breath. “Thanks. My divorce is finally official, and it’s a good thing, but I still need time to heal and be just me for a while, you know?” She took a sip of her coffee and waved a hand dismissively in the air. “It wasn’t because he cheated on me or found out he was gay or something like that. We were together for years, and then we weren’t. Maybe we got too routine or something, I don’t know. I think we finally admitted that we had fallen out of love and were better off not being together. We made good roommates and probably could have lived a life together, but I want more than a warm body in my bed. He wasn’t too upset when we broke up either. Makes me wonder if we were ever really in love in the first place. The kind of love that lasts. Know what I mean?”

  Owen nodded and sipped his own drink. Bertie seemed genuine in her words, and his thoughts of having to let her down disappeared.

  Bertie’s hands started folding a paper napkin in quick precise shapes. “Jodie thinks I’m nuts for buying that old farmhouse. Jerry said if we hit it off, I could get some free help with fixing it up. My plan is to turn it into a bed-and-breakfast.” She shook her head on a sigh. “I wouldn’t do that to someone, and frankly, I’m not ready. When I invite someone into my life again, it will be for me and only me. I hope you’re not offended.”

  Her friendly smile and warm personality had him easing back in the bistro chair. No pressure meant he could relax and enjoy her company with no expectations. “Not offended.”

  Bertie set the folded napkin in the middle of the round table. She’d transformed the plain white square into a paper swan. Owen reached a finger out and poked it.