Bad Boy's Touch
Page 8
He needed to think. He hadn’t been able to come up with a better spot to do it, so he decided to borrow Sawyer’s old brooding spot. They’d come up here together as teenagers, to camp out, drink, and get away from their father. After their mother had passed, they’d come up here to scream their frustrations to the heavens above.
He’d only been here that once since they’d all returned stateside, but it was still familiar.
If you were looking for one of Mama Roman’s boys in times of trouble, it was a safe bet you’d find him here. Not that anyone but the three of them knew that, and Remy of course. There wasn’t much she didn’t know about them.
It was out of the way. It was also highly unlikely that someone would stumble upon you if they didn’t know exactly where you were. Since none of the Romans knew that he was in times of trouble though, no one came looking for him.
He knew his brothers suspected something, but neither of them had asked. They’d learned over the years that Walker talked when he was good and ready to do it. They didn’t push him. They knew that he knew they were there if he felt the need to say anything, which was rare. So they left him be, which was exactly the way he wanted it.
To this day he hadn’t told them everything about his fiancée’s death.
His mind was transported back to that fateful day as he thought of all the things they didn’t know. The rainy day that had changed the course of his life.
He remembered every single second of it like it had been yesterday. He remembered it better than he did some yesterdays, actually. Even though it had been five years since.
He’d been so young, so fucking stubborn. He’d been home on a furlough. Walker and Jenny had been out that night to a party hosted by Jeremy, one of the jackasses he’d gone to high school with. They’d gotten home from the party late, just about midnight.
He was pissed off and jealous. She’d been flirting with Jeremy right in front him all night. Making eyes at him, touching his arm, laughing at his immature jokes.
In retrospect, he realized that while what he had to say had needed to be said, he'd chosen when to say it. He’d said it then, and in the way that he had, because he knew it would result in a fight.
The rage that had coursed through his veins... he hungered for that fight. He felt pissed off and humiliated. He had wanted her to yell at him.
She had yelled at him and then some. But then she'd gone further than that, grabbed her keys and sped away before he could stop her.
He’d tried to stop her though, for what that may be worth. Only, she had known exactly which buttons to push, and she’d pushed them hard.
She yelled that he was a useless piece of shit whose own mother couldn’t stand him. Said he had disgraced his family name with every breath that he took. That he didn’t deserve to be a husband, much less a father.
Her words had stunned him into inaction. He stood in the pouring rain, watching her tail lights disappear before he could move again.
He’d been confused by that last bit at the time. She said ‘much less a father,’ but he had assumed that she was speaking about a child that they would conceive in the future.
You know what they say about ‘assume,’ Roman. ‘It makes an ass out of u and me.’
And what a stupendous ass it had made of him.
He had figured that she’d drive around for a while and come home, maybe crash at her mother’s. After an hour or so, the rain had started coming down harder and he’d started to worry.
He was hesitant because of the hour, but he phoned her mother when Jenny didn’t pick up after his first few tries.
It took a few rings, but her mother’s sleepy voice had eventually come through the phone. He hadn’t wasted any time.
“Is Jenny with you?” he’d questioned, getting directly to the point.
Her mother had seemed confused, but went to check the house anyway.
“No, she’s not here, Walker.”
She’d sounded dazed, but he hadn’t said anything more. He'd hung up by then, anyway. He’d run out of the house, jumped in the beat-up truck he’d been driving at the time. He sped out into the rainy night, hoping like hell he could find her.
And find her he had. Bleeding to death on the side of the country road that she’d turned her truck over on.
It had been a straight stretch of road. He still didn’t understand how she’d turned the truck over, but that hadn’t mattered then and it didn’t matter now.
He’d rushed over to her, did his best to stop the bleeding before trying to pick her up as gently as he could. He'd raced to get her over to the nearest hospital. She’d been weak from blood loss before he’d found her; she was on the verge of passing out shortly after he’d gotten her into his truck.
The last words she’d managed to speak nearly made him overturn his own truck. When he allowed himself to think of this part, he could clearly see her ragged, pale face, blood smeared all over her and more pumping out of her wounds. He remembered her unfocused eyes. They glazed over as she tried to find his eyes.
“I’m pregnant.”
Jenny’s whispered confession rang so clearly in his mind. To this day it was like she was still there, right next to him.
By the time they’d reached the hospital, it was too late. He’d called ahead and warned them that he was coming in with the victim of a car accident who was severely injured. They’d been ready and waiting as he’d screeched up to the emergency room. Still, the minutes dragged by as he sat in the waiting room, shaking.
Eventually a solemn-looking doctor had emerged, given him a pat on the shoulder, and told him that they’d done everything in their power, but to no avail.
He’d mourned her for a long time. Fuck, he was still mourning her.
He hadn’t trusted Jenny for a while by the time it happened, even though he had still been planning on marrying her. He’d heard whispers every time he was home. Big Navy SEAL, little woman with a short fuse...
He still didn’t know if she really had been pregnant. He’d never had the heart to bring it up to her parents. Since they hadn’t been married yet, the coroner hadn’t been able to tell him anything.
Even if she really had been pregnant, he had no way of knowing if the baby was his. He’d only been home about two weeks when the accident happened, and it’d been months since the previous time he had been home.
He let out a low growl of frustration. So many questions, fuck all for answers. All these years later, and still he had none. He had to face the fact that he would never have any.
What he did know as an irrefutable fact though, was the role he had played in her death. And in the death of her, maybe his, child. A child whose existence he wasn’t even convinced about.
This was the reason he hadn’t dated since her death, the reason why he was still mourning. Hell, he’d only kissed one other woman before his kiss with Ashleigh yesterday. Sure, he’d already admitted to fucking on occasion, but that was where it ended. No kissing, no intimacy, no dates.
Yet here he was, living with Ashleigh who had her own past to live with, her own demons to fight. He’d felt her thrash at night, heard her whimper in the darkness.
She was getting better, but he knew the stuff her nightmares were made of. Even though she’d seemed happier during the day, the nightmares were still there. Something that he knew was unlikely to ever go away -- he knew that better than anyone.
He thought back to this morning. He thought of the conclusions that Ashleigh had clearly drawn about his being embarrassed about her past. He thought of what she had said to him, and the disturbing tone of her voice as she’d said it.
He was ashamed that she thought that about him, truth be told.
He didn’t feel that way at all, though. None of it was her fault.
While there was plenty of blame and shame to go around, none of it belonged to that beautiful young woman. A woman who had been exploited for the better part of her life. Though he could see how she might think he was emb
arrassed...
He realized he was an asshole for not telling her that, but he just didn’t know how to.
He thought of how much life she’d brought to his home over the last couple of weeks. How she made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a long time.
His cock stirred as he replayed their kiss from the day before. He thought of how it had felt to have her body pressed up against his. How she’d sighed in her sleep this morning before she’d woken up, her long fiery hair fanned out across his pillow. How she slept with her leg tucked over the comforter, leading up to that delectable round ass.
He let out a frustrated growl as he adjusted his jeans to address the issue growing in them.
Maybe you should just give up on the jeans around her, Roman. Become one of those guys who wears only sweatpants. Or you could just get a fucking grip!
She was supposed to be a fake girlfriend, not a real one. So he needed to toughen the fuck up and get over it. He vowed then and there to behave like the Southern gentleman his mother had raised him as. He wouldn't ever slip up with her again. He’d be a better faux husband to her that way.
He was a disaster to anyone who got too close. Staying the hell away from her was the best thing for all concerned.
He drained the last of his beer. He gathered the bottles and their caps and headed back to his Escalade, determined to be a better man.
12
A couple of days later, Ashleigh was in the kitchen trying a spin on the classic apple pie that she’d found on one of her recipe apps. She was humming as she added in some cinnamon when there was an unexpected knock on the door.
She hadn’t even made it out of the kitchen yet when she heard The Colonel’s commanding voice.
“Ashleigh, where are you?”
She tugged at the edge of her shorts, as though she could will them into being longer. Marilee’s head popped around the corner and she teetered into the room, The Colonel following close behind.
“We’re sorry to drop in unannounced, honey,” Marilee started, but The Colonel cut her off.
“Nonsense, we’re here to talk to her about her wedding. No need to ever be sorry about that, is there, Ashleigh?”
She looked around instinctively for Walker as she tried to hide her discomfort. But he wasn’t home from work yet, as she well knew.
The Colonel seemed to catch her in the act, and something glinted dangerously in his eyes. Marilee smiled, trying to smooth things over.
“Well, I suppose that’s true, but she’s baking, darling. Can’t you see? We should have called like I told you.”
The Colonel said nothing and seemed to be waiting for her answer.
“Uh, yeah. I’m baking, but that’s fine so long as we can stay in here,” she answered shyly. She gestured to the kitchen.
She was outrageously uncomfortable. Especially given Walker’s reaction after their last surprise visit. But she couldn’t exactly ask them to leave. So she decided to hear them out. She'd be agreeable, but insist to run anything and everything by Walker before saying yes.
“We’ve been thinking about your wedding, dear.”
Ashleigh paled slightly, but busied herself with mixing the filling. She hoped that her hair would cover at least a part of her face as she let out a little noncommittal sound.
“We’re thinking it should be a small wedding, just for family and a few close family friends. After all, you’re going to be a Roman soon, living on the Roman lands. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, right Ashleigh?”
The Colonel examined her face carefully as she flushed, but capitulated.
“I’ll just run it by Walker when he gets home, sir. I know he has some of his own ideas,” she managed to utter. She was still under The Colonel’s fierce glare, unable to hold his eyes.
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find him perfectly agreeable,” The Colonel assured her.
There was an edge to his tone that made her stomach drop and bile boil up her esophagus.
He knows. A shiver crept up her spine.
“Do you know how many guests your parents will be inviting, honey?” Marilee asked. The Colonel leaned forward slightly. Clearly he’d had a hand in this question.
“I don’t think they’ll be inviting anyone, ma’am.”
Marilee raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.
“And why is that?” The Colonel asked coldly.
“Oh, you know. Since they’re both dead... it just makes sense, is all,” she deadpanned before busying herself with rolling out the pie crust.
The door banged open and Walker strode through, anger rolling off of him. It was palpable when he entered the kitchen. He saw Ashleigh in the kitchen with his father and Marilee.
“About time you joined the conversation, Walker. We were just talking about your wedding,” The Colonel said, his tone still laced with poison.
“And what exactly is it that you think has been decided, sir?” Walker returned with an equally cold voice.
“A small wedding, you can choose the venue, of course. I’ll help Ashleigh scout with the girls sometime, unless you want to do it here?” Marilee interjected.
“We haven’t decided,” Walker spat at her.
“Well, in any event. A small affair, only family and close family friends. Ashleigh has just told us that both of her parents have passed on so they won’t be inviting any guests,” Marilee said.
“Of course,” Walker said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Ashleigh hung her head in shame. Shame that he’d caught her with his father and stepmother, discussing a wedding that wasn’t going to happen. Shame that she had no family or close friends to invite. Shame that eventually The Colonel would find out about her past -- if he hadn’t already -- and that it would ruin Walker if he did.
And fear that if The Colonel found out, their non-relationship would be adversely affected.
She said none of this, but tensed when Walker suddenly put his arms around her and pressed a kiss on top of her head.
“Hello darling,” he breathed into her ear before turning to set his laptop on the kitchen counter. “Smells divine in here.”
It took her a second to catch up. Keeping up appearances, right. She kissed his cheek before turning back to her pie.
“I’m making a spin on an apple pie that I found today.”
“I hardly see how an apple pie can get any better, but if anyone can do it, it’s you, Ash.” He flashed her a grin before sending a steely glance at his father.
Marilee’s phone trilled with an incoming call. She excused herself, hurrying as fast as her heels would allow her to the living room.
A brief, “lovely to hear from you,” could be heard before she’d obviously gone out of earshot.
“I need to speak with you,” Walker directed at his father, who nodded and followed him outside.
Ashleigh weighed up her options for just a second before following them. She hid behind a curtain at an open window near where they had stopped. She could see their faces, but she was hidden enough that she was quite sure that they couldn’t see her.
“What, exactly, is going on?” Walker asked, his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows knit closely together.
The Colonel gave him a knowing smile.
“I get it, Walker. She’s pretty, wherever she’s from, whoever she is. But you’ve claimed a public stake in her by bringing her here. If you want to be married, you’re going to get married. You’re not going to half-ass this thing with a drawn-out engagement that may or may not end in marriage. I’ll make sure of it.”
Walker said nothing as he stared stoically at his father. The Colonel smiled, a hard expression.
“Or I could start asking around about her. I’m willing to bet good money that a few well-placed questions in New Orleans will turn up at least something interesting about Ashleigh. Some good dirt. Unless of course there’s something that you want to own up to, right here and now. Hmm? Anything interesting that I'd want to know about your surprise fiancée?”
“No, there’s nothing about Ashleigh or our relationship that I want to hide.”
Ashleigh sucked in a deep breath at his words, but bit her lip to keep from making a sound.
“Well then, it’s settled.” The Colonel seemed pleased. “Marilee! Where are you? We’re leaving!”
“Coming, sweetie!” Marilee called.
Ashleigh darted into the bathroom in the hallway. She hit the lever to flush the toilet, and pretended that she was just finishing up as she exited to say goodbye to Marilee.
The woman pulled her into yet another awkward hug with promises to talk soon. The Colonel even gave them each a swift nod before turning on his heel and stalking toward his car.
Ashleigh moved over to Walker and placed a small hand on his bicep.
“What happened?” she asked quietly.
His jaw twitched, and he seemed resigned as he answered her.
“We’re going to go ahead with the wedding, if you want to. I’ve told you once and I’ll say it again, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
She felt tears pricking at her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Walker. This is all my fault. I brought all of this here with me.”
“You heard that conversation, huh?”
“I did.” Her head hung in shame again.
“Listen to me, Ashleigh Walsh. None of this is your fault. None of it. You hear me? I’m trying to protect you by going along with him. Nothing more, nothing less. I don’t give a shit about what he finds out. I only care about how it will affect you.”
His eyes held hers tenderly as he spoke the words. She drank in his darkened eyes, his worried but caring expression. She dropped her gaze to his parted lips. He leaned his head down ever so slightly and brought his hand up to cup her cheek.
As though being pulled by magnets to his lips, she pushed herself up on her tiptoes. She already practically felt his lips on hers.
He seemed as entranced as she was, but at the last second, he cleared his throat and pulled away. He dropped his hand from her cheek as though he’d been burnt by it.