“Oh?”
“I don’t usually move this fast in a relationship.”
That information pleased me; once again making me feel like a caveman.
What was it about this girl that brought that out in me?
“If it makes you feel better, neither do I. I think, perhaps, it has something to do with the person.”
Her eyes widened, and she smiled. “You were so amazing last night.”
“I thought we were amazing together.” I chuckled. “I think I should be insulted you sound so surprised.”
“No! I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just . . . you’re so . . . um, uptight and formal, but you were so passionate, and giving. I just . . . oh God, I screwed that up. I’m sorry.”
She gasped as I pulled her off the lounger and tugged her tight to my body. I loved how she felt against me. Small, soft, and supple.
“You didn’t screw anything up. I am uptight, and I am formal. It’s how I was raised. It’s how I conduct myself daily. How I have always conducted myself. Most women find me dull, yet when I’m with you, I feel . . .” I struggled to find the right word. “. . . lighter. Like I can be me. You’re the first person I have felt like that with in a very long time.”
“Oh,” she breathed out. “Really?”
“Really. I don’t rush into anything—business or personal—yet with you those rules have gone out the window.”
She regarded me with those espresso-colored eyes. They were wide and sincere, and I loved how they looked at me. “Why?”
I bent closer. “I think, maybe, it has everything to do with you and the person you are, Emmy.”
“I don’t understand.”
I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Your words.” I swept my lips across her closed eyes. “Your beautiful heart.” Another caress of my mouth went across her lips. “Your smile.” I nuzzled her neck. “Your actions.” I dragged my mouth up to her ear. “Your reactions to me.”
She whimpered, drawing my face to hers. “Only for you,” she murmured.
“Good.”
A short while later, I grinned at her, replete and satisfied.
“That was the best Beef Bourguignon I have ever tasted. I can’t believe you made bread.”
She popped a grape into her mouth, chewing slowly. The small bunch of flowers I brought her sat beside her in a small vase. I had remembered her musing of loving grapes, and the small corner store where I got the flowers had them on display. I might have bought too many, judging from the large bowl of them between us.
“Stew. It was just stew. Not Beef Bourguignon.”
“Still amazing. Like the bread.”
“It’s a fast bread. It’s so dense, it’s great with the stew.” She glanced around the room with an almost forlorn expression. “Your kitchen is so well-stocked.”
“You can use it anytime you want.”
“Do you cook?”
“I can do the basics. And by that, I mean toast, canned goods, and frozen pizza.”
“And coddled eggs.”
I winked. “Only on special occasions.”
“What did you do when you all lived together?”
I chuckled, thinking about those days. “I was in charge of the laundry. Aiden did the yard work and Maddox cooked. The rest we sort of split up. And I paid Sandy to give the place a good clean once a month. We survived.”
Her eyebrow rose. “You did laundry?”
“I did it very well.”
She picked up her glass and took a sip. “I can’t see it, frankly.”
“It made the most sense to me. Sandy showed me how the machines worked, and I was very organized. Lights, darks, whites. Bleach, no bleach. I had a system.”
“Everything in its place.”
“Yes.”
“You like it like that.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
I filled my glass and topped hers up, draining the bottle of wine. “I like order.”
“Does change bother you?”
I furrowed my brow while mulling over her question. “It takes me time to adapt. Aiden goes with the flow, but Maddox is more like me; although, he rarely shows it. There are times, I admit, I have to have space to adjust.”
“Is that because of the way your parents were while you were growing up?”
I met her gaze, answering her quietly. “My parents died when I was five, Emmy. I was raised by my Uncle Randall and Aunt Jane.”
She wrapped her hand around mine. “Oh, Bentley, I didn’t know.”
“I know. I don’t talk about it much.” I paused. “Yet, I find I want to tell you. I think you need to know to understand me.”
Lifting my hand to her mouth, she kissed the knuckles. “I’m listening.”
“I don’t remember much about my parents. I remember the eggs my dad used to cook every Sunday for my mom. How they danced in the kitchen, and my dad would pull me from my chair and spin us both around. Mom and I would laugh.” I sighed. “My mom always smelled like Lily of the Valley. Every time I smell them during the spring I think of her.”
“Those are good memories.”
“There are only a few others. I was so young. Mostly vague images and thoughts.”
“Can I ask how they died?”
I stiffened, trying not to react to the feelings that flooded my chest when I thought about the past.
“My mom loved the theater. Musical theater in particular—she always had scores playing in the house, and she sang along. They went to a lot of shows. One evening, they went out.” I stopped, taking a large sip of wine for fortitude. “They were late and parked farther away than normal. They were mugged leaving the theater, and according to the story, something went awry.” I met her eyes that were brimming with emotion. “He had a gun, and they were killed.”
She tightened her hands around mine. “Bentley.”
“I don’t remember much. I think, perhaps I blocked most of it. One day they were there, and suddenly, my life changed. Everything changed. I was taken from my home, everything that was familiar, my parents were gone, and I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle.”
“Were your aunt and uncle . . . nice?” she asked hesitantly, knowing there was a reason I was telling her my history.
“They were good people. I was fed, had the best education, a nice place to live. However, they were different from my parents—distant and cold. Their marriage was more for convenience than anything. They were very austere people. There was no affection between them”—I met her gaze—“or for me. Coming from a home where there was a lot of love, it was very unsettling, but eventually, it became my life, as well.”
Understanding dawned in her gaze.
“My life was vastly different after my parents died. Very structured. Children were meant to be seen and not heard. I had my lessons, and later, school. My grades had to be perfect. The activities I was part of had to be done for a reason, not for fun. Manners were drummed into me. Responsibility above all else. Decorum and good breeding. How I dressed. Spoke. Thought. It was all exceedingly exacting. Sensible. Reserved. There was little room for emotion.”
She frowned, not speaking. I drank more wine.
“My mother wore a string of small pearls. She wore them every day. My father had given them to her when they were married—they weren’t expensive, but they were sentimental. I remember how they felt when she would hug me. The cool feel of the beads as they pressed to my cheek. If I sat on her lap, I always played with them. I liked how smooth they were.” I sighed and ran a hand over my face.
“When they were robbed, there must have been a struggle. I don’t know if they fought back or what happened, but not long after their death, my aunt got a small box of their belongings. There wasn’t much since most of it was evidence, but somehow a few pearls were found in the pocket of my mother’s coat. I assume the necklace was torn from her neck and they scattered.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the four pearls I carried everywhere I went. “Th
ere was a small fleck of blood on one, and my aunt was disgusted they would have sent them back, and she threw them away.”
“You found them.”
“Yes. I heard her telling my uncle, and I saw her toss them into the trash. I got up after they went to bed and found them. I washed and hid them.” I shrugged, feeling self-conscious. “They were all I had of hers. I carry them with me everywhere.”
“She loved them, so of course, they meant something to you.”
“They still do.”
Her eyes met mine. “I understand.”
“Thank you.”
“She shouldn’t have thrown them out.”
“Keeping them would have been a sentimental act. That wasn’t in her nature.”
“Cold,” she murmured.
“Yes. Like me.”
She moved a little closer, so her knees pressed to mine.
“You think you became like them.”
“I did become like them. I am reserved. Formal. Cold.”
“Formal, yes. I don’t find you cold. You’re incredibly kind, generous, and sweet.”
“You seem to bring that out in me, Emmy. No one else does. Not for a very long time.”
“I think Aiden and Maddox see a different side of you.”
“They do, to a point. It took me a while to relax with them, to allow myself to relax. The truth is, I will never be as easy with the world as other people are.”
“You don’t have to be.”
I leaned close, earnest. “I want to be for you. You have such a light, and when I’m with you, I feel it. I feel different. You make me laugh. You make me want to be silly just to see you smile.”
“You do make me smile.” She cupped my face. “I like your old-fashioned ways, Bentley. I like how you are when we’re alone. You’re funny and passionate, and you make me feel as if I matter to you.”
I laid my hand on top of hers. “You do matter. That’s why I’m telling you. I am rigid and formal. I am blunt and outspoken at times, and I have a temper. A bad one. It doesn’t come out often, but when it does, it’s ugly.”
“I’ll have to try not to make you angry.”
I brought our clasped hands to my chest and kissed her. “I can’t imagine you doing so.”
She lifted one eyebrow. “Should I remind you of our first meeting?”
I chuckled. “That was annoyance, not anger. I was being my usual snotty self.”
“I don’t think you’re snotty.”
It was my turn to arch an eyebrow at her. “Everyone thinks I’m snotty. Yet, I feel differently with you. I don’t want to lose that.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Relief flooded my chest. “Good.”
“Are your aunt and uncle alive? Will I meet them?”
“No. My aunt passed away from a heart attack when I was nineteen. Six months later, my uncle choked on a piece of London Broil one night at his club.”
“Oh.”
“I inherited everything. Plus, I already had a trust fund from my parents.”
“So, you’re telling me you’re even richer than I thought?”
“I don’t know how rich you thought I was, but perhaps.”
“Rich enough to buy five pounds of grapes at once. Enough for me to wonder if you’ll get bored with me.”
“The grapes are a treat for you—that’s another new thing for me. I enjoy spoiling you. As for getting bored . . . frankly, Emmy, I cannot even imagine that happening. I never know what you are going to say or do next. It’s part of your charm.”
“I don’t think anyone has ever thought I had charm until now.”
I traced my finger over her cheek, wrapping a wayward curl around my finger. I rubbed the silkiness of her hair on my skin, then watched as the curl unfurled, wild and soft against her face. “They weren’t looking hard enough.”
“Why aren’t you taken, Bentley?”
I cocked my head to the side. “I rather thought I was . . . now.”
Her eyes crinkled in merriment. “I meant before I waylaid you.”
“Caught me in your web?”
She nodded imperviously, lifting her chin. “Trapped you as per my devious plan.”
“Right.” I sucked in a deep lungful of air and blew it out. “You are not devious, Emmy. That I know for a fact.”
“Oh?” She studied me. “Did you know someone devious?”
“While we were in university, I met a girl. Lucy seemed . . . lovely. Great. A bit shy, and quiet. She lived off campus, and she liked her privacy, the same way I did.” I snorted. “Or so she led me to believe.”
Emmy reached out, covering my hand. “What happened?”
“She told me her parents were extremely strict. They didn’t allow her to date. They kept her on a tight budget, and she worked in the admissions department to help make ends meet. We would meet for coffee or dinner in small places, off the beaten path. I liked her.” I met Emmy’s steady gaze. “I liked her a lot. She said all the right things, did all the right things.”
“But?”
“I never talked about money. Ever. My aunt and uncle drummed that into my head. It was private, something a person didn’t show off. It wasn’t right to boast about what I had, and we never discussed it. I always paid for coffee or dinner simply because that was how I was raised. A man should treat a woman like a lady. One day, she was upset because she had somehow lost her wallet and it had all her money for the next week in it. Without a thought, I handed her fifty dollars and bought her a new wallet. A few days later, she mentioned a CD she wanted, and I bought it for her. Then, she showed me a dress she desperately wanted to buy so she’d ‘look good for me’.”
“You bought that, too?”
“Yes. Anything she asked for, I bought. Every time she was short of cash, I handed it over. She never asked outright, but I found myself giving her more and more. She had a way of demanding without even saying the words. It was expected.”
“You never questioned it? You never wondered how she knew you had the money to hand over?”
“No. I was stupid, young, and for the first time, imagined myself in love. I never questioned the secrecy or the constant requests. Maddox and Aiden didn’t like her. They thought she was odd. Untrustworthy. I ignored it, thinking they were jealous I found someone and they were still playing the field. We became even more secretive. When Maddox found out about the money I was giving her, he almost lost it. We had a huge fight, and I stormed out, all indignant and self-righteous, defending the woman I loved.”
“He was right, though?”
I swallowed the last of my wine. “He certainly was. I marched over to her place—unannounced—something I never did, since she always told me her parents might be around, but I wanted to see her and tell her what had happened. Instead of finding her alone and studying the way she told me she did, I walked into a party. A big one, with her real friends, and her boyfriend. She had been scamming me. I guess she accessed my financial records through the university database. She had arranged our first meeting. She knew exactly what to do and say.” I shook my head. “I was such an idiot. Uptight, reserved Bentley who fell for the biggest con artist on the campus. She was anything but shy or quiet. Her friends had a good laugh at my expense.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “It was bound to happen. We had a huge blowout fight, and she said plenty of nasty things once she realized there was no way out for her. I went home, and got trashed.” I shuddered. “Really trashed. That was the last time I lost control or allowed someone to get close. It was also the last time I didn’t listen to Maddox and Aiden.”
“What did they do?”
“They showed me their loyalty. They got drunk with me and made sure I was okay. And, of course, stated repeatedly they told me so. Then the next day, they made a lot of noise, making sure the suffering continued. Bastards.”
She bit back her grin. “Of course.”
I opened a new bottle, filled my wineglass and
studied her over the rim. “That is how I know you’re not devious, Emmy. I’ve met devious. I was stupid enough to believe devious.”
“And you haven’t found anyone you felt something for since then? That’s a long time to be alone.”
“I like my work. I’ve put forth a great deal of effort to get where I am today. I haven’t made time for relationships, nor particularly wanted one. The last woman I had what you would call a relationship with walked away. She said I was too self-absorbed and boring, and she hated the fact I worked so much.”
“I wouldn’t call you boring. I don’t think she knew you very well.”
“I think perhaps she wasn’t the right one for me. I preferred working to her company, so I guess that should have been my biggest clue. I have met other women, dated a few, and ah . . . enjoyed their company . . .” My voice trailed off, and I cleared my throat.
Emmy lifted her eyebrow slowly with a grin. “Enjoyed their company? So proper. Hardly news, Rigid. It’s pretty obvious from your moves, you’re not a monk.”
“My ‘moves’?”
She met my gaze directly. “You’re an amazing lover. Giving. Passionate.” She huffed out a breath, the air lifting her bangs. “Hot as fuck, actually. I didn’t think you got that way through osmosis.”
I laughed at her words. “Not even a little bit jealous, Freddy? I think you’ve wounded my pride.”
“Oh, I’m jealous all right. But I’m the one sitting in your kitchen, wearing your shirt.”
“Yes, you are.” I leaned forward, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck. “You’re also the one I want to have a relationship with. The only one.”
“Ditto.”
Her gaze lowered, then she met my eyes. “I’m on birth control. I haven’t been with anyone for a very long time, and I’ve been tested clean.”
I knew what she was saying. I had told her the six condoms were all I had, and I would have to get more. Lots more.
“It’s been a while for me,” I confessed. “As much as you think I’ve been with a lot of women, I need you to know, I am always monogamous, and always safe.”
Vested Interest Box Set: Books 1-3 Page 11