Arrogant Bastard

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Arrogant Bastard Page 26

by Jennifer Dawson


  I turn to leave, but he stops me. “Caden?”

  I swing back around. “Yeah?”

  “Don’t tell anyone I told you this, because we’re all supposed to be mad at you, but I’m rooting for you.” He shrugs. “Truth is, I don’t want you to leave. Yeah, sure, you’re good for business. But I don’t care about that.”

  “You care about Cat.”

  He nods. “I think you’re good for my sister.”

  “Even though I’m a flight risk?”

  He laughs. “Aren’t we all until we find the person we don’t want to leave?”

  It’s a good point. I have to ask the question—maybe it will provide me with a clue. “Why do you think I’m good for Cat?”

  He studies me like he’s searching for a sign I’m worth it. I guess he finds what he’s looking for because he says, “I love watching her demand what she wants. I love watching her finally carve out a place for herself and claim ownership of her life. Since she was doing none of that before you came along, I think you deserve part of the credit.”

  It pleases me—and maybe that’s wrong, but it does. “She’s doing those things all on her own.”

  “Yeah, but you made her want something more, and I’m happy about that.” He picks up a pen and looks down at the stack of papers on his desk. “I’ll deny I said it, though, if I need to.”

  “Fair enough.” I close the door behind me.

  One step down.

  A million more steps to go.

  I knock on the door, and when she answers, I say, “Meredith.”

  “Caden.” Her blue eyes widen in surprise, and as lovely as she looks, I feel nothing for her. Cat might not understand, but my infatuation with Meredith Hayes died well before I ever laid eyes on her. Meredith holds the door open. “Come in.”

  No way in hell am I going to be seen walking into a motel room in this town. It will reach Cat like wildfire, and I’m trying to learn from my mistakes, not make new ones.

  See? Progress.

  I shake my head. “I’m only here for a few minutes, and what I have to say can be said right here.”

  She leans against the doorway and kicks one foot over a slim ankle. “Suit yourself.”

  I meet her gaze. “I’m not sorry I left. I needed to leave. But I am sorry about the way I did it. It was wrong of me to take off like that, and I owe you an apology.”

  She blinks, her thick lashes fluttering. “You think that makes it okay?”

  “Nope.” I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “But it’s all I have to give. I hope one day you see you didn’t really want me. You wanted the power you thought I’d bring you, and that wasn’t good enough for me. I should have handled it better, though, and that’s on me. I accept responsibility for that.”

  “Well, that’s not good enough for me.” Her expression sets into that obstinance I used to hate back when we were together.

  “I didn’t think it would be.” I take my keys from my pocket. “I called your father and told him everything. I apologized for leaving the way I did and tried to explain as best I could. As restitution, I told him at the end of the month I’d be willing to offer training on my techniques for two weeks since I failed to provide notice.”

  She looks at her nails, unimpressed. “I’m sure that made him happy.”

  It did, and now I’m going to tell her something that should make her happy. “I also told him I thought you were the better person to take over the company.”

  She straightens, her entire demeanor transforming from bored to excited. “You did?”

  “I did.” I smile. “I told him you have in your pinky finger more ambition, drive, and passion than Mark has in his entire body. Although I also said you needed a strong, seasoned second-in-command to curb your rasher impulses.” I say the next words with all the sincerity I have. “I don’t know if it will make a difference, but it was the least I could do. It also happens to be the truth.”

  Her whole face relaxes. “Thank you, Caden.

  I meet her eyes. “He’s sending a plane to get you.”

  She studies me for a long, long time before saying, “You won’t come back with me?”

  I shake my head. “Goodbye, Meredith. I wish you nothing but the best.”

  She nods. “Take care, Caden.”

  The door closes, and I turn to leave. I did the best I could. And I realize now, that’s all anyone can do. I haven’t met my side of the bargain for a long time, but I’m taking steps to rectify that.

  It might not be enough, but I hope one day it will be.

  25

  Cat

  It’s worse than I thought.

  Much worse.

  I want to escape this meeting—the first one we’ve had since my disastrous love affair ended—but I stay glued to my seat. I promised Wyatt, Gwen, and Jackson that this wouldn’t affect my working relationship with Caden, and I have a point to prove. So as much as I want to get the hell out of here, I grit my teeth and bear it.

  Caden is across from me, going over the production schedule in his honeyed voice, and with every word, my chest grows heavier. He seems…fine.

  A part of me knows that’s a lie, that it’s something I’m telling myself to ease the sadness, but he looks so much better than I feel. The cords of his arms flex as he moves from one page to the next, and I remember how his arms held me tight.

  How safe it was, cocooned in his embrace.

  My gaze drifts to his hands, the veins that line their backs like an intricate map. Strong and sure and capable. My stomach dips, and my skin heats as I remember what his long, talented fingers could do to me.

  I jerk my attention away, only to catch his eyes.

  He stumbles, his sentence trailing off.

  He shakes his head. “Um…”

  I look away, glancing at the clock. Before anyone can say anything, I scoot my chair back. “I have a tour I need to get ready for.”

  It’s not a lie—I do. Only I have plenty of time. But I can’t sit here one more minute. I stand. “I don’t think you need me for the rest.”

  Everyone is frowning and shifting in their seats, uncomfortable.

  It’s suffocating. I need to get out. I grab my stuff and turn, calling out, “Have a good one.”

  I scramble out of the conference room, slamming the door behind me with more force than necessary. I lean against the wall, close my eyes, and exhale.

  Finally I can breathe.

  It’s got to get better. It has to.

  I just need to make it over the hump.

  The door opens, and I start, springing from my position. I want to run, but I force myself into a slow walk. I can do this.

  Don’t look back.

  Don’t see if it’s him.

  Keep walking.

  I can do this.

  It’s what I want.

  If I wanted him gone, I could have made it happen, but that isn’t what I want. I want him to stay.

  This is the consequence, but I’m not a victim.

  I chose this. That’s what I have to remember.

  “Cat.” Caden’s voice echoes through the hallway.

  An unwelcome surge of hope and relief flood my system, but I ignore it and keep on walking.

  Fast footsteps behind me, and then he’s grabbing my arm and swinging me around. “Wait, please.”

  I yank my arm away, irrationally disheartened when he lets me go. In a clipped tone, I ask, “What?”

  “Can we talk?” He reaches out like he means to touch me but drops his hand back to his side.

  “About what?” I cross my arms. Why do I have to want him so bad?

  He searches my expression. “Meredith is gone.”

  “Okay.” All the things we could talk about, and he picks the worst subject. “Congratulations.”

  I start walking again.

  “Wait.”

  I spin back around. “What, Caden? What do you want me to say?”

  “I just…” His brow furrows. “Want
ed you to know I took care of her.”

  I snap, because he’s so dense. “Do you want some sort of a medal?”

  “No.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I thought you should know I’m cleaning up the mess I made.”

  I’m in no mood to be kind about it. “If you hadn’t run away, there’d be no mess to deal with. If you’d been honest with me, you would have no blindside to clean up.”

  “I know that.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and blows out a hard breath. Like he deserves to be frustrated. Like I’m being unreasonable. “I can’t change the past. I can only do my best to fix the present.”

  I shrug. “Fine. You got rid of her. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

  “It’s because of you I’m trying to change.”

  “Don’t bother. It’s not going to make any difference.”

  “I’m going to get you back, Catarina.”

  “We’re through.” I glare at him. “You’d best accept it and leave me alone.”

  “No.”

  My brows rise. “No?”

  “No.” He points a finger at my chest. “I’m not going to prove you right.”

  “Don’t talk to me unless it’s about work.” I turn my back on him and start walking. “Goodbye, Caden.”

  Caden

  That…did not go great.

  Nothing with Cat ever goes the way I plan. In my fantasies she always stops to listen to me explain myself before throwing her arms around me and saying she forgives me.

  But I can’t even blame her.

  Why did I bring up Meredith? I mean, I know why. I want to show Cat I’m trying. But Meredith is not the point. How I feel about Cat is the point.

  How much I miss her is the point.

  How much I love her.

  How much I need her.

  If only I’d thought to say those things first, maybe I’d have stood a chance.

  But instead I had to go fuck it up again.

  Someone claps me on the back, and I turn to see Wyatt next to me. He gives me a cocky grin. “How’s it going?”

  “Pretty much shit.”

  “Seems that way.” Wyatt has an abrupt, shorthand way of talking that cuts to the chase and the bone. “You need to give her some time.”

  “That’s the worst thing I could do. She’s expecting me to back away.”

  He nods. “Maybe, but I know my sister. She’s got strong defense mechanisms in place to protect herself from hurt. Sometimes you’ve got to go around them to get anywhere.”

  I frown, not liking his logic, but understanding it. “And you think time will do that?”

  “Don’t know.” He shrugs. “What you’re doing is just making her dig in her heels.”

  “Yeah.” The problem is I can’t see through my own panic, my own desperation to win her back—that impending sense of doom that if I don’t act quickly, she’ll slip beyond my reach.

  “Maybe it’s time to try something different,” Wyatt says, clapping me on the back again. “Got to run.”

  “Thanks.” The word is absentminded as I ruminate.

  He takes his leave, and I walk slowly to my office. I pass Cat’s doorway and she’s at her desk, her head bent.

  She had shadows under her eyes and the lines at her mouth looked a little drawn, but other than that she looks so beautiful today it makes my heart ache. Since she’s meeting with people, she has on a dress—another floaty, creamy number that brings out the highlights in her hair. It’s down today, falling over her shoulders as she ponders the task in front of her.

  Was it only last week that I could have walked in, put my hands on her shoulders, and massaged her tensions away?

  Was it only last week that she would have looked at me with that brilliant, beaming smile?

  That she would have reached for me?

  “Was I not clear?” She doesn’t look up.

  I think about what Wyatt said, about her digging in her heels. And how chasing her down and trying to force her to talk to me isn’t working right now—although I don’t know how to bridge the distance between us without communication.

  But maybe I should give her what she’s telling me she wants instead of pushing. Maybe I should trust what she says instead of assuming I know better.

  Isn’t it arrogance that always gets me in trouble in the first place?

  Whatever she says now, I’m going to stick with, at least until she stops digging.

  “Can you look at me?” I ask, my voice soft.

  She raises her head but says nothing.

  I search her expression, her silver eyes, and ask the question. “Is that really what you want? For me to leave you alone?”

  Her lips tighten, firm into a hard line. “Yes. That’s what I want.”

  I’d hoped for a different answer, but she’s spoken, made herself clear, and I’m going to listen.

  I nod. “Okay, I’ll leave you alone.”

  At some point I’m going to ask again.

  And again.

  In hopes of a different answer.

  Cat

  As the opening of the restaurant is barreling down on us, I’ve been too crazy to do anything but frantically dart from task to task. Since Caden said he’d leave me alone, he’s done exactly that.

  He’s stopped pursuing me.

  Stopped trying to talk.

  Stopped trying to explain.

  He’s kept a professional distance and only spoken to me about work-related matters.

  It’s what I wanted and asked for, except it’s still making things harder, not easier.

  With every hour that passes, I miss him more.

  Until he backed away, and I stopped having to expend all my energy resisting him, I hadn’t realized how much I’ve grown to depend on him. Somehow, in the short time he’s worked for us, he’s become my person.

  And goddamn it, I miss my person!

  So this afternoon, as we sat in yet another meeting to go over everything for the private event, I was overcome with a sudden need to come here. I have no idea why, but it became an insistent demand, and eventually I gave in.

  Here I am—unsure, but determined to see it through.

  The sun beats down on my car, and even with the air conditioning, beads of sweat form along my temples. I’m under the white arches of the Shooting Star Stables.

  After sitting empty for many years, new owners have bought the place where I spent so many happy hours as a child. I’ve avoided looking at the sign whenever I passed the place on my way into town, but today it called, and I heeded its siren song.

  My heart is a hard lump in my chest. It’s silly to be nervous. To quote Caden, it’s a lot of pressure to put on a ride.

  One I might not even be able to make. It’s not like I have a plan. I’m just giving this a try. I drive the rest of the way up the path.

  I pull into the gravel lot, and there’s an office to the right of me, but there’s a man training a horse over by the corral, so I climb out and walk over to watch. He waves at me, and I wave back, but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing.

  The place hasn’t changed much, although the new owners have given everything fresh paint, and all that was overgrown and neglected has been cut away. It feels the same though, and my eyes sting a little as I remember my young self on top of Buttercup, Mrs. Spencer at the reins as she trotted me around, instructing me on proper technique.

  “Can I help you?” A female voice says, jerking me out of the memory.

  I swing around, brushing my fingers under my lashes to wipe away any tears. “Hi. I’m Cat McKay.”

  The woman, an attractive brunette with warm, brown eyes that looks to be somewhere around my age, smiles, holding out her hand. “Everyone knows the McKays, but it’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Sara Bodine. My husband and I own this place.”

  I shake her hand. “You guys have done a great job. You must be proud.”

  “We are.” She leans against the fence. “It took a while to settle in and get the busin
ess running, but we’re happy. I’m glad we made the move.”

  I shield my eyes from the sun and look around, tilting my head toward the man working the horse. “Is that your husband?”

  “Yep.” She waves to him. “Hard to believe he was a city kid, don’t you think?”

  I study the man. He’s tall and rugged, and there’s not a trace of city on him. “That’s quite a change. Where you from?”

  “Chicago, actually. Although I grew up outside of Rockford. My parents owned a stable, and I thought I wanted to live in the city.” She shrugs. “But it wasn’t home.”

  “What a funny coincidence, my brother’s fiancée is from Chicago.”

  “Yeah, the opening is the talk of the town.” She smiles at me.

  I like her. She has a warmth I can appreciate. “Once the craziness is over, you should come by. I’m sure she’d love to talk to someone who understands what it’s like to miss being able to walk to Nordstrom’s.”

  She laughs. “Sounds fun. We’d like that. Is there anything special we could help you with today?”

  I bite my lip and dart my gaze to the stable. “I used to spend all my time here when I was growing up. I’ve gotten away from riding, but I find I’m missing it and thought I’d stop by.”

  A warm breeze blows, and she pushes her hair over one shoulder. “You’re interested in a ride?”

  I nod. “Is that possible?”

  “Sure, it’s slow on a Wednesday at one in the afternoon.” She straightens and calls out to her husband. “Tommy, say hello to Cat McKay. I’m going to take her out.”

  Tommy waves. “Have fun, honey.”

  She turns her attention to me. “He’s a man of many words.”

  I laugh.

  And just like that, I get a flash of calling out to Caden while he was in the fields—the way the sun shone on his face, casting him in a warm glow as he smiled at me.

  I want that—the ease, the surety of him being there, of knowing he’s mine and I’m his. The belonging. I miss it. I miss him.

  But it’s too late. It’s over.

  I made sure of it.

 

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