Chapter Three
Isabella awakened with a start in the darkened car parked outside the entrance to a small motel. She sat up abruptly, with no idea where she was or how much time had passed since she’d been talking to Will. Except she’d missed what was left of the day and had gone straight to—what time was it anyway?
Ugh. The champagne.
Pressing a hand to her thudding forehead, she groaned, only then noticing the warm dark man-sized jacket that had just slipped off her shoulders. She lifted it back around her and simultaneously breathed in some deliciously masculine scent attached to it. He must have—
She brought a lapel to her nose and inhaled.
Mm-hm.
The scent offered an inexplicable, but reassuring shot of endorphins to pulse through her, calming her enough to search out the window for any sign of the jacket’s owner. Will. Will Hardesty. Unless he’d abandoned her here in his beautiful car, he couldn’t be far. And apparently, he’d taken her up on her offer to get her to Carrie’s. Because wherever they were, this didn’t look like Dallas anymore.
Then she remembered. All of it. The humiliation. The anger. The betrayal.
She bit back an uninvited sob.
For the record, she had always believed in love. True, abiding, loyalty-inspiring love, despite all evidence against that unicorn-and-rainbows concept. That she had no empirical evidence to back up that hypothetical happy-ending scenario had not dissuaded her. Not her parents’ disassembled marriage, or the many frogs she’d kissed over the years, or even the minor heartbreaks she’d suffered at the hands of one man or another who saw her simply as a means to an end. Channel surfing past any Nancy Meyers’s movie was out of the question, and her secret weakness was for romance novels where soul mates reunited, love found a way, and dark nights of the soul always found the dawn.
However.
She was done with love now. Completely, unequivocally finished. Theo’s love was a lie. A lie she’d walked right into like an idiot. Why? Had she been so desperate for a man like Theo to love her that she’d been blind to what he was doing right under her nose?
Maybe. But no more.
She’d taken all she could take and now she would find her own way in the world. Alone. Independent of all that nonsense. She didn’t need any man to complete her or to be the best she could be. She didn’t need anyone.
She almost forgot that she was still wearing her wedding gown until she stumbled out of the car with Will’s jacket around her shoulders. Maybe she could get hold of a knife, or a pair of scissors and she could cut off the long skirt. At least she wouldn’t look like an idiot riding around like the jilted bride she was.
She inhaled a squeak of despair. No changing that now. Not that she’d want to. She was lucky to have escaped a life with a liar like Theo. So lucky. She would have to write that Gina person—whoever she was—a note, thanking her.
Someday.
Will was standing at the front desk arguing with the clerk in the lobby of the hotel, a stark, sparsely furnished affair that appeared more hospital waiting room than welcoming abode and seemed to have altogether missed its course on hotel décor.
“Will?”
The clerk who wore a nametag that read, JANINE, shot a confused look in her direction. Will turned, too.
Belatedly, she thought, I must look as terrible as I feel.
“You did say two rooms,” Janine clarified, taking in Isabella’s wedding gown with a long up and down look.
“That’s right,” he said, gesturing to Isabella to join him.
“She with you?”
“Do you have the rooms or not?”
Janine sniffed. “Sorry. No. We only have one room left tonight. A nice king, though. With a fine view of the parking lot.”
“You kidding me? Is there a convention in town or something?” he asked disbelievingly. “Amarillo’s usually a pretty quiet place.”
Amarillo? That was halfway across the state. How long was I asleep?
“As a matter of fact,” Janine answered, “there was a little derailment just up the road and all the railroad people are here, investigating. So,” she finished. “One room. Take it or leave it.”
“We’ll take it,” Isabella said.
Will shot her a look. More of a frown, actually.
“That king room will be fine. Your card?” she prompted Will with a sweet smile.
Reluctantly, he pulled out his wallet and handed Janine his platinum card.
Impressive, Isabella thought.
“Thank you, Mister”—the clerk studied his card—“Hardesty.” She slid a look at Isabella. “Mrs. Hardesty.”
She pulled the edges of his jacket together. “Oh, he’s not—”
“Unhappy with the king room,” Will finished for her. “It’ll be fine. Thanks.”
The woman’s gaze slid over their attire again, then she smiled slyly. “First night jitters. I get it.” Then she leaned closer, adding, “But two beds ain’t the answer, believe you me, darlin’. And two rooms? That’s just askin’ for trouble. Why when my Ralphie and I first married—”
“This should work out just fine,” Will said. “The key?”
“Room 138. Turn right down that hall and take the next left. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks,” Will said, clearly not very thankful.
“By the way,” the woman added. “If y’all want to park around that side of the building, ya’ll can unload your luggage a little easier.”
“Oh, we don’t have any luggage,” Isabella said.
The woman’s eyes widened.
“And by the way, any chance we could get a couple of toothbrushes, possibly? Maybe a razor? For him?”
Will pointed to the carefully groomed, auburn-tinged scruff on his jaw. Just then, she got another whiff of him, and his endorphin-inducing scent.
For heaven’s sake, Isabella.“Right. Never mind the razor, then.”
The woman snorted quietly but dug out a gratis packet of last-minute toiletries. “Good luck, y’all,” she added under her breath.
Will steered Isabella down the hall by the elbow. Once they made the turn to the room, Will turned to her. “I should sleep in the car.”
“What? Don’t be insane! You’ve been driving for hours.”
“There’s only one bed.”
“I heard,” she said, snatching the key from his hand to open the door to room138.
Though this motel would be most fortunate to earn two stars on Booking.com, it wasn’t as terrible as all that. And how could she complain? He was paying for it, after all. Mentally, she added the cost of the motel to the money she would owe him in the end.
He dropped the toiletries on the bed and for a moment, the two of them stood staring at it, not sure what to say.
“I can—” she began, but he spoke at the same time.
“Did you lock the car?”
“Um. No. You had the keys.”
“Right. I’ll just go—” He snatched up the room key. “Get some sleep.”
“Will. I can’t ask you to sleep in the car. You paid for this room. You should take the bed.”
“You didn’t ask and it’s a limo. I’ll be fine.”
“I just apparently slept halfway across the state of Texas, and I barely fit on that back seat—as proven by the current cramp in my leg. And possibly the pounding in my head. Besides, this place seems a little sketchy and…”
He tilted a disbelieving look at her. “You’re worried for me?”
“No! Look at you. No, I’m worried for me. I… don’t feel exactly safe alone here.”
He considered her. And he considered the door with its many locks. But benefit of the doubt… “Fine. I’ll take the floor.”
“It’s a king-sized bed. Surely, we can build some sort of a… partition down the center?” At his resistant look she added, “If you were going to do something to me, taking advantage of drunk me would have been much simpler. Thank you for the loan of your jacket, by the way.” She slipped it off her shoulders and handed it back, already missing his scent.
A smear of red colored his cheeks, but he took the jacket back. “You’re welcome.”
That was when she caught sight of herself in the mirror with a gasp. “Oh, God.” Mascara blackened her eyes and her once carefully applied makeup was streaked with tears. She couldn’t help but think of the clerk’s shocked perusal of her. “On the other hand, I couldn’t blame you for not wanting to share a bed with me. You could have told me I looked like the best friend turned scary zombie in a bad TV movie.”
He grinned, his gaze skimming over her. “I definitely wouldn’t go that far.”
One by one, she tugged the bobby pins out of her hopeless hair, letting it fall down across her shoulders in a tangled mess. “Today actually was like a bad TV movie.”
“Yeah. It was. Why don’t you go clean up, get in bed. I’ll lock the car and be back in a few.”
“Promise?” Perfectly serious now, she said, “You wouldn’t… abandon me here.”
His hand on the doorknob, he turned back to her with a frown. “Isabella…”
“Just checking. ’Cause I’m not really having the best day in the dependability department.” This day felt like an echo of all the days in her life when she’d felt alone and unwanted by her own family. All the things she’d never understood as a child but did now.
“I promise,” Will told her. “I’ll get you to Seattle.”
“Okay,” she said softly, offering him a sheepish smile. “Thanks.” She shooed him out with a brave lift of her chin. “Go, then. See you soon.”
*
Will walked inthe dark to a fast-food place next door to the motel and bought some food to bring back to the room. He was starving and, probably, so was she.
In his mind’s eye, he kept seeing the look on her face when she asked him not to abandon her, which was, in fact, the last thing on his mind. How he’d even allowed himself to feel protective of her was a problem he’d have to address. Later. The drive was a job, nothing more complicated than that. She needed help and he was helping her.
For six thousand dollars.
Money like that was nothing to the daughter of Eliza Stanton, he supposed, but he could make good use of it. Still, the whole thing felt a little nuts to him. But then, his life had felt off-center for years now, since leaving the NFL, since that night on the field when he’d lost the future he’d always imagined. What was a little drive to the West Coast with a heartbroken woman in tow?
Overhead, the wide span of Texas sky was a velvety black pricked with a million twinkling stars. Beyond the edges of this small town was a few hundred miles of nothing but prairie with sage brush and desert and sand. He sucked in a lungful of night air. Between the sounds of trucks on the freeway nearby, he heard the yip of coyotes somewhere in the distance chasing after some rabbit or squirrel.
The beauty and the sadness. The yin and the yang. Isabella Stanton’s day in a nutshell.
Walking back toward the motel, he dialed Isaiah on his phone.
He answered in one ring. “’Bout time you called back.”
“I’m in Amarillo. Did you sort everything out?”
“Depends on how you mean sort. Nobody’s happy today, that’s for sure. Especially me,” Isaiah muttered.
“I know I put a lot on you with this and I’m sorry. Really, I am. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Yeah? How exactly you gonna do that?” he practically growled. “I got Emma all bent ’cause we were supposed to have dinner with her parents tonight. Had to cancel that. Maybe you can make it up to Scott and Julia somehow, seein’s how they had a birthday cake waitin’ for me.”
“Oh, damn. It’s your birthday!”
“That’s right. It’s my birthday. They had forty-one candles an’ everything.”
Will winced. “I’m sorry. Happy birthday, man. I will make it up to you.”
Isaiah sighed. “It could be worse.”
“How, exactly?” Will turned to look at the flickering motel sign.
“You could have been a total dick and not cared enough to help her. Which probably would have made me rethink the wisdom of our partnership.”
Will shifted the fast food into his other hand as he entered the lobby. “I thought you were against my helping her?”
“Nah. I knew I didn’t stand a chance with that argument. I might know you better than you know yourself. But that’s why we’re in business together, my friend.”
Will smiled. Maybe Isaiah was right. “Go find that wife of yours and make it up to her. And happy birthday, old man.”
“Hey. Who you callin’ old?”
Will laughed and hung up the phone, passing the nosey clerk at the desk again and felt her eyes on him until he turned the corner. He was lucky to have Isaiah in his life. Lucky in more ways than just business.
He heard the shower going when he returned and waited for her to finish before setting her food out on the small table in the corner. It was close to eleven o’clock at night, but he wasn’t beneath a little Whataburger! at any hour of the day.
The sleeping arrangements for this little journey, however, were another matter altogether. One room. That was a twist he hadn’t been expecting. Standing at the foot of the bed, he stared, imagining sleeping beside Isabella for a night. Or three.
He clearly hadn’t thought this through before agreeing to drive her.
Scanning the room, he picked out a likely chair that looked doable, as he shrugged out of his jacket and yanked off his black tie. With the water shutting off in the bathroom, he did his best not to imagine her climbing naked from the shower, but that was a ridiculous fail. He had no business thinking of her one way or the other. Seven hours ago, she’d been madly in love and about to pledge fealty to that idiot, Theodore Margate.
Getting over a betrayal like that could take months, if not years. He knew this well. In some ways, he’d utterly failed to move past it. Not that he loved Kaylee anymore. He didn’t. But moving beyond what she’d done felt… impossible.
The bathroom door opened slightly, and Isabella peeked out. “You’re back.”
“I brought you some food. You must be hungry.”
“A little.”
She had a towel wrapped around her and it occurred to him that she had nothing to wear other than her wedding gown. Or a towel. Neither of which would allow him to sleep at all tonight.
He unbuttoned his white collared shirt, tugged the tails from his trousers and shrugged it off. “Here,” he said, handing it to her through the crack in the door. “You can wear this.”
She blinked in surprise, her gaze falling to the tight white tee shirt he still had on. “I—” she began.
“Unless you want to sleep naked.”
She shook her head, snatching the shirt from him. “No. Thank you.” And she closed the door.
When she came out, she was wearing his shirt, which was several sizes too big on her, and hung down to midthigh. On her, it looked sexy as hell, but it was her long, slender legs that drew his quick, heated gaze. Stunning was the word that struck him. Athletic even. He wondered if she was a runner. Or a dancer. But he quickly forced his attention back onto the food and off her.
She slid into a chair beside the table. Her face was scrubbed clean of all that makeup and her hair was only half dry but fell somewhere down the middle of her back. She looked entirely different than she had only a few minutes ago. But in a good way.
“Well,” she said, “this is awkward.”
She was correct there. He handed her a burger.
“Thank you for coming back.”
“I told you I would,” he said gruffly.
She nibbled on a fry. “Hard to know who I can trust lately.”
He devoured his burger in a few bites.
She watched him covertly as she picked at hers. “Just so you know,” she said, “I’m paying you separately for the room and the food. Anything you have to pay for, actually. That’s not included in your fee.”
“Okay.” He’d take it.
“Okay. And I’m sorry for drinking so much before. I don’t usually… I mean, I’ve never actually—”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s been a day.”
She nodded, nibbling on her burger still looking a little bit drunk. “It’s very nice of you to take this on. I know you didn’t have to.”
“Like I said, it’s all just a—”
“Job, I know. Still. Thank you.”
“Welcome.”
She swallowed thickly. “This is weird, isn’t it? I mean, us, together, here. I don’t even know you.”
“What do you want to know?” he asked, crumpling up the waxed paper wrapper and making an easy basket in the nearby trash can.
“Oh. Well,” she said, considering. “Okay. How… long have you… been a limo driver?”
“Four years, give or take. I rarely drive anymore though, really. It’s my company.”
“Oh,” she said, sitting up with interest. “Really. But you drove today.” It was more of a question than a statement.
One he’d been pondering himself for hours.
“Because Raphael Margate personally requested my services. On the special occasion of his idiot son’s wedding.”
She nearly spit out her food. “Oh, thank you for that,” she said, laughing. “And lucky you.”
Will grinned, his gaze wandering unintentionally to the way his once crisp white shirt fell soft against the curve of her breasts. “Yeah, my lucky day.” Standing, he forced himself to the window to stare out at the crowded parking lot.
“So, four years, you said.” She plucked up another fry. “What did you do before that? And can I just say I’ve been on a salad diet for weeks so my stupid dress would fit, and these fries are just… mm-mm. But, seriously,” she mused aloud, “why do I think these aren’t my first fries today?”
He suppressed a grin. At least she wasn’t crying anymore. Score one for him. But on the topic of his history, that was pretty much the last subject he felt like tackling. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you do?”
“You mean for work? That’s kind of complicated.”
He felt a ridiculous twinge of disappointment even though her answer was not unexpected. No doubt, a girl who ran in the same circles as the Margates was either independently wealthy, not working at all, or pushing her social media accounts as an influencer. That all front, no back type of—
“I’ve been a lot of things,” she answered. “Tried a lot of things. Interior design, event planning, I even worked as a teacher at the School for the Blind for a while. I’m kind of all over the place, right? But now, I’m an advocate, sort of.”
He turned back to her, surprised. “You mean a lawyer?”
“No. I’m not an attorney, thank goodness. No offence to lawyers. No, for the last two years, I’ve worked as an advocate for kids in the family court system. Teens and younger children who don’t have anyone to stand for them. The pay is kind of minimal, and the work isn’t as steady as I hoped, which is why I say it’s complicated, but it’s a job I’ve enjoyed.” And then, as if it had just occurred to her, she added, “I guess I’ll have to find something that pays a little better now.”
Apparently, he’d underestimated her again. “You have family in Seattle?”
“Sort of. My best friend since childhood. Carrie. She’s married with kids now and in her third trimester with her third, but she offered me her guest room until I can figure things out. She would have been in the wedding but for her pregnancy. Now, I’m just glad she didn’t make the trip.”
He watched her eyes glisten again. “Friends are good.”
“Yes,” she agreed. She studied him for a moment. “You must think I’m an idiot for not knowing. For getting blindsided like that. By Theo, I mean.”
“Love and wisdom rarely play for the same team.”
Ruefully, she shook her head. “Is that experience talking?”
He smiled. “I don’t know you well enough to tell you that.”
“Fair enough. You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just nervous. I tend to talk too much when I’m nervous.”
“I’m taking the chair tonight. You can have the bed. You’re safe. I promise.”
She started to argue but bit her lip instead, studying him. “Forgive me for saying so, but you look exhausted.”
Again, she hardly knew him well enough to recognize his state of being. But she was dead right. It had been a long day and a long drive. And he was exhausted.
“I’m gonna shower now. We’ll hit the road early tomorrow, head up to Denver. Maybe find a place to sell your ring. Outfit you with something to wear besides my shirt and that dress.”
“Great.” Brushing the crumbs from her hands, she tossed the dinner remnants into the trash, then climbed into the inviting, king-sized bed. “I’ll just go to sleep. I won’t bother you. Good night, Will Hardesty.”
She looked small, alone in that large bed, her still-damp hair spread out against that pillow, while tugging the covers up beneath her chin so practically the only thing he could see were those violet eyes of hers. But what had seemed fragile about her only hours ago after her fiancé’s betrayal, appeared different to him now. It looked more like… resilience. That seemed a closer word. She was trying. And that was all anyone could ask of someone who’d been through a day like she had.
Hell.
“Night, Izzy.”
She shoved the covers down, about to say something else, but he headed for the small bathroom. While a good, long hot shower beckoned, an icy blast of cold water seemed infinitely more prudent.
*
It was zerodark thirty when she finally gave up on sleep and tiptoed across the darkened room to the chair where he had settled himself. Like her, he’d spent the last few hours tossing and turning, shifting in search of comfort. Not sleeping.
“Hey. Will,” she said, startling him into a full sit she could just make out in the moonlight sifting through the crack in the motel curtains. He was naked from the waist up, covered below with a thin blanket scavenged from the closet. The thick muscles in his chest flexed as he righted himself.
“Hey.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “What is it? You okay?”
“No. Not really. I-I can’t sleep. And apparently neither can you.”
He exhaled a long shaky breath. “Yeah. No.”
“So, I propose—” She bit her lip.
He frowned up at her in the dark.
“That you share the bed if…”
“If…”
She scratched her head. You’ve done it now. No changing your mind. “If you just… just hold me for a little bit. Nothing else. Just that. You can stretch out and maybe we can both get some sleep.”
“Yeah. That’s probably just the champagne talking.”
She shook her head. “Nope. Just me. Perfectly, unfortunately, mostly sober.”
He shifted in the too small chair, and she could almost hear him weighing the prospects of a full-length mattress. The pros and cons of her proposal.
“Just… hold you?”
She nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind too much.”
He blinked at her in the dark. “Is… that a good idea?”
“Definitely questionable. Still.” She held out a hand to him.
He threw off the thin blanket and she silently thanked her lucky stars he wasn’t naked from the waist down, but still wearing briefs as he stood up next to her. It was then she noticed the scars on his left leg. Scars from some surgery that looked difficult. And as he took his first step, he limped slightly on it.
He towered over her and didn’t take her hand, but instead, gestured in the direction of the bed. “Deal.”
They slid in on opposite sides of the king-sized bed and a long, awkward moment passed before he scooted toward the center and held out his arm to her in the dark. Heart pounding, she rolled closer to him, feeling his strong, warm arm beneath her shoulder. Tentatively, she rested her cheek against his chest—and took a deep breath.
She shouldn’t have been surprised at the instant relief she felt at the skin-to-skin contact. As if someone had flipped a switch in her brain, distracting her from all the awful thoughts that had been jabbing at her all night and replacing those thoughts with the white noise of human contact. A buzzing comfort.
Her insides took a tumble as his hand moved slowly against her back, against the white shirt that belonged to him. Like a cat, she leaned into his comforting touch that skimmed over her hip and back.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured against his chest.
“Don’t be.”
“You must think I’m—”
“I don’t,” he said. “I don’t think anything. Shh-hh. Just try to relax.”
Relax.
That was, after all, the whole point of this. The idea of this had made perfect sense when she was tossing and turning in this big bed alone. She’d needed someone to hold her. Someone to hold as well. Though, before tonight, never in a million years could she have imagined instigating the idea of holding a man she hardly knew, half naked in a strange bed.
I mean, where should I put my hand? My leg?Why hadn’t she thought this through?
Awareness fluttered deep inside her, at the feel of his strong chest against her cheek. His heartbeat thudded against her ear, strong and steady. She could feel his warm breath against her hair as he pulled her closer, fitted her against him.
With his free hand, he reached for hers, and settled it flat against his ribs, then pulled her knee up gently across his firm thigh. An experienced cuddler. She wondered what woman he’d held like this before. The thought made her inhale sharply. Was he even married? She’d never asked.
“This is strictly a friendly cuddle,” she reminded him. “So, if you’re married or have a girlfr—”
“I’m not. I don’t.”
Relief swept through her. “Okay. I-I just didn’t want to be that girl. Which, as we all know, can lead to things which shall not be spoken of.”
She felt more than saw him smile. “You’re not. You’re safe,” he murmured. “Sleep.”
Safe.
This was possibly—aside from almost marrying a serial cheater—the most unsafe thing she’d ever done. But somehow, she believed him. She felt protected in his arms. As if he’d keep her safe from anything. Including her own despairing thoughts.
His hand moved slowly, deliciously against her back.
He was probably as exhausted as she was. But at his tenderness—the way he held her, willing her to sleep—a tear leaked from her eye and wetted his chest. Behind that one, she felt a full-on, emotional crying jag threatening, but she ruthlessly shoved it back. Was it even sadness she felt over Theo? Or simple gratitude for this tenderness? Too many emotions to sort. To be simply held, without expectation or strings… this was all she needed.
“Thank you,” she murmured against his warm skin.
“Tomorrow will be easier,” he whispered.
She hoped. Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt the deep tension that had settled in her soul begin to recede. And that was all she knew.