Chapter 4
“Bryce.”
It was funny, the things one remembers.
The sound of her voice, sultry and husky was the same.
She looked the same, too.
The lush curves, the smooth cocoa brown skin, the full bottom lip, and the flashing mahogany eyes.
Her hair was different.
It was done up in some sort of twisty coils that tumbled around her face and down her back.
He recalled it being natural and curly when they were teens.
“Of all the places, in all the world…”
He tried for the casual, the lighthearted, but she cut him off with a cool look, that plainly said it was not going to work.
“What are you doing here?”
“I am a guest here and I am assuming you own the place.”
“You’re assuming correctly.”
She look was not friendly.
“Why are you here?”
“To have some relaxation and quiet.
This place fits the requirements perfectly.”
“There are other places in the entire world.
Anywhere else.”
She held up a hand when he started forward again.
“Look, I know we left things unfinished…,”
her chilled laughter stopped him again.
Okay, I left things unfinished…,”
he stopped abruptly as she simply turned around and left, slamming the door shut behind her.
He stood there in the middle of the library, confused.
The very last person he had expected to see was her.
His childhood sweetheart, a girl he had been hung up on for one glorious year.
One who had made him feel less like running and hiding himself away.
One, he had to admit that he had been having fleeting thoughts of over the past months.
Lifting a hand, he dragged it through his already disordered hair and closed his eyes briefly.
He should go after her of course.
To explain – Bloody what? He mused grimly.
Something he was not able to explain to himself? That he had turned tail and run because he had been offered an escape at the time? It had just been a childhood romance after all, nothing more.
Closing his eyes, he huffed out a breath.
If he was going to continue staying here, he had to clear the air.
Something he was certainly not looking forward to.
Taking another deep breath, he started forward.
*****
She paced.
For the first time since coming here and making this place her home, it felt like a damn prison.
A blast from the past.
She had seen him on magazine covers.
Seen him with beautiful women and tried to ignore the tug of hurt and pain and tried to convince herself that what she felt wasn’t jealousy.
He had changed.
No longer was he the scrawny kid with the wounded look on his thin face and a mouth full of steel or whatever the hell they used to make braces.
He had grown into a stud.
Wild dark hair, laser blue eyes, buffed and muscular, that long lean body that sent millions of women into dizzy spins.
She had read the articles of his involvement with hundreds of women and his continuous success at the box office.
And had applauded him.
Even while she cursed him for leaving her without a word.
Now he was here, at her inn.
How bizarre that was.
Why the hell was he here? And what was she going to do about it? Nothing.
He would be gone within a day.
His type was not accustomed to tiny towns.
Very soon he would start to miss the bright lights, the elegant and pricey restaurants, the fast and beautiful women… She pressed a fist to her chest, trying to stop the uneven thudding of her heart.
“Steady girl.”
She ordered.
“It’s in the past.
Don’t go giving it any more significance.”
But as soon as she had settled on that, her door swung open, and he was framed inside the doorway.
Her treacherous heart took a leap and then a slow dive.
“Get out.”
“Now, is that anyway to talk to a guest?”
He eyed her warily, holding up a hand when her beautiful eyes flashed.
“Look, I just want to explain…”
Deciding just then, she shook her head.
“No explanation necessary.”
She said briskly, reining in her emotions.
“You’re right.
You’re a guest and I am a professional.
I hope your rooms are to your liking.
If there’s anything…”
“Can we talk?”
“No.”
She shook her head and deliberately glanced at her watch.
“I have to be up at dawn tomorrow to get things started.
We have a couple coming in.
Please close the door on your way out.”
“Zahra…”
“Bryce, please.”
Hesitating a bit, he stared at her as if trying to read her thoughts and then with an impatient lift of one broad shoulder, he stepped back and closed the door with a snap.
Rushing forward, she secured the lock and leaned against it, her heart thundering.
*****
He was the one pacing the length of his bedroom.
Zahra Woods.
The memories came crashing back with the force of a bloody sledgehammer.
The year had been tumultuous, sixteen turning seventeen, those awkward years when his parents had yanked him from his school and shoved him into public education to give him a dose of reality and to pretty up their image.
It had been painful for him, bloody impossible and the first thought had been to pack a bag, take some money from his account and just run and never look back.
He would have gone through it – maybe.
But to his shock, he discovered that there had been less than two hundred dollars there.
When he asked them about the pitiful amount, they had loftily told him that he would have to earn it.
“How else are you going to appreciate what you have?”
So, he had had to suck it up and stay.
And it had been worse than he anticipated.
The entire population knew who he was and half of them treated him like someone to kneel down to and the other half with contempt.
With the exception of Zahra.
She had also been a misfit, and they had found each other one balmy afternoon when he had stumbled outside and found solace under a giant oak tree.
She had come out shortly after and simply ignored him while she read her book.
He had struck up a conversation that had been mostly one-sided, but eventually, they had bonded, and he learned that she was from a dysfunctional home as well.
He had seen the unhappiness in her eyes and the way she tried to get away from the hurt and pain, by sniping at anyone who tried to get close.
He had been the exception and within weeks, they had become friends.
But it had been more than that.
They had been each other’s sounding board.
A respite from the storm that faced them every goddamn day.
Her mother was selfish and self-absorbed.
When she learned that her daughter was friends with the son of Blaine Whitlock, she had tried to cash in on that, using her daughter ruthlessly to try and get an audience.
He recalled the humiliation and pain on Zahra’s face when the woman kept pushing.
He had approached his father in desperation, just to get that look off her face.
And the old man had laughed in derision.
He recalled the words he had spoken.
“I know who she is, and her talent is limited at best.
She should stick to soap operas.”
He had told Zahra what was said and never went back to her home again.
And that had managed to make things even worse for her.
Zahra had accepted and understood, but her mother never let her forget and blamed the entire thing on her daughter.
Plopping down on a suede tan sofa opposite the bed, he clasped his hands between his thighs and stared at the fire broodingly.
He had ended up hurting her.
He knew she remembered. Christ!
They had not pledged undying love or anything like that, but they had been close and had been each other’s first.
And he had to confess to not thinking about her but fleetingly when he left.
He had not told her he was leaving either.
And he was here at her place.
He could leave.
The thought occurred to him while he was downstairs.
But bloody hell! The place was perfect, and he needed the peace and quiet.
He would try and get her to talk to him, try and make amends, explain why he left without a word to her and try and get them on an even footing.
Try and seek her forgiveness.
He was planning to be here for close to four weeks and did not need any extra tension.
He would get her to sit down and listen to him.
he had been desperate to leave, to be somewhere else and he wasn’t thinking.
Shoving up, he started pacing again.
Yes, he would force her to listen to him.
*****
She could not sleep and damned him for doing this to her.
She was settled – had been settled and contented and yes, happy.
Now she was unsettled and – No - she shook her head.
She was not going there.
He was her past.
A small slice of it and he was going to stay there.
It was stupid to go back.
He was a hotshot movie star, not the small screen, but the big one.
He was out of her league, not that she was interested.
She would be crazy to go in that direction.
Turning her head, she stared out at the moonlight slithering through the green curtains.
It was still dark out and it would be for the next two hours.
She should get up.
There were things to be done.
She had bought some fish for supper and was thinking of making a fish chowder and baking some pies.
She had a couple coming in and even though the rooms had been scrubbed clean, she always liked to go in and give the place a once over.
Make certain the sheets were spotless and the way she liked them on the beds.
She liked to put flowers on the tables and next to the bed, to give the room the garden like smell.
Pushing up on the pillows, she fluffed the pillows and sat there staring at the silk water wallpapers, she had so lovingly put on the walls.
Her life was settled, dammit! And she wasn’t going to allow some movie star to unsettle it.
*****
When he ventured downstairs after a restless night, he found her already in the kitchen.
The scent of fresh coffee brewing mingled with what he identified as pecan and cinnamon.
His mouth watered as he stood there in the cozy dining area, undecided.
The woman he remembered as Jessica came bustling out with her beaming smile as she wiped her hands on her apron.
“We thought you would sleep the morning away.
Grab a seat and I will be right out with a pot of coffee.”
“Thanks.”
He still stood there, his eyes going to the kitchen where Zahra was standing around the spotless counter.
“What’s on the menu?”
“Pecan and cinnamon pancakes.
Zahra makes the best.
How do you take your coffee?”
“Black.”
He murmured automatically.
Pulling out a chair, he sat facing the kitchen where he could watch her.
She was efficient, as if she knew what she was about.
She also looked tidy and professional.
The faded denims flattered her full figure, and the thin silk sweater suited her complexion.
She was wearing an apron.
And no doubt, ignoring him.
He was sure she knew he was there.
Jessica came back with a pot of coffee and a cup.
Hurrying back to the kitchen, she came back with a basket of freshly baked bread and a bowl of butter.
“Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”
“I am in no hurry,”
he assured the woman.
Picking up his cup, he took a sip and closed his eyes in appreciation.
He was picking up the knife to butter his bread when she came out.
Putting the knife down carefully, he watched as she made her way towards him with a small jug of lemonade.
“Hi.”
“Good morning.”
Turning his glass over, she poured the juice, without once looking at him.
“Thanks.”
She nodded and was about to turn away, when he gripped her hand.
He felt when she tensed, before lifting her head to look at him, brows arched.
“I would like to talk to you.”
“I am busy.”
“I am the only guest here,”
he pointed out.
“We have a couple coming in any minute now.”
“Zahra…”
He swore when she tugged her hand and hurried back inside the kitchen.
Picking up the glass, he took a long swallow, eyes glaring at her as she went back to what she was doing.
She did not come back out.
Jessica came back out with the meal, and he was left alone to eat.
By the time he was finished, he learned that she had stepped out to run an errand.
And did not have to be a mind reader to realize that she was avoiding him.
Hissing out a breath, he decided to take a walk to clear his head and walk off the heavy breakfast.
Normally, his morning meal consisted of two cups or more of coffee and some fresh fruit.
And that would tide him over until the evening meal.
He was usually busy on one project or the other and would frequently forget to eat.
Over the last six months, he had been on location shoot in Brazil, Mexico and Italy, his schedule so hectic, he barely had time for anything else.
Reaching the incline, he stood there gazing down at the sleepy little town.
At this time of the morning, the place looked to be slumbering.
The occasional vehicle would crawl by at no more than twenty or thirty miles an hour.
He caught a glimpse of the white steeple attached to the church he had passed on his way in.
Looking around him, he noticed the blaze of flowers surrounding the trees and the tranquility of the morning.
It felt other worldly, he mused.
Taking a seat on an old bench leaning against the tree, he stretched his legs out and leaned back, one hand stretched across the back of the seat.
He was here with Zahra.
Shaking his head, he turned to look at the sugary whiteness of the building.
From where he was sitting, he could see the cobbled driveway and would be able to see when she gets back.
They were going to have that talk, even if he was going to stand outside her door.
He had to clear things up between them.
*****
She lingered over her tasks.
Tasks that had not been on her schedule in the first place.
Ones she had manufactured and obvious enough to have Jessica giving her a puzzled look.
But she had no intention of revealing to her friend that the ‘hottie’ as Jessica had put it, staying at her inn was someone from her past.
He had booked under an assumed name, so she realized that he wanted to remain anonymous.
Good luck with that.
She thought sourly as she parked under a maple tree in the parking lot of the children’s home.
He was a hot ticket and besides that, he was gorgeous.
Flower Hills was a tiny town, but they were not exactly living under the earth.
Someone was bound to recognize him sooner or later.
The children's home was a place she often visited, a sanctuary where she could silence the tumult of her thoughts.
As she stepped inside, the familiar scent of crayons and the sound of children's laughter greeted her, grounding her in the present moment.
She exchanged a warm smile with Mrs.
Thompson, the head of the home, and handed over the donations she had brought.
"You're a lifesaver, Zahra," Mrs.
Thompson said, her eyes crinkling with gratitude.
"It's nothing," Zahra replied, her voice softer than usual.
She watched the children for a moment, their innocence and joy a stark contrast to the memories that had resurfaced with his arrival.
After spending some time helping out, Zahra felt a bit lighter.
She knew she couldn't avoid him forever, but she wasn't ready to face him just yet.
Not when the wounds of the past still felt so raw.
There were times when she felt the urge and wondered if she should consider adopting.
She loved children and was almost thirty-three years old.
Her biological clock was ticking off the wall and reminding her that she was fast approaching the age when it was not safe to get pregnant.
And she was nowhere near that journey yet.
She had yet to find a man she considered worth the effort, one who kick started her emotions and send them into a tumble of confusion and she was not willing to settle.
Except one.
The voice came out of nowhere and she had to force herself not to look around the interior of her vehicle to see if there was someone else there.
And trying to silence it was not happening.
Bryce.
Closing her eyes, she leaned back and took a deep fortifying breath.
It was in the past, she reminded her treacherous inner voice, which had taken this time to shout out loud at her.
It did not count; she argued with the voice.
We were fricking kids who had no idea what we were about.
And besides, we were comforting each other.
Our homes had been minefields of disasters and upheavals.
That was why it had been so intense. The first time and every time after.
Her hands gripped the steering wheel as memories came crashing back.
He had been so unhappy, so vulnerable and at an awkward stage where everyone wanted a piece of him for one reason or another.
She was used to the awkwardness, the whispers and the mean and unkind words uttered behind her back.
She was big and was the butt of more jokes than she could remember.
She had learned to ignore them or simply stand up for herself.
Bryce had been plucked from the familiar to a place where he might as well have been an alien.
She had told herself that she would not get involved.
She had her own problems and there were many.
She would leave it alone.
But when she saw him being harassed by several of the jocks, she had stepped in and defended him.
She had gone warrior goddess on their asses, and they had been forced to leave him alone.
He had been grateful and kept wanting to hang out with her.
She knew who he was of course, who his dad was, and that his mother was a famed cardiologist.
Their worlds were poles apart.
That had entered her mind, but over the few weeks, it had weakened, and they had become friends.
She had told herself, warned herself that it would never go any further than that.
It had been slow and insidious.
The conversations had become intense, the laughter and the eagerness to spend time together had not escaped them.
Their touches had become tentative and then they had kissed.
It had been the first for them and it had shaken them to the very core.
His lips brushing hers, breaths mingling, the difference in the contours of their lips, the marvel when he pressed his wiry body against hers.
It had sent her into a dizzy spin that had her hands curving around his thin shoulders.
And she had dragged herself away and fled.
She had convinced herself that it was a fleeting moment of weakness, but the bond between them only grew stronger.
Each encounter left her yearning for more, and the magnetic pull between them was undeniable.
Yet, she battled with the societal expectations and the looming shadows of their disparate worlds.
It was during one of these stolen moments that Bryce had revealed his deepest insecurities.
He spoke of the immense pressure from his family, the expectations that weighed heavily on his young shoulders, and the constant feeling of inadequacy.
She had listened, her heart aching for him, and in that instant, she realized how much he meant to her.
They had forged a connection that transcended the superficial barriers of social status and appearances.
It was pure, untainted by the prejudices of the outside world.
But as their emotions intensified, so did the risks.
The fear of being discovered, of facing the repercussions, loomed over them like a dark cloud.
But none of that had mattered.
They had foolishly thought that they could overcome all of it.
To them or rather to her, it had been nothing short of magical.
Until she had been left dazed and broken by his departure.
Firming her lips, she resolved to put it all behind her and start over.
He was a guest at her inn and her priority was and always had been to make her guests feel at ease.