Chapter 17
I navigate my truck along the winding dirt path that leads to the outskirts of the vineyard, darkness enveloping me. The sun set hours ago, leaving behind a serene stillness that only seems to grow as I approach my house.
While I usually work from early morning to long past sunset, I can’t do that if I hope to convince Grady to sell to me. Even though I left at a reasonable hour, I wasn’t ready to face Haley just yet, not after this morning. Instead, I stopped by Jude’s brewery for a beer, where I proceeded to tell him all about my night.
And my morning.
As expected, he got a kick out of it.
Apparently, he and Parker have a bet on how long Haley and I will last before we sleep together. The asshole gave us until the end of the week. Parker was a bit more realistic with her prediction of a month. I can only assume that’s because she doesn’t know everything that occurred between Haley and me all those years ago. At least, that’s the impression Jude got from her.
I shouldn’t be surprised Haley never told her. As close as she is to Parker now, Haley didn’t grow up in Sycamore Falls. Once she no longer needed a nanny, I didn’t think I’d ever see her again.
Until I looked across the pasture during a party at Kaplan Farm and saw a pair of familiar green eyes staring back. She looked so out of place in her designer dress and shoes, but I knew it was all a fa?ade. A mask she wore so no one could see the real Haley McBride.
But I saw her for who she was. A miserable woman desperate to break free.
Pulling my truck to a stop in front of my house, I kill the ignition and hop down, Monte following behind me. When I step into the dimly lit house, I expect Haley to be asleep, since it’s almost midnight.
Instead, she’s perched on a stool by the kitchen island, a notepad and a glass of wine in front of her. Monte wags his tail excitedly as he hurries inside, no longer giving a shit about the person who rescued him from certain death years ago. With Haley around, he only has eyes for her, sitting obediently at her feet as she scratches his head.
Her hair is piled on the top of her head in a messy bun, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She’s dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts that barely cover her ass. Even in casual attire, there’s a sensuality about her that causes a stirring in my pants.
It doesn’t help that I can tell she’s not wearing a bra.
And it also doesn’t help that I can’t seem to look away from the faint outline of her nipples hardening against the fabric of her t-shirt.
“I need you to sign this,” she announces in a firm tone, forcing my eyes away from her chest.
“Is that the paperwork from Maggie’s preschool?”
She mentioned I’d need to sign a few forms to transfer the billing over to me.
“It’s a contract, more or less.”
I arch a brow. “A…contract?”
“Yes.” She squares her shoulders and holds her head high. “After this morning, I thought it best we spell out our expectations, so there are no more…surprises.”
“Surprises? Like you watching me in the shower like a peeping tom?” I cross my arms in front of my chest, unable to stop myself from teasing her.
If I’m going to survive this marriage, I can’t take anything too seriously.
Including the way my heart still races every time her eyes find mine, as if the past fourteen years never happened.
But all I have to do is look at the faint scar still visible on Haley’s leg to remind myself they did happen. And there’s nothing I can do to change that.
“I was just surprised. That’s all.” She swallows a gulp of wine, her face turning a shade of red that might rival her hair.
“Didn’t look like it.” I grab a glass from the cabinet and pour myself some of the pinot noir she’d opened. “It looked like you quite enjoyed yourself.” I fully face her. “It sounded like you quite enjoyed yourself.”
I take a sip of the light-bodied wine, savoring the hints of cherry and oak that dance on my tongue.
“I… That doesn’t matter,” she stammers, obviously flustered. “That’s why we need this contract. To avoid incidents like this in the future. We should have done this before we got married, but I was so focused on moving that it never crossed my mind to set forth any expectations and…limitations.”
“Listen, Haley…” I assume the barstool beside her.
When my leg brushes hers, a buzz of electricity shoots through me. She sucks in a sharp breath, but quickly adjusts her position, scooting as far away as she can.
“We don’t need a contract to tell us what we should and shouldn’t do,” I continue. “I knew going into this that there might be a few growing pains along the way. That we’d both have to make a few sacrifices.”
“And you’re okay with that? Have you thought about what you’ll have to give up to convince people this marriage is real?”
“Like what?” I bring my wine glass to my lips, studying her from over the rim before taking a sip.
“You know.” She gives me a pointed look.
Setting my glass onto the island, I feign confusion. “I don’t.”
“Sex, Beckham. You’ll have to give up sex.”
I give her a nonchalant shrug of my shoulders. “I know.”
“And you’re okay with being celibate for the next six-plus months?”
“I’ll survive.” I hesitate, then ask. “Will you be okay?”
I hold my breath, unsure I’m ready for her answer. I know she’s been with men since me. Hell, she has a four-year-old daughter. But I’m not sure I can stand hearing the details without wanting to fly into a jealous rage.
“You don’t need to worry about me. I haven’t slept with anyone since I got pregnant. I’ll be just fine.”
“Are you serious?”
While her answer fills me with a certain level of ease, I can’t mask my surprised reaction. And I thought I’d set some sort of record by going on six months.
“I have a kid,” she reminds me, as if that’s the only explanation I need.
“Still. You haven’t been with anyone since then?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” she snips back. “Don’t tell me you believe what some of the other preschool moms say. That because I used to work as a cocktail waitress at the casino, I probably supplemented my income by spreading my legs, since so many of the other girls do it.”
“No,” I answer quickly. “Not at all. I…” I trail off, my stomach churning over the idea of anyone thinking that of her.
A surge of protectiveness builds inside of me to the point that I want to go to school drop-off in the morning and give some of those women a piece of my mind. Tell them about the Haley McBride I once knew so intimately.
“Is that what they really say?” I ask softly.
She lowers her head, fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt.
“Maybe not to my face, but I hear them talking. I know it wasn’t the most respectable job, especially for a mom, but it paid better than most other part-time jobs. Without having to spread my legs.”
“I’d never think that of you, Haley.”
On instinct, I grab her hand in mine and brush my thumb along her knuckles. I’m not sure if it’s more for her or me.
“They really did a number on you, didn’t they?”
She darts her gaze up to mine. “Who?”
“Your parents.”
She doesn’t agree. But she doesn’t defend them, either.
I saw how they treated her when she was younger. How they always demanded the world of her. Expected her to be content with the life they planned for her without a single care for what she wanted.
“Forget about them. If they can’t see what an incredible woman you are, it’s their fucking loss. Because you are so much more than a cocktail waitress or a mother or a dog walker or anything else. So fuck them. Fuck them all.”
It’s the same thing I used to tell her whenever she gave me one of her excuses about why we needed to keep our relationship quiet. After all, her parents would never approve of their daughter dating some kid from Sycamore Falls who’d already been arrested on more than one occasion. Not when they had big plans for her that included her marrying the son of a respectable politician.
That still didn’t stop me from pursuing something with her.
From sneaking into her bedroom every chance I got.
From falling in love with her.
Until my love nearly sent her to the morgue.
Her brilliant eyes lock onto mine, her lips parting slightly as she leans closer.
I move my hands to her cheeks, even though this is probably one of those limitations she mentioned. In this moment, I don’t care about that. All I do care about is making her realize that she matters. That she’s enough. That she’s perfect just the way she is.
I curve toward her, our breaths intermingling as I trace my eyes over her face. From her emerald green eyes, to the delicate curve of her button nose, to the plump lips I’ve fantasized about feeling again an unhealthy number of times since kissing her yesterday.
I’ve also fantasized about seeing them on other parts of my body an unhealthy number of times.
It’s what I was thinking about when she saw me in the shower this morning.
I inch closer, her mouth so close I can practically taste her. But before I can, she abruptly pulls back and jumps off the barstool. Her chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as she looks at me with a confusion and perhaps a bit of fear.
“Just sign the contract, Beckham,” she orders before spinning on her heels and hurrying up the stairs.
I don’t move until I hear the door to the bedroom close behind her.
When I do, I expel a deep sigh, then take a sip of wine as I read over the so-called contract she drew up.
Sure enough. Number one on her list is no unauthorized touching.
And I definitely almost did more than just touch her.
A chuckle escapes when I read number two, though.
Always disinfect the shower after extracurricular use.