Chapter Seventeen – I Hate Love
Chapter Seventeen
Maisey
I HATE LOVE
Performed by Kelly Clarkson with Steve Martin
SIX YEARS AGO
HIM: I read the book you recommended and met all the obligations of my stupid bet, so thanks for that. But I have a question.
HER: You’re welcome. And shoot.
HIM: What’s with this forced-proximity thing? I mean, you either want someone or you don’t. If you and I were living together, we wouldn’t suddenly go goofy in the head, or groin, and decide we couldn’t keep our hands off.
HER: I’ll try not to be offended.
HIM: You know that’s not what I meant. You’re sexy as hell. I’m just saying, friends are friends. Lovers are lovers. End of story.
HER: Let’s pretend for a minute that you aren’t you.
That you don’t have a dead heart. Let’s pretend you had a friend who you actually believed was sexy as hell, but you made a stupid decision to place them in the friend zone years ago and regretted it.
And now, you’re in the same hotel room, and you catch her in nothing but a towel.
Are you telling me you wouldn’t make a move?
HIM: Dead heart aside? No. That’s a violation of the sacred trust of friends. How could you ever go back to being friends after that?
HER: You’re missing the point, Fireball. Neither of them really WANTS to be JUST friends. They want MORE. They want trust AND love AND lust AND forever.
HIM: Then why not just go for that in the first place? Why pretend to be friends?
HER: I give up.
HIM: This is why more men don’t read romance. None of it is logical.
HER: You’re missing the point yet again. It’s the fantasy that romance readers crave, not logic. We want to savor the endorphin rush of a grand gesture and the heat of a happily ever after, not drink a cold cup of reason.
PRESENT DAY
My pulse was still racing as I drove with Dad to the Italian restaurant in town.
The sexual tension that had drifted between Beckett and me had all but evaporated, as had the disgust I’d felt at my sister.
In its place, fear had taken root. When I’d seen the note on Beckett’s door, for a few awful seconds, I’d thought something horrible had happened to Dad… all because of me.
The fierceness of Beckett’s emotions hadn’t helped.
The anger that had vibrated off him and wafted through me had been all-consuming.
A Beckett I rarely saw. I’d seen him laughing and teasing to diffuse a situation, and strong and assertive to protect someone hundreds of times.
But I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him angry enough to do physical damage.
Unfortunately, Josh had shown up just in time for Beckett to direct his aggression at him. Leaving the two men together probably hadn’t been smart, but I’d been relieved when Dad had suggested going to pick up the pizzas.
I’d played chicken yet again and escaped. But if I hadn’t, my own emotions might have exploded.
Dad’s voice drew me from my thoughts. “I’m sure the sign wasn’t on the door when I came in.” I heard the uncertainty in his voice, and my heart twisted in concern. “But the way my mind has been playing tricks lately...”
Worry for my father finally allowed me to push back the spiral of darker emotions.
“It’ll get better, Dad. The dementia is just temporary.
Once you’ve had a chance to heal, everything will be back to normal.
I’m thrilled you’re trying to stop smoking.
I know it’s hard, but it’s a huge step toward improving your overall health.
Now, we just need to work on those arteries of yours. ”
His lips flattened into a straight line as he took in the nicotine patch on his arm. “Not sure it’ll stick. Never been able to give it up before, but being off the road where the boredom triggers me will help.” After a few more seconds, he changed the subject. “What’s the deal with the note?”
I didn’t want to add to his burdens by making him worry about me, so I shrugged it off. “Just kids being stupid.”
He shot me a look I hadn’t seen in a really long time—a fatherly one that said he knew I was lying.
“Poor choice. End it now or else are pretty strange words for a prank. Seems to me, if it were kids, they’d write something stupid like You suck.
So tell me, do I need to worry about this?
Is Beckett involved in something? Or you? Or is this about your engagement?”
Surprise registered, and Dad’s brow went up just as one side of his lips did.
“I’ll try not to be hurt that you didn’t tell me yourself. But that Tejas kid couldn’t stop jabbering about it yesterday.”
I swallowed hard, not wanting to lie to him, so I told him a half-truth. “The town gossips have done a good job spreading it quicker than we could. Don’t feel too bad. Kurt heard about it the same way.”
I parked the truck, and Dad waited for me on the sidewalk before we headed down the street toward Jack’s.
“You didn’t have to put your stuff in that tiny room, you know. We’re all adults. I’m not going to keel over if you come out of Beckett’s room in the morning.”
I flushed, the heat spreading from my cheeks all the way up to my hairline. “Dad—”
He chuckled, and the sound eased the pressure in my heart a little because my dad had a really great laugh. It wasn’t loud or booming, but it was infectious. I found my lips turning up.
“He’s a good man. That’s all a father wants for his girls.
Someone who loves and respects them but can also protect and provide for them.
” I inhaled sharply, and he waved me off.
“Don’t get all up in your craw. I know you can provide for yourself.
” He opened the restaurant door and waved me inside.
“As it is, you’re providing for your screwed-up dad too, but knowing Beckett can provide for you, that he’ll look out for you if the worst happens… that’s a good thing.”
I couldn’t stand lying to him this much. I couldn’t stand him thinking Beckett and I were going to get all the way to a white wedding. So, instead, I simply gave him another half-truth. “Honestly, Dad, I’m not sure if it’s going to work.”
“Did you have an argument? Or are you letting someone scare you off at the first sign of trouble? If you want a marriage to work, you’ve got to struggle like hell to keep it together.”
When I didn’t respond, he kept going. “Fighting is easy to fix when you’re a couple. Actually, most of the time, an argument is just a prelude to the best kind of make-up sex. Sometimes I’d pick a fight with your mom just because I knew we’d end the night tangled together.”
I choked, and he laughed. “TMI, Dad. Way too much information. There are some things a daughter doesn’t ever want to hear about her parents.”
But I thought back to all their quiet arguments growing up, and how they’d made my stomach knot. Had some of those fights been Dad’s way of engaging in a little foreplay? It made me want to gag, and yet, I could see him doing it, pushing Mom just to get a reaction out of her.
“Maisey!”
I turned my head at my name to find Meredith hustling toward me from a table in the corner.
“I’ll go get the pizzas while you talk,” Dad said, patting me on the shoulder and heading for the counter.
“Hey,” I said as my boss stopped next to me.
“Your dad looks better. You’re still planning to be at work on Sunday, right?”
“I’ll be there.”
Relief flooded her face.
“We need all the help we can get these days. And about the L&D position—” My heart leaped, but before she could finish, she caught sight of her granddaughter standing on a table. “Nellie, get down!” she hollered and hustled away.
Hope and I battled it out as I wondered what she’d been about to say. Were they giving me the job or not? I guessed I would find out when I returned to work. For now, I had other things to worry about.
As I turned to join my father, I ran straight into Carter. He steadied me with his hands on my arms, and revulsion at the touch had me jerking from his hold.
The overpowering musk of his cologne made my head spin, and I tried to back away farther, but the booth behind me prevented me from getting far.
“Did you talk to Lewis about selling the house?” he asked. He looked toward my father and back before he rubbed his knuckles along his bright-red nose.
“I talked to the bank instead,” I told him. “Dad isn’t selling.”
It was when Carter’s glassy eyes narrowed in on me that I realized he was high. The redness around his nostrils suggested coke, but other drugs could cause similar symptoms, especially if he were crashing down.
“How’d you swing that?” he demanded. “He was months behind.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I had some savings.”
“Chelsea told me it would be a piece of cake to get your dad to sell. Said the place is falling down around him anyway.”
My stomach bunched up. “You’re in touch with Chelsea?”
His wild-eyed gaze darted around the restaurant and back. “Sure. Saw her in LA not long ago. Told her about the development I had planned for Meadow Lane.”
“What development?” My pulse sped up as an ugly suspicion started to form.
“We’ve got people flocking to Swift Rivers who need houses. I figure I can squeeze about thirty homes on ten acres at the end of the lane and another forty or fifty townhomes on the remaining five. Big money.”
My mind whirled with the numbers he threw out. I inhaled a shaky breath. “Fifteen acres? You’d need more than Dad’s land. You’d need Beckett’s and the Helmers’ place too.”
“Already put in a bid on the Helmers’ lot.” He spun his watch around his wrist. “The deal’s cooking.”
“Even if Dad wanted to sell, Beckett would never give up his home.”
Carter’s brow raised. “You’ve got a way with both of them. You could convince them to sell if you wanted to. I can cut you in for a share—”
“You again,” Dad said as he approached with two pizza boxes balanced in his good hand.
Carter glanced from me to my dad and back. “I gotta head out. Just think about what I said.”
He strode for the door, leaving the overwhelming scent of his cologne behind him.