Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
W hat was going on here? Weston stiffened as he realized he was cradling Paisley Teele in his arms as though they were something to each other. Not only that, but he’d instigated the hug, knowing full well she was going to blubber all over him. She’d already started before he’d pulled her in.
Did ‘just friends’ hold each other like this? Maybe girls did. Guys? He tried to envision Jude bawling on him — and him being okay with it — and no. Definitely not.
But holding Paisley felt somewhat okay. It was dangerous to consider it more than okay. After all, she was traumatized over the situation with her mother, which maybe meant Weston was taking advantage of her.
She must have sensed him pulling away because she straightened, and his hands dropped to his sides. He’d turned toward her when he’d reached for her, and he could still feel the heat of her body.
“You okay?” Dumb question, Kline. People who were okay didn’t cry for like five minutes. Or ten. No one was counting.
Paisley hiccupped and swiped at her eyes. “Yeah. No. I got your shirt wet. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.”
She peered at him from puffy eyes. “Don’t be so nice.”
Ouch. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Nothing.” She let out a shuddering breath.
Color him confused. “I might read a lot, but nobody ever told me I had a good imagination. You’ve been in my space for the past year. Now you don’t want anything from me?”
“I shouldn’t have pushed you.” Her fingers twisted together in her lap.
“Back to that, are we?” He covered her hands with his, stilling them. “Maybe God used you to get through to me. Ever think of that?”
She huffed a shaky laugh. “I’m nothing much for Him to use.”
“Me, neither. But it seems He can work with anything.” He looked down at their joined hands. Why had he done that? Seeking her out, hugging her, holding her hands… he was acting like she was his girlfriend. But now, after an entire year where he’d complained she was stalking him, now she was running scared.
He studied her, but her eyes were downcast, too. He squeezed gently, and her gaze flew to meet his. “What are you afraid of? Me?”
Paisley opened her mouth to respond but shook her head and pressed her lips tightly together. “I’m afraid of me, not you. ”
“You’re nothing to be afraid of.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m pretty sure I do.” He lifted her chin with a finger, his other hand still clasping hers. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?” When she didn’t respond, he leaned in a little closer. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away.
So, he kissed her. Only a brief brush of lips. Only for a second. But the impact rocked his world as surely as an earthquake beneath his boots. Couldn’t have been that, though. The lake remained perfectly calm as evening shadows lengthened across it.
“Paisley?”
“Hmm?” She stared down.
He cupped her jaw with his free hand, his fingers catching in the thick braid that hung over her shoulder. “I want to help you. I care about you.” The realization was a rolling aftershock to the earthquake he’d just experienced. “If you need time off, I’ll speak to my grandfather for you. If you like.” But that meant she’d be leaving, right when he’d figured out that she wasn’t an annoying gnat in his life but rather something like a butterfly. Pretty. Alluring.
Not that he’d ever wanted to kiss a butterfly.
Or anything. Anyone, not since Rayna. Until this moment.
His fingers tangled in her hair, and his thumb caressed her cheek. Slowly, he drew closer once again. “I guess I should ask if I can kiss you again.”
What if she said no? She was going to say no. She was going to surge to her feet and bound out of here like a startled doe.
But she didn’t. She froze, staring into his eyes from just a few inches away. She sucked in her lips.
Weston stifled a groan of longing. She hadn’t said the words, but her actions were speaking loud and clear. Slowly, he drew nearer. She could stop him if she wanted to.
“Paisley.” He closed the remaining gap and touched his lips to hers with the same electrifying rush.
“Want to take out kayaks?” a man’s voice asked.
Weston shot backward, nearly falling backward. Who was in their space?
“Sounds fun. Maybe we can catch the sunset.”
Paisley retreated until two or three people could easily have sat between them. Weston felt like snarling at the couple. Couldn’t they have come down ten minutes ago? Or ten minutes later? Or possibly never?
The guy grunted and a kayak hit the ground. “Life jackets are in that shelter. Want to grab a couple?”
“Sure.”
The watercraft scraped the rocky beach as the guy dragged it to the water. Seconds later, a second kayak thudded to the ground and was hauled away. The couple’s voices came from a greater distance as the scraping sounds turned to sloshing then the dipping of the paddles.
But the moment was broken. Paisley sat with her knees drawn up, her arms cradling them tight as she stared out at the lake.
Weston scooted over, but at her wary glance, he left a gap between them and mimicked her posture. As the shadows lengthened, the air temperature chilled. “You warm enough?” Not that he had anything to offer her .
She shrugged. “I’m okay.”
“Are you?” Because he definitely was not okay. Not in temperature, nor in anything else. The past few minutes had rocked him to the core. Rayna hadn’t ever affected him like this. Not even close.
Paisley sighed. “I feel like this conversation is going in circles.”
“I don’t. I’d still like to kiss you again. That’s a circle I wouldn’t mind exploring.”
“Men.”
But she didn’t sound bitter or even resigned. Amused? He could work with that.
“You don’t like me, remember? I’m annoying.”
“I’ve forgotten that. Poof. The memory vaporized.”
Her huff sounded amused. Pretty sure.
“I’d kind of like to move forward from here, but I’m not sure what you’re thinking.”
“Weston, why? What changed?”
He pried her hand loose and wove his fingers with hers. “God’s been working on me.”
She pulled, but he didn’t let go.
“I absolutely did not mean that it took an act of God for me to see how you really are.”
“That’s what I heard.”
Had that been a whimper or a snicker? He wasn’t sure, and shadows had lengthened enough now that he couldn’t read her face clearly. “Paisley, what I’m trying to say — and failing at — is that you’ve been digging at my grouchiness, but so has God. Call it teamwork, okay? And while I’m never gonna be a bubbly, life-of-the-party, smooth talker?—”
“Bryce Sullivan.”
“—yeah, like Bryce. Totally not me in any way, shape, or form. But that doesn’t mean I should be content to stay a grumpy loner. God has been working on my attitude, for sure, but is it okay to say that it’s because of you that I responded to those jabs?”
“Because of me?”
“You.” He hesitated. “And I was thinking you saw something in me when I wasn’t such a nice guy.”
“You’re a nice guy now? What, since yesterday?”
“Ouch.” But he deserved that dig. “I’m a work in progress. Trust me, I’m aware.”
This day had not gone anything like what Paisley had expected, at least, not since they’d returned to the ranch. Weston, apologizing? Weston, kissing her and asking for more? All that would be worth a song and dance if it weren’t for the situation back in Phoenix.
But now… didn’t she need to go see her mother? Didn’t she need to interact with her sisters? She didn’t want to. She wished Kait had never texted her. Wished she wasn’t so torn between entering a hostile situation and ignoring it entirely, snuggled into Weston’s arms and enjoying the moment.
A moment that could endure, could become something real, if only she didn’t need to leave. It would take some doing to rediscover the carefree, outgoing Paisley everyone around Sweet River knew.
That was not the person Amelia and Kait and Mom knew. Back there — back then — she’d been the baby of the family, tiptoeing around and afraid to rock the boat. When she’d sassed her mother, Mom had gotten stoned. When she’d asked about her father, Mom had gotten high. It didn’t seem to matter what Paisley said or did, Mom’s reaction was booze or drugs or both.
No wonder Paisley had escaped as soon as she could.
No wonder she didn’t want to return.
But her mother was still her mother. Right?
“Paisley?”
Weston sounded less sure of himself now than last time he’d said her name. She’d been so wrapped up in this whole thing that she was ignoring the best thing that had happened to her since Jesus Christ had walked into her life on a Colorado ski slope years ago now.
She’d thought God had answered her prayers to save her mother.
Mom had been dry for three years. And now she might be dying.
Paisley shook herself. “I like you, Weston. I do. It’s just maybe not a good time for me to get involved with anyone. I… I need to go. I’ll talk to Mr. Sullivan in the morning. Get Cindy up to speed on what’s planned for the next week or two.”
Or the summer. But she’d be back, right? She’d been working on the Fourth of July celebrations for Sweet River. Last summer they’d started too late for a party worthy of Sullivan Enterprises, so she’d been planning this summer’s event all year, lining up music and a comedian and a clown act for the kids, hiring a fireworks expert. The resort was nearly fully booked for the weekend in anticipation.
Three weeks to go.
“I see.” Weston dropped her hand and crossed his arms over his chest.
She’d pushed him away. The best thing in her life right now — next to Jesus — and she couldn’t give him the assurance he was looking for. She just wasn’t in a space where she could commit.
“I’ll be back,” she whispered, hugging her knees tight again.
“Will you? Because if you were sure of that, I think you’d be responding differently.” Weston rose and looked down at her. “I don’t understand, Paisley. What did I do wrong this time?”
“Nothing. It’s not you. You’re perfect.”
Weston scoffed. “As if.”
“You’re perfect for me.” It cost her to say that. “My issues are mine, and I need to deal with them.”
“If you say so.”
Paisley stumbled upright, and Weston didn’t reach out to help her. She stood a few feet away. There was enough light from the light on the dock to see his face drawn closed once again.
Her heart hurt. How could she have done this to him? All she’d wanted for the past year to see her as she truly was, but the tables had flipped too quickly. He’d stepped aboard just in time to see the mess that was Paisley’s real self, not the carefully curated one everyone else at the ranch and the Colorado ski resort saw.
She’d convinced herself that she’d become that cheery optimist. That she’d left her previous self behind in welfare housing. Not as convincingly as Amelia had with all her focused study and the scholarships that had launched her into med school. Kait had stayed to hover over their mother while serving at an upscale restaurant. Turned out maybe Kait was the most sensible of them all.
Or Amelia. All Paisley knew was that it wasn’t her.
Footsteps crunched across the rocky shore.
Weston.
Oh, how she longed to call his name. To run to him and fling her arms around him. To kiss him back the way he’d obviously been hoping for.
Paisley watched as he climbed the slope toward the lodge, but he didn’t go in. His footsteps continued up the walkway where she couldn’t see him. She caught another glimpse as he strode under the streetlight at the base of Hummingbird Lane.
And then he was gone.
Anger suffused her. Why? Why was everything so hard? Why was true joy always just out of reach? Practice makes perfect was about as hopeless as fake it ’til you make it .
She wasn’t the happy-go-lucky activity coordinator everyone thought she was. It had only been a veneer.
Now Weston knew the truth, and he’d walked away. Fine, not without her giving him a good, hard shove, but he’d gone, all the same.
Would he tell everyone else? Not likely. He wasn’t that kind of guy.
But Paisley had been scrambling to keep everything together for so long that surely something was going to explode any second now and send all her plans into orbit. The universe would laugh.
Ugh. Did she really believe that?
The answer ought to be a resounding no. Jesus was bigger than her messes. She knew that. But right now, He seemed like ethereal mist compared to the realities of her family problems on top of her own issues.
She had to face Mom.