CHAPTER 35
Phoebe
That was rotten timing.
Not an hour ago, Evander gifted me with the most shocking, soul-crushing orgasm I’ve ever experienced in my life, and he was thrilled to be the gift giver.
When he said there’s a lot more where that came from, I told him to bring it on.
But then we started talking, and he asked me why I came back to Sweetbriar last year, and everything came to a screeching halt. I completely melted down over my dad.
I don’t even know where all that sorrow and anger came from. I had no idea so much grief was waiting just below the surface.
I certainly didn’t expect that Evander’s gentle question would break open the dam the way it did.
Evander gave me room to let it all go. He made me feel safe enough that I could be completely honest. I knew there would be no judgment for my snotty nose and loud sobs.
If Evander wanted to judge me, he’s had plenty of legit opportunities to do so in the last twenty-four hours. But he hasn’t. He’s given me nothing but goodness and patience.
Too much good. And this is bad.
My heart’s going to break into a million pieces when we’re back to our normal lives. I shouldn’t have told him I’d have no expectations.
It’s too late now. I’m in for a rough fall to earth.
Evander’s lying next to me by the fire. He’s wrapped me in blankets and his soothing embrace. The only time he’s left my side was when he went to grab three cleansing towelettes from the first aid kit—the closest thing we have to tissues.
My crying has stopped, but I just can’t seem to stop talking about how hard my dad’s illness has hit me.
“He’s always been a rock for me,” I tell Evander. “I want to be the same for him, but it’s getting difficult to stay cheerful and encouraging all the time. I know all too well what his prognosis is.”
He rubs my back.
“This will likely be his last Christmas.”
“Then you’ll make every second of it count.”
“With all my brothers home, we’re sure gonna try.”
Evander gives me a squeeze. “If there’s anything we MacLaines can do to help you with that, we’ll do it.”
I sniff. “Thank you. That’s sweet.”
“I’m not a sweet guy, Phoebe.” Like a switch was just flipped, his voice suddenly sounds lifeless. “Don’t get the wrong idea about me, all right? I’m self-centered. My heart is as hard as a stone. If I do something, it’s because there’s something in it for me.”
I prop myself up so I can look down at him. He's scowling and his eyes are narrowed, dark and brooding.
With his increasingly scruffy appearance—the uncombed hair, thick eyebrows, and a five-o’clock shadow that looks like five months of growth—he comes off as the kind of man you’d cross to the other side of the street to avoid.
I think he’s trying to scare me. Give me a warning.
It’s not working.
I sniff back the last of my tears and smile down at him. “If the MacLaines help give my dad the best Christmas possible, what’s in it for you?”
It’s barely noticeable, but one corner of his mouth twitches. “Truth?”
“Why switch it up now?”
That twitch spreads into a legitimate smile, and everything in me floods with heat. And a little bit of sadness.
I see it in my mind—the pieces of my broken heart thrown out onto the snow.
Yes, I’ve loved Evander MacLaine since I was twelve. But now I know him, and I love him for real, the way a woman loves a man. And it’s going to sting something fierce when I have to put this time with him into the rearview mirror.
So I promise myself that I’ll enjoy whatever time we have and revel in whatever this is. I’ll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.
“You, Phoebe. You’re what’s in it for me.”
I did not expect that.
“Your happiness. Your peace of mind. So if it makes you happy to see the MacLaines do something for the Travises, then that’s my motivation.”
I push up to a sitting position and stare at him. He holds my gaze, his expressionless face hiding whatever he might be feeling or thinking.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Evander.”
He lets out a clipped laugh. “Now that’s a new one. I’m more used to hearing ‘you sure think a lot of yourself, don’t you?’ or ‘must be nice to be the smartest man on earth, you self-righteous prick.’”
“Then you need to find nicer people to spend time with.”
“People didn’t say those things to me, Phoebe—my ex-girlfriends did.”
“You need nicer girlfriends, then. But what I’m getting at is you see yourself as one-dimensional.”
“Say what?”
“Remember when you said that putting me in a neat and tidy category made it simpler for you? Well, I’m beginning to think that you do the same to yourself. If you’re a grumpy hard-ass, then you don’t have to acknowledge how deeply you feel things.”
He doesn’t answer. But he doesn’t look away, either.
“You’ve decided you’re a loner. A SEAL super-achiever with a taste for fancy suits and expensive scotch who’s loyal to his family and focused on working hard.”
“I occasionally enjoy a nice cigar. You forgot that.”
I laugh. “My apologies.”
“I’ve chosen that life, Phoebe. It’s what I want for myself. And I’m proud of it.”
“As you should be. But, Evander, you may be selling yourself short, you know, hitting the easy button. It’s something to consider, that’s all.”
He tries to rise up, but I press my palm to his chest and push him back to the floor. I throw the blanket off the front of his body, swing a leg over, and straddle him.
Well, I did it. I’ve finally thrown my leg over him. He’s naked beneath me. And now that I’m here…
I drop both my palms to his chest. His hands spread over the tops of my thighs.
“Are you busting my balls again, Phoebe?”
“I am.”
He traces a finger down toward my knee, then loops around to slide up the inside of my thigh. His touch sends a ripple of pleasure across my skin. His fingertip pushes up under the hem of his sweater. “I don’t usually allow that, you know.”
“Then why am I the exception?”
When his dark lashes lift and his violet eyes lock with mine, I glimpse something I’ve not seen there before. It’s gone in a flash.
But I know what I saw.
The most capable and courageous man I’ve ever met isn’t sure what to do with a woman’s love.
“I let you because you’re cute.”
“I see.”
“And…” he drags his gaze from my face down the front of my body. Even with the unshaven wild-man shadow on his throat, I can see the pulse beat under his skin. I watch him swallow hard.
He lifts his eyes to me again. “Ditch the sweater, Phoebe.”
“All right, but only if there’s something in it for me.” I grab the cashmere and yank it over my head.