Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
The moment her honeysuckle scent hit his nostrils, relief crashed over him.
She stayed.
“You came downstairs for a reason,” he asked. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really.” She grabbed a sponge and went to his workspace to wipe it down. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Something in her tone—sad, maybe, confused—plucked at his awareness, and he glanced over his shoulder. “Your mom?”
“Ha. Believe it or not, no.” Her pajama top shimmied as she scrubbed. “There’s just a lot going on.”
The wobble of her lower lip had him slamming off the faucet, dragging his wet hands across his jeans, and turning to face her. “What’s going on?”
Even through her sadness, she broke out in a grin. “Okay, Batman. I hate to break it to you, but there are no bad guys there. Just…” Her gaze drifted toward the saloon. “It is what it is. Everything changes, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I guess… I was so excited to get here yesterday. It’s a Saturday night, and the saloon should be hopping. Instead, it was quiet. Like any other restaurant. And it just made me so sad. I don’t get it. What happened?”
“Did you ask your dad about it?” He grabbed two fancy dessert plates and brought them to the counter.
She tracked his every move. “How’d you know where those were?”
“When my groceries were delivered, the kitchen was still pretty active.”
“And they let you cook?”
He watched her for a moment, wondering how to explain that without sounding like an asshole. “Yes.”
It took a moment for the lights to go on in her brain. “Oh. Of course. Ha. Must be nice.”
He pulled the silverware drawer open and grabbed two forks. “What is?”
“You probably get the best seat in any restaurant. I’ll bet you even get the last rental car, even when someone else already reserved it.”
He grinned. “Ah, but you didn’t reserve it. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been available for me to snatch.” He checked on his pie. It needed a few more minutes. When he turned back around, he asked, “So, your dad?”
“Right.” When she leaned her elbows on the counter, her pink pajama top gaped.
The fullness of her breasts, the slight jiggle, sent a flare of heat through him, but he quickly squashed it.
She must’ve noticed his reaction because she looked down and quickly straightened. “Crap. I totally forgot I was wearing pajamas.” She tugged the sides together, but that only pulled the fabric tighter over her nipples.
“It’s fine. You can wear whatever you want.” He immediately regretted making her uncomfortable. “It’s just…it’s….” He let out a breath of frustration.
“Oh, I know. I have great boobs.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes, Willa. I’m aware of that.” Her body heat and familiar scent made his skin tingle. His eyelids opened to find her sidling up to him. “Willa,” he said in warning.
But she didn’t back down. “You’re attracted to me.”
“Yes. Very much so. So, maybe you should go stand on the other side of that island.”
“I could. But then I won’t get to see Mr. Disciplined Football Player come apart.”
“Trust me, you haven’t seen that yet.”
And since we’re both leaving on Sunday, you never will.
Am I leaving?
What if Birdie’s mine?
Then what the hell do I do?
A hard pulse of unease moved through him. But he didn’t have to have answers yet. “Anyway, what happened with your dad?”
“Okay, so, the last few times I’ve come home, I’ve noticed things had fallen apart a little.”
“Like?” He turned off the oven and took the pie out.
“Like we were always known for our breakfasts. It was a whole spread—scones, muffins, oatmeal, freshly baked bread, eggs, fruit. People booked just for that. But all he had was a continental breakfast. And even when I was here last Christmas, there were no decorations. We’re known for our carolers. They hand out cocoa and hot cider.”
“I remember that. We used to come into town for it.”
“Right? Also, it might seem small, but there was no piano player. And the servers weren’t wearing costumes. Do you remember what it used to be like? They’d stop what they were doing to sing and dance to the old saloon songs?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s what this place is known for.”
“Exactly. So, I gave him a list of suggestions before I left town and just assumed he’d take care of it all.” Eyeing the pie, she picked up the fork and let it hover, like she was going to eat it right out of the dish.
He nudged it out of her reach. “It has to cool.”
“So set in your ways.”
“You might as well pour boiling water down your throat for how hot that pie is.”
“Fine. Anyway, I talked to him about it at last night at dinner, and he was really weird. Kind of cagey. That’s not like him.”
“So, what do you think’s going on?”
“I have no idea. But he had a headache, so I didn’t want to press him.” Her gaze turned thoughtful. “It was weird because when he reached for his water glass, his hand was shaky.”
“Does he get migraines?”
“Not that I know of. He’s pretty healthy.
And he’s young—he had me at eighteen, so he’s not even fifty.
But he swears he’s fine, just tired, so…
I don’t know. I’m leaving tomorrow, and the minute I get back, I have to hit the ground running on that case, so I guess I just have to let it go.
” She let out a breath. “The end of an era.” She tried for a smile.
“The only thing I do know is I need a slice of that pie.”
“You got it.” It might not be set yet, but it’d still taste great. He got out a knife, found a spatula, and cut into it. The deep red liquid pooled in the empty space the crust left behind, and he slid the slice onto a plate.
She brought it to her nose and sniffed. “Mm. I want a candle that smells like this.” She blew on it and then slid the fork into the same mouth he’d tasted the night before. “Oh, my God.” She drew out each syllable as if he were licking between her legs.
And he could see it. He could imagine her features going slack, her eyelids fluttering shut. His hands could feel the smooth skin of her thighs as he spread her legs wider, his tongue dipping into her slick, hot core.
He had to stop this. It wasn’t right to act like he was pals with her while drifting off into dirty fantasies.
We’re not friends.
Not when I want to fuck her into next week.
“Okay, well, my ankle’s killing me. I shouldn’t have been standing on it so long. Enjoy the pie.” He nudged it toward her. “Share it with your dad.”
She lowered her fork. “You need ice?”
“I’ll grab some from the freezer upstairs. But right now…” He leaned closer, inhaling her, memorizing those beautiful hazel eyes and an electric energy between them he’d never felt with another woman. Then, he pulled away. “I’m going to bed before I do something stupid.”
Willa had never packed so much life into twenty-four hours.
From Nate’s engagement—to my sister—to a road trip that had ended with a vibrating bed and the kiss of a lifetime…to her best friend’s wedding and a surprise baby—what???—to late-night pie baking…
It was almost too much to handle.
Lying on her side in her childhood bed, a pillow wedged between her thighs, she let it all settle. At least one thing was clear: She’d never loved Nate. The ache in her chest wasn’t about him. It was about her mother’s betrayal.
Willa’s entire life had been one big quest to win her mom’s love and respect, and now she had to wonder if that was even possible.
And she might never have seen it so clearly if she hadn’t met a pie-baking quarterback who, for all his grumpiness, gave her something she hadn’t even known she was missing—honesty. Transparency.
And pure excitement.
God, that kiss.
If it were only attraction, she could manage it. But it wasn’t. There was a gravitational force binding them together. And she knew he felt it, too.
Even now, knowing he was in the next room, she yearned to crawl into his bed and press her body up against him. She wanted the comfort of his warm skin and hard muscles.
No. It was so much more than physical contact.
It was him.
The way he cared about her. Paid attention. That was what she craved.
He wants to know me. All of me.
Him. A jock. How did that make sense?
He wasn’t her type at all, and yet, she’d never felt more comfortable with anyone other than her dad and Finlay.
Which made it painfully obvious how little she’d felt for Nate.
Nate. Dammit.
That sickening feeling crept through her, seeping into every crevice. She would never forget his pained expression when she picked up the ring box, thinking it was for her.
The idea of walking into that office Monday morning, the pitying looks, the apologies and explanations…No. She couldn’t let that happen.
She’d have to talk to Nate, get the weirdness between them out of the way.
Just do it.
Decision made, she dragged herself upright, stacked some pillows behind her, and grabbed her phone.
Willa: We need to talk. Do you have a minute?
But before she could press Send, an image dropped into her mind.
Nate in bed…with her sister.
It hit with brutal force. His screen lighting up in the dark, both of them glancing at it. A look passing between them when they saw her name.
Ugh. What should I do?
Kendall nudging him. You should answer.
Or worse, they probably already had a plan. They’d discussed it, agreed on how to handle the problem.
Just say, “We didn’t mean for this to happen. We fell in love.”
Willa’s stomach clenched so hard, she felt sick.
The idea of those two pitying her… God. Of Nate, shaking his head, saying, “She actually thought the ring was for her.”
The humiliation hit like a punch to the throat.
Screw it. I’m not talking to either of them.
She dropped the phone onto the nightstand, threw back the covers, and headed into the bathroom.
Okay. Let’s reset.
The three of them had subjected her to enough embarrassment, they didn’t need another scrap of her time and energy. She’d walk into the office Monday morning like nothing had happened, focused, ready to dive into the merger.
I got this.