Come Home to Me. Brenda Novak
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to dwell on it.”
“I feel like it’s my fault.”
“Because you didn’t love me? You can’t make yourself love someone.”
Lines formed on his forehead. “It’s not as if I didn’t care about you. And your mother had just died....”
“That was my problem, not yours.” But she was lucky she’d survived those first few days after leaving Whiskey Creek, lucky that what she’d done hadn’t damaged Wyatt. Only after she’d decided to keep him had she found the will to fight for a better life, to look after herself for his sake. Without him, she might never have changed.
“Maybe if I’d reacted differently, you wouldn’t have taken off.”
She would’ve had to do something. “You reacted honestly. That’s more important. And you were right. I had no business bothering you in the middle of the night.”
He grimaced. “Except that when your world falls apart, you should be able to wake someone you’ve been...intimate with.”
“No. I understood the rules.”
“The rules?” he repeated.
“How you really felt about me. Moving on had to happen one way or another. How else could our...arrangement have ended?”
“More gently.”
He seemed to feel sincere regret, so she smiled in an effort to ease his conscience. “I’m okay,” she said. “Stronger than ever.”
With a jerk of his head, he indicated all the tools Riley had left behind. “And with prospects.”
“I’ve finally arrived,” she teased.
“So...are you going to date him?”
“I think so.”
“Really.”
“Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”
He raised his hands. “Of course not. Riley’s the best Whiskey Creek has to offer.”
She didn’t join in his sarcasm; she didn’t feel it was fair to Riley, who’d also done a lot to help her today. The reception desk was only partly finished, but she could tell it was going to be far nicer than anything she could’ve built. “Did he say when he’d be back?”
“Tomorrow. He’s bringing Jacob to help him finish up.”
“I’ll have to put his pie in the fridge, then. Or maybe drop it off at his house—if Cheyenne will let me borrow her car.”
“I’d let you take mine, but I don’t really care if he gets a pie.”
“You don’t like Riley? Since when?”
“He’s fine,” he said, but she couldn’t tell if his indifference was real or feigned.
She pulled the stroller closer. “I made you a pie, too. It’s not much but...I wanted to thank you for painting.”
When she tried to hand it to him, he made no move to accept it. He just stared at her as if he was still hoping to tear off the polite mask she was trying so hard to keep in place. “You used to like my apple pie,” she added lamely.
“I liked a lot more about you than your pies, Pres.”
Suddenly, she was no longer grateful they were alone. The same privacy that allowed them to talk without being overheard made other things possible, as well. The spike in her pulse suggested several alternatives—all of them physical—and she knew that would only enslave her again.
“That’s nice of you to say,” she responded.
“Quit being so damned courteous,” he snapped. “I’m not just stroking your ego!”
He was getting irritated, and she understood why. He didn’t see any reason they couldn’t resume the relationship they’d had before. But that was impossible. Even if she didn’t have Wyatt, why would she settle for someone who couldn’t love her?
She’d rather spend the rest of her life alone. “I should explain something.”
He placed both hands on his lean hips—the very picture of a disgruntled male. “What?”
“I know why you befriended me in the first place. I saw it on your face when you came up to me at Sexy Sadie’s. You deserve credit for that.”
“Credit for what?”
“For reaching out to someone who had no one else. My mother had cancer. Cheyenne was wrapped up in her friends. It was...a dark time for me, and I think you could sense that.”
“I didn’t view you as some kind of charity case, if that’s what you mean.”
“I’m not suggesting you weren’t honest in your friendship, just that you can’t help looking out for the underdog. But rescuing people doesn’t give them the right to grab on to you the way I did.” She pursed her lips, remembering. “I can see how it could be overwhelming, but you didn’t complain. You took my affection in stride and did your best to tolerate all the extra attention. So while you seem to believe you failed me, I’m here to tell you that you shouldn’t feel any guilt. No one else even tried to include me.”
“I’ve always hated the way you see yourself,” he said.
“You mean you hate that I can see the truth.” She caught his hand and made him take the pie. “Neither of us has much of an education, Aaron, but we’re not stupid. And I probably know you better than anyone. Who else has been more devoted to you?”
“You don’t seem so devoted anymore.”
If he only knew. She let her gaze linger on his lips. He had the softest lips. “You’ll get over it. By tomorrow.”
When she added that and laughed, his jaw tightened. “There you go again.”
“I’m joking! Take your pie home and enjoy it. And please realize that I’m grateful for the work you did today, even though you didn’t owe it to me to begin with. You’re under no further obligation. You’ve already done everything that could be expected of you.” She stepped away from him. “Go find another bird with a broken wing to patch up.”
“You don’t need me anymore.”
“I don’t need you anymore.” But, God, did she want him.
He didn’t move. “I don’t understand why we can’t be friends.”
“Because, where you’re concerned, there’s no middle ground for me. I can’t be friends with you, not without wanting to rip off your clothes.”
“See? Nothing’s really changed.” His eyes slid over her, making her supremely conscious of her black lace underwear. It wasn’t difficult to figure out why she’d worn them—or why she felt warm when she recognized the heavy-lidded look on his face. She’d seen that look before, knew what it meant.
“Was that so hard to admit?” he asked.
“No, it was entirely too easy. That’s the problem. After spending the night together countless times, we’re so conditioned to being with each other in that way, it’s the first thing we think of when we see each other. But it might be a bit harder to explain to Riley, or anyone else who wants to legitimately date me, why I’m still having sex with you.”
“He’s not your boyfriend.”
“So?”
“So I don’t believe what we do should be anyone’s business but our own.”
Once again Presley could feel the pull of that powerful and tenacious ocean of need. But she couldn’t allow herself to be ripped away from the rock of safety “no” provided. “Just walk away while you can do it with a clear conscience, okay? Now’s your chance,” she