A Will and a Way (17 page)

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

Her harshly spoken words stopped him dead in his tracks. In the space of five minutes he’d been cock-blocked, dumped, and dismissed. Not a good streak for a guy who was used to calling the shots.

He drew a calming breath. Over and over again, he’d let this pretty little princess jerk his chain. No more. His blood went from a slow simmer to a steaming boil. His nails dug into the tender centers of his palms. He blinked twice, making sure he didn’t show anything more than the careful coolness he’d wear when facing even the most temperamental member of his crew.

“I most certainly can,” he said quietly. “You go ahead. I’ll send your time sheet over to the agency.”

She fisted her hands on her hips and shot him a withering glare. “How? By carrier pigeon?”

“I’ll fax it over,” he said, clinging to his last shred of calm.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Tarrant. The 1990s took your fax machine with them when they packed up the last of the Nirvana posters and grungy plaid shirts.”

That last bit of sass did it. “My office. Now.”

Without waiting to see if she’d follow, he stomped through the kitchen. He stopped just inside his office door and cocked his ear, eavesdropping shamelessly as Betty gave her son directions to Harter’s bakery and explicit instructions not to leave there until she had a chance to speak to him.

Will took a deep breath then let it go slowly, unleashing some of the anger with it. Instinctively, he knew what Betty’s mama bear instincts wouldn’t let her see. His gut said that kid wasn’t planning to go anywhere until he got whatever it was he wanted from her. Most likely cash, judging by his raggedy clothes and gaunt cheeks.

He heard the sound of the front door closing followed closely by the click of her heels on hardwood. He turned his back on the desk he’d dusted with her taut little body just days before and braced his feet wide against the onslaught he was sure was coming. Betty appeared in his doorway a second later.

She braced her hands on the doorjamb then tipped her pert nose up in the air. “Are you really firing me?”

They both knew he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. There was no way in hell he was going to be the one to jettison their relationship. She was the one trying to push him away.

“Should I?”

“No.”

He exhaled slowly so she wouldn’t hear his relief. He was trapped. Somehow, after a lifetime of watching everything he said and every move he made, he’d stepped square into one of those snares females were so damn good at setting.

And he didn’t care. He’d take her any way he could get her.

Yes, he wanted to sleep with her—sleep, and make love to her—but it was more than that. He loved waking up with her. She was soft and warm and looked so damn cute with her hair all messed up and her eyes bleary. Vulnerable. Sweet. With his legs tangled with hers, he felt grounded. Just looking at her snuggled down in his pillows stripped a few of the wasted years off him, too. She was the woman he’d been waiting for all these years. She was his destiny, whether she liked it or not.

Judging by the defiant glare she shot him, she definitely wasn’t liking her status at the moment. But even with her nose in the air and her arms crossed over her chest, she still looked oddly vulnerable standing there framed in his doorway. A part of him wanted to turn her over his knee and give her butt a blistering. But mostly he wanted to grab her and hug her. Hard.

“We had an agreement, and I need this job, Will. We said no strings,” she reminded him. “I’m hoping you meant it.”

Exhaling the last of his anger, he rolled his shoulders back and gave his head a tired shake. “I meant what I said. Go talk to your son. Find out what he wants.”

“Will, I—” She wet her lips, and it was all he could do to keep from lunging for her.

“It’s okay.”

Lie. A total lie. None of this was okay. He didn’t like the way she tied his feelings up in knots. He didn’t like having feelings at all, damn it. He’d managed to make it this far without any messy entanglements, and the woman standing in the doorway wringing her pretty hands was one big mess. Or, as she would say, a hot mess.

In truth, though, he was a mess. She’d dumped him, but she wasn’t quitting the job or threatening to sue his ass off. He’d just had his ticket punched on a trifecta. He should be clicking his fucking heels. But he didn’t feel like it.

She hesitated, glancing toward the front of the building, then back at him. “I just need to—”

Swallowing the hard pit of regret lodged in his throat, he opened his palms and gave a helpless shrug. “Just go on, okay?”

“Will….”

Before he could brace himself, she was plastered against him. Her soft hair tickled his nose. Hot tears dampened his shirt front. He wrapped his arms around her as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do. Maybe because it
felt
like it was. He held her there, stroking the silky waves she hadn’t bothered ironing that morning and absorbing the shuddering sobs that rolled up from deep inside her. Burying his lips in her hair, he murmured pure nonsense and held on tight. When she peeled herself away from him at last, he didn’t even try to hide his reluctance to let her go.

“I just need this,” she said, her words muffled against his chest. “One more minute. I need you to hold me just another minute.”

His chest tightened and his throat closed, but he managed to get a few thick words out. “As long as you need.”

Scant seconds ticked past. All too soon for him, she pushed away, wiping at her cheeks with the pads of her fingers. She pressed those damp fingertips to his lips. He held his breath as sea-blue eyes searched his, hoping he had the answer she was looking for there. At last, she lowered her hand with a sigh. “I’m just so damn sick of being left.”

Instinctively, he touched his tongue to her soft skin. The tang of salt snapped him from his stupor. “I’m not leaving you.”

Her answering smile was tired and so sad it made his gut twist.

“Yet.”

The word hung in the air, mixing with the lingering scent of her perfume. He flinched when he heard the door close behind her. Somehow, he had to find a way to make her believe he was serious. About them. About her. Even if she was holding back from him. Refusing to let him through the door of her apartment, much less into her life. He didn’t know what to do about that other than try to wait her out.

“Go,” he said gruffly. “I’ll be here.”

Betty’s steps slowed as she approached Harter’s. Fifteen minutes earlier, she’d finally been able to admit she was falling for Will, then she’d literally fallen to her knees ready to suck his brains out through his dick. And her selfish, spoiled, sad excuse of a son had to pick that moment to pop back into her life, and for what? A little mother-son bonding?

Bullshit.

The whole thing was complete and utter BS and she was pissed about it. Ticked off at herself and Donnie and Will and the world. Why did she have to keep handing her heart over to men who offered no more than a guarantee that they’d break it?

She was flapping in the wind like a broken gate. One minute she’d been so keyed up and hot for Will she thought she might burst with it, the next she was breaking their relationship off. Just a little while ago, she was simply Betty, a single woman focused only on the pleasure she might find in her lover’s arms. Now she was Mom again. After three long years of waiting and wondering if her only child was alive and well.

She sagged against the weathered brick building, pressing a hand to her chest. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to soothe the near-constant ache there, or stem the spring of resentment that bubbled up inside her the moment she recognized her son’s voice. This was her new life. The life she was scrapping together from the tattered bits and pieces the Asher men had left in their wake. He thought he could just waltz right back into her life and she’d kill the damn fatted calf.

Well, he was wrong.

But as much as she loved Donnie, as much joy as it gave her to hear his voice, see his face, and hold her baby once more, she wasn’t the foolish, trusting woman she’d been when he’d left her.

Tugging at the seams of her dress, she turned to sneak a peek through the plate glass window. His hair was longer than it had been since his father dragged him off to the barbershop to have his baby curls cut away. Streaks of gold burnished his red hair. He was too thin to look fit. The planes of his face were sharp and unforgiving. His father had carried a hint of adolescent softness well into his thirties, but Donnie had obviously chosen a rougher path. Though he had her cheekbones, Donald’s broad brow and square chin, the young man slouched at a corner table was little more than a familiar stranger.

That was the part that hurt the most. She’d given him everything, built her whole life around their home and his happiness, and he rejected it all. Walked away without so much as a backwards glance. And now he had the balls to barge his way into her new life like he had a right to be there. As if she owed him explanations. Well, she had news for Donald Asher, Junior.

She owed him exactly nothing.

Squaring her shoulders, she bent her arm so her handbag nestled in the crook of her elbow and marched into Harter’s with her head held high. The bell above the door announced her arrival. Mrs. Harter’s grandson was working the counter. He paused mid-swipe, a wide smile splitting his face. He was gorgeous. Fair, wavy hair, Teutonic blue eyes, and a body he didn’t mind showing off in snug t-shirts. “Twice in one day? Sister Laurent was right. All those prayers to St. Jude must be working.”

Betty couldn’t help but laugh. The coffee was delicious, but the audacious flirting kept her coming back day after day. Much to Will’s chagrin. “St. Jude?”

“Patron saint of lost causes. Trust me, if I’da seen you before Will….” He let the thought trail off with an exaggerated leer. She shook her head in dismissal, but he just treated her to another grin as he gestured to a French press. “The usual?”

“Please.” She waited while he filled a heavy ceramic mug near to the brim with steaming black coffee.

He winked as he handed it to her. “Have I ever told you how much I like a woman who likes it bold and strong?”

“Every day,” she answered, sliding a five across the counter. “And every day I over-tip because I like the way you flirt.”

“Quite the system we have going here,
Miz
Asher. You just come to me anytime your day needs a little sweetening up.”

“Thanks.” Cradling the mug between her palms, she walked over to the table where her son sat glowering. Silently, she slipped into the seat across from him.

Donnie shot a meaningful glance at the mug, his handsome features distorted by a sullen frown. “I waited to order until you got here.”

She gave him a tight smile, knowing damn well that meant he waited to order so she could buy. “Oh. Well, I suppose I’m used to doing things on my own these days.” She blew across the steaming brew then hazarded a sip. “If you’d like to get something, I’ll wait.”

“I’m fine,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“You look thin. Have you been well?”

He blinked then scoffed. “Really? We’re going to do small talk?”

She stiffened, her shoulders rolling back and her chin coming up to meet the challenge. “I’m not sure that you’re the one who gets to be ticked off here, Donnie—”

“It’s Don, and I’ll be ditching that the minute I can get the paperwork lined up to change it.”

She let that slide. The bitterness between father and son predated Donnie’s abrupt departure from her life. Given what she’d learned about Donald in the days, weeks, and months since his death, she couldn’t blame her son for wanting to shed the legacy. Still, it was one more abandonment. One more reminder that she’d wasted twenty years of her life loving men who were so patently undeserving she was ashamed to have been their patsy.

Clearing her throat, she wrapped her hands around the sturdy mug to keep them from shaking and fell back on a lifetime of training. “I was simply asking after your health.”

“My health is excellent,” he replied, mimicking her prim manner of speech.

He’d picked up that nasty habit at thirteen. It irked her just as much now as it had then, but she refused to let it show. If he thought he could turn up out of the blue expecting to find the same old doormat he’d wiped his feet on when he took off for parts unknown, he was in for a rude awakening.

Pausing long enough to lower her internal thermostat, she plastered on the polite smile she hadn’t bothered using since she’d walked out of the garden club luncheon without passing the vinaigrette. “Where are you living these days?”

He huffed another one of those bitter laughs designed to make her feel like an idiot, but she refused to buy in. Never again. Not after going through what she’d been through. She stared at the boy who’d once clung to her so fiercely she’d had to pry his chubby little fingers off her just so she could steal thirty seconds to empty her bladder. A surge of love pulsed inside her, as strong and vibrant as she’d been when she carried him. But then it iced over, chilled by the cool calculation she saw in the eyes she’d given to him.

Her loving, affectionate boy was long gone, but for some reason he still expected her to be the same gullible woman she’d always been. Poor, unsuspecting fool.

When she refused to cringe, he fell back on his second favorite weapon—sarcasm. “Imagine my surprise when I finally made it home to Percy, only to find my mama had sold the ancestral home,” he drawled.

Anger sliced through her like a hot knife, but she wouldn’t let him see her bleed. Not because they were in a public place, but because keeping it close gave her the power. The last year had toughened poor, stupid Betty Jean Asher up. She no longer expected to be rewarded for genteel manners and impeccable behavior. Hard work and good intentions weren’t truly appreciated in this world. She knew that now. But one thing she refused to relinquish was her belief in the truth. She no longer saw any reason to white-wash the events of her life. And she wouldn’t waste one more minute of her life mollycoddling the spoiled man-child who’d tossed away her love without so much as a good-bye.