Bachelorette for Sale (15 page)

He rested his arms on his bent knees, clasping his hands between them. After several seconds that seemed more like hours, he turned to her. “No, I can’t afford to lose their business. Are we supposed to ignore what’s going on between us? I’m really hoping you say no right now. I’m tired of cold showers.”

She handed him a chilled bottle of water. “Maybe we could slow things down? You know, get to know each other better while keeping it on the down-low?” She hated asking him, hated suggesting it, but she didn’t want to give Ford any fodder. She’d hate herself more if she brought trouble to Jason’s door.

“Sneak around?”

“Just until the center is done.”

“Tell me something first.” He took a slow breath and released it. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”

“What? No, why would you ask such a thing? Do you not own a mirror? You’re gorgeous. Sometimes arrogant, but your body makes up for that. Trust me when I say I know many women have fantasized about you and those lovely, lovely muscles. Then there’s your mouth. Let’s just say it should be declared a dangerous weapon.”

His mouth fell open, his cheeks flamed like a beacon in the night, and laughter erupted from deep inside. “Don’t hold it in. Go ahead and tell me how you really feel. Arrogant, huh? Okay, I can live with that and your request for now. Promise you won’t lie to your family or friends, though.”

“I promise, and thanks.” Speaking of family, it occurred to her that Jason had never mentioned his, not once, and she wondered why. Time to find out. “Did your parents bring you here for picnics or something?”

A snort and a quick shake of his head made her regret her question. Jason fell into a dark silence, picking up small pebbles and twigs and hurtling them into the water below. It shouldn’t have been a surprise; the kids from the west end generally didn’t have the best childhoods, didn’t come from homes with white picket fences and moms who stayed home and baked while the dads brought home the bacon. She should know. She was one of them. Raised by her grandparents, her parents God only knows where.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to.” She slipped her hand in his, laid her head on his shoulder.

Jason gave her hand a quick squeeze back, not letting go. He brushed his lips across her forehead. “No, you should know. The past is what makes me who I am today. It’s not a part of my life now or my future, but still, it’s there. My parents never took my sister and me on family picnics. They were too busy getting falling-down drunk and fighting on their days off to give two shits about either of us.”

He shrugged off her sympathy. She got it. You learned early on, pity got you nowhere and definitely did not get you what you needed. You needed new shoes, clothes, food in your belly, and parents who truly loved you and could put you before their own needs and vices. Not that she’d gone without any of life’s necessities. Her grandparents always put her first. Still, she’d seen his situation firsthand with enough of her friends to understand. So she didn’t push for more.

“My sister Jana split for who knows where the second she turned eighteen. Got a few postcards from her the first couple of years. Looked like she might be headed toward the West Coast. Last one came from Arizona, four, maybe five years ago. Our mom didn’t even hold out for us to turn legal. Woke up on my tenth birthday and she was gone. Sometime in my teens, think I might have been sixteen or so, there was a rumor floating around that they found a woman’s body— OD’d—and that it was her. Dad never confirmed or denied it. His liver gave out last year, but that’s what happens when you pour liquor down your throat twenty-four seven for nearly four decades.”

She’d asked. He’d told.

The Valentines made the Ryans look like the cream of the crop or boresville, depending on how you looked at the situation. She figured she could let the mood weigh them down, be all depressed about matters neither of them could control, or she could try to find the silver lining.

“So, what you’re trying to tell me is you’re a prime catch, eh?”

His head jerked around toward her, his mouth dropped open, and the words appeared stuck in his throat.

“Hear me out. At thirty-one, you haven’t blown past your sexual peak too much yet. You own your own business, although it could use a little boost. You’re pretty good-looking, except when you scowl, like now, then . . . well, you’re still kind of cute, in a pouty-little-boy way. You like dogs, definitely a plus. You’re impatient and arrogant at times, but also thoughtful, romantic, an amazing kisser, and you have talented hands. However, the clincher is there will never be a fight over whose family to spend the holidays with.”

He laughed. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. You’re not worried about getting involved with someone who comes from a family of alcoholics and drug addicts?” He pushed a stray hair behind her ear, searching her face—for what, she didn’t know.

Instead of meeting his too-intense blue-green eyes, she looked off to the ocean. Spotting a duck diving for food, she envied the creature and its simplistic life. “Awfully presumptuous of you. I never said you were a prime catch for me, Mr. Valentine. Sure, you have all these wonderful qualities, but how well do you do with crazy? Because I’m pretty sure my grandparents have lost it lately, and it’s a non-negotiable package deal. You take me, you put up with them and Tawny’s family, who are like blood.”

During the hometown week on
Finding Mr. Right
, she’d learned not everyone could deal with her mixed-up, slightly off-the-wall family.

Jason handed her a brownie and popped one in his mouth. “I’ve met most of Tawny’s brothers. They’re good people. Not guys I’d want on my bad side. In truth, they scare the crap out of me, especially George. Tawny’s stopped by the center a few times. She’s got a wicked sense of humor and likes to bust Dave’s balls. I like her. But I have to be up front here. I’m not marriage material. If that’s what you’re looking for—”

“Nooo. I’m over that quest. Totally cool with being just friends.”
Bye-bye, Prince Charming.

Jason kissed her fingertips. “Are we back to me taking cold showers?”

“No. We can be friends with benefits. Business partners by day, bed partners by night. Why not?”
Hello, boy toy
.

He dropped a soul-searing kiss on her lips to seal the deal. “I like how you think, Ryan. Now, what’s the deal with your grandparents? Where are your parents anyway?”

Cherry eyed the container of brownies, wondering what Jason would think of her if she devoured the rest of them right then and there without saying another word to him. Would he understand he pushed her stress button? Would he be turned off? Would he care? Instead she looked for the duck, anything not to focus on the man next to her, not to see the sympathy in his eyes.

“Well, here’s the long and short of it. My grandparents raised me after my parents disappeared. What’s up with them now? Not really sure, but I think my gramps is going through a midlife crisis at seventy and my gram might be plotting his death.”

There, it was out.
Please don’t ask for details. Just let it be. Focus on the crazy.

“I get the midlife crisis thing, although I’d have thought he would have gone through it earlier, but hey, he’s a late bloomer. I could see how that would drive your gram to want to kill him. I wouldn’t worry too much about it or let it bother you, though.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one with kinky images burned in your brain.”

“What?” He laughed, sounding more confused by the moment. Good, keep him focused on her grandparents. They were so much easier to deal with, most of the time.

“Never mind. You’ll understand if you meet them, just remember, I warned you.” Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and the chance to keep him focused where she wanted. “Check out the sailboat. Can you imagine living on one of those babies? Bet you could sail the seven seas with it.”

She’d changed the subject as smooth as a New England highway, complete with drop-off edges and craters you could land a spaceship in. He got the not wanting to talk about family. Hell, he’d felt the same way when she’d brought up his. Just like his past made him who he was today, so did Cherry’s. His family wasn’t part of his present, nor would they be part of the future. A gut tug told him hers would always be part of her life—both the blood relations and those of the heart, which meant understanding what happened to them mattered.

“What did you mean your parents disappeared?” He ran his hand up and down her back in soothing motions, trying to let her know he was there for her.

“There’s not much to tell. When I was eight, they dropped me off at my grandparents’, my dad’s parents’, on a Friday morning. They were going away for the weekend to celebrate their anniversary. Sunday came and went and they never showed. According to the B-and-B, my parents had a lovely weekend, were lovely people, everything was lovely.” Her voice cracked. She rubbed her throat, chest rising and falling in quick, heavy motions.

Jason handed Cherry a bottle of water. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut. None of the articles about Cherry he’d skimmed had given any clues to anything other than an idyllic childhood, the perfect life. In the midst of the chaos her ex had created, she’d managed to keep a painful part of her past out of the public eye. He could imagine Ford would give his left nut to hear this story. Hell, for a scoop on a secret of this magnitude, he’d bet the worm would serve up his full set on a silver platter to the tabloid with the highest paycheck.

Not that he’ll hear it from me
.

Jason wrapped Cherry in his arms, pulling her tight against his chest while the silent sobs worked their way out. Damn him. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. You should have told me to mind my own business. I would have understood.”

A small headshake followed by a hicupped “no” gave him some relief. “Only fair. You shared with me. There’s more, but please, Jason, swear you’ll keep this to yourself.”

His heart broke a little at the small sound of her voice. “All of this is between you, me, and Daffy Duck over there.” Eyeing the duck, he nuzzled her neck and whispered, “He does look a little shifty. If he starts to get too close and looks like he’s paying attention, I’ll make duck à l’orange tonight.”

Cherry smacked him on the arm. She pulled away with a look of shock on her face. “You’ll do no such thing. Do you want to hear this or not?”

Jason sobered up, promised he wouldn’t actually hurt the bird, and waited for her to continue. She lay quietly against his chest, gathering her thoughts, watching the rise and fall of the turbulent flow of the waves below. He did what he didn’t do best, waited.

In a soft voice devoid of emotion, she told him. “I didn’t just hang out at the center like the other kids . . . it played a bigger role in my life. When my parents went missing, I kind of freaked out—nightmares, panic and anxiety attacks, separation issues—you name it, I had it. My grandparents couldn’t afford private counseling to get me through the ordeal. A friend of theirs knew one of the counselors at the center who worked with me for nearly two years, pro bono, until I could function like a normal kid again. Mostly. I still have some anxiety issues. For instance, Tawny went to the city a couple of weeks ago, and she had to call or text me every couple of hours to keep me from freaking. Being on the show and away from my family was purgatory. They cut off all contact with the outside world the entire time you were there, unless they were filming.”

She pulled away, dried her tears, and released a pent-up sigh. “I’m a hot mess. Are you sure you want to get involved with
me
? It’s not too late to back out. We haven’t crossed the line yet.”

If there was one thing a hot mess deserved, it was another hot mess. He leaned forward, sank his hands into her thick hair, and whispered “yes” before claiming her mouth with all the passion he’d been holding back for the past week.

Jason lifted Cherry onto his lap, cradling her within his arms. He kissed away the remnants of her tears, kissed the tip of her nose, kissed the corners of her mouth before claiming it again. He didn’t care if they had an audience or if their picture got plastered across every newspaper and Internet site in the country. He didn’t care who knew about them, for she belonged to him. Somewhere along the line she’d gotten past his defenses, made him see past the celebrity persona the tabloids created to the real woman underneath. One who was smart, fun, and loyal. He might not want marriage, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want this woman. She wasn’t anything like Steph.

Not the time for thoughts of
her
. Not the time to discuss what happened. Both had spilled enough of their guts today. Now was the time to heal, to move past and enjoy each other.

Small voices cut through the fog of his brain, alerting him they no longer had the cove to themselves. Breaking apart, both sat there. Hearts racing. Eyes locked.