Can't Fight This Feeling (27 page)

The back of her neck and her face burned. “What is it you really do?”

“Right now I’m taking some time off. I’m fixing up the house like I said.”

“Time off from what?”

He sighed. “I’m in business. Big data. I have a company I run with my old college roommate.”

Glory had only a vague idea of “big data,” but the way he said it gave her the impression his company was important. “You’re well-off?”

“I...” He sighed again. “Yes.”

“You have a life down the hill that you have to get back to.” Her face felt hot, but the muscles beneath felt cold and stiff, like modeling clay. “You’re not staying.”

“I can’t, Glory. I’ve been a workaholic for the past seven years, and I would like to change that, but the truth is my business, my life, is down the hill.”

“My business, my life, is up here,” Glory said. “You knew that and yet you still...you still...” There would be no tears! She had more pride than that. She felt trampled on. Flattened. “I think it’s time you go.”

“Glory. I can’t leave right now. I can’t leave things between us like this.”

He looked upset, but who knew what to believe when it came to him? A businessman. A rich businessman, who’d toyed with her affections and had a life far away from Hallett Hardware. It was everything she’d always protected herself from. The sting of tears had her turning away from him. “Go. Please.”

“God, Glory. You just said you loved me.”

“I didn’t know who the hell you were when I said that.” She crossed to the front door and pulled it open. “Goodbye. Goodbye, stranger.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

B
RETT
HAD
A
hangover when he walked into Oscar’s for morning coffee with his brothers-in-law-to-be. The pounding between his ears was all for the best, he decided, because it didn’t leave a lot of room for regrets and self-recrimination.

The night before, the one Angelica had spent at Shay’s, Brett had devoted to quality time spent with the cold beers in his refrigerator. Until he’d passed out on the couch in front of the TV, he’d told himself and his best girl Stella Artois that his unfeeling remarks to the princess had actually been beneficial.

Now she knew what kind of bastard he was.

Now she’d keep her distance—finally!—aware he wasn’t good enough for her to kick, let alone kiss. He
wasn’t
sentimental. Any soft feelings he’d had were hardened by experience...and by the very fact he’d worked to banish them. Like Poppy, Angelica needed someone who would nurture her heart, not someone who would smother it with clumsy words and a lousy temper.

Who the hell has ever loved you?
Shit.
He’d actually said that.

He wasn’t the right man for her, and to prove it, he wasn’t even going to apologize.

Though the subject hadn’t been tackled directly, he supposed she wasn’t long for these parts anyhow. She’d dropped hints about leaving recently, and as the temperatures continued to drop, he’d always figured her interest in mountain life would, too. From the beginning he’d known she’d be going down the hill sooner than later.

If he’d pushed her in that direction...well, it had been inevitable anyhow.

Jace and Ryan were already at their usual corner table. Jace had driven up from LA that morning, but it didn’t look as if the commute had worn him down any. Brett couldn’t see Ryan’s face because he had a ball cap pulled low over his eyes—his habitual effort to camouflage his famous movie-star features. Though this time of year, midweek among the locals, he didn’t draw special attention unless someone acquainted with Poppy wanted the word on the upcoming wedding.

Once his coffee was in hand, he tossed his coat over the empty chair and dropped onto the seat. According to the TV, an arm’s reach away, the weather was predicted to be warm and sunny by the beaches. Angelica was made for such moderate climes, with her warm-toned skin and bright smile. She’d be happy there.

“What’s the scowl all about?” Ryan asked. “And by the way, good morning.”

“Keep your jolly down,” he groused. Then he remembered Angelica calling him out on his negative attitude. Shit. Guilt added a backbeat to his pounding headache. “Sorry. I have a hangover.”

“You might not be the only Walker feeling the effects this morning,” Jace said. “The call I had from Shay last night was accompanied by the roar of the blender. They were arguing about how much tequila goes into a margarita. By the sound of their voices, I think they decided on ‘a lot.’”

“Mmm.” Cursing himself, Brett shifted his gaze from his coffee to the other man. “Do you happen to know...was Angelica there?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jace nodded. “She was singing.”

Brett winced. “She really shouldn’t.”

“I have to agree with you there,” Ryan put in. “She was still at it when we called, so Mace could wish his mom good-night. But she’s enthusiastic, I’ll give her that.”

And apparently she wasn’t broken up over the words they’d traded in the morning. Well, good, he thought. That was just great.

Jace drew back. “Take it easy, fella. Those bared teeth look lethal.”

Instead of answering, Brett’s attention turned to the television. Usually the nearby big-city stations didn’t cover much about the mountains except for fire and snowfall, but during a roundup of local news, the burglaries in the Blue Arrow Lake region were mentioned. It made sense when some of the missing items were described. Beyond the usual cash and computers, items once belonging to the recently deceased philanthropist Walter Elliott were gone: a pair of dueling pistols, an antique sets of golf clubs, some Native American artifacts.

“Your binoculars are safe, right?” a voice asked.

Brett glanced up to see Vaughn hovering near their table. “My binoculars?” He just remembered that he’d left them at Poppy’s and he would have to retrieve them. “How’d you know about that?”

“Poppy. I ran into her the other night. She told me she bought the pair and gave them to you. Remember, Ryan?”

Ryan grunted and drew the free chair at their table closer with his foot. Apparently the volunteer sheriff got on his nerves, too. But Poppy, chatterbox and bubbly with happiness these days, likely told everyone she met all her business and that of everyone else she knew. It was both the plus and the minus of life in the mountains.

It was the community that he was embedded in, hip-deep. He’d never wanted a life outside it.

Vaughn wandered off. Ryan rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I can’t take that guy.”

“It’s the fake badge,” Brett said, then he shoved up from his chair as Lorraine Kushi came onto the camera. “Time for a channel change.”

Switching to a different station would make him feel better.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Except then he went cold all over.

“What the...?”

“You didn’t see it last night?”

He glanced over at Jace who was leaning back in his chair, his gaze on Brett, a little smile curving his mouth.

His attention returned to the screen. Angelica sat on a chair—in Jace’s house, maybe?—and was speaking to a slick character in a dark suit. “I didn’t watch any TV last night.”

“She granted the interview because—”

“Shh!” God, she looked so beautiful, Brett thought. Dressed casually in her usual autumn uniform of sweater, jeans and boots, her long hair wavy and gleaming under the lights. If she was nervous it didn’t show in her big brown eyes. Her tender, lush mouth didn’t tremble.

The reporter gave a rundown of the charges against her father, and that’s when Brett learned the man had pleaded guilty to half of them, while the other half had been dropped. Speculation was that his sentence would be over fifty years.

“You might never see him outside of prison again,” the man said to Angelica.

She sucked in a quick breath. “That’s true. I can only hope that this plea bargain in some way helps the victims and that it means at least some of their losses might be quickly recouped.”

“Your own money was lost, as well.”

“Not through investing it with my father,” she said quickly.

“It was lost when he stole it from you to pay his investors.”

“I don’t know his motives.”

The journalist leaned closer. “You haven’t spoken with him, then.”

“No.”

“Your mother, his first wife, is remarried now. What’s her take on this?”

Brett saw that Angelica’s hands, folded in her lap, clutched each other a little tighter. But she was all cool princess when she answered. “I haven’t had a conversation with her, either.”

The pounding in Brett’s head redoubled. It killed him, killed him, that she was so alone.
Who the hell has ever loved you?

“Angelica, tell me this. Do you think the reason your father kept you out of his business was to spare you?”

She blinked. “I—I don’t know.”

God, hearts would be breaking all over Southern California at the sweet hesitance in her voice.

“If you had found out what he was doing before his arrest, would you have turned your father in?”

“Oh, fuck,” Brett exclaimed, wanting to punch the asshole through the TV screen. “What kind of question is that?”

Angelica tackled it anyway. “I believe I’m a good person...so I also believe I would have done so. It would have been difficult, but I don’t run away from difficult things.”

No, she didn’t, Brett thought. She took on as many jobs as she could and she put up with his surly attitude and attempts to push her away. Despite her fears about intimacy, she pushed past them to be the sweetest fuck of his life. And how had he rewarded her?
Who the hell has ever loved you?

“Last question, Angelica.” The journalist was clearly won over by her. There was warmth in his gaze and he leaned in again. “What’s next for you?”

“Living my life.” A faint smile curved her mouth. “Striving to build a good one.”

“Best of luck.”

Best of luck? That’s all the asshole had to say after filleting her open and exposing her tender soul?

“God.” Brett rubbed the top of his head with his palm, over and over. How had she made it through that with such grace? His eyes narrowed on Ryan. “This was first aired last night?”

He nodded.

“How did that guy find her?”

Ryan grinned. “Oh, she called him.”

“Huh?”

“Lorraine Kushi ambushed her at the hardware store.”

“Oh, hell. This is all my fault.”

Ryan was still grinning. “Don’t flatter yourself. After speaking to her, it was Angelica who decided to contact Lorraine’s biggest rival.”

His eyes rounded. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Beautiful
and
clever.” He hesitated. “And maybe just a little bit vengeful toward Lorraine for trapping her, which I personally find kind of hot.”

“Jesus.” Brett glared. “You’re engaged to my sister and Angelica is...”

Ryan tilted the brim of his hat. “Angelica is...?”

“Stop poking at me.”

“Will it hurt if I tell you she was feeling happy after that interview? She knew she had come out all right, hence the loud renditions of ‘Here Comes the Sun.’”

Though reluctant, Brett couldn’t help but smile. “I’m so glad I didn’t hear that.”

He also couldn’t help but be glad she was doing well now that the cameras were off. At least she was last night. But how about now? His arms actually began aching along with the throbbing beat of his head, he wanted to hold her so much.

But shit, wasn’t that impulse wrong? He had no forever in him.

* * *

W
ITH
S
HAY
’
S
CAR
idling outside her cabin, Angelica turned to her. “Thank you for the ride.”

“No problem. My day for the car pool run, anyway.”

“My convertible—”

“Jace will take a look at it when he gets home. If it’s something he can’t easily fix, we’ll call.”

“Okay. I have an auto service...” Or she thought she did. Was she paid up?

Shay reached over to pat her leg. “Stop worrying. Everything will work out.”

Angelica gave her a smile. “I’ll hold you to that. And thanks for last night, too. I had a great time if we don’t count the little headache pulsing about right here.” She touched her fingertips to a spot between her eyebrows.

“It was great, wasn’t it? And in celebrating your television debut—”

“First
and
last appearance, I hope.”

“—we even got Mac loosened up. Who knew that Zan has been corresponding with her all these years?”

“Does it count as correspondence if he never gave her an address where she could write back?” Angelica wondered.

“Probably not.” Shay grimaced. “But I think he still managed to keep her heart shackled to him anyway. It explains a lot about Mac’s attitude the past few years...and it means I might punch Zan in the face if he ever shows up again.”

Shackled hearts were not a topic Angelica wanted to pursue right now. “Well, I should let you get on with your day.” She wrapped her fingers around the door handle and thought of Shay returning to the house she shared with her fiancé and the engaging, amusing teenager London. “You’re really lucky, you know that?”

Shay beamed. “Luckier once Jace gets home,” she said, adding a quick wink.

At that, Angelica exited the SUV. Glancing right, she noticed that all was quiet at Brett’s place. He was already on a job, she supposed, while she actually had a whole day free. Considering the stress of the TV interview and the long night over margaritas, she could use a nap. That her lawyer considered the televised Q and A a success, as well, only gave her more reason for untroubled sleep.

It was cold inside her cabin. She played with the thermostat, then walked into the bedroom and undressed. In flannel pajama pants and a tee, she climbed between the sheets and closed her eyes.

Hours later, she awoke, groggy from daytime sleep and her head still filled with a dream in which her mother was insisting Angelica bake a cake with a file in it to send to her father in prison. It was so weird—and yet so real—that she even checked her cell phone.

Not only was there no missed call, text or voice mail, she also had no service. It was like that often at the cabins. The bars would fluctuate, it seemed, on the whim of the breeze. Maybe the same squirrels that Brett discovered to have interrupted their electrical lines had done something to the nearest cell tower.

When she moved down the hill, at least those kinds of problems wouldn’t plague her.