Stirring Up Trouble (22 page)

In that moment, Sloane wanted nothing more than to deny his words with the fierce vehemence they deserved.

The only problem was, when he said she was worthy and beautiful, she believed him.

“I’ve felt like a failure as a daughter for so long, I don’t know anything else,” Sloane whispered, startled by the clarity of the confession. “No matter how hard I try or what I throw at it, I’m not going to be good enough.”

Her throat knotted, threatening to close over an unexpected sob, and she swallowed hard in a last-ditch act of defiance. But then Gavin gathered her into his arms, and all her sadness and vulnerability poured out. It emerged from her throat on jagged edges, making her shake against the solid plane of his body, and with each cry, he only held her tighter.

“You’re good enough, just as you are, Sloane,” he whispered into her hair, and she shook her head against the tearstained cotton of his T-shirt.

“I’m not. I’m—”

“Stop.” Without letting go of her, Gavin slipped the soft pad of one finger to her lips. “I don’t care what you’ve been told or what you’ve got planted in your head. You’re good enough. Christ, you’re beyond good enough.”

The words cradled her, deep and warm, as though they were made to fit against her skin. Habit, ingrained and merciless, reminded her he couldn’t be right. As pure and good as the words felt when he said them, Gavin simply didn’t know the whole story. Except she’d just told him, and he was holding her reverently anyway.

And with his arms wrapped around her as he held her tight and told her she was deserving in her own right, for the first time in her life, Sloane let go and believed it.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“I am the world’s biggest idiot.” Sloane threw herself against the pillowy couch cushions in her bungalow. As hard as she tried, she was unable to bite back the smile that poked the corners of her mouth upward. God, even her idiocy was tinged with bliss.

Spending the last two weeks having fantastic sex and better-than-fantastic conversations with Gavin had put a huge damper on her ability to be cynical about anything. How could the world be anything less than stellar when she felt so warm and happy and downright good?

Ugh, now she was a sap
and
an idiot. Fabulous.

“If having mutually exclusive sex with someone who actually happens to like you for who you are makes you an idiot, I don’t even want to
know
what that makes me,” Carly said with a laugh. She placed a huge bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, but not even the delectable smell of double-butter and sea salt could keep Sloane’s reply from barging out.

“I haven’t told him about Greece.”

Carly froze with her hand halfway over the bowl. “Are you still going?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
Way to be decisive there, sweetheart
. She raked a hand through her tangled hair. “I mean, Gavin only needs me to watch Bree for a couple more weeks, so no matter what’s going on between us, I’m still out of a job. I’ve tried countless times to write this book here, only the exact opposite of what my editor wants keeps popping out. If I stay in Pine Mountain, I’m afraid it’ll only get worse, and I wrote my other three books on location. So nothing has really changed. If I want to save my career, I have to go. I’ve tried everything else.”

Carly hesitated. “What about the book that keeps popping out?”

“What about it?” Sloane buried her fingers in the bowl of papery kernels even though her appetite was nonexistent. Despite her efforts to focus on mapping out a usable outline for the Greece book, the other story kept muscling its way into her brain, demanding airtime until she had no choice but to surrender in the hopes that it would clear out space for other ideas.

The space-clearing exercise had turned into a mind-blowing eleven chapters in just two weeks. Not even on her best days in Europe had she ever produced so much.

“Has Belinda read any of it? I mean, you said it’s good, right? Maybe she’ll like it even better than the Greece book.” Carly’s expression was loaded with optimism, but Sloane’s frown watered it down a few degrees.

“She asked for something very specific, and she’s been in the business for freaking ever. If there’s anything I trust her on, it’s what sells. And if she says Greece sells, I can’t very well give her anything else,
especially
something she’s already rejected. No matter how good it is, I’d be committing literary hara-kiri.”

Carly slanted a glance at Sloane as if weighing her words, then broke into a shrug and eye roll combination that signaled her decision to ditch caution altogether. “Okay, but you said yourself that it’s better than anything you’ve ever come up with. Don’t you think that makes it worth taking the chance? What’s the worst-case scenario if you just run it by her?”

Sloane’s thoughts hitched, causing her to open her mouth even though nothing came out. She’d toyed with the idea no less than a million times over the past week. She was becoming utterly captivated by the unexpected book spilling out of her, and she knew in her heart that even though it was different from anything she’d ever written, it was also better. Something about the words on the page simply spoke to her in quiet voices, weaving together in ways that felt effortless and right. The more she explored those words and ideas, the more layered they became, and with every chapter she clacked out, the book just became richer, more vibrant. As if it was growing from the inside out.

“I don’t know,” Sloane finally admitted. “It’s one thing for me to think this other book is good, but let’s face it. I wrote it. I’m not exactly unbiased here. It’s a huge risk, and I’d have to really, really trust myself before I did something as dicey as give Belinda something so far from what we discussed.” Although technically, they
had
discussed it back in New York. And Belinda had given Sloane a resounding
no
. God, this was a recipe for disaster.

But every time she went to put the kibosh on the new book completely, she heard Gavin’s voice, sure and strong in her head.

And with that, she surpassed sapdom and dove headfirst into total lunacy.

Carly bit her lip over a sigh, knocking Sloane’s thoughts back down to Earth. “Either way, maybe you should at least tell Gavin what’s going on.”

And to think, Sloane had been certain she couldn’t fit any more unease into her chest. “Nothing’s going on. Plus, I can’t really tell him what I don’t even know,” she hedged, and the dark seed of doubt looming in her mind squashed the purity of Gavin’s words right out of her memory.

She couldn’t take the risk, only to find out he was wrong.

“I guess,” Carly said, although the look on her face outlined her doubt. “But if you guys are serious, then—”

“I’m not cut out for serious,
cucciola
.” Sloane’s words felt like rocks as they thudded past her lips. “And Gavin’s not cut out for anything else. Especially since he has Bree to think about. So as much fun as I’m having with him in the here-and-now, blowing it up into something it’s not will only confuse things.”

“And you don’t think keeping the truth from him will confuse things more?” Carly’s question came out without a hint of accusation, but it stung nonetheless. Sloane rubbed a palm absently over her breastbone, but sat up tall as she sealed a lid on the topic.

“I’m not keeping anything from anybody. It’s just the way things are. In a couple of weeks, Gavin won’t need a babysitter anymore, and I’ll need to leave to write a book. It’s not like my personality or my profession is a huge secret. In truth, I don’t know that he’ll be all that shocked.”

“Sloane.” Carly’s voice was one notch above whisper territory. “Is it possible that maybe Gavin is your swan?”

“No!” The word made Sloane flinch in both its intensity and its volume, even though she’d been the one to deliver it. No
way
was Gavin her happily ever after. As good as he made her feel in the moment, they wanted completely different things in the long run.

And what he wanted, she couldn’t deliver.

Sloane cleared her throat. “No. He can’t be. I mean, he’s not. He’s got his life here, and I’ve got to go my own way. It’s just temporary.”

Carly tipped her head, and years of best friendship told Sloane that she was about to push the issue in her typical, no-nonsense way. But then Carly shocked the hell out of her by giving in. “If you say so.”

Sloane blinked, but stood firm. “I do.”

“So do you want to watch some TV? I don’t know about you, but this girl could use an hour of quality vegetation. As a special treat, I won’t even make you watch The Food Network.”

As Sloane slapped on a smile and watched Carly dig for the remote, the sensation running through her was way more impending dread than relief at being let off the hook. Everything Sloane had said was true, and yet the words had left her mouth with the hollow feeling of a lie. She wasn’t afraid Gavin would be mad at her for not divulging her plans sooner, although he likely wouldn’t be thrilled. No, it was the alternative that had Sloane’s motto switched firmly into
don’t ask, don’t tell
mode.

If she told Gavin everything, there was a chance he’d try to convince her that the unexpected book—the one pouring from her heart—was worth the risk. That she should trust herself because she was good enough. And there was part of her that wanted so badly to believe him, the way she had when he’d held her in the kitchen. But if it turned out he was wrong, she wouldn’t just lose her job.

She’d lose everything.

 

 

Gavin shot a gaze of total disdain at the coffee table before darkening his expression and lifting it toward Sloane.

“I think I deserve handicap points. Playing Scrabble with a writer is unfair.” He gestured to the board, but his stalwart frown was slipping by the second. “I mean,
zealot?
Really? You’re killing me, here.”

Her deep, from-the-toes laugh made it impossible to keep the feigned irritation on his face. She folded her long legs as she knelt, her voice as sweet and simple as maple syrup over pancakes as she said, “Triple letter score on the
Z,
just so you know.”

He tossed his pencil down with an exaggerated groan. He might not give a shit about Scrabble, but a guy had to defend his pride. “You’re awfully pretty for a cheater.”

“And you’re awfully cute for a sore loser.” Sloane placed her palms on either side of the board and leaned over to plant a quick kiss on his lips. On second thought, this might not be so bad.

His frown returned when she pulled back. “Hey, where are you going? I was just about to use my charms to try and earn bonus points.”

“Please. You’re too honest for bribery.” She flicked a glance down at the board. “And good as you are, all the charming on the planet won’t save you. Admit it, Wine Boy. I totally stomped you.”

Gavin opened his mouth to protest, but one look at the score sheet told him he needed another angle. He rounded the coffee table from his seat on the couch in a matter of seconds, looping an arm around her to hold her close. Damn, her body felt good on his. “You totally stomped me. I don’t know how I’ll survive.”

Sloane’s pulse fluttered beneath his mouth as he kissed the delicate slope beneath her jaw. “I’m sure you’ll think of... oh, God, that feels good.”

Oh, yeah. This tactic was
much
better. “If you like that, then you should see—”

The squeal of the storm door riding its rusty hinges sent them in opposite directions in about two seconds flat. The familiar creak-and-bang combination coming from the foyer told Gavin that either a tornado had touched down at the front of the house or Bree was home from school. How a kid of her size and stature could make so much noise was beyond him, but hell if he wasn’t grateful for it right now.

“Hey, you guys.” Bree made her way into the living room, the sight of her flushed pink face and longer-by-the-day form catching him with a bittersweet pang. Damn, she was going from gangly to graceful in what felt like seconds.

He grinned from his regained position on the couch. “Hey. How was school?”

“Riveting.” She made a face that suggested otherwise, swinging her backpack to the floor with an ungainly thud. Her eyes lit a path over the coffee table and she let out a small laugh. “Oh, she whipped you at Scrabble, too? Nice.”

Gavin arched a brow at Sloane, who blinked sweetly, the picture of innocence. Oh, how he could call her bluff ten ways to Sunday. If only Bree wasn’t standing right there to wonder how exactly he’d gathered that kind of intel.

“I thought you said you didn’t play that often,” he said instead.

“I don’t. It’s not my fault I’m good without practice.” She lifted one shoulder in a demishrug and started to clear the board, glossy wooden tiles clicking in her hand. But the wink she snuck in Bree’s direction didn’t escape his notice.

Gavin knew his frown didn’t stand a chance, so he didn’t even bother. He tipped his chin at Bree, switching gears. “I was thinking of heading into Riverside this afternoon to do some shopping since I’m off work. You interested?”

Bree’s toffee-colored eyes sparked, despite what looked like her best effort to appear bored. “You throwing in dinner?”

Gavin helped Sloane clear the remaining tiles, pretending to think about it. “Possibly. What do you say?”

“Okay, but can we take your car? I mean, the Fiat’s cooler, but the backseat is nonexistent.”

Sloane’s head snapped up in perfect unison with his, and Bree split her look of confusion between the two of them. “You
are
coming too, right?” she asked Sloane, who was suddenly very absorbed in tidying up.

“Oh, um. Well, I wouldn’t want to intrude on you guys spending time together or anything.”

Man, she had a hell of a game face. If he hadn’t spent just about every waking, nonworking hour with her over the course of the last week, he’d probably miss her just-too-tight smile or the fact that her hands were moving a hair faster than usual.

“But you’re always here anyway,” Bree said, both hopeful and matter-of-fact. “And if you come, it won’t be intruding. It’ll be fun.” She stopped, looking at Gavin for either confirmation or assistance. “Right?”

He didn’t hesitate. “You do kind of have the market cornered on fun, Sloane. What do you say? You want to blow your evening off with us?”

A slow smile, this one genuine, spread across Sloane’s pretty face, and whoa, did he feel it right in his gut.

“What can I say? You twisted my arm.” She nudged him ever so slightly with one curvy hip as she moved past him toward the hall closet for her coat, and he couldn’t help but send a grin in her wake. He was turning to get his keys when Bree leveled him with a question from square out in left field.

“So when are you guys going to tell me what’s going on between you?”

Her words hit Gavin with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, and he nearly tripped on his way across the living room floor.

“Uh, what?” He winced at the ineloquence of his answer, but under the circumstances, he was damned lucky to have been able to manage even that. He’d struggled all week with what to say to Bree about him and Sloane, but in the end, he’d had to settle for staying mum.

After all, he was pretty sure
I tend to ruin personal relationships when things get emotional, but I’m crazy about your babysitter
was going to sound ridiculous. Even though it hit the nail on the head.