The Fear of Letting Go (3 page)

“You're going to get a bad reputation,” I say.

A smile slides across his lips slowly, like a secret. “Why is that?”

“You ditched your pretty date early and now you're dancing with me like you want something,” I say. “Small town. People talk.”

He doesn't take his eyes off mine for an instant, and the energy between us sizzles. “Let them talk.”

The song changes and slows. Preston slides his hands from my hips to my back and my arms naturally rise to circle his neck. I force my eyes away from his and lean against his chest instead. Why did I think that was somehow safer?

My cheek rests against the solid muscle of his chest. I listen to the pounding of his heart, feel the warm grip of his hands.

Over the past few months, I've noticed the long looks that last a beat too long, and the way he comes to sit by me any time there's a spot free. I've found my thoughts drifting to him when I least expect it, and my pulse racing the moment he walks into a room. But until this moment, we've never touched or come so close to making a mistake we'll both regret.

I close my eyes and imagine his bare chest, slicked with sweat, his hands finding their way to the most secret parts of my body. I bet he knows just how to use those hands. And I bet I could teach this sheltered boy a trick or two of my own.

I practically groan at the possibilities, knowing this can't happen. Even one night would be too much.

I take a deep breath and pull away, forcing a laugh. “Come on, cowboy, let's grab one last drink,” I say. “This song is too slow.”

He frowns, but follows me back to our seats at the bar.

I know I have to lighten the mood or we'll be goners.

“Knox, can we get another couple of drinks down here, please?” I shout, leaning over against the worn wooden bar.

“Sure thing,” he calls back.

I scoot my stool back and sit down, putting a little breathing room between Preston and me. He still has that hooded look to his eyes, sizing me up like I am piece of fruit he's ready to devour. I ignore the heat that zings through my body.

“I am so glad it's almost spring break,” I say. “It's been nice on the beach now that the weather's warmed up a little.”

“Are you planning on going anywhere?” he asks. “Back home?”

I make a face. “Definitely not,” I say. “Never again, if I can avoid it.”

“Where is home, by the way? I don't think you've ever really talked about it much.”

“I don't ever really think about it much,” I say. A big lie, if there ever was one. “I'm sticking around here. Probably going to pull some extra shifts at Brantley's and try to spend as much of my free time on the beach as possible. You? Aruba, I presume?”

He rolls his eyes and laughs. “I'm staying here, too. Dad has some things lined up for me at the office. Meetings and paperwork. Saturday I'm throwing my annual spring break bash on the yacht, though, if you want to swing by.”

“I think I'll pass on that,” I say. “I'm surprised you aren't getting away. I thought all the rich guys spent their vacations at luxury resorts getting drunk and sexing the ladies.”

“As nice as that sounds, I'm not going anywhere until Penny's baby comes,” he says. “I would die if I missed holding that little girl the day she was born.”

Another rush of warmth flows through me. Is there anything sweeter than a man who can't wait to hold a baby for the first time?

“Hard to believe it's almost time,” I say. “Won't be long now. I got a pretty fancy schmancy invite to her baby shower in a couple of weeks. Much to your mother's delight, I'm sure.”

Preston's mother hates me, which is understandable after that tiny little matter of me helping Penny pawn a priceless diamond tennis bracelet last Fall. She'll probably never forgive me for introducing her precious little girl to the world of pawn shops. I hate to think what she'd do if she knew Preston was up here drinking with me right now.

“Yeah, Mom is going all out, as usual,” he says. “Penny protested, saying she'd much rather everyone make donations to the local children's hospital, instead of buying her gifts, but I guess women just love buying little bows and ribbons and pretty pink girly things.”

“It's in our genetic code to want to buy things for babies,” I say. “Besides, it's your mother's first grandchild. She's going to spoil that child, whether Penny likes it or not.”

He laughs. “You've got a point there,” he says. “I'm just glad they're taking it so well, especially since Penny and Mason decided not to get married until after the baby comes.”

“I'm sure that's killing your mother.”

“You have no idea,” Preston mutters. “And you changed the subject, by the way. I really would love it if you'd come by the party Saturday.”

“It's not exactly my scene, Preston,” I say.

“Why not?”

I stare at him. Is he honestly that clueless? “Where do I even start?” I lean back against the bar. “Frat boys taking turns doing cannonballs off the side of the boat? Half-naked girls in the hot tub? Caviar and champagne flowing like water? No thank you.”

He shakes his head. “It's really not like that. We have a good time at those parties. It's more down-to-earth than that.”

“I bet,” I say, wondering if he thinks that's what down-to-earth looks like. A party on a five million dollar boat? “I'm sure there will be no shortage of babes lined up to meet the handsome single billionaire, accidentally pressing their fake boobs against your bare arm, hoping for a tour of your private cabin.”

I take a sip of my beer. I know I'm not being fair to him. I'm about to admit I've had one beer too many when my butt begins to vibrate. I hop up from the stool and pull my cell phone out of my back pocket, hoping maybe it's Leigh Anne telling me she changed her mind and wants to watch a movie.

Instead, it's my brother's name flashing across the screen. My smile fades, and my stomach lurches. This is the fifth time he's tried to call in the past week. I hit ‘ignore' and stuff the phone back into my pocket.

“Who was that?” Preston asks.

“Nobody,” I mumble, unable to keep the sadness and regret out of my voice. Definitely one too many if I can't even mask that ancient pain.

His eyes narrow. “Everything all right?”

“Yep,” I say, tearing the label off my beer bottle and avoiding his gaze. I begin folding the paper into the shape of a tiny frog. “I think maybe I should head home, though. It's getting late and I have to work tomorrow.”

“It's not even midnight,” he says. “You want to come back to my place and hang out for a while? We could grab some donuts and play some video games.”

I can't help but smile. Someone's been paying attention to my weakness for donuts after a night of drinking. “Thanks, but I think you and I both know that's a bad idea.”

“We do?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You may not be smart enough to realize it yet, but I've got us both covered on this one,” I say with a laugh. I lift a hand toward Knox and he turns my way. “Would you mind calling me a cab?”

“Wait,” Preston says. “Don't do that. Just stay for one more dance.”

I shake my head, my smile gone. He needs to understand that this cannot go where he's hoping it will go. “One slow dance is too many for me.”

He clears his throat and runs a finger along the rim of his still-full glass. “You sure? Because I was thinking it was nowhere near enough.”

My heart tightens in my chest and my mouth goes dry. Damn, I would love to just grab him right now and kiss the hell out of him. Take him home and see what kind of trouble we could really get into when the lights were out.

“I'm sure,” I say, a little too breathless to make it believable. I force myself to look away and nod at Knox. He reaches for the bar's phone and starts dialing. “You don't want to get mixed up with a girl like me,” I tell Preston before I down the last of my beer. I stand and lean in close, my cheek brushing against his. “Besides, I would wreck you.”

He groans as I step around him and head for the door. I don't look back, but I have a feeling his mouth is hanging wide open.

As I step out into the warm spring air, I wonder if he has any idea it's really the other way around.

Preston

“There's my precious boy.”

My mother rises from the table and walks over to plant a kiss on my cheek. She still talks to me like I'm ten years old.

“Hi, Mom,” I say. I give her a hug and walk over to my seat by the pool. “Sorry I'm late.”

I was barely able to drag my tired ass out of bed this morning. After I left the bar last night, I couldn't get Jenna out of my mind. I tossed and turned for hours before I finally got up and watched a movie. I passed out on the couch around five in the morning.

But Sunday brunch is a tradition for my family, and my mother would have my head if I missed it.

“How was your date last night?” Penny asks. She's got a plate full of healthy food in front of her. Egg-white omelets and fresh fruit. She's been obsessive about taking care of herself these past few months with the baby on the way.

“Not worth talking about,” I say.

“I'm telling you, no girl could possibly compare to Piper Hendricks,” my mother says. “You just won't believe how that little girl has grown into the most beautiful young woman. I was just talking to her mother last week and she was telling me all about Piper's work with the animals down at the shelter. She's in school to be a Veterinarian, you know. Smart and beautiful.”

I try not to groan. Under the table, Penny pats my hand. She understands better than anyone else the torture that comes from our mother's match-making. And it's only gotten worse for me since Penny and Mason ran off together last fall. It's as if our mother has realized I am her last hope of a respectable marriage, and she's going to find the perfect girl for me, or die trying.

“I'm sure she's lovely, Mom,” I say. I don't want to get into another argument about it now. Let her try to hook me up with whoever she wants, but for now, I am done going out with girls who match my mother's idea of perfect. They always turn out to be incredibly boring and predictable.

“She is. But of course, you'll get to see for yourself soon enough.”

I narrow my eyes at her as Flora pours me a glass of juice and sets a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of me. “Thank you, Flora,” I say. “What do you mean I'll see for myself?”

My mother wiggles in her seat, as if she's been dying to share this news with me. “We've just booked a family vacation to Paris for this summer,” she says. “One month in the most beautiful hotel in the city. It's going to be amazing.”

“Wait, when is this?” Penny asks. She puts her hand protectively on her pregnant belly and exchanges a look with Mason.

Mom swallows and raises both eyebrows. “End of July, sweetheart,” she says. “And I don't want to hear any excuses from you about not wanting to travel with a baby. I did it all the time when you and Preston were babies. It will be good for you to get out of the house. New mothers are in danger of falling into depression, sitting around in their houses for months after their babies are born, not living their normal lives.”

“We're not going to Paris with a three-month-old baby,” Penny says.

“Don't you worry about it for one second. I've already made arrangements for a nanny to come with us. She'll take care of everything, I promise. All you have to do is get on the plane. You can spend the whole time in the hotel suite, if you want to.”

Penny glances at me. The story of our lives could be told in meaningful glances exchanged around our parents. We learned early how to read each other's thoughts with nothing more than a simple raised eyebrow.

“Let's not worry about it now,” I say, knowing that if I don't put an end to this conversation soon, Penny and Mason will be out the door before I can say Paris three times fast. “I'm sure it'll work itself out.”

Which is code for, there's no way in hell Penny is going to Paris. I don't particularly want to go either, truth be told. Being in a foreign country with my parents for a full month of my summer sounds like hell.

“Well, I only mentioned it because the Hendricks' are coming with us,” Mom says, beaming. Her full attention is back on me. “You have to remember Piper, right? She and her parents visited several times when you were little. They live over in Houston. Her father's the heart surgeon?”

It's honestly not ringing a bell, but now the whole purpose behind a trip to Paris is incredibly clear to me. Could my mother be any more transparent? She and Mrs. Hendricks probably spent a few hours on the phone planning the future wedding of their two remarkable children. They probably already have all kinds of romantic dates set up for Piper and me in Paris this summer. I envision trips to the Eiffel Tower, where our parents mysteriously get caught in traffic and can't make it, leaving Piper and me alone at the top, destined to fall in love.

I suddenly feel so exhausted I can hardly keep my eyes open.

Luckily, Dad arrives at that moment, and conversation turns to his work, and everything that's been going on this past week in the stock market. Of course, even work talk has been a source of tension at our brunches lately. Last year, Mason's father—my father's former CFO—was arrested for embezzling millions of dollars from the Wright Corporation. A lot of my father's time these past few months has been devoted to cleaning up messes Mr. Trent left behind. But with Mason now a part of our family, and he and Penny expecting a baby in a month, it's best for Dad to keep his complaints to himself.

I'm relieved when everyone has finished eating and my parents excuse themselves to go play a round of golf at the club.

“The weather is so beautiful this time of year,” my mother says. “Don't you just love spring in Georgia?”

I stand and kiss her again on the cheek. “Have a good time,” I say.

“Sure you don't want to come with us?” Dad asks, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “The Johnson's will be out on the course today. I'd love for you to make some connections with them before the school year's out.”

Dad is always thinking about making connections. I wonder if he ever does anything just for pleasure, or if business is the only thing on his mind twenty-four-seven?