You're Still the One (27 page)

He put his hands on her biceps and held her. “Hey, don't be. I blamed me, too.”

She sniffed. “It's more than that. I was . . . relieved. Sad, but also relieved. We hadn't planned that baby, and I wasn't ready.”

He realized then that his guilt had stemmed from the same feelings, not just the fact that he'd been driving the car, though that was still a big part of it. “I know. I wasn't ready either. I guess the universe knew what needed to happen.”

She blinked and brought her hand up to wipe away a tear that was stuck to her lashes. “That it wasn't our time.”

It wasn't our time.
Did she mean they were meant to break up and find each other again? He didn't know if he believed that.

He stroked his fingertips along her upper arms. “You okay?”

She nodded, sniffing again. “Sunglasses might be good since my eyes are probably red now. I have a pair at the B and B. I don't know why I left them there. In a hurry to see you, I guess.” She offered him a fragile smile.

If things were different, if he hadn't been experiencing this incredible emotional turmoil where she was concerned, he'd pull her into his arms and kiss her. He wanted to see the strong, happy Bex he loved.

But wasn't sure he trusted. Not yet.

“The hat shop is just up here.” He took her hand without thinking. Should he let go? He peered over at her, but she didn't look at him. He thought he saw the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

He decided not to question every damn thing and just walked with her to the shop. Once inside, the shopkeeper greeted him in French, and he introduced her to Bex in English. They chatted about what sort of hat would look good—Hayden playing interpreter. The shopkeeper left them alone while Bex tried about twenty different ones—small hats, fancy hats, wide-brimmed floppy hats, straw, knit, and even one with a bird on it. “How
Portlandia
of you,” he said, laughing.

She pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side, modeling for him. “From what I hear, I think Maggie's mom would like this.”

“Didn't you meet her at Sara's wedding?” At her nod, he asked, “And you saw what she was wearing? Apparently we should've been grateful that she'd at least donned a bra.”

Bex giggled as she took off the hat. “I see your point. The bird might work, but the little net is maybe a bit too fancy for her.”

Hayden snorted, enjoying himself immensely. “Just a bit.”

The shopkeeper came back to check on them. “Did you make a decision?”

Hayden picked up a soft, woven straw hat with a two-inch brim around it.
“Celui-ci.”

Bex turned from the mirror as she smoothed her hair. “What did you say?”

“I said we'd take this one. It's my favorite.”

She beamed up at him. “Mine, too!” Her smiled faded.
“Merde.”

The shopkeeper had taken the hat from Hayden to ring it up, but shot Bex a surprised glance before she continued to the register at the back of the store.

Bex cringed. “What did I say? I thought it was like saying darn or something.”

“Technically, you said ‘shit.' ”

Bex clapped a hand over her mouth then giggled. “Well,
merde
. Sorry, I got so wrapped up in you speaking French, I wanted to give it a try. Maybe you can teach me a few words.”

“Really?” He gave in to the impulse to flirt with her. “Or do you just want to hear me speak French?”

Her eyes widened briefly then narrowed to a seductive slant. “Every. Single. Day. Please don't stop.” Her voice took on a breathy quality that sent a wave of heat rushing over him.

He worked to pull himself back from the brink of desire. “Why did you swear?”

“Oh! I don't have my wallet.” She blushed and looked away. “It's also at the B and B. And before you tell me I shouldn't leave that sort of thing lying around in a foreign country, I know.” She returned her gaze to his, and he couldn't ignore the heat in their depths. “Like I said, I was in a hurry.”

He needed to get out of here before he did something foolish, like kiss her senseless in front of the shopkeeper. “No worries. I'll take care of it. My treat.”

Her shoulders came up in a quick shrug. She smiled, her dimples carving deep into her cheeks. “Okay. Thanks.”

He went to the counter and paid for her hat then they left the shop, turning down the street toward Maison Dominique, where she was staying.

“This has been an interesting afternoon,” she said.

He had to agree. They'd shared some enlightening things. He felt better about what happened five years ago than he ever had. Better than he'd ever thought possible. “Yeah. Thanks.” He didn't really want it to end, but he had a few things to do that afternoon. “Do you want to come for dinner later?”

She looked momentarily surprised, but nodded. “I'd love that. What time?”

“Seven?”

“Sounds great. Can I bring anything?”

He'd been about to say no, but they'd just come to the entrance to her B and B, and the delicious scent of Anne-Marie's fresh bread filled the air. “Yes, a loaf of Anne-Marie's bread. And if you can't get one, don't bother coming.”

She laughed. “I'll steal one if I have to.”

He gave her a nod of approval. “Just don't get caught.”

She paused in the doorway and gave him a saucy look. Beneath it, he sensed a warmth and an anticipation he felt in himself. At least, he thought he sensed it. He hoped he wasn't wrong.

“See you later.” She went inside.

He turned to head back down the street toward his house. He didn't know what he was doing. All he knew was that it felt good, and he'd spent far too long feeling bad.

B
EX SET HER
fork down on Hayden's table. “I can't eat another bite. I had no idea you were such a good cook. I mean, I knew from experience that you
could
, but you've gotten really good.” She resisted the urge to add that he'd gotten really good at a lot of things—including his ability to make her feel like a girl with her first crush.

He sat at the head of the table while she perched on the bench to his right. “Thanks. It wasn't much. Just fish and greens. And they paled in comparison to Anne-Marie's bread.”

Bex eyed what was left of the loaf. Not much. Anne-Marie had also insisted on sending her with a small chocolate gateau with whipped cream. Bex was going to have to wait a bit before she could attack it, but she had every plan to.

“I guess we're waiting on the cake?” Hayden asked.

Bex nodded. “I think I have to.”

Hayden finished his wine and picked up the bottle. “A little more?”

Her glass wasn't quite empty, but the wine was phenomenal. He'd said that he'd picked it up that afternoon from the winery where he'd interned. “Yes, please. This is almost as good as our pinot back home.”

Hayden laughed. “Almost. I won't tell Antoine you said that. He'd be mightily offended.” He poured for her then emptied the rest of the bottle into his glass.

Bex picked up her wine and took a sniff, savoring the aroma. “Are you sure this isn't poisoned? I can't imagine he was too happy that you aren't coming back. Or maybe Gabrielle decided to spike it with something.”

He laughed again. “What, like she roofied me?” He shook his head. “I think I finally got through to her.”

Bex sipped her wine then set the glass back on the table, keeping her finger around the base of the stem. “You spoke to her this afternoon?”

“I had to. I went in to get the rest of my stuff, and she was there. She understands that a relationship just wouldn't work out.”

“There's no chance she could have talked you into staying?” Given the way he'd left Ribbon Ridge the other day, Bex would've thought it was possible.

“None. I'm too excited about Quail Crest. Besides, I don't love her. I never did.”

Bex tamped down the ridiculous wave of giddiness that crested through her. “What about your family? You said you wanted them to leave you alone when you go back.”

He frowned into his glass. “Yeah, I did say that, didn't I? I was angry. Hurt. I won't ignore them. At least not permanently.”

“Good. I don't think that strategy would work for you as well as it works for me and my parents.”

The edge of his mouth slanted up. “Is that what you do? I know they ignore you, but you've always tried to watch out for them, particularly your dad.”

“I have, but I've pretty much given up on my mother. And my dad's got Joss. I don't have to like her. If she makes my dad happy, that's great.”

He pinned her with an earnest stare. “I always felt bad for you, you know. I wanted you to experience how good a family could be. Too bad they scared you off.”

She laughed softly. “No, it wasn't that. I was . . . overwhelmed.” She thought back to the first Christmas she'd spent with them and how they'd given her gifts and included her in their traditions—she'd even had her own stocking. Then they'd talked about the next year and that's when she'd maybe felt a little fear. It was a lot to take in for a girl who hadn't had a visit from Santa since she was eight. The last “real” Christmas she remembered had been with her paternal grandparents when she was ten, before they'd both moved to assisted living facilities.

“And you're not now?”

She thought about her answer. “I won't lie. I wasn't very happy with your parents when I figured out what they were trying to do. I had no idea they were using me as bait to get you to stay in Ribbon Ridge.” She flinched. “That sounds terrible.”

“It
was
terrible.” He looked at her intently. “You had no idea?”

She shook her head. “No, I didn't. I put it together the day we got back from the hike. Maybe I should've told you, but I didn't want you to be hurt.”

His gaze warmed. “I appreciate that. I'm sorry I thought you were in on it.”

“It's okay. I get it. Their hearts were in the right place.” She thought of her parents and could only imagine her mother cooking up a scheme to keep her away, not get her to stay. “It's good to be wanted, isn't it?”

He studied her, seeming like he was trying to understand what she meant—that he should be glad for their love and concern, even if it could be smothering at times. “Yes and since I'm the only kid they pulled something like this with, I guess I should be flattered.” He said this with a bit of humor, and she couldn't help but smile. This was the Hayden she loved. The man who always—eventually—found the bright side.

She put her hand on his forearm. “
That
is an excellent perspective. Very adult.”

He looked at where they touched, and the air seemed to shift. Electricity crackled around them. She half expected him to pull away from her and was thrilled when he didn't.

“They just . . . I know they love me, that they just want me to be happy, but I can't help feeling . . . ” He withdrew his arm from beneath her hand and picked up his wineglass. “Never mind.”

She could practically watch him bury the emotion bubbling just beneath the surface. “You've gotten really good at that,” she said, putting her hand in her lap. “Hiding your emotions. And don't tell me you weren't because I'm the queen. You were a lot more open when we were together—I think that's one of the things that drew me to you. Maybe subconsciously I wanted to be like that. Now, I
know
I want to be like that. Even so, it seemed you worked hard to . . . I don't know, put on a front maybe? For your family.”

“I've changed a lot since then. So have you.”

Yes, he had. He wasn't the same person, and maybe that's why she'd fallen in love with him so hard and fast again. Harder and faster than the first time. Not because he was burying his emotions, but because he was confident and independent in a way he hadn't been before. Plus, he spoke crazy-sexy French.

She took a drink of wine for courage. “I have a theory.” He arched a brow at her and she held up her hand briefly. “Bear with me. Please. I've been wondering how you've been since Alex died, how you've coped.” She thought of her conversation with Liam. It had helped plant this idea in her mind, and then their conversation that afternoon under the tree had crystallized it. “I imagine it was extremely difficult.”

His gaze hardened a bit, and she worried she was walking down a road and might not like the destination. “What's your theory?”

“I look at us now—where we are, what we're doing,
who
we are—and I can't help but think things were meant to happen as they did. Losing the baby was awful, but it set things into motion that led us here. Alex's death did the same thing. You applied for that internship when he died, didn't you?”

He turned his head toward the living room and was quiet for a long time. She watched the muscles of his throat work, his Adam's apple move as he swallowed.

When he looked at her again, his sky blue eyes were cool, his expression tense. She longed to stroke his cheek, kiss his mouth, draw the pain from him like a balm.

“Yes.” He cleared the cobwebs from his throat. “Yes. I'd given up my future plans to stay in Ribbon Ridge—for dad and for Alex. When I talked about making wine, Alex told me I should start a label on the side. He never once encouraged me to leave Archer or follow my dreams. In fact, when I told him I was considering leaving Ribbon Ridge with you, he asked me not to.”

Bex hadn't expected this. Her insides coiled with apprehension. She didn't know what to say, so she said nothing.

“How could I leave him after that?” Hayden shook his head, his lip curling. He took a drink of wine and set his glass down hard enough that the ruby liquid sloshed and nearly spilled. “He was a selfish prick. And he knew it. In his letter to me, he apologized. He said he should've told me what he was planning. But hell, Bex, what would I have done with
that
?”

His eyes were so full of pain she almost couldn't bear it. But she didn't know if he wanted her comfort. “I don't know,” she said softly. God, she sucked at families. What was she supposed to say? “You would've figured it out.”

He laughed, but the sound was hollow. “Right, because I'm the ‘good' son. He told me that too in the letter. Or a version of it anyway. No pressure.”

“Hey, I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that you're . . . I don't know, you have your head on straight. It was one of the things I liked most about you when we dated. Life could be crazy, but Hayden would always be there to keep me safe.”

“Until I ran us off the road.”

Oh no, he was in a really dark place. She couldn't stand it anymore. She scooted to the edge of the bench and touched his arm. “Don't do that. It was an accident. And I have to believe it was meant to be. I should've stayed. We should've worked through the miscarriage together.”

He smiled sadly. “But then your theory would be blown. Your leaving was meant to be, too.”

He was right. “Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I'm okay now. But are you? Please don't hide your feelings away. I can see that you're hurting. Maybe it would help to talk to me.”

“Isn't that what I've been doing?” He took a drink of wine. “I'm not trying to be obtuse. I understand what you're saying. I was so mad at Alex. I'm still mad. I should probably work through that.”

This was progress. Hope and joy unfurled inside her. “Probably. But there's no rush. There's no time frame on healing.” She wanted to say one more thing and then she'd shut up. “I think you could rely on your family to help you through this. You aren't alone.”

“I know that
here
.” He pointed at his head. “But here”—he laid his hand over his heart—“I seem to have forgotten how to listen to this.”

Bex knew instinctively that was her fault. Or at least in large part. “You'll find it again. Your family will help you. Whoever you fall in love with will help you.” How she wished that could be her.

She stood abruptly. “I should go. I didn't mean to take us down this dark path.” She laughed uneasily.

He got up. “Why are you leaving?”

Because she didn't want to rush anything. She wanted to give him time and space, show him that he could trust her to be here for him. Always. “I'm just going back to the B and B. I'll stay around as long as you want me to.”
Please let me stay forever.

He walked her to the door. “Thanks for being so . . . patient. And supportive. I really appreciate it.”

She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, her lips caressing his warmth for a precious few seconds. “Good night.”

Bex walked out into the sunset and hoped she was doing the right thing.

H
AYDEN FINISHED HIS
wine then cleared the dishes from the table. He set everything in the sink to soak and stared out at the backyard with its tangle of rosebushes and planter boxes of herbs. A giant oak tree stood in the corner. He'd wanted to put a swing on it, but hadn't gotten around to doing so. Now he never would.

There were a lot of things he'd never do—climb Mount Everest, go back to working for the family company, hug his brother Alex again. But there were things he would do, things he
should
do.

Such as try to find a way to forgive Alex.

That was the heart of the matter, he realized. Why he'd felt unsettled. Why he'd locked his emotions away. It wasn't Bex. It had never been Bex. But Alex's death had helped him finally banish his feelings for her, too.

Until she'd come back and reawakened them. He didn't know if he'd fallen in love with her all over again or if he'd just never stopped. And he didn't care.

He hadn't taken risks before. He'd played it safe—staying in Ribbon Ridge, acting the part of the consummate people-pleaser. And he'd seen how that had worked out for him.

He'd decided a few weeks ago that he was going to please himself. That he was finally the priority—his dreams, his life, his happiness. He realized all those things were Bex. She was here, asking him to love her, and he just had to say yes.

He turned from the sink and strode to the front door. He rushed outside and jogged to the gate. He looked down the road, but it was empty. Throwing open the gate, he ran through and took off toward the village. When he finally saw her—she was almost to the tree they'd stopped under that afternoon—he broke into a sprint.

He was nearly upon her when she turned, her lips parted, her eyes widening in surprise. He clasped her waist and lifted her against him as he kissed her. His mouth found hers with an eager precision. Desperation ripped through him. He held her fast, lifting her feet from the ground, never wanting to let her go.

She kissed him back, her arms wrapped around his neck, her body pressing into his.

He tore his mouth from hers. “I love you. I know there are no guarantees, and I'm willing to risk it. Just, well, please don't leave me again.”

He felt wetness on his cheeks and realized she was crying. “Bex, don't cry, sweetheart.” He set her down and swiped his thumb over her cheek.

She smiled up at him, her dimples working overtime. “I love you too, and I will never leave you again. Ever. Not unless you tell me to. And even then I'll refuse.”

He kissed her again, more softly this time, his lips and tongue flirting with hers. When they came up for air again, they were both breathing heavily. He rested his forehead against hers. “I propose a new pact. No regrets. I like your theory.”