Yours to Hold: Ribbon Ridge Book Two (10 page)

But would she come? She seemed to avoid Ribbon Ridge like the plague.

A knock on his door interrupted his groove. He paused the music. “Come in.”

Dad stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Got a minute?”

They hadn’t spoken much since their confrontation the other day. And when they had, they’d steered clear of personal topics, sticking only to work issues.

Kyle sat back in his chair. “Sure, what’s up?”

Dad looked at one of the chairs but didn’t take it. Instead, he walked over to the windows and looked out at the rolling hills. Kyle turned and watched him warily.

“I hope you won’t fly off the handle,” Dad started, almost making Kyle laugh, as Dad’s temper since Alex’s death was the shortest Kyle could ever remember, “but we need to talk about your problem.”

“My ‘problem.’ ”
How condescending.
“My gambling addiction, you mean? Let’s just call it what it is, okay?”

Dad turned to look at him, his gray eyes piercing. “Yes, let’s. Did you get help in Florida?”

Christ, had he and Maggie compared notes since yesterday? Her questions had made him uncomfortable, but Dad’s query positively rankled. “I managed things just fine.”

“How were things when you left to come home? I know Mom paid for your plane ticket . . .”

Which means you must’ve been broke
.

Gooseflesh broke out on the back of Kyle’s neck. “She offered.” That was true, but so was the broke part. He did
not
want Dad to know that. His disappointment was already so palpable and so disheartening.

“I’m sure she did.” Dad was quiet a moment, as if he were carefully choosing his words. He probably was. “I noticed you brought nothing home with you, save clothing. You were gone nearly four years. What were you doing? What do you have to show for it?”

Kyle stared at him. What could he say? “I’m not gambling now, Dad.”

“But you were.” Dad cut his hand through the air. “Goddamn it, Kyle. I won’t bail you out again.”

Kyle clutched the arm of his chair, fighting the urge to run, to escape his father’s censure. “I haven’t asked you to. In fact, I’ve
never
asked you to.”

Dad’s brows angled over his ice-gray eyes. “You would’ve let those men break your legs or whatever they’d threatened to do before asking for help. Your pride is that important to you?”

“Your approval and respect are.”

Dad’s eyes widened. “This isn’t about that.”

“Isn’t it?” Kyle gritted his teeth, hating how weak and desperate he felt. How the realization that he would never be good enough in his father’s eyes cut into his very soul. “Do you approve of the choices I made? Do you respect them?”

Dad looked out the window again, and Kyle’s chest tightened. “You’re my son, and I love you.” He turned back to Kyle. “This isn’t about respect. This is about honesty and trust and accountability.”

A part of Kyle wanted to tell him everything. How devastated he’d been after Alex’s death. How he’d gone back to Florida thinking he’d feel better far away, since that had seemed to work before. But he hadn’t. He’d felt even worse being away from everyone and anyone who had known Alex. So he’d gambled. Just a bit at first, but for someone like him, it never stayed small. He’d been on a roll. At one point, he’d won enough money that he could’ve opened a restaurant, but he hadn’t stopped. The pain had receded, and he was the king of the world. Then he’d started losing. And soon he was in that spiral where the next bet was going to turn it around. Only it never did. Until the losses had piled up and obliterated his bank account. He’d sold everything he owned to pay it all off so that when he came back home, he wouldn’t be absolutely flat broke. Close, but not quite.

But the words stuttered in his throat and died before they could reach his tongue. Instead, he said, “I’m trying really hard to be accountable, to contribute, to earn your respect. Can you let me do that? Will you give me that chance?”

“I’m trying to.”

Kyle considered saying something about Dad’s apparent inability to grieve the loss of Alex. He couldn’t help but wonder if Dad was focusing even more on Kyle’s shortcomings in an effort to ignore his own pain. But in the end, he couldn’t do it. He just wasn’t ready to open wounds, or maybe he just didn’t want to give Dad another reason to find fault with him.

Dad came forward and clapped him on the knee. “All right then, what’s going on for tomorrow? Everything all set for the booth?” He moved around to the front of the desk.

Kyle swung his chair back and looked down at the plan they’d laid out, pushing the bitter conversation to the back of his mind. “Yep. We’ve got everything ready. The booth is going up at eight tomorrow morning. I’ll be there overseeing it. We’ve got all the beer, snacks, merchandise, and the staffing schedule is complete.”

“You’ll be there tomorrow evening too? I know you haven’t gone in years, but typically the whole family’s there—well, whoever’s here.” He looked a little unsettled.

“Are you thinking about Mom?” Kyle didn’t know if things were still tense between them.

Dad nodded. “And Hayden. It’s very strange not having him here. And that’s no dig against you.”

“None taken. I know Sara and Dylan will be there.”

“Right, and Tori. I wish Evan and Liam were coming. Liam usually does, but not this year.”

Liam had been a real prick since Alex had died. He’d refused any involvement in the renovation project whatsoever. Granted, Kyle had done the same at the beginning, but partly because Liam had been such a jerk about presuming that Kyle had no life in Florida and could simply drop everything and move home to work on the project. It turned out that Kyle’s anger had come from the fact that Liam had been right. Which still made Liam an asshole.

“Of course Derek and Chloe too,” Dad said.

Of course.

Kyle could handle that. He liked Chloe, not that they’d spent much time getting to know each other considering he and Derek could barely stand being in the same room together. Tomorrow could be awkward since it would be a more social setting than the office, but with so many people around to act as buffers, especially Sara, Kyle shelved his apprehension to the back of his mind.

With a nod, Dad left.

Kyle thought again about bringing Maggie, but the prospect of Dad finding out that he was dating—
dating?
—the therapist who’d failed to see suicidal signs in Alex’s behavior was enough to prevent him from actually inviting her. Crap, what was he doing with her anyway? What sort of future could they have given who she was and how much his family would despise him for being with her? If he was trying to earn respect and approval, getting into a relationship with Maggie Trent was the last thing he should do.

Why was he even thinking about this? He wasn’t a relationship guy. Twenty-eight years old and not one long relationship. Maybe he was also addicted to being alone.

And just like that, his good mood went right down the toilet.

Chapter Seven

W
ITH A FINAL
snip, Maggie concluded her rose bush trimming. The rental house had a nice little rose garden with five plants in the backyard, but they’d been woefully ignored. Instead of coming right in and whacking them to bits, she’d carefully trimmed over the past several weeks to coax new growth and encourage blooms. That and some fertilizer had already transformed them from sad, spindly shrubs to glowing, happy bushes.

With this success, a bit of her anxiety faded. It had been a rough afternoon with Ryan—her toughest patient at present. After last Saturday’s emergency appointment, today had been his regular session, and it had run long since the one after had canceled. They’d been alone in the clinic by the time they’d finished, and she was surprised to find it had made her a little uncomfortable. She wasn’t afraid of Ryan—the poor man was an emotional mess—but there was something about him that reminded her of Mark. His neediness, maybe?

She shook her head, stowing her clippers in the pocket of her apron and picking up the basket of rose clippings. She was a therapist, for crying out loud. Dealing with needy people was part of the job. A
huge
part of it. Plus, it had never bothered her before, so why now? Because Alex’s death had made her doubt her abilities.

Walking to the large debris bin she’d wheeled from the front, she dumped the clippings and moved on to her next project: the vegetable garden.

She’d gotten a late start since she hadn’t moved into the house until the first of June, but the tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash were coming along nicely. And the lettuce bed was already ripe for harvest and would continue to be for some time. She smiled at her happy little plants before turning to get the hose.

The hose bib was at the corner of the house, near the path from the front. As she bent to pick up the hose, a shadow darkened the path, but it wasn’t the outline of a shrub or tree from the setting sun. It was a person. Holding the spray nozzle like a gun, her heart picked up speed.

“Maggie?”

Kyle’s voice immediately calmed the sudden wild pounding of her pulse, but she decided to spray him as he rounded the corner. He sucked in air as his T-shirt became plastered to his chest.

Whoa, that had been a bad idea; now his abs were perfectly delineated beneath the wet cotton. And she’d been right—totally cut.

“Kyle, you scared me again. Knock it off!”

He plucked at his shirt. “Good thing it’s still warm out.” Summer nights in northwestern Oregon ranged from hot to chilly, but at this point in July, hot often won out.

“Sorry.” She actually wasn’t. He’d deserved it, and now she got to enjoy the view. Averting her gaze before she full-on stared, she put the fertilizer canister onto the end of the hose. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi there, nice to see you, too. I had a terrific day, how about you?”

She suppressed a smile at his teasing tone—it wouldn’t do to encourage him. “Did you find something on Alex’s computer?”

“Not yet, but I have an appointment with a computer forensics specialist on Monday.” He trailed her as she went to the vegetable garden to water the plants. “Do we have to use the drug investigation as the only reason to talk? I thought we were friends.”

She glanced at him, wondering what he was up to tonight. Yesterday had been amazing—the conversation, the revelations, the kisses. She hadn’t been that amped up in a very long time. It had felt good. So why not let it continue? Because he was Kyle freaking Archer, that’s why.

“We
are
friends, but friends don’t usually drop by unannounced.” She started spraying the veggies.

“I did text, but it looks like you were maybe busy out here. You have a real talent in the garden. Those tomato plants are going to be amazing. I’ll have to make you some of my salsa.”

Now she wished she’d planted peppers. Damn. “Promise?”

He nodded, grinning. “Is that an heirloom plant?”

“Yes, those are my favorites.”

“Mine, too. I make a mean heirloom tomato salad. Guess I’m going to be feeding you all summer. How’s the kitchen in there?” He nodded toward the house.

“Fine.” She barely knew. Cooking was not her thing, unless you counted heating frozen meals or ordering takeout. About the only thing she made was salad, hence the vegetable garden she’d planted. “It’s a little outdated, but it has all the essentials.” Not that she planned on showing him anytime soon. Or ever.

“Can I go check it out?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Still not inviting you inside. I didn’t even invite you
over
.” She gave him a scolding look.

He held up his hands. “Sheesh, tough crowd tonight. You sure your day was fine?”

No, but she didn’t want to get into it. Listening to Ryan talk to her about contemplating suicide had been enough to drive her directly to the Xanax as soon as she’d gotten into her car.

“It was fine. Look, when I’ve restocked my garlic and collection of cross-shaped mirrors, I’ll invite you in, okay?”

He laughed. “Fair enough. I won’t push it, since I didn’t give you warning. I did want to ask you something.”

She looked over at him, sensing a thread of nervousness that was sort of cute. Was he about to ask her on a real date? Her blood heated just as her neck iced—such a damn conundrum.

“Why do you avoid Ribbon Ridge?”

After soaking the tomatoes, she moved on to the cukes. “I don’t avoid it.” The hell she didn’t. “I just don’t have any reason to go there.”

“The Ribbon Ridge Festival is this weekend. It’s really fun. Great food, Archer beer of course, arts and crafts, fireworks.”

Yeah, she’d gone last year. She’d loved it. She’d loved Ribbon Ridge. It was just far enough from the big city to be a cozy half-country town, but close enough to feel civilized. And she loved the wine country views and the denizens’ charm. But after Alex had died, it had completely lost its luster. The Archers were the first family of Ribbon Ridge, and she’d utterly failed one of them.

“Mmmm,” was all she said.

“I though you might like to go.”

Her finger came off the trigger of the hose nozzle, and she snapped her head around to look at him. Was he crazy? Being in Ribbon Ridge would be disquieting enough, but being in Ribbon Ridge with Kyle Archer would invite a whole world of criticism she wasn’t remotely ready to endure and might never be.

“Thanks, but no.”

When he looked genuinely disappointed, she felt a moment’s regret. However, just the thought of being in Ribbon Ridge was taking the edge off her Xanax.

“Are you going to tell me why you left?”

She pressed the trigger on the hose again and shot water all over the cucumbers and zucchini. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“You had a practice there and a home, right? You threw all of that away because Alex killed himself?” There was a note of concern in the questions, but his phrasing pushed her over the edge.

She swung around, and he jumped back before the spray hit him. She lifted her finger from the nozzle, cutting off the stream of water. “I didn’t throw anything away. I had to leave. I couldn’t . . . I’m not talking about this.” She pulsed a bit more water on the zucchinis.

He stepped closer. She could see him from the corner of her eye but didn’t turn to look at him. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push. I figured his death must have been hard for you, but I guess I didn’t realize just how bad it was.”

“I’d never lost a patient before.” But then she’d only been practicing for about a year and a half. After breaking up with Mark and looking to start over somewhere completely new, she’d bought a retiring therapist’s practice in Ribbon Ridge. She’d been so excited for the future, for the changes she’d made. Things had started slow, but by the time Alex had killed himself, she’d established a decent little practice. And just like that, her dreams had collapsed. “I felt like a complete failure.” She still did, but she couldn’t tell him that. She wouldn’t.

He touched her arm, tugged her elbow to get her to turn around. “Maggie.”

She shut the hose off and let herself be pulled. His blue-green eyes were full of compassion, and she nearly spilled everything—Mark, her breakdown . . .

“Helloooooo? Magnolia?” Mom’s voice cut off Maggie’s train of thought and shrouded her in dread. The questions she’d have to suffer once Mom caught sight of Kyle in all his wet T-shirt glory . . .

Mom stopped short as she stepped into the backyard. “Oh! You have company. I didn’t realize.”

No, because you just dropped in. Like Kyle. What happened to respecting a person’s privacy?

Kyle had also turned at the sound of Mom’s voice, and now he looked between them, probably guessing they were related. The curly hair, though Mom’s was almost entirely silver, was a dead giveaway.

Mom strode forward with purpose. “Hi, I’m Magnolia’s mom, Val.” She offered her hand.

Kyle shook it, looking perhaps a tad bemused. But most people were when they took in the henna tattoos covering Mom’s hands, the long batik skirt that grazed her Birkenstocks, and the amalgamation of jewelry cluttering her neck and arms. At least she was wearing a bra.

“Hi, I’m Kyle Archer.”

Mom’s brow curved up, and she shot Maggie a questioning glance. Mom knew all about Alex, of course, and Maggie only prayed she wouldn’t taunt the elephant in the room, er, yard.

Mom shook his hand. “Are you, now? Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m so sorry to have interrupted.” She darted a suggestive look between them, and it was all Maggie could stand.

“Kyle just stopped in to return something he thought I might like to have. A totem I gave Alex during therapy.” She was rather impressed with herself for coming up with such a good lie so easily.

Kyle looked at her in question, clearly wanting to ask if the totem part was true. She averted her gaze, wanting nothing more than for one of them to leave. Or both, preferably. Why wasn’t her Xanax working better?

“Is that all?” Mom asked, sounding dismayed. “I was hoping Kyle was the guy you had dinner with last week.” She glanced between them again, her hazel eyes dancing. “Oops, did I just let the cat out of the bag? Maybe my little flower bud has a few boys trailing after her.” She patted Maggie on the shoulder. “That’s my girl.”

Maggie wanted to melt into the ground in mortification. She chanced a look at Kyle, who didn’t look the least bit upset. No, he looked amused, the jerk. Nothing about her mother was funny.

“All righty, then,” Maggie said, dragging the hose back to the house and winding it up. “Thanks for stopping by, Kyle.”

Thankfully, he took the hint. “Nice to meet you, Val.” He waved at Mom and then came over to Maggie. He dipped his head toward hers and spoke next to her ear. “Magnolia? Your name is Magnolia?”

She gritted her teeth. “Can it.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. He kissed her cheek. “Next time I come over, you’re going to invite me in and tell me all about this situation.” When he backed away from her, his eyes glowed with mirth, and she resisted the urge to kick him in the shin.

Instead, she forced a smile. “Bye.”

He turned and waved at Mom again before disappearing around the side of the house.

“Oooh, he’s yummy!” Mom brought her hands together, jangling the bracelets encircling both wrists. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“I haven’t. He’s no one. What are you doing here, Mom? It’s not like I live down the street, for crying out loud.”

“Oh I know, dear, but I wanted to bring you something. It’s in the car. I couldn’t carry it on my own. My neighbor is downsizing, and he wanted you to have his night-blooming cereus.”

“Really?” Maggie stalked past her mom and followed the path around the house to the front. She heard Kyle drive away and was glad that he was gone and away from her mother. She also heard Mom following her.

“I know how much you’ve always liked it.”

No, she loved it. Coveted it. Had wanted one of her very own since the first time she’d watched it bloom. Harv—their neighbor—held parties to watch the flower because each bud opened for just one night. Maggie had seen it for the first time when she was twelve, and she’d been entranced with plants ever since.

It sat in the back of Harv’s truck, which Mom had clearly borrowed to transport it. Over six feet tall and in a large box-like planter, it was an incredibly ugly plant from the cactus family, with spindly branches and stems. Its flat, uninteresting leaves were sparse, almost making the plant look as if it were dead or dying half the time. You’d never guess the massive flowers, which bloomed just once and only at night, were so delicate and beautiful.

“I brought a little wheeled cart to get it inside,” Mom said.

Sure enough, there was a flat cart, sort of like the scooter Maggie had zoomed around on in gym class as a kid.

“We should’ve had Kyle stay and help us,” Mom said beside her. “Call him and have him come back.”

That would mean letting him inside—no way. “No, we’ll manage.” But now she had to let Mom inside. There was no help for it. Thank God Maggie had taken the Xanax, or she’d probably insist on wrestling the thing inside by herself. Or settle for just leaving it in the garage.

Mom lowered the gate to the truck and pulled out the cart, setting it on the driveway. She climbed up into the back, incredibly agile for a woman in her late fifties, but then she’d done yoga every day for the last thirty-plus years. She unhooked the bungee cords holding the plant against the side of the truck while Maggie circled around to the side to help her scoot it to the edge of the bed.

“You like it?” Mom’s tone was hopeful, like a child asking his parents if they liked the macaroni necklace he’d made them.

But Maggie didn’t have to pretend to like anything about it. Her mother’s lifestyle drove her crazy, but Maggie couldn’t deny her thoughtfulness or find fault with the depth of her love. Despite their differences, she was grateful to have someone who cared for her that much. “I love it, Mom. Really. Thank you.”

Mom smiled. “I knew you’d love it. How many nights did you go over to Harv’s to watch this thing bloom?”

“As many as I was around for.” It could bloom several times in a summer, sometimes multiple flowers going at once. The most she remembered was four . . . and the stench! The fragrance was sweet and somewhat pretty with one flower, but with so many it had become cloying and oppressive. Harv had opened every window and even run some fans to move the air. Maggie smiled at the memory. Sometimes it was good to remember that her youth wasn’t all awkwardness.