Coming Apart at the Seams (21 page)

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to block out her words. He didn't believe she meant what she'd said, but it still felt as if she had kicked him in the balls. He reminded himself that he'd just been inside her luscious body, and she had come three times. She wanted him.

And she sure as hell hadn't said
no
. In any language.

“Liar,” he muttered.

She jerked upright, spearing him with her dark blue gaze. “What did you say?” she asked, her eyes narrowed with menace.

“Liar,” he repeated loudly.

She gasped and stalked toward him. “I'm not lying,” she claimed, poking him in the chest with the tip of her red-polished nail.

Wrapping his fingers around her wrist, he pulled her against him. He leaned down until his nose almost touched hers.

“Liar.”

Her eyes widened, and she jerked her wrist against his hold. Loosening his fingers, he let her go.

“We had sex, yes, but that doesn't mean I want
you
.” She stared into his eyes. “You should know that better than anyone. When we had sex before, you made it clear you didn't want me, not even as a friend.”

Panic built in his chest, and he tried to push it down. He had to stay calm so he could keep talking. This was the first time he'd even come close to getting her to listen.

“You misunderstood.”

She laughed incredulously. “I misunderstood?”

He nodded.

“How did I misunderstand? I told you things didn't have to change. I told you that we could go back to the way things used to be. Just friends. And you said no.”

“Couldn't go back,” he squeezed out. “T-t-t-too hungry for you.”

Teagan's mouth fell open. “What?”

Words backed up inside him, and he cleared his throat. She crossed her arms over her chest, clearly waiting for him to provide an answer. Too bad he didn't have a whiteboard. If he did, he could draw a fucking picture for her.

“Needed time to adjust,” he said slowly. “Like you said.”

“Time to adjust?” She shook her head. “When I said you needed time to adjust, I didn't think it would take years.”

It hadn't taken years. But it had still taken too long.

Way too long.

“Maybe you did need time to adjust. But I needed something, too. I needed
you
. My dad was sick, and I was . . .”

She swallowed, turning her head away from him. He studied her profile—her dark, feathery eyelashes, the plump curve of her lips, the delicate shape of her nose.

He wanted to see her face every day for the rest of his life, and that was what he was fighting for. He wasn't going to be
content until his ring was on her finger and her last name was Priest. Or O'Brien-Priest. He was willing to compromise on some things.

Teagan met his gaze, her face expressionless and her eyes cold. She spun toward the door, grabbing the handle.

“I don't need you anymore, for any reason,” she said without turning around. “And I don't want you, either.”

And he stood there, silent, as she left the linen closet, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Letty met Nick at the front door when he arrived at his big house in Nashville. He had been tempted to stay in San Francisco, since Christmas was only a few days away, but ultimately he'd decided to fly back home.

He wanted to talk with Letty about Quinn's job offer and discuss what had happened with Teagan. He also needed to pack enough clothes to get him through the next few weeks until his stuff could be shipped to San Francisco.

“Hi, cutie,” she said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “How was your trip?”

When Nick had signed the deal with the Tennessee Titans a little more than two years ago, he'd asked Letty to come to Nashville with him. Her extended family lived in Boston, but her husband had died only a couple of years before she'd come to work for Nick. He had been a cop, and he'd died in the line of duty.

Boston held painful memories for Letty, which was why she'd agreed to move—that and the fact that Nick had bribed her. He'd offered to pay for college for all three of her kids, undergrad for Kyla and Ben and graduate school for Vanessa. He had plenty of money, and Letty was worth the investment, since she handled so many responsibilities, including personal assistant, housekeeper, and chef.

Propping his black suitcase against the textured wall in the high-ceilinged foyer, he hugged Letty to his side. She patted his back, gesturing toward the kitchen with her other hand.

“Are you hungry? I made chicken pot pie.”

He nodded, and they made their way down the slate hallway to the big kitchen. With its exposed brick, glass-front oak cabinets, and granite countertops, it was his favorite room in the house.

Located in one of Nashville's most exclusive neighborhoods, the house was nearly ten thousand square feet with a four-car garage. It also had separate guest quarters, which was where Letty lived, and a huge outdoor entertaining area with a pool.

He had gotten the house for a steal. The owner had lost his shirt in a bunch of bankrupt commercial real estate deals, and he'd been desperate to off-load the mansion. The guy had liked luxury, and he'd designed the house with high-end finishes and high-tech touches.

More than any other place Nick had ever lived, the house felt like home. But he was sure it wasn't because of the bricks and mortar. It was because of Letty. She had brought heart to the house in the form of home-cooked meals, fresh flowers, and unique knickknacks.

While she bustled around the kitchen, he washed his hands in the farmhouse sink and grabbed a Shiner Bock from the fridge. He sat down on one of the wooden barstools situated around the bar and took a long swallow.

Letty leaned against the counter in front of him. She'd stopped wearing her chef uniform long before they had moved to Nashville, and she was dressed casually in a pair of khaki pants and a blue sweater that matched her eyes.

“Well? Did you see Teagan?”

He nodded.

“Did you have a chance to talk to her?”

He nodded again.

“What happened?”

When he didn't answer, Letty sighed in exasperation. She was used to his silence, but she didn't like it.

“Use your words, Nick.”

More often than not, Letty treated him like a five-year-old. And for some strange reason, it didn't bother him. In fact, he kind of liked it.

“I apologized, and she slapped my f-f-f-face.
Hard
.”

“Good for her,” Letty chortled. “You deserved it.”

“I know.”

In fact, Nick knew he deserved more than a slap, and he would gladly take whatever punishment Teagan doled out as long as it gave him what he ultimately wanted: her.

Although he was sure other men wouldn't think a slap in the face was progress, he was convinced it was a huge step forward. Teagan's anger was so much better than her tears. And it was a hell of a lot better than ignoring him or just walking away, which was what she usually did.

“Is that it?”

“No.”

The oven timer buzzed, and Letty grabbed a pot holder to pull the pot pie from the oven. She placed it on the stove, and the delicious smell of flaky pastry wafted to him. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything except an egg white and spinach omelet at the hotel restaurant this morning.

“The pot pie needs to cool for fifteen minutes or so. While we're waiting, you're going to tell me everything, and I'm going to make a salad.”

He frowned. There was no way in hell he was going to tell Letty
everything
that had happened in that linen closet.

“So . . . you apologized, she slapped you, and then what?” she asked as she pulled vegetables from the stainless steel fridge.

Nick shifted on the barstool. He didn't want to think about what had happened next, at least not in front of Letty. But later tonight when he was in bed, he'd definitely think about it.

“She left.”

Letty frowned, her hands full of carrots and tomatoes. She dumped them on the counter before turning to him.

“Did this happen at the party? Did she slap you in front of everyone?”

He shook his head, and Letty gave him an appraising glance. Heat filled his face, and he looked down, picking at the label on his beer bottle.

“Where?”

“Linen closet.”

Letty silently absorbed his answer before snickering. “That explains why your face is so red.”

He growled, and she laughed at his embarrassment. Trying to ignore her, he took another swig of his Shiner.

“Linen closets are so perfect for quickies.”

He choked a little on the mouthful of beer, swallowing noisily. She knew him too well.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

Letty guffawed as she grabbed a colander from one of the lower cabinets. Her shoulders shook while she rinsed the vegetables and placed them on a large cutting board.

Her mirth was infectious, and after a moment, Nick started to laugh. Letty had become the mother he'd never had, and he adored her. She had helped him get through the terrible months after he'd walked away from Teagan. More important, she had been by his side in the hospital after he'd been in a car accident only a couple of months after they'd moved to Nashville.

A truck driver had fallen asleep at the wheel of his tractor trailer, and the big rig had crossed the highway's grassy median and smashed into the side of Nick's Escalade. The accident had totaled his SUV, and the paramedics had said it was a miracle Nick had walked away from it with only a few broken ribs, some scrapes and bruises, and a concussion.

It should have killed him.

When Nick had woken up in the hospital, and Letty had told him what happened, he'd realized the God he had never believed in had given him a second chance. He'd vowed he wouldn't waste it.

While he'd been lying in a hospital bed under the influence of narcotics, he had spilled his guts to Letty about why he'd walked away from Teagan. He'd told her about the conversation with Marshall, sharing his fears about his stuttering and its harmful effect on relationships, along with his doubts about his ability to be a good husband and father.

He and Letty had talked a lot about Teagan—the way he felt when he was around her, their unique way of communicating, and how much he missed being with her. He had also explained the fear he'd had of ruining his friendship with Teagan and her family.

Nick had even told Letty about his childhood, what it had
been like to grow up without a mother. He'd revealed his broken relationship with his father, describing how Simon had viewed Nick's lack of verbal skills as proof that he lacked intelligence.

Letty had listened intently, and when he'd finished, she had sighed loudly and smoothed his hair just like a loving mother. Then she'd thumped him on his bruised forehead and told him he was a jackass.

Without a doubt, Nick owed Letty. She had saved him from himself. After all, she was the one who'd finally clued him in to his real feelings about Teagan when they were in Boston. Later on, she helped him realize his stuttering wasn't an insurmountable problem. His unwillingness to try to overcome it was the real problem.

He loved Teagan enough to try to be the man she deserved. And he loved her enough to give her the marriage and children she wanted. If he were honest with himself, he wanted those things, too, but only with her.

After the accident, he had become single-minded in his efforts to win Teagan back, even though he hadn't seen her in more than a year. He'd needed a couple of months to recover, and during that time, he'd written dozens of letters to her. And when his body had healed, he'd gathered his courage and flown to San Francisco to see her.

He and Letty had discussed the best way for him to approach Teagan, and he'd rehearsed what he had planned to say to her. But when he'd shown up at her condo in downtown San Francisco, he'd taken one look at her and was unable to squeeze out a single fucking word.

While she'd stood there shocked and silent, he'd done the only thing he could do: he'd kissed her. And that meeting had set the tone for every single interaction since. Every time he saw Teagan, he ended up kissing her instead of talking to her. It was his default setting—using his body to communicate his feelings.

He always intended to explain why he had walked away from her and why he had come back. But she would ignore him, or she would say things he didn't want to hear, and the only way he could shut her up was by filling her mouth with his tongue.

Letty grabbed a knife from the butcher-block holder on the island and started chopping carrots, the blade moving so fast it was a silver blur. Nick watched, torn between awe and apprehension. He didn't want to have to race her to the ER with her severed finger in a cooler.

“What's the next step in our plan to get Teagan back? Do we need to come up with a better one?”

He already had a new plan, and it involved moving to San Francisco and taking on the role of Teagan's subordinate before he assumed a more permanent and enjoyable role. When he didn't answer, Letty looked up. She cocked her head, her gray bob swinging against her ears.

“Nick?”

He decided to broach the subject of his relocation gently. He didn't know how she would react to the news.

“Quinn's getting married, and he asked m-m-m-me to be a groomsman.”

Letty smiled. “That's a big honor. When's the wedding?”

He told her, and she raised her brows. “That's fast. Is Amelia pregnant?”

Nick laughed, shaking his head. “I d-d-don't think so. I think he's afraid she'll get away.” He shifted on the stool. “Quinn offered me a job, too.”

Letty tossed the carrots into a yellow Fiesta bowl. Grabbing a tomato, she began slicing it into quarters.

“What kind of job?”

He told her about the endowment and the museum, and her blue eyes lit up. “What a great opportunity for you!”

Nick smiled. Letty had such a loving, generous heart, and he was lucky she'd made room for him in it.

“It's in San Francisco.”

She nodded. “I assumed so.”

“Come with me?” He waited a beat before hitting her with the big guns. “It's closer to Vanessa.”

Letty's oldest daughter was working on her master's degree in architecture at the University of California-Berkeley. Kyla, meanwhile, was in Ohio at Miami University, and Ben was in Nick's hometown attending Syracuse.

Letty smiled. “Do you think Teagan will want a live-in housekeeper?”