Fortune's Cinderella (16 page)

“I don’t hate you, Mama,” Christina said, wearily. “But I don’t understand you. Why you are the way you are. Why you’ve always treated me like I was an afterthought. That makes me sad, and more than a little angry, but it is what it is.”

After another long look, her mother traipsed to the door and let herself out. Exhausted, Christina collapsed into the sofa, Gumbo immediately hopping up to smush up against her side and lay his head on her knee.

“Guess it’s just you and me, boy,” she said. “Like always.”

Then, much to her disgust, she burst into tears.

On hearing Wendy’s laugh from the living room when Scott walked into the house, Scott hesitated, not wanting to interrupt a private conversation. Until he realized she was talking to his youngest brother. He found her stretched out on the black leather couch with her phone pressed to her ear while playing remote roulette with her other hand.

“I’m fine, I promise…and speak of the devil.” Angling the phone, she said, “Blake’s asking if you know when you’re coming home yet.”

Sighing, Scott reached for the phone, carrying it into the kitchen so Wendy could watch her fashion-makeover show in peace, wiggling her bare, unpainted toes as she nibbled on a bowl of trail mix.

Scott slid onto a barstool at the counter dividing the kitchen from the small dining room, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. You told Dad a week. It’s been two. And from everything Wendy said, it sounds as though things are under control as far as Javier’s concerned. As much as they can be, at least. You do remember you have a job here, right?”

Letting his hand drop to the laminate surface, Scott stared across the serviceable but woefully outdated room, listening to the benign hum of the white refrigerator. A job. Funny to think that he’d poured ten years’ worth of time and energy into something that, when all was said and done, was just that: a job. Not a career or a calling, but…a job, his shares of the business as a family member notwithstanding.

No time like the present, he supposed, to come clean.

“I’m not coming back, Blake.”

Stunned silence vibrated in his ear, followed by, “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life. Mike can continue to handle whatever’s on my desk—since most of it came from him, anyway—or it can be divvied up among the others. That guy who filled in for me last year when I was in Europe? He’s ripe for promotion, anyway, hand some of it to him—”

“Whoa, dude—what have you been smoking? You can’t simply…walk away.”

“Watch me.”

“Holy crap. Does Dad know?”

“Not yet. And not a word. I’ll deal with him soon enough.”

Blake snorted. “Not to worry. You can drop that little bombshell yourself. But…why?”

“Because when I was lying underneath half an airport’s worth of rubble, it occurred to me life’s too damn short to spend it doing something simply because it’s what’s expected of you. That I’ve worked my ass off for ten years pursuing somebody else’s dream.

Not going to do that anymore.”

“I don’t understand. You’ve always been so gung-ho about the business, working harder than any of us, except maybe Mike. Are you saying it was all a lie?”

“No,” Scott said on a breath. “I wasn’t faking it. Then again, I was also too busy to realize there were other options. Options that might actually make me smile when I get up in the morning.”

Blake released a nervous laugh. “This is crazy, Scott.”

“No guts, no glory.” Or peace, he silently added.

“So…what’s the plan?”

“You know me, never talk about a work in progress until it’s a done deal.”

“Ah. This…wouldn’t have anything to do with that girl, would it? Christine?”

“Christina,” Scott said softly. “And since I can only imagine what Wendy’s already told you, there’s not much point in denying it.”Blake let out a long, low whistle. “Ho-lee crap, Scott. You’re in love?”

Scott abandoned the stool to pace in front of the dining table, one hand clamped around the back of his neck. There was that question again, demanding he quit sidestepping the issue and answer it, already, once and for all. Still, remnants of the old Scott, the cautious Scott, the man whose life had been predicated on obligation and a hyper work ethic that left little room for sentiment, kept him from giving his brother a straight answer.

He lowered his hand to hook it on his hip. “All I know is, I want Christina in my life in a way I’ve never even imagined wanting any woman before. And that if I let this opportunity slip through my fingers before I’ve explored every angle on how I could make it work, I’ll regret it for the rest of my days. And I can’t exactly explore those options in Atlanta.” After several more beats passed, Scott asked, “You still there?”

“Yeah. I’m here. And you know what? You’re right, we only get one shot at this. So if this is what you want, go for it. But, for all our sakes, don’t wait much longer to tell the others.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

He disconnected the call, then turned to find Wendy standing in her kitchen doorway, her eyebrows about to fly off her head.

“You’re staying?”

“It would appear so.”

“For good?”

“Sure hope so.”

His baby sister gawked at him for several seconds, then, on a squeal of delight, waddled over to give him a huge hug.

After a rotten night’s sleep, constantly interrupted by disturbing dreams involving Scott and her mother and being all tangled up in tornado debris that turned into a giant cobweb she couldn’t break out of because her feet were encased in cement, Christina awoke with a start, scaring poor Gumbo half to death.

Then she remembered she had a checkup with the orthopedist that day and whimpered. Because how, exactly, was she supposed to pull that one off?

However, being an intrepid soul, she decided that since her broken foot actually felt more or less okay, and she drove with her other one, and here was this perfectly good car sitting right outside her front door, she’d drive her own dang self into San Antonio.

What was the worst that could happen? The doctor would yell at her?

Except when, an hour later, Scott landed on her doorstep, she realized, no, this was the worst that could happen.

“Hey, boy,” he said, squatting to roughhouse with the ecstatic dog, and Christina didn’t know whether to scream or cry or laugh or what. “I didn’t…I thought…after yesterday…” She stopped, grabbed a breath. And hopefully a coherent sentence. “Why are you here?”

“You have a doctor’s appointment today, right?”

“Um, yeah. But I was going to drive myself there.”

Scott looked up at her as if she’d said she’d just had breakfast with Elvis. “I don’t think so.” Then he rose, and before she could blink took her face in his hands and kissed her. Sweetly. Gently. But still like a man used to going after what he wanted. And getting it. And once again her spirit did that roller-coaster thing, soaring to what felt like the top of the world, only to drop right back down, leaving her dizzy and slightly woozy and unable to get her bearings.

“You don’t play fair,” she whispered, dropping her head to his chest.

“I never do.” Then he tucked his fingers under her chin, lifting her face so their eyes met, and whispered, “Trust me.”

Her eyes flooded. “Why would you even say that?”

“Because you need to know you can. Now let’s get moving or you’re going to be late.”

Yeah, didn’t take a brainiac to interpret that dream, did it?

“How was your visit with your mother?” Scott asked once they were on the road.

He would bring that up. “Short. And not exactly sweet.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So’m I.” Then, because she was feeling ambushed and off balance and still light-headed from the kiss, she said, “She’s convinced you’re only interested in me for sex.”

She could practically feel him flinch, followed by a short, startled laugh. “Excuse me?” When Christina shrugged, he tossed a frown her way. “Don’t tell me you agree with her?”

“I don’t know,” she lied. “Are you?”

“No! Not to put too fine a point on it, but if that’s what I was after, I would have hardly chosen a woman nursing a broken foot, now would I?”

“So…you don’t have the hots for me?”

He got very quiet. “In case you missed it, I didn’t exactly kiss you yesterday like I would have kissed my grandmother. But the implication that I—” He stopped, his jaw so tight she could’ve sharpened a knife on it. “I care about you. A great deal. But I know you’re skittish, for reasons known only to you—”

“And what difference does it make, what those reasons are? Eventually, you’ll go back home, and I’ll fade into a vague memory

—”“Except I’m not.”

“Not, what?”

“Going back.”

Now it was her turn. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His eyes glanced off hers before he returned them to the road. “I’ve been scouting out ranch properties with a Realtor the past couple of days. And I think I’ve found the perfect place, right next to your field where the old barn was—”

“Wait, wait, wait…you’re buying a ranch?”

“Yep.”

“Here. In Red Rock.”

“Since that’s where you are, it seemed like a logical choice.”

Silence stretched between them like the interminable country highway before Scott blew out a breath.

“And did that sound like stalker-speak as much to you as it did to me?” he asked.

“From anybody else it sure would.”

He coughed into his hand, then said, “I meant what I said, about not giving up easily. Call me stubborn, or an idiot, but…I’d still like to see where this goes. Between us, I mean. And I can’t do that from four states away. Besides, I always wanted to raise horses

—remember my telling you how much I loved to ride when I was a kid?—but once I started working for my father I shoved that dream aside, thinking maybe after I retired…”

And on he went, like the world wasn’t imploding around them. Or maybe his world wasn’t, maybe his world really was finally landing right side up. Well, whoop-de-do for him—hers sure as heck wasn’t. Her world had gone kaplooey, like a hot dog cooked too long in the microwave.

Because how could she deny that, given her druthers, part of her wanted to see where this was going, too. Even if that part—

which would be that tiny remnant still clinging to the fantasy—was at odds with the much larger part that knew exactly where this was going: nowhere. That no matter how many detours they took along the way, or how pleasant those detours might be, they’d still end up at the same place, wouldn’t they?

Christina turned her face to the passenger-side window so he wouldn’t see how hard she was fighting tears. Damn the man—her only safety net had been that he’d go home someday. But if he was staying…

Kaplooey.

“Does knowing how well your foot’s healing make it feel better?”

Hanging on to Christina’s crutches in case she needed them at some point, Scott leaned against the far wall of the hospital elevator, giving her the space she so obviously needed. Talk about feeling like a first-class dolt—she’d barely looked at or talked to him since his announcement. And here he’d prided himself on being an expert at finessing the client, knowing exactly when to take the next step in negotiations.

“Yes, actually,” she said, giving him a meager smile.

Except Christina wasn’t a client. Or a convenient, willing distraction from his work. He’d do well to remember that. Apologizing wasn’t something that came naturally to him—he was his father’s son, after all—but even he knew he’d blundered, big-time, by springing his news on her before she was ready.

He waited until they’d gotten out to his car in the parking lot before saying, “I’m sorry—”

“You threw me a curveball, Scott,” she said quietly, then finally looked at him. “I honestly thought…” Shaking her head, she looked away.

“What?”

Her eyes met his again. “That you were flirting. Okay, that’s not fair, considering everything you’ve done for me, but…” She heaved a sigh. “I guess I figured you were simply amusing yourself. That there was no way you could be serious.”

“Why is it so difficult to believe that I am?”

“Ohmigosh—where would you like me to start? Like I said before, we’re so different. And the way we met…honestly, meeting on The Bachelor would be more normal—!”

He cupped her face, watching the words snag in her throat, silently cursing at all that ambivalence in her eyes. “And I’ve been on more ‘normal’ first dates than I can count, 95 percent of which I couldn’t wait to be over so I could get back to work. So tell me one thing, and be honest—no qualifiers, no prevarication, just the truth. Do you have feelings for me, too?”

Their gazes tangled for what seemed like an eternity until she finally said, “Yes. But—”

“Then I don’t give a damn how we met, I’m only glad we did. Because you woke me up. Made me take a good, long look at myself and realize I didn’t like what I saw. Who I’d become. If nothing ever happens between us I’ll always be grateful for that.”

He released her to lean against the car, his arms crossed. “Yeah, I stuck around because of you. I never denied it. But I’m staying because to go back to what I was before, who I was before, would be a lie. And every day I’m here the clearer that becomes.”

After another exchanged look, she said, “My leg’s getting tired, I need to sit.”

Scott stepped aside so she could get into the car—under her own steam—shutting the door after her then going around to his side.

By the time he got in, she’d clearly regrouped. “So you’re saying no matter what I do you’re still buying that ranch?”

He could almost feel the relief radiating from her. He started the car, backed out of the space. Finally, got it through his thick head that if he had any hope whatsoever of this working he’d have to let her call at least some of the shots. “Yup.”

Christina lifted her hand to gently scrape the edge of her thumbnail across her bottom teeth, a habit she indulged when she was nervous, he’d noticed. Then she dropped her hand and he ventured, “Would you like to see it?”

A pause. “I thought it wasn’t yours yet.”

“I can’t get into the house, but I can drive onto the land. The owner’s not there.”