Come Home to Me (4 page)

“And ‘wrong’ includes...”

“I haven’t had sex. I haven’t taken drugs. I haven’t even had any alcohol, other than an occasional glass of chardonnay.”

“Then I’d say your recent track record’s better than mine,” he quipped.

In what way? It had to be sex or alcohol; no one in Cheyenne’s group would risk the damage drugs could cause.

“But two years isn’t that long,” she argued. “It’s not enough time to be able to trust me.” Lord knew she didn’t trust herself. That was why she had to stay away from Aaron. With one touch, he could make her forget everything she was striving to be.

“Tell me this, what are you looking for in life?” Riley asked.

He was no longer joking, so she sobered, too. “Someone who’ll love me—for
me
—at last.”

That wasn’t something a girl usually admitted to a guy who was interested in asking her out. But she wasn’t a teenager anymore, and they were having an honest conversation. Why hide the truth? Presley had been trying to warn him off from the beginning. If this didn’t do the trick, he deserved whatever disappointment she proved to be.

To her surprise, her words didn’t seem to make him uncomfortable. He pursed his lips as he considered them. Then he nodded. “I’d like to see if I’m the right man for the job,” he said, and walked out to get more of his tools.

4

A
aron located what had to be Presley’s yoga studio from its proximity to Reflections by Callie. He had pictured the old antiques emporium as soon as Kyle and Riley mentioned it. But it was worth coming by to see how far along she was in the process of opening. He was curious about her and everything she was doing; he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind since running into her last night. So he’d told himself he’d swing by on his way to Reno. If she happened to be alone, maybe he’d stop and say something, get what he was thinking and feeling off his chest. It didn’t seem fair that she suddenly seemed to believe the worst of him. Not when he’d been convinced that she was one of the few people who truly understood him.

But then he saw Riley Stinson’s truck parked in front and he pulled over—even though she clearly wasn’t alone. She wasn’t open for business yet. So why was Riley hanging around?

He decided to find out.

The high-pitched whine of an electric saw cut through the air as he crossed the street, and he could see a ladder and some paint tarps through the wide storefront windows.

The door had been propped open for ventilation. For a moment, he stood at the threshold, watching Riley check the length of a piece of wood he’d just cut. Presley wasn’t around. Maybe she was in another room. That he was glad she was out of earshot, glad he had the chance to confront Riley alone, told him he shouldn’t be here. He’d been in a terrible mood ever since he’d encountered her at the bookstore. The fight with Dylan hadn’t helped and neither had the sleepless night he’d spent trying to convince himself that he didn’t care if Presley no longer wanted him in her life.

He’d let her go easily enough two years ago, hadn’t he?

Not
that
easily. He
had
thought about her a hell of a lot, at odd hours when it was late and the house was quiet. He’d missed her, missed the fun they used to have and the excitement she’d brought him in bed. But missing her didn’t really explain why he was so out of sorts. He should be
glad
she’d moved on. There’d been plenty of instances when he’d wished she would. He’d known all along that she cared more than he did, and that kind of thing never ended well.

“Hey!” he called.

Riley whipped his head around. Then he turned off the saw and lowered the goggles protecting his eyes. “How’s it going?”

Still no sign of Presley. “Where is she?” Aaron asked.

Riley didn’t ask who. That was obvious. “Had to take her little boy home. She was up all night, patching the walls in here, so I’m hoping she’ll catch a nap, too. But, stubborn as she is, she’ll probably come right back.”

He was talking as if he knew Presley well—but he didn’t. Not really. No one in Whiskey Creek, except Cheyenne, knew her as well as Aaron did. Like him, Presley had always been an outsider, someone regarded with distrust. He’d never cared much about what other people thought. He didn’t let their opinions bother him. But Presley hadn’t grown the same thick skin. “So you’re working alone?”

Using a measuring tape, Riley marked the board where he wanted to make his next cut. “For the moment.”

Aaron kicked a loose nail that’d fallen to the tarp back and forth between his feet. “I didn’t realize she’d hired you to build her tenant improvements. You didn’t say anything about it at the bookstore.”

“I didn’t know I’d be doing this.”

He sauntered closer, eyeing what Riley was building. “Receptionist’s station?”

Riley blew the sawdust from his hands, then brushed off his white T-shirt. “That’s right.”

“Does she have the money to pay for all this?” He gestured at the work that’d been done so far. Dylan had told him Presley wasn’t in a good financial situation. “It’s tough, being a single parent.”

“Tell me about it,” Riley muttered.

He and Presley were both single parents, but the similarity between them ended there. “You’ve always had the support of your folks, and a decent way to earn a living. She’s never had either.” Riley had also had a lot of other things Presley didn’t, but Aaron felt he’d said enough.

“She has Chey in her corner. And I’m hoping her yoga and massage businesses will be successful. But I’m not arguing with you. She’s in a tight spot, especially while her son is so young.”

Aaron jerked his head toward the saw. “Maybe you should let me finish up.”

Riley straightened, finally giving Aaron his full attention. “Excuse me?”

“It won’t be as nice as if you’d done it, but I can manage a hammer and nails—and it won’t cost her a cent.” Maybe that would make up for how he’d behaved the night her mother died; maybe it would finally ease his conscience.

Riley positioned the wood he’d prepped on the sawhorse. “There’s no need for you to take over. I’m not charging her.”

“Why not?” Aaron spoke before Riley could turn on the saw. “This may not be a big job, but it’ll take the better part of your weekend.” Wasn’t that a lot to ask of a mere acquaintance?

Riley shrugged and raised his goggles. “I don’t mind helping.”

The saw blasted again, forcing Aaron to talk above it. “Since when did you two become friends? When she was here before, you barely knew her.”

Riley’s blade bit through the two-by-four and the end dropped onto the scrap heap. “I knew her,” he said as the sudden silence rang in their ears. “I’ve hung out with Cheyenne for years.”

That didn’t mean he’d spared a glance—or a thought—for Presley. “So that’s it? You’re just doing a good deed?” Aaron met his gaze. “Or are you making some sort of play for her?”

Riley turned around to confront him, and the goggles came off again. “You’re acting a little...territorial, Aaron. Which I didn’t expect. According to Cheyenne, whatever you and Presley had when she lived here before is over. Was Chey wrong about that? Is there something going on between you two that I should know about?”

Aaron couldn’t say there was. Presley had told him, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn’t interested in getting involved with him again. But he didn’t see why that meant they couldn’t be friends. She’d needed his friendship once. “I’m sure Cheyenne would love nothing more than to see her sister with such an
upstanding
guy. Is that what this is about? Is she behind it?”

Riley scowled. “Aaron, there’s never been any trouble between us, so why are you trying to start it now? Chey’s not pushing me at Presley.”

“She just happened to catch your eye at the book signing last night?”

“Does it matter? I thought you’d moved on. If I remember right, I’ve heard your name linked with Noelle Arnold’s.”

Aaron had bumped into Noelle at Sexy Sadie’s once or twice and taken her home, but only because she’d let him know she wanted to sleep with him, and he’d had nothing better to do. He didn’t particularly care for her. He’d never been in love with Presley, either, but he liked her a lot more than Noelle. At least Presley was real, down-to-earth. Noelle was the most shallow, vain creature he’d ever met.

“Noelle and I are friends, that’s all.”

Riley picked up another piece of wood and began to examine it. “For your sake, I’m glad to hear that.”

Without a doubt, Noelle was the most hated person in town. That alone made Aaron feel sorry for her. But she didn’t seem to understand what she was doing to evoke that reaction, so there was nothing he could do to help her.

Still, he didn’t like Riley acting so superior. But maybe he had a right. He’d never screwed up the way Aaron had, that was for damn sure. “I don’t need you to warn me off. I’ll choose my own women.”

“Good. Enjoy Noelle all you want, because you aren’t what Presley wants anymore.”

“And you are?” he snapped.

Riley didn’t get the chance to respond. A female voice, shocked and slightly outraged, interrupted.

“Aaron...what are you doing here?”

He and Riley had been so focused on each other that they hadn’t seen Presley walk in. She came toward them, clutching the hand of her son, who was doing his best to keep up. She wasn’t wearing makeup, but going natural was a great look on her. With smooth, café-au-lait skin, wide brown eyes and a short, choppy haircut, she reminded him of Halle Berry.

He wasn’t happy that she’d probably heard what they’d said. But the only thing he could do was shrug and act as though it didn’t matter. Indifference could cover almost any uncomfortable situation—because it wasn’t uncomfortable if you didn’t care.

“I dropped by to see how the improvements are going,” he said.

Their eyes met. He wondered if she could tell that he wasn’t as emotionally detached as he was pretending to be. But she looked away before he could guess at her thoughts. “They’re going fine.”

Aaron made a point of gazing around. “Seems to me you could use some help.”

“I’ve got it.” Riley scowled at him. He no longer held a piece of lumber or any tools. He was keeping his hands free. Just in case?

“You’ve got the receptionist area under control,” Aaron said. “But that leaves the painting. If I help, it’ll go that much faster. I’ll run over to the paint store. What color should I get?”

Presley’s lips parted in surprise. “It’s Saturday. Don’t you have to work at the shop?”

“Not till Monday.” So much for his appointment with the real estate agent in Reno, but he could cancel. He’d already seen about all there was to see. The only thing left was to decide on a location.

“You don’t want to spend your time off doing...
this,
” she said.

Was it really so inconceivable that he’d make that kind of sacrifice?

Part of him felt he should get the hell out of there. He knew when he wasn’t wanted. But the other part refused to let her toss him aside so easily. He hadn’t meant to hurt her two years ago. Who’d been better to her? Certainly not
Riley
. Cheyenne’s friends had pretty much ignored Presley’s existence. She could forgive him that one night when he couldn’t face her pain without having to swim through a whole sea of his own, couldn’t she?

“Sure, why not?” he said. If she wanted to get rid of him, she’d have to tell him to go. But he didn’t think she’d do that. Her heart was too soft. And if Riley tried to force the issue, he’d be sorry he’d ever stuck his nose in Presley’s business....

Fortunately, Riley didn’t react the way Aaron expected. A smile suddenly curved his lips. “Yeah, why not?” he said. “Everything will go faster with an extra pair of hands.”

Presley seemed startled by his capitulation. “But... I don’t have the money to pay either of you! And I don’t want to feel I’m taking advantage. I can do this on my own. Really. I’d
rather
do it on my own.”

She’d grown cautious, protective, since she’d left Whiskey Creek, which made Aaron feel even guiltier for turning his back on her that long-ago night.

“There’s no need to do it yourself.” Riley’s smile widened. “We’re happy to help—aren’t we, Aaron?”

Riley was making it clear that he didn’t consider Aaron a threat.
You aren’t what Presley wants anymore,
he’d said. Was he cocky enough to think he could prove it?

Far be it from Aaron to resist a challenge. “Absolutely,” he said. “We’d never let you do this alone.”

Presley might’ve continued to argue, but Wyatt was trying to escape so he could play in the sawdust and wood scraps.

“You could get hurt,” she murmured as she struggled to restrain him. She looked tired. It was tempting to pick up the baby for her, but she’d been acting so skittish around him that he didn’t dare, not in front of Riley.

“Why don’t you take him home and let him play where it’s safe?” Aaron suggested. “We’ve got this.”

She glanced from him to Riley and back again. “But...”

“What will you be able to accomplish with him here?” Riley asked, throwing his support behind Aaron’s suggestion.

“I could put him in his playpen,” she began.

“Where he’d only last a short time,” Aaron said.

She sighed. “That’s true, but...”

“Go!” Aaron said.

Riley gestured for her to take off, too.

“I’ll do what I can to make it up to both of you,” she told them. Then, in spite of a crying and wiggling child, she somehow managed to pull a paint swatch and some cash from her purse. “Here’s the shade I picked out. If this isn’t enough money to cover it, I’ll reimburse you later.”

5

P
resley hated leaving other people to do her work. She didn’t want to feel indebted to Riley or Aaron.
Especially
Aaron. But she was terrified that if Aaron and Wyatt had any interaction at all he’d suspect the truth. If Aaron hadn’t always been so vigilant about birth control, or if there’d been a specific incident when they’d noticed a broken rubber—which there wasn’t—he would already have questioned her or Cheyenne about the circumstances of Wyatt’s conception.

Fortunately, she had those two things going for her.

She’d made the right decision in not telling him, hadn’t she? Every once in a while, she panicked, wondering if she’d been crazy to make the choice she’d made. But she hadn’t gotten pregnant on purpose; there was no duplicity involved. And she didn’t expect child support or anything else from him. So how was the fact that she’d kept Wyatt hurting him?

It wasn’t. To her knowledge, he’d never expressed any interest in having a child. Indeed, his diligence in the birth control department indicated he
didn’t
want one. There were times he’d even said as much, when a friend married or had a kid. That meant she was doing him a huge favor by keeping the truth to herself. It allowed him to lead whatever life he chose without having to wrestle with his conscience.

Of course, if he found out, there was no guarantee
he’d
look at the situation so philosophically. That was what frightened her. She hated to even think of the possibility....

Wyatt, happy now that she’d let him loose to run around the house, started to empty his toy box.

“You little devil,” she teased when she saw the mess he was making.

He grinned up at her, completely unrepentant, and she bent to press her lips to his forehead. Then she dropped onto the lumpy sofa she’d bought from the thrift store where she’d worked in Fresno. “You’re a charmer, aren’t you?” she said as he babbled and played. “Just like your daddy. Headstrong, too,” she added, thinking of how willful they could
both
be.

“Mama!” He brought her his collection of cars, one by one.

Despite a long list of worries, Presley couldn’t help smiling when he trundled over without a car just to plant a kiss on her face. His kisses were wet and sloppy but, for her, they were one of life’s true pleasures. She loved Wyatt
so
much—and that was why she had to keep up her defenses where Aaron was concerned, no matter
how
intent he seemed on regaining her friendship.

Her cell phone rang. She tensed, afraid it might be Riley or Aaron with a question, but caller ID indicated it was Cheyenne.

With a yawn, she hit the talk button. “Hello?”

Wyatt tugged at her arm. “Pone, Mama? Pone?”

She smiled at his attempt to say
phone
. He was learning more words all the time. “That’s right, baby. Phone.”

“Presley? Hello?”

She could hear a certain amount of pique in Cheyenne’s voice. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”

“I just stopped by your studio.”

Oh, boy...
When Cheyenne and Dylan had agreed to help her if she moved back, they’d indicated that the quickest way to lose their support would be to get mixed up with the wrong crowd again—and they considered Aaron and his friends “the wrong crowd.”

“I don’t know what he’s doing there, Chey,” she said, preempting her sister’s complaint.

“It looked to me like he was
painting!
”

Stifling a groan, she covered her eyes with one arm. “He came over this morning and offered. It wasn’t as if I
asked
him.”

“You could’ve said no! You told me you’d stay away from him. If he finds out...I don’t have to tell you I have a lot to lose, too.”

Cheyenne
hated
lying to Dylan. And having her and Aaron in such close proximity threatened them both with exposure.

But Presley hadn’t
wanted
things to turn out like this! She’d tried to make the situation easier on everyone by leaving town. She’d planned to stay in Fresno indefinitely and would have done so if not for what was going on at Wyatt’s day care. She’d lodged a complaint, knew the day care was being investigated, but those days of doubt and suspicion had shaken her trust.

“I
tried
.”

“You said that you told him you wouldn’t be spending any time with him.”

“I did!”

“Maybe you weren’t blunt enough.”

The look on Aaron’s face when she squeezed past him at the bookstore convinced her otherwise. “He understood.”

“Then why is he painting your studio?”

She couldn’t figure it out, unless... “I can only guess that finding Riley there made him...competitive.” He wasn’t used to being rejected or upstaged. Most girls couldn’t bring him home to their mothers and expect their mothers to be pleased, but women were inexplicably drawn to the edgy, take-your-chance aura that surrounded him. Aaron dared what most men wouldn’t. That, coupled with his good looks, made him almost irresistible. Although he didn’t seem to take his appeal too seriously, Presley had witnessed the female attention he received and had often been surprised that
she
was the one going home with him at the end of the evening.

“Maybe
he
wants to be the one to reject
me
.” She’d always felt he was more attractive than she was. And his personality? He could charm most people—or cut them with a glance. He wouldn’t like losing the position of strength he’d held with her.

“Isn’t that what happened the night Mom died?” Cheyenne asked.

“More or less,” she mumbled, but he hadn’t actually said or done anything to change the status of their relationship. Had she not been pregnant, and had she stayed in town, they probably would’ve gone on like before—partying and sleeping together, at least until he met someone else. But she hadn’t been satisfied being a placeholder, hadn’t been satisfied with knowing that he was restless and would eventually move on.

Then, in the midst of her quandary about what she should do to protect herself before she got hurt, she’d run out of time to decide. Once she found out she was pregnant, she’d had to choose quickly—have an abortion, as he’d likely prefer, or throw her whole heart into raising their child alone.

She glanced over at Wyatt. He was sitting on the floor, playing with a toy that had pop-up Sesame Street characters. His face lit up when he noticed her watching and he slammed Cookie Monster back into his cubby just to show her that he could.

She’d made the right choice, she decided. Wyatt could take all the love she had to give—and
he
had the ability to love her back.

“So why’s he still interested?” Cheyenne asked. “You’ve always said he doesn’t really care about you. Is it that he suddenly sees you as a challenge and that excites him? Or is he trying to save face? Maybe he wants to prove he can get you back in the sack—or he’s out to show Dylan and me that he’ll do as he damn well pleases.”

“I thought you liked Aaron.”

“I do. I love him to pieces. But you know how contrary he can be.”

“I can’t imagine he’d be willing to work that hard just to get me back in bed. He’s more of a take-me-or-leave-me kind of guy. That was the Aaron I used to know, anyway.”

“So, to be on the safe side, you’re going to reiterate that you’re not interested?”

“Of course.” She had no choice, not with the secret she was guarding.

“I hope you’re more effective than you were when you said he couldn’t paint your studio,” her sister grumbled.

“Riley was there, helping out. I didn’t want to tell Aaron he couldn’t do the same. What reason could I give? Why would it be more acceptable for Riley to help me than Aaron?”

“Riley’s not Wyatt’s father.”

“Exactly my point. That’s something we don’t want him to guess.” She rolled a ball over to Wyatt. “Speaking of Riley, you don’t sound surprised about finding
him
there.”

“I was surprised. At first.”

Presley leaned back. “And then?”

“He told me he wants to take you out, and it made sense.”

“Was
Aaron
there when he said that?”

“He was standing about ten feet away. I actually got the impression Riley was announcing his intentions for Aaron’s sake, to stake his claim or...or put him on notice.”

“You sound pleased.”

“I am. I loved it. After the way he took you for granted, don’t you?”

She supposed it did feel good that someone else might want her, and that Aaron was aware of it. She’d always suffered from low self-esteem. She couldn’t feel good about herself while making the kinds of mistakes she’d made. “How did Aaron react?”

“He dropped his brush,” Cheyenne said with a laugh.

“That’s it? He didn’t say anything?”

“Not a word.”

Of course he wouldn’t. Why had she even asked? Aaron wouldn’t feel threatened. He’d only befriended her in the beginning out of pity. He understood what it was like to be lost and alone; they both did. “I know why he’s helping,” she said, finally figuring it out.

“Why?”

“He feels bad about how he acted the night Mom died. This is his way of apologizing.”

“You think so?”

“That’s my guess. He can be sweet. Sometimes.” He could also be tender, especially in the wee hours of the night after making love, which was why sex with him was more fulfilling than with most men. Just thinking about the deep-down satisfaction he could provide made her feel bereft without him.

Don’t focus on that. He’s like smoke. There’s no way to grab hold of him for more than a few minutes, no way to keep him close....

“How can you let him off the hook so he’ll go on about his business?”

“By accepting his apology and assuring him that I have no hard feelings.”

“Fabulous. Do it right away.”

Wyatt was getting sleepy. Presley could see him rubbing his eyes. Thank goodness. She needed a nap herself. “If you’ll watch Wyatt later this afternoon, I’ll go over to the studio, thank Aaron for his help and tell him I don’t hold anything against him. That should do the trick.”

“What if Riley’s still there?”

“I’ll walk Aaron out.”

“Perfect. Of course I’ll babysit.” Her sister didn’t ask why she didn’t want to take her son along; she understood that Presley was afraid for Wyatt to be around Aaron. She’d seen Aaron’s baby pictures. They both thought Wyatt resembled him at that age. “How much will you have to pay him for painting?”

“Nothing.”

“And Riley?”

“He’s not charging me, either.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. Can you believe it? They’re working for free.”

“Well, not
free,
” Cheyenne said. “Riley wants to date you. Which makes me wonder about Aaron. Is it truly forgiveness he’s after? Or something that involves less clothes and more skin?”

Presley didn’t answer that question. She couldn’t even consider it without having her thoughts go places that weakened her resolve. “When will he be leaving town?”

“The date still isn’t set.”

Too bad. It would be so much simpler if she could mark her calendar, give herself a goal. She was about to say so when Cheyenne changed the subject.

“You know when...when you got pregnant with Wyatt?”

Her son squealed as he found the lever that revealed Big Bird. “What?” Presley said, returning her attention to their conversation.

“The night you got pregnant.”

“What night would that be? Aaron and I always used birth control. So I have no idea exactly when I conceived.”

“Whatever night it was...somehow it happened even though you were using a condom?”

Where was she going with
this?
“Yes. Condoms aren’t a hundred percent effective, Chey. That can’t come as a shock to you. You’re not suggesting I
tried
to get pregnant—”

“Of course not!”

Presley had always been afraid she might be accused of trying to trap him, since everyone knew she cared more for Aaron than he did for her. But she’d kept Wyatt’s connection to Aaron a secret, so that argument was irrelevant. Still, she didn’t want anyone thinking she’d tried to use him to give her a child, either. “Then what are we talking about?”

“Aaron’s obviously capable of fathering children.”

“Why would anyone assume otherwise?”

“They wouldn’t, but you got pregnant, despite trying not to. That suggests he has...you know, strong, competent swimmers.”

“You’re evaluating the potency of his
sperm?
”

Presley regretted her shocked tone when Cheyenne immediately backpedaled. “No, never mind. Forget it.”

She sat up. “Why would you have any interest in Aaron’s sperm?”

“Because he has the same genes as Dylan!” her sister replied, exasperated. “Why else?”

“The rest of the Amos brothers would have those genes, too.”

“But Aaron would be the most likely to cooperate with something a little...unorthodox—and the least likely to tell Dylan.”

Unorthodox?
Presley wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. Switching the phone to her other ear, she stood and began to pace. “You’re considering artificial insemination.”

“Maybe.”

“With
Aaron
as the donor?”

There was a brief silence. Then her sister said, “I’m getting desperate, Pres. What we’re going through is affecting our marriage. I
hate
seeing my husband feel so bad about himself.”

“How do you know Dylan’s sterile? It could be you, couldn’t it?”

This pause lasted longer.

“Chey?”

“No,” she replied. “It’s not me. I’ve been checked.”

Presley sucked in her breath. As often as they talked—and she thought they shared
everything
—Cheyenne hadn’t mentioned going to the doctor. “Did Dylan go with you?” She couldn’t help wondering how he’d taken the news.

“No. I haven’t told him about it. I don’t think I ever will.”

So she’d made the appointment and driven to Sacramento on her own. Why hadn’t she asked Presley to go with her? Cheyenne had always been too damn private about whatever struggles she faced. She opened up only if she had no choice, which told Presley how concerned she was about this issue. “When did you see the doctor?”