Romancing My Love (Love in Bloom: The Bradens) Contemporary Romance (20 page)

REBECCA DRAGGED HERSELF out of bed Sunday morning with puffy bags under her eyes from crying most of the night and an ache in the center of her chest that felt like it had taken up residence. Exercising was the last thing she wanted to do, but she’d been here before—too overwrought to move. She knew that she could go down with the ship or right its course, and if she could make it through losing her mother, she could make it through pulling her head out of her ass and getting around her stubborn force field against feeling pitied.
Pitied
. She couldn’t escape the feeling of a demon much bigger than pity gnawing at her insides and clawing to get out—and buried too deep for her to grasp and figure out.

She forced herself to get out of bed, and she went into the kitchen and made coffee. While it brewed, she sat at the table and rested her head on her arms, struggling to try and understand what she was really feeling.

“I thought I heard you come in last night.” Henry poured two mugs of coffee and placed one in front of Rebecca. “It’s only five thirty. What are you doing up?”

“Going to the gym if I can convince my body to move.”

“Mm. Bad night?” Henry sipped his coffee. His hair was disheveled, and he was wearing a blue robe with a white T-shirt and a pair of blue plaid pajama pants beneath.

“Not really a bad night. I think I just have a bad head.” She sipped her coffee and grimaced at the pungent taste. 

Henry set his mug down on the table. “Nah, you have a fine head. Want to talk about it?”

“No thanks, Henry. My head really isn’t fine right now.”

“Getting it out of your head might help.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Just offering.”

Rebecca sighed.

“It’s okay, but I’m here if you want to talk.”

Henry retrieved the newspaper from the porch and came back into the kitchen. He must have picked up his reading glasses from the living room, because the thin wire frames were now perched on his nose as he sat down and opened the newspaper to the Classifieds section.

“Are you going to call Chiara?” Rebecca asked.

“Already have. I left her a message right after Pierce gave me her number. She called back yesterday.” He lowered the newspaper. “I couldn’t believe it. On a Saturday. I guess when she heard I was referred by Pierce Braden, it put a jump in her step.”

“Maybe.”
His name puts a jump in my heart
.

“I have an interview with her tomorrow. She said they don’t have anything now, but they’re working on an acquisition, and if it comes through and my references pan out, yada yada.” He rolled his eyes. “Then they’ll need to hire in the accounting department. So I’m going in to get the ball rolling.”

“That’s great, Henry. I hope that comes through for you.” She checked the time. “I better get to the gym.”

Henry reached for her hand as she passed his chair on her way to the sink with her mug. “Rebecca, you have a good head on your shoulders. It’s when your heart and head begin to war that you have to worry.”

She smiled, but it was a halfhearted smile at best. “My heart and head want the same things. I think the problem is that my head is stuck in survival mode, and my heart is ready to kick into first gear.”

He squeezed her hand before releasing it. “Sweetheart, healing takes time. You should honor your head and your heart so they don’t both rebel.”

Rebecca washed her mug, trying to figure out what that meant—or how she could even do such a thing.

She grabbed her gym bag and her clothes for her workday and then headed out to her car. It was barely six o’clock and she felt like she’d slept two hours. She zipped her hoodie, rounded her shoulders against the chilly morning air, and tugged the door shut behind her. She lifted her eyes and her breath caught in her throat. Her legs refused to move.

Pierce
.  

Dressed in a dark suit and tie and wearing a smile that lifted the corners of his eyes, he stole what little breath she had left in her lungs. He came to her side and took her gym bag and clothes.

“I’m not here to pressure you.” He settled a hand on the curve of her back and kissed her softly on the lips.

“Why…? Why are you here?” With the help of his hand urging her forward, she remembered how to walk.

“Because I love you.” He hung her clothing on the hook in the back of her car, set her gym bag on the seat, and then opened the car door for her.

“You drove all this way to open my car door?”
God, I love that
.

“No. I drove all this way to see you
and
open your car door.” He motioned her toward the car. “Go ahead and get in. I don’t want to mess up your morning schedule.”

“How did you know what time I’d be leaving?”

“I didn’t. I’ve been here for a while.”

Oh God. Oh God
.

Rebecca settled into the driver’s seat, and he leaned in and kissed her again. He smelled so good. She couldn’t help but wrap her arms around him and keep him close.

“I missed you last night,” she said against his lips.

“I missed you, too.” He crouched beside her and placed his hand on her thigh. “What time do you get off work?”

“Three.” The fact that he wasn’t even mentioning how her
thinking
was going made her love him even more.

“My flight leaves at five.” He furrowed his brow; then he shook whatever he was thinking away and kissed her again.

He rose to his feet, and Rebecca grabbed his hand.

“Pierce—” The desperation in her voice startled her. She reminded herself he wasn’t leaving her by going to LA. He was doing what he needed to do for work.
I’m the one who walked away
.

He flashed his easy smile that made her insides go soft—and she searched his eyes.
Love. And a hint of…Stop. Just stop it.

“Thank you. I’m going to miss you so much while you’re gone.”
And hopefully figure out my shit so we can move forward
.

“I already miss you.”

AT THREE O’CLOCK Pierce waited at the entrance to the restaurant for Rebecca. She’d looked exhausted this morning. He’d wanted so badly to ask her what was going on in that sharp mind of hers, but he’d promised himself he wouldn’t go there. He’d intended to greet her after she went to the gym, too, but she’d been so gracious about him just showing up at her house that he worried she’d think he didn’t trust her if he showed up at the gym, as well. He was trying his best to understand all the things that made Rebecca comfortable, and walking that thin line took all of his focus—because his nature was to show up at the gym, wait for her until after she got out, then show up at work and open her door again.

Overkill
.

It had been part of who he was for so many years that it took a cognitive effort to restrain those urges. He knew that being too aggressive would push Rebecca away. But Pierce wasn’t successful for nothing. Finesse was another one of his skills, and he intended to use it. Rebecca had said that she saw something in his eyes, and he’d just have to keep showing her that what she saw was not pity, but the love he felt for her. He hoped if she saw it enough, she’d recognize it for what it was.

He spotted her as she crossed the restaurant. She smiled as she passed the other waitstaff, but Pierce saw right through the smile to the pain that lay beneath, mixed and muddled with fatigue. Rebecca was nearly on top of him before she saw him.

“Pierce.” The smile that spread across her lips this time was as real as the thundering of his heart.

“Hi, babe.” He leaned in and kissed her.

“I didn’t expect to see you. I thought you had to catch your flight this afternoon.”

He draped an arm over her shoulder as they walked out of the building. “I do. I delayed it. I wanted to see you one last time before I went.”

“Pierce, you can’t rearrange your schedule for me.”

“I already did. Besides, you can tell me what I can and can’t do when it comes to helping you out in certain ways, but you can’t control everything I do where you’re concerned.”

“Control? Is that what you think I’m trying to do?” She said it with a smile, but he heard a thread of irritation in her voice and felt her tense beneath his arm.

“What would you call it?”

“Doing for myself the things I should. Standing my ground. Keeping hold of a shred of my pride. This is who I am, Pierce. It’s who I was before I met you. My mom and I had no one to help us, and damn it, I held us together, and I did it with pride.”

Her voice was full of determination, but damn if he didn’t hear sadness lacing her words. He knew that saying so would only piss her off.

“I’m not trying to take away from who you are and all that you’ve done, Bec. You’re amazing, and you’re more than capable of whatever you set out to do. I know that about you and I’m not trying to demean it in any way.”

She was silent as they walked through the rotating doors of the resort. It reminded him of their first date, which brought his mind back to Rebecca sleeping in her car and pulled at his heartstrings.

“Good, because you can’t.” Her tone softened a little. “No one can.”

“Okay, fair enough.” He kissed her temple. “You’re a smart woman, and I know that you realize that everything you said, no matter what you call it, is all about remaining in control.”

“It is not.”

He let her stew with that thought while they walked through the parking garage to her car on the fourth floor. He kept his arm around her shoulder as they went in and out of the elevator, and she had yet to relax beneath his touch.

When they reached her car, she turned to face him. Her eyes were no longer sad or angry. They were confused.

“Control?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Why are you taking time to think, Rebecca?” So much for giving her the space she needed. He really did suck at giving up control as much as she did—they were quite a pair.

“Because I need it.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, as if she were assessing her own thoughts.

He closed the gap between them and spoke softly. “Think about it, babe. You’re used to doing everything. Controlling every aspect of your life, making sure you are doing the things you need to so you don’t end up someplace you don’t want to be. And you’re good at it.”

“You do the same thing.”

It was an accusation, and probably true. “Yes, but I admit I’m a control freak, and I’ve given up a lot of control to you. All I’m saying is that you didn’t get to tell me about staying in your car on your terms. Andy spilled the beans, and that left you feeling out of control.”

“But Andy didn’t make you look at me like you pity me.” She held his gaze with a serious stare.

“No, he didn’t, and I don’t look at you like I pity you, because I don’t pity you. Honestly, Bec, I think you’re skewing your perception to fit your need to control things.” He didn’t even realize he felt that way until that second. The pieces were falling into place—at least for him. He’d relinquished control of so many aspects of his life for Rebecca. He’d set aside the desire to do things for her, with her. Things he hadn’t wanted to do for any other woman—take her to Tahoe for the weekend. Hell, take her to Paris, for that matter. Take her shopping and lavish her with gifts she’d find over the top and he’d think weren’t enough to show how much she meant to him. But he didn’t mind giving up those things. They were just that,
things
. He realized that those visible effects of his love weren’t what mattered. What mattered was that when she looked into his eyes, she saw into his heart and felt the love he had for her. And now the one thing that meant the most was being blurred—and he wondered if it was driven by another fear he had yet to understand. She’d relinquished control of smaller things—letting him open doors—and big things, like talking about her most intimate feelings, revealing the things she’d gone through when caring for her mother. Now it was all coming to a head, as if revealing that she’d slept in the car had pushed her over the edge, and she was scrambling to regain the control she lost. Or, what had him even more worried was what if he was wrong, and it wasn’t as much about control itself? What if she needed to regain control so she didn’t lose her footing and accidentally reveal something even more intimate?

Something so frightening she had to see
him
as the bad guy.

“CONTROL THINGS? IS that what you think I’m doing?” She reacted viciously to his suggestion. “This isn’t about control.” She rooted around in her purse for her keys and turned away from Pierce.
Control. My ass it’s about control
. She waited for him to touch her shoulders, or her hips, the way he always did when she was upset.

He didn’t.

“Then tell me what it is, please. Because I don’t pity you. Jesus, Bec, how could I? You’re the smartest, most determined woman I know. There’s nothing pitiable about you. Hell, Rebecca, there’s nothing you can’t do.”

“I don’t know, okay?”
Don’t cry. Oh God, don’t cry. Please don’t cry
. She found her key and unlocked the door to her car.

She sensed him move in closer. His chest pressed against her back, his scent engulfed her, and his cheek—oh God, that clean-shaven cheek she loved to touch—pressed against hers.

“Then let’s figure it out together,” he whispered.

I can’t. I’m afraid.
“H-how? You’re leaving, remember?”

“I’ll stay.”

She closed her eyes against the welling tears. She knew he meant it. He would stay, and she wanted him to stay more than she wanted anything else in the world, but then she’d throw his staying into the pity bin—because she was that fucked up at the moment.

“You can’t. You’ve got the Grand acquisition to solidify.”

He turned her around gently. “Rebecca.”

If love had a sound, it was in the way he’d said her name, and dear Lord, she heard it loud and clear.

He ran a hand down her cheek and traced the line of her jaw with his finger. “You are more important than any business deal. You’ve opened something inside of me that I didn’t even know existed. And last night I felt like I’d been cut open, and the very thing that made me feel whole for the first time in my life was gone.”