Stay With Me (35 page)

He just grinned and beckoned me forward. “We’ve almost reached the summit.”

“I’m lame, dammit. Don’t you have any sympathy at all?” I pointed to my bad leg, which actually felt limber from all the exercise and stretching.

He snickered. “Trotting out the old leg injury, Mac? Sad. Come on, the trip down will be cake.”

My cooperation had reached its eventual limit. I had forgiven him the canoeing. The hiking. The kayaking and all manner of other activities that couch potatoes shouldn’t attempt. But the biking up Mount Fuji was just
wrong
. All right, it wasn’t Mount Fuji, but it was tall enough, dammit. Day four, and I was starting to wonder which of us needed Nick’s wheelchair… or whatever that contraption was he was currently riding in. It looked like some sort of dune buggy for one person, and he used his strong arms to muscle up the trail with ease.

“There had better
be
cake waiting at the bottom,” I muttered, cranking the pedals that seemed mired in mud.

I complained, but I had to admit—I was having a good time. Vermont seemed as far away from Florida as Mars at this moment. We had pedaled through quiet roads and farmland, and a sleepy village with a tiny church. I’d seen more apple orchards and hayfields than I could count and snagged more maple candy than I cared to admit. I would admit, however, that I was a little in love with Vermont.

“Wow.”

I coasted to a stop at the top of the pass. (Okay, okay, it wasn’t a mountain at all. But it was steep. Sheesh.) River valleys surrounded by hills, flanked by abundant maple trees, stretched as far as the eye could see—a gorgeous clash of green, red, and orange, vibrant as only nature could provide.

“This is fairly incredible,” I said.

“Isn’t it?” He beckoned me closer. “Sit next to me. I want to watch the sun go down.”

For sharing this with me, he could have whatever he wanted. I laid my bike down off the trail and sat in the soft grass next to him.

“I gotta admit, this is better than my plan for today.”

“Which was?”

“Sleep. Followed by more sleep.”

I looked his way as he laughed, and his laugh made me smile. Backlit by the sun, Nick’s eyes appeared more golden than light brown, and we didn’t look away.

“You look good,” he said.

I ducked my head. “Thanks.”

“Tan,” he continued. “Been surfing again?”

“What else is there?”

“Such a fucking Florida stereotype.”

I slugged him. “Look at those lily-white knees,” I said. “You could use a little sun. Or daylight at the very least.”

He grinned. “Keep it up. I make muffins for tomorrow’s breakfast—yours can be bran or it can be blueberry like everyone else’s.”

“With crumble?” I asked hopefully.

“How else is there?”

I ruffled his hair. “You look happy.”

“I am happy,” he said softly.

“I’m glad to hear it.” I was. Learning that Nick had lost the ability to walk was one of the lowest points of my life. God only knew what it had done to him. “I’m glad you found everything you were looking for.”

“Looks like you found something you needed too.”

I winced. “I thought I did.”

He shook his head. “Same old Mac. Don’t give up on him just yet.” He knocked shoulders with me in a way that was so familiar, I almost went weak at the knees. “Look how much time we’ve missed. I don’t want that for the two of you.”

I looked at him thoughtfully, head cocked like Finnegan’s. Truth was, baby or no baby, I didn’t want that either.

We held hands as the sun finally disappeared, and as we made our way back downhill, I was full with the surprise and joy that closure was a very real thing.

P
EYTON
WAS
pacing the porch as we rounded the gravel drive, and Nick waved. “Aw, my honey was worried.”

He did look worried as he hustled down the steps to meet us and gave Nick an absent kiss. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Nick and I exchanged looks and shrugs before I went off to turn in my bike to the sour-faced activities manager, Darren, in the back barn. Darren circled the bike like it was made of solid gold, and I whistled tunelessly, hoping he didn’t notice the nicks I’d put in the metallic blue exterior.

“It looks damaged.”

I shrugged. “I got it like that.”

“My equipment is pristine,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t know what to tell ya.” I migrated over to the glass-covered sugar cookie tray on his desk. “Are these maple?”

He scowled, and I took that to mean “Yes, take three.”

“I’m going to need a voucher for a bike tomorrow.”

“Very well.” He ended the Vermont Inquisition and rounded the desk. “Are you going on the Ben & Jerry’s factory tour?”

I stopped and stared. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Ben & Jerry’s? The ice cream factory?” He went back to writing my voucher, and I slapped a hand over the paper.

“Hold on a damn minute. You’re telling me there’s a Ben & Jerry’s factory to visit, and this fool has had me reenacting the damn Tour de France?”

The sour man grinned. I didn’t know he had it in him. He held up the voucher. “Are you still going to need this bike?”

“Not at all, Darren,” I proclaimed, snagging another sugar cookie. “I suddenly have other plans for tomorrow.”

I made my way from the barn to the main house, which certainly took longer without my trusty bicycle. I soothed my nerves from walking about in the semidarkness by eating sugar cookies and licking the crumbs off my fingers. It had been fun traipsing around the countryside with Nick, but now it was time for some Mackenzie-approved fun. The kind that involved one of those fluffy Sugar Valley Inn robes, some hot chocolate in a mug, and a hefty dose of liquor of some kind.

As I approached the main house, I heard Peyton say, “I thought you said they broke up.”

I popped up on the porch in time to make them both jump. “Who broke up? And whose van is that?”

Nick smiled weakly. “Airport van.”

“Are you expecting….” My voice trailed off as a figure emerged from the van.

I had to blink a few times before I convinced myself that, yes, it was Jordan emerging from the van. I had plenty of time to think of something to say, recover the ability to speak. From the time he heaved a heavy bag onto his shoulder, spoke briefly to the driver, and walked up the drive to the porch, I should have been able to come up with something. Anything. But I couldn’t think of a single thing to say as Jordan stood before me. He didn’t look pleased as he stomped his boots, pink-cheeked from the cold.

His black trench and gloves should have looked out of place next to our rugged wear, but he wore it so comfortably, it looked natural. I did my best not to sniff him, but my nostrils did flare a bit. He always smelled so good. I wanted to fling myself at him, go rolling down the porch steps. But when my eyes made it up to his face, his jaw was hard. Eyes flinty. He looked pissed.

Lucy, you got some splainin’ to do.

I sighed. “Hey.”

“Hey?” It didn’t sound like a greeting. Which he immediately confirmed by raising an eyebrow. “That’s all you have to say to me?”

“You must be Jordan,” Nick said hastily. He held out a hand, which Jordan shook automatically.

“I’m surprised he even told you my name,” Jordan said, his gaze sliding to mine. “But thank you for your hospitality.”

Nick’s smile was a little too bright, and I could tell, from years of knowing him all too well, that he found my dressing-down hilarious. “Let’s get inside, you guys. It’s too cold out here.”

Peyton fled inside, as if all the tension was just too much for the mountain man. Jordan followed, leaving Nick and I to bring up the rear.

“You failed to mention he looks like a GQ wet dream,” Nick whispered, elbowing me. “You always were a forgetful little thing.”

“Shut up,” I hissed. I had a hard enough time not focusing on his looks as it was.

By the time we reached the coat area, Jordan was squatting down by Finn to scratch his ears.

“What is he doing here? Did Trevor change his mind?”

I paused in my methodical removal of my coat and other outerwear. “I, err, sort of broke into his house. Stole him.”

“What?”

“Whoa,” Nick said at the same time.

“He
is
my dog,” I said defensively.

“I wondered where you had gone,” Jordan said. “I stopped by your apartment. Your truck wasn’t there. Please tell me you didn’t drive that thing up here.”

“I sold my truck.”
Sold it, pawned it off on a young, desperate teenager, what’s the difference?
“I bought a new car.”

He stared at me, and I flushed. Yeah, when I finally decided to make a move, I was kind of like an avalanche that way.

“Jordan, you guys have about an hour to get settled in if you want hot chow,” Nick said. “We’re about to fix dinner for everyone.”

I don’t know who this “we” business referred to. If he was speaking of the Ghost of Peyton Present, he’d fled the room and all its tension long ago. Peyton was probably hugging a moose and cursing city people as we spoke.

“I assume Mackenzie can show me to the room.” Jordan finished hanging his gray-checked Burberry scarf and looked at me expectantly. “That is, unless he’d prefer me to bed down in the barn.”

I tamped down the embers of my own temper. He wasn’t exactly innocent here. He hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to convince me we were a sure thing. Besides, he
wished
he could bed down in the barn. After a week of being apart and, thusly, self-imposed celibacy, we were going to have sex. Well, first we were going to argue, and
then
we were going to have sex—I really didn’t care if it was angry sex or not.

“Follow me,” I gritted out, brushing past him hard enough to make him move a step.

I made extra noise on the staircase to vent my frustration, and I could hear Jordan on my heels.

“Real mature,” he said, (of course not out of breath) as I huffed up the stairs.

“Can it,” I snapped. Yeah, it was going to be angry sex.

When we reached the top of the stairs, I unlocked the door and blew right in, slamming the door. Which of course he reopened a second later and slammed behind
him
.

“Nice,” he said. “Real nice. Let me guess, you’re not ready to be an adult?”

We seemed to be of the same mind as he yanked his shirt out of his jeans and over his head. I was made briefly stupid by the sight of his bare chest, but his fingers on his belt buckle made me hurry and speak. If I didn’t get it out now, I wouldn’t be able to. God, there was something about the authoritative way he took off that belt buckle, eyes locked on mine. Something that said we were about to
fuck
.

“Someone’s fairly horny,” I said. My voice sounded thick. Funny.

“Of course I’m horny,” he said, grabbing me by the belt loops and pulling me against him. He rubbed his cock into mine, and I felt the haze of lust lick at my consciousness. “We haven’t had sex in a week,” he muttered against my mouth.

“Well, whose fault was that?”

“Yours!” he said, frustrated, working to pull up my shirt.

I felt like I had cotton in my head, and I pushed him back a few steps, tangled in my shirt. Blinked to clear the sexual haze as I pulled it back down. Tried to remember what virus had cracked my mind’s software to make me leave all this behind in Florida.
Ah. Yes.

“You said
see ya
,” I growled in his direction. I tried to point, but my hand was shaking a bit. No matter. He knew what the hell I meant. “I was upset and frustrated, and all you could offer me was a flip ‘see ya’?”

He bit his lip. Gave me a miserable look. “I wanted to hurt you. Hurt you as badly as you were hurting me.”

“You succeeded.”

He ran his hand through his hair and then down over his face, exhaling strongly. “So let’s talk about it. Like two adults. Minus the hurting one another.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

His eyes almost approached wolflike intensity. “By giving up on me? Us? Goddamn it, can you give me ten fucking seconds to get used to the idea that everything has changed? You know, without leaving the state?”

I looked down at my hands. We’d already established that was a fault of mine. When something went wrong in a relationship, I reacted. I reacted badly. We should have had this conversation that day, back in his kitchen. Maybe we could have if I hadn’t acted like a big ole Moe and taken off. I sighed. Might as well put all my cards on the table.
If
we got past this—and that was a big if—I didn’t want to go over it ever again.

“You were back a day early,” I said evenly. “And you didn’t tell me.”

“More PI business?” His tone was laced with a trace of bitterness. “Do you pay yourself a retainer, or is that just pro bono?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t know that you were, but now that I do….” I lifted my shoulders helplessly. “I have to know.”

“I had the taxi take me straight from the airport to your office, I was so excited to see you. I was waiting in your office—you can ask your secretary. Thin? Kind of a habitual frowner? She brought me coffee. And then Rachel called. She was crying, said she had to talk to me. I knew she and I had some important things to talk about, and I didn’t know how long it would take. It wouldn’t be fair to her to drop her like a hot potato because I wanted to be with you. It could wait a day. I didn’t think you’d understand.”

I ignored the feelings fighting for superiority in my chest. Relief blooming because I knew he told the truth. Happiness because he was as excited to see me as I’d been to see him. Delight that he’d come straight from the airport just to be with me. And as always, the surety that none of those feelings could last.

“I thought you were having second thoughts. That you weren’t sure of me. Us.”

He sighed. “How can you be sure of how anything is going to turn out? I can only promise that I want to be with you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole life.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “And I was the kid that asked Santa for a Huffy bike ten times.”