Turning his attention back to me, he shakes his head emphatically as he stays as far away from the bed as possible and still be in the room. “The answer is not just no, but hell no,” he grates through clenched teeth. “My interest in you has nothing to do with the money, and when I left that ticket on the table, it became one hundred percent yours. I’m not taking your money. My problems are my problems, not yours, and it will not loom over and ruin this relationship. You will never bring this ridiculousness up again. Do you understand me?”
My jaw drops open with utter shock at the way he’s speaking to me. Like I’m a fucking child. Clambering out of the bed, I race over to my own clothes on the floor and hurriedly put them back on, the heat from his stare searing me as I fumble around with my shirt. Once I’m finally dressed, I spin around to shoot him the bitchiest, dirtiest look I can muster, irritated that my traitorous body clenches with want at the mere sight of him.
“Understood loud and clear,” I snap, nostrils flaring. “Sorry if I thought an extra fifty-five million could help out with whatever you’re dealing with, and perhaps keep you from having to sell your land to that jackass from tonight, but apparently, I’m just stupid and ridiculous. And don’t worry, the money won’t be looming over anything, because there’s no relationship for it to ruin.”
With one last huff and pissed-off glare, I stomp off toward the door and fling it open, stopping right before I escape this dream-turned-nightmare.
“Fiona was wrong, you’re no Prince Charming. You’re just another arrogant asshole who couldn’t see a happily-ever-after even if the book smacked you upside the head.”
Teague
I SHOULD GO after her. I know I should. There’s a voice in my head screaming to do just that, but pride cements my feet to the floor until I hear the echo of her slamming the door to the guest room downstairs.
Slowly staggering over to my bed, I collapse on the mattress, a combination of Finley’s sweet citrusy scent and the smell of sex clinging to the pillow and blankets. Somehow it’s both stifling and stimulating. Bittersweet for the amazingness that took place and the fact I’m now here alone.
I’m still not sure how everything spiraled down so quickly, but I know it’s my fault, and I wish I could kick my own ass for upsetting her. Lying awake and staring at the ceiling until the wee hours of the morning, I rehearse my apology to Finley in my head over and over, convincing myself it’s probably best to give her the rest of the night to cool off. Tomorrow before breakfast, I’ll make everything right again. Eventually, I pass out from exhaustion, my head pounding and my hands throbbing.
When the first rays of the morning sun filter into my room, I jolt awake and sit upright, eager to get to her and tell her I’m sorry for being a jerk. Rushing into the connected bathroom, I jump in the tub for a fast shower, which is more difficult than I imagined with my busted-up knuckles, then brush my teeth and throw some clean clothes on, forgoing shaving or fixing my hair. I don’t give a shit what I look like, but I didn’t want to scare her off with some foul B.O. or funky morning breath before I could deliver my heartfelt apology.
I open my door and listen for voices downstairs, but when I hear nothing, I assume everyone’s still asleep. Quietly making my way down to the first floor, I head to the kitchen to get the coffee going and nearly jump out of my skin when I turn the corner and see Grandpa sitting at the kitchen table, arms crossed over his chest, a deep scowl etched in his forehead.
“Crap!” I exclaim. “You scared the bejeezus out of me. I didn’t think anyone else was up yet.”
He eyes me warily, then shakes his head and mumbles something under his breath.
“What’s wrong, Gramps? You feeling okay? Do I need to check your blood sugar?” I ask, concerned.
“My blood sugar is fine,” he grunts with aggravation, “but what you should be worried about is why the girls packed up their car and took off before the crack of dawn, leaving behind only this note.”
I peer down at the piece of paper in front of him and read the words “Thank you so much for having us. Best of luck to you guys and the farm. -The Farewell Girls.”
Panic swells in my chest as I raise my gaze to meet his, denial setting in immediately. “Is this one of your silly pranks? Cause if so, it’s not very funny,” I snap at him as I march out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bedroom they’re staying in.
Swinging the door open, I hiss in a sharp breath and mutter a string of expletives as a bucket of ice cold water dumps onto my head, drenching me down to my toes. And when I discover he’s right — they’re not here, the bed is made, and the room looks exactly like it did before they arrived — I boil with anger despite the freezing water dripping from me.
“Now, that was one of my pranks,” Grandpa announces as he saunters up behind me. “And let it serve to you as a reminder to cool your ass down when you find her and apologize for whatever the hell you did. I would’ve thought you beating the tar out of Billy last night was enough to scare her off, but from the sounds of what was going on upstairs afterward, I’m guessing that wasn’t it.”
Normally, I’d be a bit embarrassed about him having overheard us last night, but right now, that’s the last thing on my mind. I can’t believe she just left without even giving me a chance to apologize or make up for my idiotic behavior.
I briskly scrub my battered hands over my face while pacing the wood floors, on the precipice of freaking the hell out. “Yeah, I said some stupid things. Let my ego get in the way of something nice she was trying to do, and I acted like a jackass,” I admit.
“Well, what are you planning to do about it?” he demands in a voice I haven’t heard him use with me since I was a kid.
Searching his face for the answers, I shrug my shoulders and sigh with defeat. “I don’t know. I guess I wait until she gets back to San Francisco, then try to contact her and hope she’ll hear me out.”
“Teague,” Grandpa shakes his head and pats my arm soothingly, “I’ve always told you that pride is the furthest distance between two people, and based on the racket I heard down here an hour or so ago, I reckon that distance for you right now is about sixty or seventy miles due west, and growing with each passing minute. If you really want her, I’d suggest you get your butt in gear and go get her.”
“Shit! Yes! Okay!” I shout, my mind shifting from panic to frantic.
After a quick hug of appreciation, I dart back upstairs to dry off and change, grab all my stuff, then barrel out the front door and into my truck. I’ve got to get to her before she gets too far. I’m not sure she’ll accept my apology, but I’m not letting her walk away without a fight. Not after I finally found my happy place with her.
Hauling ass down the highway toward Waterloo, I hope this is the route they’re taking home, though I’ll drive every highway from here to the West Coast until I find her. My thoughts race faster than the speedometer, playing out all the different possible scenarios for when I do finally catch up with her. Dear God, please let her forgive me. I don’t want this to end before it ever got a chance to get started.
A little less than two hours after I peeled out of Grandpa’s driveway, relief floods through me when I spot Farrah’s convertible red Camaro parked outside a small ma-and-pop-style diner in Webster City. Not giving two shits if there’s a cop around or if I get a ticket, I bust an illegal U-turn right in the middle of the road then pull into the lot, nearly jumping out of the truck before the damn thing is in park.
Dashing up to the entrance of the restaurant, I throw open the door and the bells tied to it chime and clang loudly against the glass, announcing my arrival to everyone in the place. At least fifteen sets of inquisitive eyes swing over to where I stand, but there’s only one pair of baby blues I’m searching for. And I’ve found her.
Not gonna let you run away, Cinderella. Midnight never strikes in this story.
Finley
“YOU KNOW YOU’RE gonna have to talk about it at some point, right?” Farrah says as s
he covers her scrambled eggs in Tobasco sauce, then mixes her hash browns in with it.
I stare at her mess of a plate and shake my head, both at the disgusting food concoction and as an answer to her question. “There’s nothing else to say. I did what I set out to do, he didn’t want any of the money, so now we go home and get on with our lives. It’s time to buy a house and get settled again. I’m tired of sleeping in hotels, tents, and other people’s houses, and Fiona needs to be in school with kids her age,” I reply, shifting my attention back to my own food which I have absolutely no appetite for.
My stomach has been tied in knots since I ran out of Teague’s room last night in a tizzy, and I didn’t want to stop for breakfast in this podunk town, but I was tired of listening to Farrah complain about how her stomach was eating itself.
“Kids my age are nothing but snotty-nosed, whiny, immature brats. I have nothing to gain by hanging out with them,” my niece guffaws as she takes a bite of her chocolate chip waffle covered in whip cream and strawberries. Just the sight of that damn fruit pisses me off.
“Well, whatever,” I concede, too mentally depleted to put up an argument. “We’ll get you a private tutor or something. Either way, you still need to do your studies. Just because you’ve got money, doesn’t give you a pass for being ignorant. Schooling is important.”
She knows not to press me right now with my craptastic mood, so she simply smiles and nods, smart enough not to poke the bear. “Okay, Aunt Finley. That sounds brill.”
I set my fork down and close my eyes, leaning my head back on the vinyl booth seat. The last couple of days have been a roller coaster of emotions, and I’m not sure what I’m thinking or feeling anymore. Teague’s blatant rudeness and stubbornness last night probably wouldn’t have elicited the same dramatic reaction from me if I hadn’t felt so vulnerable and exposed right after what was hands down the best, most intimate, sexual encounter of my life. For him to insinuate that I was treating him like a charity case, or that I thought he was only using me to get to the money, was absurd, and the arrogant attitude with him talking down to me like I didn’t understand pushed me over the edge.
Did I overreact by packing up and leaving this morning? Probably. Okay, okay, definitely. But I didn’t want to do the whole morning-after awkwardness with everyone wondering what was going on and why we were avoiding each other. It was just best for us to leave and get on our way home. Teague and his grandpa were nice enough to welcome us in their home with open arms; there was no point in overextending our stay.
As badly as I want to pick up my phone and call him right now, hoping he cares enough to be distraught over my sudden departure and wants me to come back, I can’t… I won’t set myself up for that kind of disappointment.
“I still think we should’ve waited to say goodbye to them. I bet they were worried when they woke up and saw we were gone. And the note was kinda short. Maybe we should’ve left our phone numbers. I bet Grandpa would’ve liked to keep in touch with us. He’s such a nice man, except when Nurse Nancy tells him no,” Farrah prattles on, clearly not comprehending that I don’t want to have this conversation. Not now. Not ever.
“That’s enough, Farrah,” I growl, my lids fluttering open as I shoot daggers at her across the linoleum table. “The discussion is closed. Now, eat up and go to the bathroom. I want to get back on the road as soon as possible. If we drive straight through, just stopping tonight to sleep for about six or seven hours, we can make it home late tomorrow.”
My sister stops chewing mid-bite and returns my displeased glower. “We’re stopping in Cheyenne tonight to stay with Doc. I’ve already texted him, and he’s expecting us.”
I scoff. “What?! Don’t you think you should’ve run that by me before you made that decision? We got an early start today, so we should be able to make it past there before needing to stop.” I glance down at the time on my phone. “It’s only eight-thirty. We’ll be in Cheyenne by early evening, with at least another couple of hours of daylight to keep driving.”
“Since when did you become the boss of all of us?” she hisses, slapping her palms hard on the table top, causing all of the plates and silverware to shake. “This entire damn trip it’s been all about what Finley wants and where Finley wants to stay and what Finley thinks is best, and I’m tired of it. I understand the point of this expedition was for Fiona to take you to your stupid Mr. Sexy Eyes, and we did just that. But because you won’t tell us what in the hell happened back there or why you’re suddenly running away from the guy you wanted nothing more than to find, I’m done letting you be in charge and making all the decisions. I know I’m not always the sharpest tool in the shack, but I’m a grown woman — a single mother at that — who’s perfectly capable of making my own choices. And tonight, I’m choosing to stay at Doc’s place, so if you want to continue to ride in my car, you’ll be staying there too. Otherwise, I’ll be happy to drop you off at an airport where you can suck up your dumb fear of flying and get your am-bitch-ous ass on a plane back to San Francisco and be there tonight.”
Stunned by her outburst, I open and close my mouth several times like a fish out of water, trying to come up with some sort of rebuttal… but I’ve got nothing. Glancing over at Fiona, she’s got a similar expression on her face as she gawks at her mom, neither of us ever having heard Farrah be so direct or forceful.
The three of us are still sitting there staring at each other in disbelief when an high-pitched jangling noise rips through the diner from the entrance of the restaurant, garnering all our attention, as well as that of everyone else around us. And when my gaze lands on the package of solid man wrapped in rugged jeans and a T-shirt that clings to his firm ridges like second skin topped with my favorite pair of blue eyes ever, huffing and puffing like a wolf ready to blow the building down, I gasp for air as my heart races out of control. He came for me.
“Oh, bloody hell,” Fiona mumbles under her breath when Teague’s searching eyes land on our table in the back.
Oblivious to the other customers around us and their nosy interest in what’s going on, he strides across the tile floor with so much determination and resolve, I see his jaw ticking from here. I brace myself for his verbal outburst when he sidles up next to the booth, prepared for him to tell me I’m acting like an immature coward by fleeing without facing him, but he surprises me in the best possible way.
“I’m sorry, Finley,” he announces in a soft but steady tone, his eyes locked on mine, radiating honesty and remorse. “I screwed up and acted like a jerk, letting my pride and ego to dictate the way I treated you. When you offered me the money, I was afraid you’d think that was the only reason I was interested in you, and it’s not. I swear I was entranced from the moment you poured root beer in my lap.”
He pauses to glance around at the captive audience we have and his lips tilt up in a cheeky grin. “I was an idiot to walk out of that restaurant that night, and for weeks, I thought about how to reach out to you, always scared you’d think it was about the ticket. When you showed up on my porch a few days ago, I knew it was a sign… Call it fate or destiny or whatever the hell you want, but there’s something more between us that doesn’t have a dollar sign attached to it, and I’ll be damned if I let you get away again. So please forgive me for my behavior last night. I was the one who was stupid.”
“And ridiculous,” I add, trying not to let on that I forgave him the minute he stormed through the door.
His grin spreads into a full-blown, dimples-on-display smile as he inches closer to me. “Yes, stupid and ridiculous,” he agrees as he reaches out to grab my hand and pull me up to him. “And an arrogant asshole who makes a terrible Prince Charming, but refuses to give up on our happily-ever-after.”
Naturally, the back of my thighs stick to the seat when I scoot across the bench and a loud farting-like noise echoes through the room, eliciting several giggles and snickers from others including the two people sitting across from me. But as I leap into his outstretched arms, our l
ips colliding in a magical kiss, I couldn’t care less.
All that matters in my world is this stupid and ridiculous man, a perfectly flawed Prince Charming, came to get me so we can write our own fairy tale ending. And somehow, I just know, it’s gonna be the best story ever.
Two Months Later
Teague
“WHAT IS THIS ‘Dimitri the Docent’s Definite Dissertation on Dominance’?” Finley asks, peering curiously across the cab of the truck at me as I drive us into Cedar Rapids for our 2:30 appointment at the title company.
Glancing over to see what she’s doing on my phone, I realize she’s pulled up my internet browser history instead of the GPS. “What are you looking at? You’re supposed to be pulling up what exit we need to take off the highway.” I reach out to grab the device from her hands, but she twists around, holding it out of my grasp while laughing hysterically as she skims over the silly rules. “Come on, Fin. Close that, it’s nothing.”
“Oh, this is definitely not nothing. Let’s see here. Rule number one, ‘The look – Look the part – Your attire should consist of the latest trend of clothes. Always, and I must stress always, wear a large, fancy watch. You may be poor, but dress the part. Women don’t want a broke-ass man.’” She cackles while fighting off my watch-adorned outstretched arm, reading from the website. “Well, you definitely pass the first rule, babe, but I gotta say I think you took the watch to another level when you hooked me with it and dragged me by the hair into your lap.”
Tears of amusement stream down her face and she can barely breathe from laughing so hard, but she doesn’t stop there. No, of course not.
“Rule number two,” she continues, “‘The Stare – Maintain Eye Contact – Search out your prey from across the room, and once you find her, do not break your gaze until she looks away.’” Finley tries her best to straighten up and stop laughing, but she can’t and instead erupts with a hilarious snort. “Are you serious with this stuff? Tell me this is some kind of joke. Are you a closet red room Dom or something?”