No Better Man (22 page)

“I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you,” he murmured breathlessly against her hair.

“Me either,” she gasped, and it was the truth.

Rocking his hips, he caught her in an electrifying rhythm. She murmured words in his ear, though she had no idea what she was saying because the force of him consumed her, pushing her farther over the edge with each thrust. It intensified—the heat, the friction, until she cried out, until she was seizing and gasping in his arms. He came after her, breathing her name, clutching her tight in a series of aftershocks, before pulling out and lowering them both to the floor in a heap of heavy breaths. He fit her back to his chest and spooned his body around hers, stroking her arm with a light touch.

“Thank you.” He whispered into her hair, then kissed the back of her head with a cherished sweetness. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tightly against him so that his heartbeat resounded through her.

And she’d never felt so content.

T
he heaviness of a deep, comatose sleep weighted his eyelids. Bryce turned over. His arm landed on the deserted pillow next to him. He yawned, scrubbed open his eyes. It’d been a long time since he’d slept like this, completely oblivious, dead to the world. Had to be the extra warmth in his bed, the feel of Avery’s form against his. He’d forgotten how much he missed sleeping next to someone. Not that they’d slept much. After spending most of the night talking and making love by the fire, he’d finally carried her to bed only a couple of hours ago.

And yet somehow he felt energized.

The smell of bacon and coffee wafted through his open bedroom door. He inhaled. There was something so warm and familiar about those scents…

“Breakfast?” Avery appeared in the doorway.

That was all it took to wake the rest of his body.

She wore one of his button-up shirts, but she’d missed a few buttons. Her hair was pulled loosely on top of her head spilling down over the bare shoulder that peeked out from the unbuttoned collar. In her hands, she balanced a tray that held two plates piled high with bacon and slightly blackened French toast, along with two mugs of steaming coffee.

“You cook?” He almost laughed. Just when he thought nothing in this world could get better than last night…

“Sure. Maybe not to Elsie’s standards, but I can fry up bacon and French toast, thank you very much.”

She walked toward him, her long, toned legs demanding his attention. Still wrapped in the sheets, he leaned over to steal the tray from her hands, but she swiped it out of reach.

“What’s the hurry? I thought we’d have a long, leisurely breakfast. Especially since we never got the chance to have a snack last night.” Her smirk reprimanded him.

“Sorry. My fault. It’s just…” What could he say? He was making up for lost time. “I can’t keep my hands off of you.”

The corners of her mouth curled in a teasing smile. “How come?”

Yeah, right.
She knew exactly what she did to him.

He ran a hand up her thigh. “You look good in my shirt.” His fingers fumbled with the buttons. “But you’d look even better without it.”

She laughed. “We don’t want our breakfast to get cold.” But she perched the tray on the nightstand.

“I like my French toast cold.” He captured her in his arms and pulled her down next to him. “Freezing, in fact.” He pulled his body over hers. “Which is good. Because what I have in mind might take awhile.”

“Oh yeah?” She wrapped her leg around him.

He slid his hands under the shirt and felt his way up her smooth, silken skin. Touching his lips to hers, he groaned. “You’re gorgeous. And sexy. And flexible. Damn near perfect.”

Avery laughed again but this time it sounded hollow. “Trust me. I’m not perfect. Not even close to perfect.”

He pulled back and propped himself on his elbow to study her face.

Her gaze evaded his.

Uh oh.
“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, but he recognized the worry in her eyes, the way they shifted back and forth like she didn’t know where to look. He’d seen Yvonne do that a number of times, especially when she was afraid to tell him something. Back then, he’d let it go, afraid of her emotions, afraid he wouldn’t be enough to help her deal with them. But not now. He wanted to be worthy of Avery’s trust.

“Hey.” He lifted her chin. “What is it?”

She laid her head back on the pillow. “Sorry. I checked my phone. I shouldn’t have. Six messages from my father. I feel awful.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Why would he leave six messages?”

“To tell me what a disappointment I am. To remind me how much he’s given me over the years. To beg me to come back to work.”

“You are
not
a disappointment.” He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “You’re compassionate and beautiful and funny and smart.” He found his phone on the nightstand. “Want me to call and tell him that?”

“No.” She turned her head to the side and looked at him. Curls spilled down over her shoulder and tempted his hand to brush them back.

He ditched the phone and gathered her into his arms, lowering his mouth to her ear. “You don’t have to go back. We can hide out all day,” he teased.

Avery didn’t smile. She stared at the ceiling. “I have no idea what I’ll do, Bryce. Where I’ll go. Where I’ll work…”

Ah, yes.
The fear of the unknown. He knew all about that. Ever since she’d told him she’d quit, he’d wondered when the panic would kick in. She seemed like a pretty scheduled person. Not exactly the spontaneous type. Lucky for her, he had more experience in that department. “You have nothing to worry about,” he told her with authority.

“Really?” She looked at him, eyes skeptical.

He grinned. “Really. I’ve got the day all planned out. First we’ll take a shower. Then a nap.” He emphasized the word so she’d know he didn’t mean sleeping. “Then we’ll eat. Another nap. Maybe sit in the hot tub…”

Avery’s smile returned. That was exactly what he’d wanted to see.

He kissed her lightly, then gazed into her eyes. “Seriously. You can stay here as long as you want. Until things blow over with your father.” And a helluva lot longer than that, if she chose to. Not that he would tell her that, yet. He couldn’t push her. Not today. In some ways, they were both learning to live in the moment, to move forward, to leap uninhibited into an unknown future. He wanted to walk into that with her, but she needed time to figure out what she wanted.

“Thank you.” She traced his lips with her finger. “That means—”

Behind him, his cellphone buzzed and bounced.

“Sorry.” He swiped it up and glanced at the screen. “Don’t recognize the number.” Probably a sales call, but it also could’ve been his bank. He’d been trying to talk to someone since his conversation with Ben.

“Hang on a sec,” he said to Avery, then swung his legs over the side of the bed and clicked on the phone. “This is Bryce.”

“Mr. Walker.” There was something vaguely familiar about the voice, formal and cold…

“This is Edward King.”

Yup.
That was it. “Hang on.” He glanced over his shoulder at Avery, who had sat up and was leaning against the headboard innocently sipping her coffee, looking bright and happy. Couldn’t ruin that moment for her. So he scooted off the bed and covered the speaker. “I’m gonna take this in the living room,” he said cheerfully.

“Hurry back,” she called.

“Definitely.” Unfortunately, something told him this wouldn’t be a quick conversation. As soon as he was out of range, he lifted the phone back to his ear. “What can I do for you, Mr. King?”

“Tell my daughter you don’t want her. Send her back to the hotel. Don’t contact her again. And I’ll make sure you keep your ranch.”

Was this guy for real?

“I won’t do that to her.” He couldn’t. Not after last night. Not after he knew how it felt to sleep next to her. He couldn’t go without that. Not anymore. Besides, he’d be able to hold onto the ranch. With Ben’s help.

“I had a feeling you would say that,” King said. “So you can consider this your notification that your ranch is going to auction. Next Wednesday. I’ll see you at the county building.”

Auction?
The room closed in on him. He couldn’t breathe. The man was bluffing. He had to be bluffing. “That’s not possible.”

“It is when you know the president of the lending company,” the jackass stated.

“You can’t do this.” But the words were no match for Edward King and he knew it. The man had the money and the notoriety to do whatever the hell he wanted.

“It’s already done.” King paused. “It’s been 120 days since you received your Notice of Election and Demand. Your bank filed the paperwork this morning. The property will be auctioned off to the highest bidder, and I think we both know who that will be.”

Shock held him in a vise. He couldn’t breathe or blink or swallow. Millions. Edward King had millions of dollars. He couldn’t come up with enough to outbid him. Not even if he worked the rest of his damn life.

“I’m surprised Avery didn’t mention it,” her father droned in that tight grating tenor. “She knew.”

“No.” He glanced across the room and saw her through the open bedroom door, sitting on his bed. The bed they’d slept in together. “She wouldn’t keep something like that from me.”

“She’s very loyal to me, Mr. Walker. Remember that.” He paused. “You can expect your official notice from the bank later today.” A click sounded and the line went dead.

The phone fell from his hand and hit the floor. He’d lost it. Everything. Edward King had taken it all away. And Avery had helped him?

“Looks like our breakfast is getting col—” she stepped through the door, but stopped when she looked at him. “Bryce? What’s wrong? Who was on the phone?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He eased in breaths between the words so he didn’t shout at her, but blood pumped through him, hot and fast, and he knew he had to get out of there.

“Tell you what?” Her eyes were round with innocence.

He stepped as close as he dared, but not close enough that she could touch him. “That your father was schmoozing the president of my bank.”

Her mouth dropped open in a look of fear, and that was all he needed to see. She knew. She knew and she hadn’t told him.

He swept past her, into the bedroom, and blindly ripped clothes out of drawers.

“Stop.” She followed behind him. “Bryce, please. Calm down.”

“Calm down?” He yanked on his pants and sweatshirt. “I’m gonna lose the ranch. Do you get that? This place is my life, Avery. And next week they’re gonna auction it off to the highest bidder. Which’ll no doubt be your father.”

She smoothed her hands over his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Bryce. I love the ranch, too.”

He jerked away from her, fury stinging down his arms. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she shot back, like she had any right to be mad at him.

“Pretend that you care. Pretend that you’re not the same person as your father.” He got in her face. “My grandparents built this place themselves. I grew up here. I got married here. Yvonne and I
lived
here together…”

She flinched like he’d slapped her.

His words echoed back to him.
Wait
. That wasn’t what he’d meant. He’d only meant this was his home…

But anger tapered her eyes. “I’m not pretending, Bryce. None of that was pretend. I quit my job because I couldn’t be part of it anymore.”

“Yeah, well the damage was done, wasn’t it?” He knew he was being an asshole, but she’d been part of it from the beginning. She’d set the whole thing in motion coming out there, staying with him, feeding information to her father.

She didn’t back down, didn’t shrink away from him like he wanted her to. “That’s not fair,” she said, her jaw set with determination. “I started to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen. Then I just…” Her cheeks reddened. “I got distracted.”

So she was blaming him? “I can’t deal with this right now.” Once again, he bolted past her, through the living room.

“No!” she yelled after him. “You don’t get to leave. We need to talk about this. You owe me that.”

“I don’t owe you anything.” He ripped open the door.

“Where are you going?” Avery demanded.

“I have to talk to Ben,” he bit out, then slammed the door behind him.

He had to figure out how to come up with the money to outbid Edward King before he lost everything.

The slam of the door shook the walls, shook her. A cold loneliness spread all through her until she felt like she was back on that snowy city block again, shivering and alone. Lost.

Bryce was right. She could’ve stopped this a long time ago. She could’ve worked harder to talk Dad out of the ranch. She knew what he was capable of. She’d seen him go after properties like that a hundred times.

The burden of it all deflated her to the couch.

“
Mmmwooof.
” Moose pranced over to her, wedging himself as close as he could, then plopping down on her feet. She ran her hand over the dog’s soft coat, and he licked her toes sympathetically while she cried. She’d never been much of a crier, but then again, her heart had never hurt like this. She’d given Bryce everything last night, all of her, and it still wasn’t enough to make him stay, to make him talk to her. He still chose the ranch, his memories, over her.

They’d spent most of the night curled up together in front of the fire. He’d talked about his grandparents, about growing up here, about how he’d fish in the spring pond that always formed down in the meadow. He’d told her a story about chasing a bear away from his mom’s cherry pie while it cooled on the back porch. This ranch wasn’t only his home; it was part of his identity.

Moose looked up at her with his doleful eyes and she realized she’d stopped petting him. “Sorry, buddy.” She gave him a good scrub behind the ears, then prodded him to the side so she could stand up. Because sitting on the couch crying wouldn’t change anything. And maybe, just maybe she could change things for Bryce before she pursued her new life in California.

Maybe she could make sure Bryce didn’t lose the ranch.

With Moose hot on her heels, she hurried to her purse, dug out her phone, and found Vanessa’s number.

Van answered before it even rang. “Avery? Where the hell are you? I’ve been worried out of my mind.” The words were strung together without a breath. “Seriously. I drove all over looking for you last night.”

“I’m fine,” she lied. “But I need you to pick me up. At the Walker Mountain Ranch.”

Vanessa gasped.

Before her friend could say a word, she cut in. “I need you to bring clothes, too.”

“Ohhh…someone had a good night. Do tell, chica. I want details.”

“We’ll talk when you get here,” Avery ground out. “I’m in Bryce’s apartment, above the office. Come on up.”

“See you soon! Can’t wait!” Van sang, then the line went dead.

While she waited, Avery busied her hands with washing the breakfast dishes, wiping up the countertops, and tidying Bryce’s place. She always thought best when she was in motion, and as she loaded the ceramic plates in the dishwasher, thoughts and ideas and strategies flooded her, flowing together until the currents of a plan—a good, solid plan—swept away her sadness.