The Bachelor (24 page)

His daughter. A woman with a combination of disdain, fear, and vulnerability in her eyes. He’d caused each emotion. And he
despised himself for it. But he had a chance now to correct many wrongs. Starting with Annie and ending with his daughter.

Annie hadn’t responded to his declaration. It was time. And he’d lead her there any way he had to, Russell thought. “How does
Charlotte feel about Roman Chandler?”

Annie tipped her head to the side. Her soft hair fell to her shoulders and the urge to run his fingers through the jet-black
strands was strong. Always had been.

“Same as I feel about you. Charlotte’s destined to repeat the pattern. He’ll go, he’ll return. And she’ll be here when he
does. It’s in our genes.” She spoke matter-of-factly, as if that possibility didn’t bother her at all. She was too complacent,
too accepting—and he’d taken advantage of that, he realized now.

Whether he’d known she was clinically depressed or not, he’d used her complacency as an excuse to come and go as he pleased.
He shook his head, disgusted with himself.

He couldn’t change the past, but he didn’t want the same future for his daughter. “I disagree,” he said, fighting Annie’s
description of Charlotte and Roman. “But she is destined to end up alone, pushing away any man who doesn’t choose to settle
in Yorkshire Falls.”

Annie shook her head. “If you’re right, at least she won’t spend her life waiting for him to come back. Feeling alive only
during visits.”

Russell looked at his wife, seeing her, their past, and their future all together now. He’d thought that by remaining in her
hometown, Annie would be happy, but instead she was miserable. By choice, he admitted. “Whether she waits for Roman’s sporadic
returns or she turns her back on him and ends up alone, either way it will be cold and lonely. And you damn well know it.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m not cold or lonely now.” She sighed, her breath warm against his neck.

No, Russell thought, she was accepting and he was coming to hate that word. Annie accepted. Whatever he did and whatever life
threw her way. He’d once believed he could make them both happy, but that notion had shattered quickly. Nothing would make
Annie truly happy unless he gave up on himself and settled in Yorkshire Falls. And even then, a part of Russell had always
suspected that wasn’t the answer. Not that it mattered.

He hadn’t been able to forfeit his life for her, any more than he could get Annie to leave this town behind. He’d committed
himself to her. They’d each chosen their way of life. He couldn’t say they lived full or happy lives; still, they carried
on. He loved her as much now as he had way back when. But he’d done no one a favor by letting her have her way.

Least of all his daughter.

Charlotte deserved to choose her destiny as well. But she deserved to make an educated decision. “She needs to know, Annie.
She needs to understand the choices we made.”

“What if she hates me?”

He held her close. “You raised her well and she loves you. In time she’ll come to understand.” And if she didn’t, well, at
least he and Annie would free her from repeating the past. He hoped.

Roman caught up with Charlotte walking down First Street. He beeped once, then slowed his car alongside her. She glanced over
and kept walking.

“Come on, Charlotte. Get in the car.”

“You don’t want to deal with my mood right now, Roman.”

“Any woman who admits to being in a mood is all right by me.” He kept the car at a slow crawl. “Where are you going?”

She tilted her head his way. “Home.”

“Is your fridge as empty as mine?”

“Go away.”

He wasn’t taking no for an answer. In fact, he had three things guaranteed to change her mind. “I’ll take you for Chinese
food, I’ll get you out of town, and I won’t discuss your father.”

She paused.

“And in case those promises don’t sway you, I’ll start honking the horn, making a scene, and I won’t stop until you’re buckled
in next to me. The choice is yours.”

She swung around, yanked open the door, and flung herself into the seat beside him. “It was the Chinese food that got to me.”

He grinned. “I wouldn’t presume anything else.”

“Good. Because I wouldn’t, for one second, want you to think it had anything to do with your charm.”

He hit the gas pedal and headed on out of town. “You think I’m charming?” he asked.

Arms folded, she eyed him warily.

In the wake of her silence, he said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Obviously she wasn’t in the mood for verbal games. That was okay. As long as she was within two feet of him and he could keep
an eye on her, he was happy.

Twenty minutes later, they were seated in a typical Chinese restaurant—red velvet brocade wallpaper and dark sconce lighting
added to the ambience.

A waiter led them to a corner table, half booth, half with chairs. A family of four, two adults and two young boys, were noisily
eating beside them on the right. A fish tank sat in one corner and an indoor pond full of tropical fish was located to their
right.

“Okay with you?” Roman asked Charlotte, of the table. He didn’t mind the kids, but he couldn’t gauge her mood.

A smile pulled at her lips. “As long as I don’t order fish, this is fine.” She slid into the booth.

He could have sat across from her and kept his distance. Instead he chose to join her, trapping her between himself and the
wall.

She greeted him with an obviously fake pout. “You don’t play fair.”

“Did I say I would?” He recognized the verbal sparring as a means of avoiding anything serious. He wondered how long it would
last.

Charlotte shook her head. She couldn’t focus on Roman now. Instead she looked past him to the family of four. The two blond-haired
boys had trouble gleaming in their eyes as one brother lifted a crispy noodle, held it between his thumb and forefinger. He
narrowed his gaze, getting ready to flick it. His brother whispered something in his ear and when he shifted for a different
angle, Charlotte figured he was egging him on. Their parents, engaged in serious conversation, seemed not to notice.

“He wouldn’t,” Roman leaned back and whispered.

“I wouldn’t bet the ranch.” She used the old cliché. “Actually, in your case, I wouldn’t bet the suitcase.”

“Ouch.”

She ignored him, watching the kids instead. “Ready, aim, fire,” she whispered in time to the boy’s actions.

As if on cue, the kid sent the hard noodle, which had broken in two, soaring into the air before it took a less-than-graceful
plop into the goldfish-strewn water.

“Can a fish die from being hit with a fried wonton?” she asked.

“What about swallowing a fried wonton? If he were my kid, I’d grab him by the collar and dunk him headfirst. After I silently
applauded his aim.”

“Spoken like a man who’s seen his share of trouble as a kid.”

He shot her the incredible smile that melted her insides and made her want to crawl into his lap and never leave. Dangerous
thought. She bit down on the inside of her cheek.

“I can relate to him. My brothers and I caused plenty of trouble when we were young.”

She turned toward him and leaned forward in her seat, resting her chin on her hands. “Such as?” She needed to get lost in
happy times. Other people’s happy times.

“Let’s see.” He paused in thought. “I’ve got one. There was the time Mom attended back-to-school night and left Chase to watch
me and Rick.”

“Chase ruled like a dictator?”

“When he was awake, yes. But that night he fell asleep.” Laugh lines touched the corners of his eyes as he recalled the memory.

“Please don’t tell me you tied him up.”

“Hell, no!” He sounded offended. “Give us some credit for imagination. Let’s just say Mom’s makeup case offered a wealth of
possibilities.”

She felt her eyes opening wide. “He didn’t wake up?”

“The only benefit to having Chase as a pseudo-dad was that he slept like a dead one. We made him look mighty purty,” Roman
said with a deliberate southern drawl. “His date thought so too.”

Charlotte let out a whoop of laughter. “No kidding?”

Roman shook his head. “He was eighteen, dating a college freshman, and she’d offered to meet him at our house so they could
leave as soon as Mom got home. Doorbell rang, we woke him to answer it …”

Charlotte didn’t hear the rest; she was laughing too hard, tears running own her face at the absurdity. “Oh, I wish I could
have seen that.”

He leaned closer. “I have pictures.”

She wiped at her eyes with a linen napkin. “I have to see.”

“Marry me and I’ll show you.”

Charlotte blinked and sat up straighter in her seat. The boys were joking nearby, the scent of egg rolls drifted toward her,
and Roman was proposing marriage? She had to have heard wrong. Had to. “What?”

He grabbed for her hand, holding it close and tight within his strong, heated grasp. “I said, marry me.” His eyes grew wide
and he seemed stunned he’d spoken the words, but he obviously wasn’t too stunned to repeat them.

She was floored. “You don’t … I can’t … you can’t mean that,” she managed to sputter. Her heart beat frantically in her chest
and she had trouble catching her breath. Two surprises in one day. First her father, now this. She reached for the water,
but her hands shook so badly she had to put the glass down before she dropped it.

He raised the glass and held it to her lips. She took a long, cold sip, then licked the droplets off her mouth. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out that way, but I did mean every word.”

She wondered when the room would stop spinning. “Roman, you can’t possibly want to get married.”

“Why not?”

She wished he’d look away, anything to break the connection, because those mesmerizing blue eyes were begging her to say yes,
and to hell with the hows and whys. But her father’s timely return had shown her exactly why she couldn’t follow her heart.
“Because …” She shut her eyes and attempted to formulate the best answer. The one that made the most rational sense. The one
that explained their differences.

“I love you.”

Her eyelids fluttered open wide. “You can’t …”

He leaned forward, one arm propped over the back of the booth, and he shut her up with a kiss. A warm, heart-melting kiss.
“You need to stop using that word—
can’t,
” he murmured, his mouth still lingering over hers. Then he locked his lips with hers again and swept his tongue deep inside,
consuming her, until a low growl rose in her throat.

“Hey, Ma, look! They’re
French
kissing.”

“Eew, tongues and all. Can they do that in public?”

Charlotte and Roman broke apart. The heat from an embarrassed blush rose to her cheeks. She shook her head and laughed. “This
from the kid who was using fish for target practice.”

“I asked you a question,” Roman said, all too serious.

“And you have to know my answer.” Her heart beat painfully in her chest. “I …” She licked her damp lips. “You’ve seen my parents,
you know my mom’s life. How can you ask me to repeat it?” She hung her head, wishing with everything in her she could sustain
the righteous anger she’d summoned at the baseball game, even if she had transferred her feelings from her father to Roman.

“I’m not asking you to relive their lives.” He held her face in his hands. Gently. Reverently.

The lump returned to her throat. “Are you planning on living in Yorkshire Falls?” She already knew the answer and prepared
herself accordingly.

He shook his head. “But”—his fingers tightened around her face—“I’m looking into possibilities. I don’t want to lose you and
I’m willing to work out a compromise. All I’m asking you to do is keep an open mind. Give me time to work out something we’ll
both be comfortable with.”

She swallowed hard, unable to believe what she was hearing, unsure if she could trust in the intangible and not get hurt.
Then again, she’d be hurt losing him any way things played out. She wanted more time with him before the inevitable happened.

If the inevitable happened. She shoved all thoughts of her parents from her mind. She’d have to deal with them soon enough.
Roman had used the word
compromise,
which meant he was taking her needs into consideration. Unexpected adrenaline flowed through her system. “You said you loved
me?”

He nodded. Swallowed. She watched his throat move convulsively up and down.

“I’ve never said that to anyone else.”

She blinked back moisture. “Me neither.”

His hands fell from her face to her shoulders. “What are you saying?”

“I love you too.”

“He’s gonna do it again,” one of the kids at the other table yelled.

“Eww,” his brother repeated, twice as loud.

Roman laughed and she felt his pleasure as strong and intense as her own.

“Can you imagine having a houseful of boys?” he asked.

“Don’t even joke about something so serious.”

He ignored her and merely grinned. “Boys run in my family and we both know it’s my genes that determine sex. And think about
how much fun we could have making those babies.” His fingertips began a rhythmic massage of her shoulder muscles that turned
into erotic foreplay.

Roman’s children. She trembled from the inside out, wanting more than she ever believed possible and knowing it was probably
out of reach. They still had much to work out before she could let herself think about that kind of future.

But he’d touched her heart—owned it, actually. He always had, from the night he’d shared his deepest dreams and she’d had
no choice but to push him away in response.

She hadn’t made any concrete decisions, but she knew she wouldn’t push him away now.

“Ready to order?” a tall, dark-haired waiter asked.

“No,” they both said at the same time.

Charlotte didn’t know how, but minutes later, stomach still empty and a twenty-dollar bill left on the table, they were back
on the road, headed home, and half an hour after that, she let them into her dark apartment.