Unlucky in Love (17 page)

“I don't think I'd mind.” Lexi folded, suddenly thoughtful, picturing herself folding her own baby's clothes like this. Baby—or babies. “I think I would just be so grateful, you know? I mean, let's be honest. I've got the ticking ovaries just like any twenty-eight-year-old. They're not going to hold out forever.”

“Yeah.” Jess looked sad for a second, but then covered it with a smile. “Did you and Tristan ever talk about kids?”

“Oh, sure.” Lexi nodded, because of course they had.

Hadn't they?

She paused.
Had
they? In any real sense of the word? Or had he skated around that discussion just like he'd tried to skate around their engagement? And, in the end, their wedding?

Lexi tipped her head, the slow cavalcade of realizations making her see Tristan in a new light. It wasn't a good one, really. Sort of yellowish and cowardly, to be honest. When she thought back to the number of times she'd tried to get him to talk about his ideal family size, she realized that every single time, he'd avoided discussing it by kissing her, or pretending he hadn't heard, or suddenly hearing his phone ring.

How had she not seen it? Had she been so desperate to be married by thirty that she'd really let all those things go without calling him on them? I mean, seriously, how did you get to a point where it was two weeks before your own wedding and you didn't know whether your fiancé even wanted children?

She put a hand to her mouth, assaulted by another thought.

How had
he
let them get so far, if in reality, he never intended to go through with the whole thing in the end?

Because one thing that suddenly seemed very, very, depressingly clear to her was that he
had
never intended to marry her. Ever. He'd gone along with the planning, had let her pick out a ring, had nodded and smiled when she'd found the perfect inn, the perfect band, the perfect honeymoon spot.

All that time, she'd told herself he'd been the most agreeable groom the world had ever known—that she was lucky to have it so easy. But all that time…God, how had she not seen it? He'd been planning his exit while she'd been planning their reception menu, dammit.

“He didn't want kids, did he?” Jess's voice was gentle, her hands still as she held a pair of baby socks in her hands.

Lexi felt her eyebrows pull together as her eyes prickled with the threat of tears. “I—I don't know. I don't know, Jess. I thought I did. I thought I
must
know, but omigod, I
don't
.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Jess got up and came to sit beside Lexi.

“He was never going to marry me.” Lexi nodded, the tears starting to leak out. “He wasn't. He was just too much of a coward to say so.”

“Maybe…maybe he just needed more time. Maybe he's just not ready to take that big step yet.”

“No.” Lexi shook her head. “I don't think that's it. I really don't. I think I was the girl he stayed with because nothing better had come along yet, but when push came to shove, he was still convinced something better was out there. And he wasn't ready to take himself out of the running for that…
better
by being married to me.”

“I think you're being awfully hard on yourself here, Lexi. It could also just be a classic case of cold feet.”

“Jess, if I called him right now—like he would answer—and asked him where our honeymoon suite was, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't even be able to tell you what
state
it was booked in, let alone which hotel.”

“Well, I mean, that's not necessarily unusual—”

“He got me an orange running jacket for my birthday, Jess.”

Jess nodded slowly, like she didn't understand how this was the crime it sounded like it must be. “Um, okay?”

“I don't run. And I hate orange clothing. I'm not big on my hair matching my clothes.”

“Well, maybe he thought it might be something the two of you might start doing together?”

Lexi rolled her eyes. “We tried it. Once. He left me in his dust, then did loser laps to come back and check on me, when his buddy made him feel bad about it.”

“Loser laps?” Jess laughed. “What are those?”

“It's where you run circles—literally—around the other person because she's too decrepit to keep up with you. I sounded like an asthmatic Pomeranian, and I probably looked scarier than one. And do you know what he said?”

“I'm afraid to ask.”

“
Maybe if you just tried harder, you'd learn to like it.
” She shook her head. “Like I was being difficult or something.”

“No offense, Lexi, but I'm not sure I like this guy very much.”

Lexi took a deep breath. “We never went running again…obviously. And then three months later, he gets me a running jacket. Super personal, right? Like, how about I get you the kind of present I'd get for the person I wish I was with, instead of for the person you actually are?”

She put her head into her hands. “I am
the
stupidest person on the face of this earth, Jess. There were
so
many signs. How did I never see them?”

“You're not stupid, sweetie. I'm sure for everything he did like this, he countered with enough other good stuff that you just didn't realize maybe things weren't perfect, right?”

“Sure. I'm sure.” She sighed. “Or I was so desperate for someone
not
to say goodbye that I just hung onto being good enough, instead of holding out for being just right.”

“Maybe.”

Then another thought hit Lexi. “Gunnar must think I'm the biggest idiot he's ever met.”

“Actually, I'm pretty sure that's the term he reserves for Tristan.”

Lexi giggled, picturing Gunnar rolling his eyes every time he said
The Idiot
. “True.”

“For what it's worth, Gunnar's pretty good at seeing people for who they are. And I'm positive he wouldn't be spending so much time with you if he thought you were anything
approaching
idiot territory.”

“Thank you.” Lexi wiped her eyes. “But I'm mortally embarrassed that I brought him into this whole—whatever this is. I asked him for
help,
Jess. Help getting Tristan back. Ugh.”

“And did he give you any?”

“Not willingly. No. At first, maybe, but I think it was because he was afraid I might do something stupid and get hurt, and he didn't want that on his conscience.”

“And now?”

Lexi sighed. “I don't even know. Being out here just makes things so pathetically clear—you know—the whole 20/20-hindsight and all.”

“Whisper Creek's kind of famous for that.” Jess nodded, smiling. “Ask Kyla—or Hayley—or, you know,
me
. Doesn't make
clear
any more comfortable, however, to know other people have had the same thing happen.”

“No. It really doesn't.” Lexi sighed. “I really, really feel stupid right now.”

Jess squeezed her shoulder. “Well, you're not. You're just a woman snowed by an idiot who didn't deserve you, and maybe it took an idiot who
does
deserve you to help you see it.”

Lexi looked at her. “I'm leaving in three weeks. I can't fall for Gunnar, Jess.”

“No, you can't.”

“What?”

“Ha.” Jess laughed. “Not what you wanted to hear. That's pretty telling, don't you think?”

“Well, who
wouldn't
fall for him? He's sweet, he's funny, he's omigod-gorgeous, he's smart, he's—”

“No, members of the jury, she absolutely doesn't like him a bit. It's so obvious.” Jess smiled, getting up and going back to the other couch to fold more clothes.

“I never said I didn't like him. I just said it was a bad idea.”

“Just as bad as Kyla falling for Decker, yes. And Hayley falling for Daniel. And me falling for Cole.” She nodded. “And look how those disasters turned out.”

Lexi thought of the three couples as they'd looked last night at dinner around Ma's table.

Like they'd been meant to be, that's how they'd looked.

Jess raised her eyebrows. “If you think any one of us believed those relationships were
anything
but doomed from the start, you'd be wrong. None of us thought there was any possibility it could work out. We were from the East Coast, they were here. We weren't moving. They weren't moving.” She shrugged. “And yet, here we are.”

“But that just—it isn't possible for me.” Lexi pictured her mother, then closed her eyes like the vision pained her. “I couldn't leave Maine. It would kill my mother.”

“You sure?” Jess tipped her head. “Or would she maybe learn to adjust, if leaving Maine was exactly the right thing for you to do?”

“You've clearly never met my mother.”

“No, but I've known some doozies.” Again that shadow passed over Jess's face, and it made Lexi wonder about her history. “And now that I am one, I know it would absolutely kill me to see Layla move somewhere I'm not. But if it made her heart happy, then I'd do my best to embrace it. And visit her a lot.”

“Oh, what am I saying?” Lexi shook her head. “Good grief. All we've done is kiss. Sort of. Once. Practically by accident. And here I am talking about whether I could pull up stakes and move to Montana. Gosh, could it be
me
who scares them away? No way.”

Jess was silent for a long moment, just folding onesies into neat little piles on the coffee table. She looked out the window like she was trying to formulate just the right words, and Lexi braced herself to hear the message she'd maybe hoped she'd get as she'd climbed the stairs an hour ago.

Because she
needed
someone to tell her to go back to her cabin. Needed someone to tell her to put away the dress she'd laid out, to not bother with the blow-dryer, to eat the ramen noodles instead of walking down the hill to Gunnar's cabin for dinner. She needed someone to tell her not to drag Gunnar into her cowboy fantasy, because as embarrassed as she was to admit it, he was right there, front and center. The final item on Katie's list, which had taunted her from the beginning of the summer. But now that she knew Gunnar—knew she'd love to taste more than his cooking—it was killing her.

Finally, Jess spoke. “Did Gunnar invite you for dinner?”

“Yes. Tonight.”

“Where?”

“At his cabin.” Lexi's voice shook a tiny bit. “Which scares the absolute hell out of me, Jess.”

“It should.”

“Because?”

“Because Gunnar keeps that cabin triple-locked, Lexi. Gunnar could have any woman at this ranch, any night of the week, for dinner or anything else, and he never, ever does. He works so many hours that Ma has to force him to stop. He puts his heart and soul into this operation in hopes that he can have his own someday, and I've never seen him even look at a woman twice, let alone get distracted by one.”

“Never? And that never made you wonder if maybe he's…gay?” The thought made Lexi feel sick to her stomach. It would bring the whole pity-kiss thing to a new low.

“He's not.” Jess laughed. “But I think he has a very clear picture of what his future looks like, and what kind of person would be in it. And he's never found her. Not yet, anyway.” She shrugged. “And he's not the kind of guy to mess around if he's not serious.”

“Oh.” Lexi wasn't sure how to take Jess's words. An explanation? A warning?

Jess smiled. “He's
also
not the kind of guy to take a girl into town for dinner, or spend hours in a riding ring with her, or—if I might be bold—strap boats on the roof of his truck and take her kayaking on the lake.”

“Really?” Lexi felt a flame of hope ignite.

“He's definitely not the guy who'd invite someone to his cabin for dinner, unless he really, really,
really
likes her.”

Lexi sighed. “As much as that's exactly what I wanted to hear, I have to admit, it terrifies me more than a little.”

“It probably should.”

“It just can't possibly work—if there's even anything here that
could
turn into something.”

“You never know, sweetie. Somehow, there are at least three women living out here now who've said those exact same words in the past five years.” Jess winked. “You could be next.”

“So—lobster.” Jasper's eyebrows went upward. “Pretty penny you're paying here.”

“I know.” Gunnar smiled, handing over the cash.

“Maybe I'm out of line for asking, but who is it we're flying fish across the country for here?”

“Lexi. She's the nurse out at Whisper Creek. I brought her in once—not sure you remember.”

“Oh, I remember, all right.” Jasper smiled. “She comes in three times a week for my Sumatran.”

“She does?”

“Yup.” Jasper handed him his change. “Different car every time. I think that woman offers to do more errands than anyone I've ever met, just so she can have an excuse to drive in here for coffee.”

Gunnar smiled. He'd known she'd love the coffee, but hadn't pegged her addiction as quite that extreme.

“Speaking of which, I got in some new beans.” Jasper reached behind him for a pot, pouring the steaming liquid into a mug he slid across the counter. “Here. Let me know what you think.”

Gunnar recognized Jasper's invite for what it was. Looked like the shop had been pretty quiet today, and he needed the company.

“So this Lexi?” Jasper wiped the counter. “She something serious?”

“Don't know yet.”

He nodded. “But you're hoping?”

“Hell, yes. But reality and my hopes aren't agreeing too strongly right now.”

“She heading home soon?”

“Too soon, yeah.” Gunnar frowned as he blew the steam from the top of the coffee and sipped it.

“And she's not one of those gals who'd be good for a hookup? Maybe a short-term thing?”

Gunnar bristled at the term. “No. Definitely not.”

“Because?”

“She's just—not that kind of woman, Jasper. She's the kind you don't want for just now, y'know? She's…more than that.”

“Does
she
want what you're offering?”

“I haven't offered anything yet.”

Jasper's eyebrows went upward again. “And yet you're shipping in lobster from Maine? You think that's not going to read like an offer tonight?”

“I don't know.” Gunnar sighed.

“Want some advice?”

“From a guy younger than me? No.”

Jasper laughed. “You could always start with the just-for-now part. No pressure, y'know? No expectations. No strings. And then, if it works out, and the sex is mind-blowing and all, it could always turn into more, whether she means for it to or not.”

Gunnar rolled his eyes. Oh, he already
knew
the sex would be mind-blowing. In his fantasies, it already was. He'd pictured her a hundred times, beneath him, on top of him, breathing his name. It was, quite honestly, killing him.

But he also knew she'd never sign up for a hookup-style thing, no matter whether his actual intentions were so much more. No way.

“I don't think so, buddy. She'd probably slap me if I suggested it.”

“Never know. Maybe she wants the same. Just doesn't want to come out and say it.” Jasper shrugged. “Just saying. Might be worth a try.”

Three hours later, Lexi knocked on Gunnar's door, her stomach in knots, her pulse rat-a-tat-tatting in her neck. She had on a new turquoise sundress she'd bought back in Maine, and she'd spent an embarrassingly long time making her hair behave. It fell in soft waves around her face, and she'd even gone so far as to put a tiny bit of bronzer on her cheeks, and some gloss on her lips.

When she'd looked in the mirror one last time, she'd seen a face that was alternately terrified and excited. Her eyes were bright, and the spots of color in her cheeks had pretty much negated the need for the bronzer, but still. It had seemed like the thing to do. She'd even dug out her favorite perfume—the one Tristan had sniffed at once on her neck, then pulled away—and had put a couple of dots on her wrist. And then she'd put some on her neck, because dammit,
she
liked it.

She took a deep breath, smelling garlic coming through the screened windows, and her stomach almost growled.

And then Gunnar was opening the door, and she took in a quick breath, trying to keep her traitorous knees from melting away on the spot. He'd been working Duke in the ring until less than an hour ago, she knew, so he couldn't have possibly had much time to get ready to entertain. And yet, a big pot was boiling on the stove, candles were lit on a set table, and he looked like he'd emerged from the shower not long ago.

He had on a white shirt, open at the collar, and actual dress pants. She swallowed. She'd never seen him in anything but jeans, even when they'd gone into town, and here he was, looking like a guy on a…date.

“Hey, Lex.” He smiled, and all of the grasshoppers that had been ping-ponging around her gut suddenly quieted. “You look gorgeous. Get in here before the other guys see you and get jealous.”

She rolled her eyes as she walked through the door, breathing the garlic-scented air and looking around at the neat, cozy cabin. It was about the same size as hers, except that it had two bedrooms, it looked like. His furniture was what she might call cabin-cozy—manly plaids on log-inspired futon frames. It all looked like once you sat down, you wouldn't want to get up for hours.

She turned to him as he closed the door. “I love your cabin.” She walked past the candlelit table into the living area, unable to resist the windows. As with every Whisper Creek cabin she'd seen so far, it had big, west-facing panes that captured a view straight to the Crazies. “I could totally live here.”

Oh, ergg. Had that just come out of her mouth?

“I meant—um—I just meant it's…nice.” She shook her head, cringing. “And also, I should probably tell you that I never get nervous on dates, or say things I shouldn't. I mean, not that it isn't obvious by now.”

“Good to know.” He smiled. “Does that mean you're thinking of this as a date, then?”

She felt her cheeks flush. “Well, you
are
wearing pants.” He laughed, and then she knew her face was going completely crimson. “I mean instead of jeans. Oh, for God's sake. Never mind.”

“Would you like a beer, Lex?” He smiled fondly—she was sure of it—as he turned toward the kitchen area.

“That'd be perfect, thanks. A really huge glass.”

“You sure? I've seen you on alcohol, remember.”

“Good point. Small glass, maybe.” She followed him. “Dinner smells heavenly. What are you making?”

“A surprise.”

“Ooh.” She took the chilled mug he handed her. “Sounds intriguing.”

“I hope so.” He cringed. “Have to admit I've never actually cooked this dish before, but it doesn't seem all that complicated, so hopefully I won't screw it up.” He tipped his mug toward hers. “What should we drink to?”

Us
was the word that leaped into her head, but she couldn't say that. Of course not.

He smiled, like he could read her thoughts. “How about The Idiot?”

“What?
Why in the world would we drink to
him
?”

“Well, if I'm not mistaken, if he hadn't
been
such an idiot, you wouldn't be here now.” He shrugged. “So I have to admit I'm kind of grateful he was such—you know—an idiot. Gave me the chance to meet you.”

“Oh.” She smiled. “That's actually kind of…nice, though admittedly the strangest toast I might ever do.”

Gunnar lifted his glass. “To The Idiot.”

“To The Idiot.” Lexi laughed and clinked her glass on his, then took a long sip of—wow—really great beer. “Yum. This is good.”

“We do have craft brewers out here, too.” He winked. “Maybe not as many as back East, but good beer does exist west of the Mississippi.”

“Who knew?” She took another sip, her stomach already warming. “Can I help with dinner?”

“Actually, yes.” He looked a little timid as he pointed to a bag on the counter. “I think the water's almost ready, and I'm pretty sure I might not be able to do the next part.”

Lexi felt her eyebrows furrow. “The next part?”

“Yeah.” He set his mug down and started to open the bag. “I handled the part about getting these here, straight from Maine, but I'm afraid I'm not quite man enough to put them into that pot.”

Lexi peeked into the bag, then felt her eyes widen as she saw what it contained. She stepped back, her mouth dropping open.

“Lobster? You got lobster?”

“Yes.” He looked a little sheepish. “Jasper found me a guy who promised these came out of the Atlantic this morning. I thought maybe you could use a little taste of home.”

Lexi looked away, feeling her eyes tear up. “Aw, dammit, Gunnar.”

“What? Please tell me you actually like lobster, because if you don't, we are sorely lacking in salt water out here to release them back into.”

“I
love
lobster.”

“Then why the dammit?”

“Because you're so—ugh—nice! Why do you have to be so nice?”

He looked taken aback. “I'm…sorry? Wait. No, I'm not. Why am I apologizing for that?”

She sat down at the counter, sighing in frustration. “I'm trying
really
hard not to fall for you, because the reality is that I'm headed home in three weeks, and you're obviously staying right here. But then you fly in lobster from Maine? Because you think I might like a little taste of home? What am I supposed to
do
with that?”

“Um, eat them? After you put them in the pot? Because apparently I can't?” He grinned, knowing he wasn't answering the real question, and it just made her like him more.

Dammit.

She looked at the lobsters—at their beady little eyes and their creepy tentacles—and backed up again.

“I—I can't cook them, Gunnar.”

“What do you mean, you can't cook them?”

“I can't! I can eat them, but I can't, like, kill them. It's horrible!”

Gunnar stood there with his mouth open for so long he could have caught a mosquito, had one been buzzing around. And then he laughed. Really laughed, like he thought Lexi was the funniest person on Earth at that moment—but in a good way.

He pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight, then kissing her on the top of the head, and again, she felt like her legs might give way. Because a kiss was a kiss, romantic and sexy and all of that…but a kiss on the head? That was affection. That was a man who was amused and intrigued—a man who cared enough to fly lobster from Maine to Montana, even though he was too chicken to cook it.

Gunnar looked at the bag. “What are we going to do?”

“Think Ma might be willing to dump them in for us?”

He shook his head. “God, no. We'd never hear the end of it.”

“How about Jess? Kyla, maybe? Are any of the guys around?”

“I don't know.” He leaned to peer into the bag. “What if we—I don't know—do it together?”

Lexi backed up. “I really, really can't dump a living creature into boiling water. I'd have nightmares for weeks.”

“Well, shit. Neither can I.” He ran a hand through his hair, laughing. “Clearly, I didn't quite think this through. Aren't you the one who was waxing all poetic about pulling these things out of the ocean and putting them straight into the pot? On the pier?”

“Yeah, but I wasn't the one doing the pulling or dumping. Just—you know—the eating.”

Gunnar picked up his phone from the counter and pressed a couple of buttons, then rolled his eyes at her as he lifted it to his ear.

“Hey. It's Gunnar. Any chance you have a minute?” He paused. “Yeah. My cabin. Don't even ask, all right?”

He put down the phone. “Cole will be right down. And, in case it isn't already obvious, we are never going to live this down.”

“Noted.” Lexi smiled. “So before he gets here and harasses us both to death, can I just say that this might be the most thoughtful thing anyone's ever done for me?”

Gunnar looked at her for a long moment, and she wasn't sure whether she read compassion or pity in his eyes. Then he lifted his beer and clinked it against hers.

“Well, then this'd better be damned good lobster.”

Five minutes later, Cole knocked on the screen, smiling like the flipping Cheshire cat. “I'm here. What's the emergency?”

Gunnar opened the door for him, pointing toward the kitchen. “The stuff in that bag needs to go in that pot.”

Cole stopped midway through the door, eyebrows pulled together. “You called me down here for—that?”

“Yep. Don't ask, I said.”

Cole stepped into the kitchen area and opened the bag, then jumped backward. “What the hell is in there?”

“They're lobsters,” Gunnar said.

“They're moving.”

“We know.”

Cole looked at the two of them. “They're alive.”

“We know that, too.” Gunnar laughed. “But they need to get dead so we can eat them.”

“And that means—this pot?” Cole's eyebrows went upward.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, hell, no.” Cole backed up further. “Did you see those beady little eyes? They saw me. They'll damn me to hell if I put them in there.”

Gunnar held up a finger toward Lexi, like he was putting her on pause, though she wasn't actually speaking. Then he leaned closer to Cole.

“Have you ever heard of a romantic gesture, Cole?”

“Yeah. And I'm not doing one for you by killing two innocent crustaceans. Love ya and all, but I have limits, buddy.”

Lexi laughed, picturing the home page of the Whisper Creek website, where Decker, Cole, and Gunnar sat astride their horses, absolutely oozing testosterone. If the thousands of women who had that site bookmarked could see these two men in this kitchen right now, they'd never believe it.

Gunnar sighed. “Is there
anyone
at this ranch who might have the fortitude to cook lobsters?”