The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит
it off, holding it at arm’s length. “I’ll hang this on the back deck to air out,” he said. “While you take a shower.”
Who was he to order her around her own home? Although she had to admit, the smell was a bit overpowering. “Excuse me, this is—”
“No need to thank me,” he said. “I’ll feed Puffy, then take her outside. I don’t think she smells.”
He caught the dog midleap, then sniffed while Puffy tried to kiss him. “Nope. She’s fine. It’s just you.
“Go on,” he said when she hesitated. “You don’t want your apartment to start stinking.”
With a little yelp, Betsy ran off down the hall. Once she was out of earshot, Ryan dropped his gaze to the small red dog staring up at him with a skeptical expression.
“You’re right, Puffy, she didn’t really smell all that bad. But when a guy asks a woman to marry him, I think she’d like to smell like vanilla, rather than musty old gym socks.”
* * *
Betsy took her time in the shower, wanting to make sure no trace of that horrible odor remained on her skin or in her hair. Only when she was absolutely certain that it was all gone did she step from the shower. After slathering her skin with her favorite cherry-vanilla-scented lotion, she took a few minutes to dry her hair.
She heard pots clanging in the kitchen, which meant Ryan was making dinner again. Although she’d allowed it once, this time she was putting her foot down. But first she was dabbing on a little makeup and pulling out the flat iron.
Betsy strode into the kitchen about ten minutes later. Although she’d been tempted to put on her pajamas with feet, she decided that might send a mixed message. She settled for her favorite skinny jeans and an oversized turquoise sweater.
“You look fantastic.” Ryan glanced up from a pizza crust he was decorating with her stash of olives, mushrooms and green peppers. He lifted his head and sniffed. “And you smell even better.”
His grin was so infectious she couldn’t help but return his smile. Until she remembered he must leave. And she needed to make him.
“I want you to go.”
Ryan cocked his head and looked at her with a quizzical expression as if she’d spoken a language he didn’t understand. “The pizza is almost ready to go into the oven,” he said. “I saw some romaine in the fridge. Why don’t you toss together a salad and I’ll uncork the bottle of wine?”
“I’m not hungry.” The comment might have been believable if her stomach hadn’t growled.
He smiled and Betsy realized she wanted nothing more than to let him stay. She wanted to sit across the table and share her conversation with Mr. Marstand. She wanted to tell Ryan she’d forgiven her mother. She wanted to talk to him about the preliminary hearing tomorrow. Most of all, she wanted him to hold her in his strong arms and tell her everything would be okay.
But he had to leave. Or did he?
You and Ryan need to face whatever is going on in your life together, Lexi had urged.
Have you shared those big important reasons with Ryan? Mr. Marstand had asked.
After all the chaos she’d experienced growing up, Betsy prided herself on being a rational woman. One who looked at all sides of an issue and arrived at a logical conclusion.
That’s what she thought she’d done with Ryan. She’d logically concluded that he—and his practice—would be badly hurt because of his involvement with her.
It didn’t have anything to do with feeling she didn’t deserve to be happy. She wasn’t self-destructive, not the way Keenan had been.
She was doing this for Ryan. Walking away from the man she loved to protect him. The problem was he refused to let her walk away. He kept coming around. This was a complication she hadn’t foreseen. It didn’t make sense. He’d left all those other women without any fuss. Why was he being so stubborn now? Betsy raised a hand to her head, as if that could stop the spinning thoughts.
“Is your headache back?”
She glanced up to find him standing beside her, his eyes filled with concern.
“You would have eventually left me anyway, right?”
He didn’t act as if he didn’t know what she was talking about, didn’t make a joke or brush the question aside. Instead he gazed into her eyes and said very simply, “I will never leave you.”
Betsy wasn’t sure how to feel about that answer. On one hand his loyalty thrilled her. On the other, it terrified her. How was she going to protect him if he wouldn’t let her?
“I love you, Betsy.” Ryan’s voice deepened with emotion. “You’re the woman I’ve been waiting for my whole life.”
There was a part of Betsy that wanted to wrap the sweet words around her heart and hold them close. But the logical Betsy knew it didn’t matter what he thought he wanted. She had to protect him.
“You’ve liked a lot of women,” she said pointedly, trying to defuse his earlier words.
“Yes, Betsy, I’ve liked a lot of women. Like being the operative word.” Ryan took her hand and led her to the sofa. He brushed the Pom off the sofa, ignoring Puffy’s startled look, then pulled Betsy next to him as he sat down.
“We don’t need to have a big conversation about your dating history.” Betsy’s voice sounded breathless, even to her ears. “I was simply making small talk. But I’m asking you again to leave. And this time don’t come back.”
The words were all there. The problem was her delivery lacked any real oomph. That was probably why Ryan merely blinked and shifted to face her rather than grabbing his coat and heading out the door.
“I’m not going anywhere.” His hand slid down her arm, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “The reason you’re having such difficulty making me leave is—”
“Because you’re stubborn.”
“No.” He caressed the palm of her hand with his thumb, his stroking fingers sending shock waves of feeling through her body. “Because you don’t really want me to go. And do you know why?”
It was difficult for her to think. How could such a simple touch be so sensual? She pulled her hand back. “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
Time seemed to stretch and extend.
“Because you love me as much as I love you.”
“You don’t love me,” she said automatically.
Ryan’s expression didn’t change. It was as if she hadn’t even spoken. He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes boring into hers. “Do you love me?”
“What?”
“Answer the question,” he said in a courtroom voice that left no wiggle room. “Do you love me?”
“Yes,” Betsy blurted out, then instantly realized her mistake. “I mean no. I don’t.”
“Now that we’ve got that settled—” Ryan’s mouth lifted in a slight smile, as if pleased by her response “—I’m going to tell you a story.”
Somehow without her noticing, he’d moved closer. Too close. A smoldering heat flared through her. It took several erratic heartbeats for Betsy to find her voice. “Once you tell your story, will you leave?”
“When I finish, if you want me to go, I will.” Despite his serious tone, there was a smile lurking in his eyes again.
“Okay.” Betsy sat back and crossed her arms. “You may proceed.”
“Once upon a time, there was a prince. He had a wonderful family, friends he respected and a career he enjoyed. But the prince