My Darling Bride(36)

I can’t hide the smile anymore and giggle. “You dragged her in here to push me into making a decision?”

“Yes.” His eyes narrow. “But with you, I need to be a bit more . . . persuasive.”

I rub my hands together. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“I have a confession.”

My stomach pitches in hope. “What? Your car is perfectly fine? That photo you sent is a fake? Please say it’s so.”

“No, it’s wrecked, completely totaled.” He spears me with his steely gaze, the one that makes my hackles rise. “I bought the bookstore.”

I take a step back and gasp. “You found out where I worked, then decided to pull the rug out from under me . . . in what . . . revenge? All because of a stupid car?”

“A four-hundred-thousand-dollar car,” he growls as he crosses his arms. “Think about it, Emmy. Of course I was going to find out who you are, especially when I discovered Brody knew you. I came into the store to talk to you, and when you weren’t here, I thought I’d check in with the owner to see what kind of person you were—seeing as I had so little to base my knowledge on.”

“Terry knows I stole a car?”

“No.”

Thank God. He’s like the uncle I never had. And I never want Jane and Andrew to know I made such a dumb mistake. I’m supposed to be a role model for them.

“But when I saw his fishing boat, we had a conversation about retirement, and I said I might be interested in buying the store. We exchanged numbers, and I called him the next day.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I do invest in property, Emmy. It happened organically.”

I shake my head. “You wanted leverage. You knew you wouldn’t press charges about the car, so you bought the store. You’re a diabolical devil.”

“I only found this place because of you. You’re the common denominator in this.”

“Thanks for reminding me this is all my fault.” I turn my back to him and stomp to the door.

“Dammit,” he mutters as he catches my arm. “Wait, don’t walk away. Just listen to me.”

I flip around. “What?”

He struggles with what to say, brows lowered, then lifts his hands. “Christ! Fine. I wanted leverage, and if it didn’t work, I could have resold it.”

“But how did you know that I loved it so much?”

He sighs. “Terry mentioned that you’d wanted to buy it someday, so . . .”

It’s too absurd. “Why go to such lengths? For me?”

“Because my mind is set on you,” he murmurs.

“Why?” I search his face, looking for clues as to what he’s thinking.

He debates internally, then says, “I’m in a rush to get married, and there aren’t any other options I like. Brody adores you. You’re . . . beautiful.” His words soften as he averts his glance and drags a hand through his dark hair. “I’m not terrible to live with. I have training camp soon, and I won’t even be around. I’ll keep the bookstore for you. Brody doesn’t want me to buy him anything anyway.”

I inhale sharply as hope flares, burning like a beacon.

Keeping the store would solve so many issues. I’d still have the memories of Gran here, and I could continue to take care of my family.

But at what cost?

I can feel a tiny thread of something between us. Chemistry, most definitely. Heat, oh yeah. From the moment he got out of his car at the motel, something about him caught my attention.

But . . .

I don’t want to get entangled with him. Haven’t I been through enough with Kian? I don’t want to jump right back into something else, especially something that feels . . . exciting.

Gray eyes search mine, trying to gauge my reaction.

What I want to do is run and break this spell he has on me, but instead, I stay rooted. My mind tumbles his words around, running different scenarios and outcomes.

“We’ll be professional,” he says. “Roommates in my apartment. Perhaps friends.”

“For how long?”

“A few months, maybe three; I’m not sure. Until the lawyer approves the inheritance. Then we’ll make up a story about why we’re getting divorced.”

I swallow, remembering how my heart jumps whenever he’s nearby. Obviously he doesn’t have that issue.

And buying the store? I don’t get it. Sure, he could use it as leverage, but that would be entirely overboard. Why not just find someone else? What is it about me that he wants?

“What happens to the store after we divorce?”

He studies my face. “I swear I’ll sell to someone who’ll keep it open.”

My throat tightens. It’s everything I could want.

Unease rises.

I shake my head. “What if . . . I mean, it would be easy to . . .” Get attached to him.

Which is the last thing I need.

A moment passes, then: “I see.”

“What?” I put my hands on my hips.

“You’re worried about falling for me.”

I scoff. “Jesus. Please. That was the last thing I was thinking. Save me from the egomaniacal asshole.”

“You won’t, I promise.”

“Why not? Just curious why you’d say that.”