Worth the Wait (Last Hope Ranch Book 2) Page 3

  He blew out a sigh and lifted his glass. “Agreed.”

  Noticing a glow coming from the bedroom, Julie glanced at Hank and walked over to look inside. She clamped her hand over her mouth, tears stinging her eyes as she took in the sight—electric candles flickered on every surface around the room, and rose petals had been strewn across the bedcovers.

  “It appears everyone had planned for a different outcome tonight,” she murmured, stepping further into the room to take it all in.

  She turned to find Hank leaning against the door. He didn’t look like a man who’d just gotten engaged, Julie realized, her heart twisting. She wanted to marry him. She did. Just not now. Not as soon as Hank wanted.

  “Hank, I want you to understand something.”

  He raised a brow. “I’m all ears, Julie. Make me understand why, when I tell the woman I love how I feel, tell her that I want to spend the rest of my life with her and be a father to her boys”—he paused—"she can’t seem to give me a solid response.”

  She put down the flute and walked up to him, close enough that she felt the sexual tension crackle between them as it always did. “No man has ever treated me as well as you do, Hank,” she said, searching his eyes.

  A short laugh escaped his throat. “Not that it’s made a difference, apparently.”

  “I’m not explaining myself very well.” She was going to have to kick it up a notch to get her point across. She held his gaze, lifted her summer dress above her hips and drew her panties off one leg at a time. She dangled them from her fingertip.

  That seemed to have garnered his attention.

  “What I’m trying to say, albeit poorly, is that I have never felt so free to be myself around a man. To feel so beautiful, so sexy…so wanted.”

  She began to unbutton his shirt and he finished the job, tearing it off his shoulders and tossing it across the room. Backing her to the bed, he framed her face in a kiss that went on forever, drugging her senses. The backs of her knees grew weak.

  “I want more than having fun, Julie.” He held her gaze as she grappled for his waistband.

  “I know you do,” she sighed against his lips.

  Julie held his gaze. “I want to marry…someday. But right now, I’m happy with the way we are.” She pulled his head down into a fierce kiss knowing where it would lead, perhaps hoping the distraction would be enough to buy her some time to explain, perhaps simply hoping that it would appease his need for a verbal commitment.

  He pulled from her, his gaze piercing. “I have loved you from the moment we met back at that damn football game. I’ll do whatever you want. Wait as long as you need. I just need to know that you feel for me what I feel for you.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. Her ex had been suave, and what she’d thought was seductive had turned out to be manipulative—part of his need to control her. To make her the wife he thought she should be. “Hank, you understand what I’ve been through. I know you’re nothing like Louis.” She searched his eyes. “I’m not even sure I deserve you.”

  He sighed and leaned his forehead to hers. “You know that’s not true.”

  She waded further into the murky waters of her swirling emotions. “I need a little more time. My head’s saying one thing, but my heart’s saying another,” she said.

  His smile was warm. “And you need time for them to catch up and be on the same page.”

  She nodded. “My heart has been betrayed. I need time to learn to trust again.” She touched a fingertip to his mouth. “This has nothing to do with you. It’s my problem. And one I’ve got to allow myself time to walk through.” She held his gaze. “I hope you can understand, but I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”

  “If time is what you need to trust in what we have, it’s worth the wait for me, Julie,” he said. “I love you.”

  He brushed his lips to hers and she circled her hand behind his neck, drawing him closer, comforted by his presence, comforted by his understanding. “Stay with me,” she whispered, looking up to see his dark eyes turn smoky. “I need you with me tonight.”

  Chapter Three

  Hank peeked around the corner of the bedroom door and watched Julie sleeping. It was just past dawn and with all the tension and excitement the day before he thought it best not to disturb her.

  She stirred and tucked her hand beneath her cheek, cradling it much the same as he’d done more than once last night. A niggling doubt slithered again into his brain. Had what his sister said been true? Was he simply suffering from “white-knight syndrome,” trying to swoop in and save Julie? Most men would welcome the delay of being tied down, but despite Julie’s assurances, it left a hole deep inside him.

  He thought of the weeks he’d planned the proposal, of what her reaction might be. In all of the scenarios, delaying a trip to the altar hadn’t been one of them. The conversations—make that arguments—he’d had over the past few months with his sister Caroline teased the already lingering insecurities in his mind.

  Two weeks ago, he’d had just one thing left to do—the ring. He’d wanted something special, something different. At the advice of one of his older clients he’d wound up on Michigan Avenue in downtown Chicago, staring up at mighty Atlas shouldering his ancient timepiece over the entrance to Tiffany’s.

  With the expertise of an older gentleman, Hank had found the perfect bauble. A bright, white Tiffany diamond with two sapphire stones on either side to denote his devotion to her two sons, as well. The matching wedding band was an eternity stone setting of diamonds and sapphires.

  Exuberant to share this life-changing moment, he’d called his sister Caroline to see what she thought, and how she thought the parents—who were vacationing in Italy—might react.

  He’d invited her to his loft the night before his flight back to Last Hope Ranch, where he’d planned to pop the question while on a sunset flight ending with a celebration dinner at the ranch, compliments of Wyatt and Aimee Kinnison.

  He showed the ring to his sister and waited for her squeal of delight.

  “Are you out of your mind?” She stared at him, eyes wide with alarm.

  He glanced at the ring. “What is it? Too much? Not big enough? The guy at Tiffany’s said it was a rare design.”

  “The ring”—Caroline snapped shut the turquoise velvet box, the sound bouncing off the vaulted ceiling like a gunshot—“is exquisite.” She sighed, her expression awash with pity. “Henry Adam Richardson, you are a sweet, sweet man. But honey, you’ve always had this ‘knight-in-shining-armor’ syndrome.” Caroline patted his hand and handed him the box.

  “I was…hoping you’d be a bit happier for me, Sis.” Hank shook his head. Leave it to his pragmatic sister to see his romantic gesture as something contrived. He placed it on the counter next to the Chicago Dogs take-out sack from their lunch. The jalapenos, usually his favorite, were roiling now in his stomach. “What the hell is ‘knight-in-shining-armor’ syndrome, anyway?” he asked with a frown.

  Caroline rolled her gaze to the ceiling and held her finger up as she took a sip of wine. Hell, if he understood the pairing of Chicago Dogs with wine, but with her, he’d learned to pick his battles. And he had a feeling one was about to commence.

  Caroline eyed him. “Let’s talk about Samantha McCauley in the third grade.

  Had his sister gone bonkers? “You weren’t even old enough to remember me in third grade.”

  “The story, however, is legendary.” She held up her hand to silence his refute. “I bet Mother has told the story of her brave and sensitive little boy at least sixty times—maybe more—at dinner parties and family gatherings.” She chuckled and took another drink. “Expounding on what a fearless, amazing child you were to jump into the deep end of the pool to rescue little Samantha’s hair clip that had fallen to the bottom.”

  Hank dredged up the old memory and laughed. He took a pull from his beer—by the way, the essential and proper pairing to a Chicago Dog. But he didn’t plan to challenge his snotty sister
on that point. “I didn’t do anything that anyone else wouldn’t have done, given the circumstances.”

  Caroline leaned back, her expression dubious. “You hadn’t even passed your Red Cross lessons yet.” She pointed her finger at him. “Then there was that time in fifth grade when Betsy Knight missed the bus and you walked her home.”

  “Betsy was hot. That I do remember.” He grinned.

  “It was a good thing her daddy brought you back home. The girl lived more than two miles from the school. Lord, when Mother and Father found out what you’d done, they fawned over your brave, courageous heart. You saved that little girl from dangers unknown.”

  Hank shrugged.

  “The thought to call her parents never occurred to you?” Caroline asked.

  Hank lifted his beer, took a drink, and then defended himself. “She said her mom would be mad that she missed the bus.”

  “And why did she miss the bus, big brother?” Caroline peered at him, one dark brow crooked inquisitively. They’d both received their mother’s Colombian coloring and hair. Brother and sister were model perfect in looks—Vogue magazine’s dream come true. But personality-wise they couldn’t have been further apart.

  “Kids mess around in the fifth grade,” he said.

  “I never did,” she responded indignantly.

  Hank sighed and glanced at his watch. He had a five-a.m. flight time tomorrow and wanted to finish putting his plan together to sweep Julie off her feet.

  “The list goes on. You know it as well as I do. The countless times you’ve rescued the damsel in distress.”

  Hank rolled his eyes and sighed.

  “The number of girls who talked your ears off about their boyfriend issues.” She raised a pert brow.

  He reached up and tugged his earlobes. “Still got ‘em.”

  Caroline looked at him. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” his sister said with an uncharacteristic softness in her voice. “From what you’ve told me, that woman has some real issues.”

  He studied her a moment before answering. “This is the real deal, Sis.”

  “She almost killed you,” Caroline pleaded.

  “That was her lunatic ex-husband, not her.”

  Caroline slumped back in her chair. “It doesn’t matter what I say, does it?”

  Hank picked up the box, feeling the firm case beneath the velvety softness. It reminded him of the woman he loved. He admired her strength. He loved her mind. Everything else was glorious. Sexy icing on the cake. “Sure it does. But it doesn’t change how I feel about Julie.” He eyed his sister. “And I hope you’ll be happy for us.”

  Caroline released a weary sigh. “Does this mean I have to attend yet another wedding in that little hick town called End of the Time, Montana?”

  “End of the Line,” he corrected as he pulled her from the chair and enveloped her in a bear hug.

  “Whatever,” Caroline muttered. She looked at him with wariness in her gaze. “If she hurts you, just hop in that little plane of yours and come home. Chicago is always here, and this city is filled with plenty of damsels in distress.”

  “Julie is no damsel, Caroline. She’s my queen.”

  “Okay, I might’ve just thrown up in my mouth a little.” She glanced away and took another sip from her glass.

  Hank chuckled and took a pull on his beer. “I know once you get to know her better, you two will be great friends.”

  She nodded, but her expression belied that she was convinced.

  ***

  Hank was brought back to the present by Julie’s sexy, sleep-induced yawn. She opened her eyes and smiled sleepily. Suddenly, the idea of staying in bed all day appealed to him more than the corporate big-wig and his buddies needing his services to fly them to Arizona for a men’s golf weekend.

  “You’re dressed?” She reached out to him.

  Damn. “Julie, it slipped my mind with everything going on yesterday, but I have a client who’s asked me to fly him and his buddies to Arizona. I’d drop it in a heartbeat, but the guy’s a repeat client—and, I might add, very wealthy. It’d be nice to stash aside for…well, whenever we might need it.”

  “I see.” She leaned up on her elbow. “How long will you be gone?”

  “He’s scheduled out for ten days. I’ve got to fly back to Chicago and pick them up. They’ve hired me to fly them to a couple of Arizona courses, then back to Chicago.” The mattress gave as he sat down. Getting too close to her, looking the way she did at the moment, was a dangerous move. “I promise it will go fast.”

  She slipped her hand in his. “I’ll miss you.” She offered a sexy pout.

  “Yeah?” He grinned. “Maybe you could come with me?”

  She sat up, looking snuggly in his T-shirt that she’d slipped on during the night. The old shirt never looked so good. “You know I would if I could, but I have the boys to think of and with all that’s going on I don’t feel I can just jet off to a week of fun and sun.” She grinned as she pulled the shirt over her head, her blond hair tousled and sexy. “Of course, I’ll miss you.” She leaned forward, captured him around the back of the neck, and drew him into a slow, passionate kiss. Ten seconds more and he’d be calling Alistair Rhoades III to cancel.

  He cleared his throat and eased off the bed, looking down at her with a heavy heart and even heavier reservations below his belt. This was, however, a lucrative trip that would set them up nicely for what he hoped would soon be wedding plans. He hated to leave, hated thinking of how well they fit together, her body arched softly against his, of how she seemed so free and trusting in his arms. “This is killing me, babe, but I need to go. I’m meeting this guy at Midway at noon.”

  Her well-kissed mouth curled into a tempting pout, making him reconsider the money aspect altogether. “Hold that thought…for the next ten days?” He scooped up his jacket and duffel bag.

  He stopped suddenly at the door, realizing that Kyle would be leaving for his Scout trip before he returned. “I’ll give Kyle a call when I have a moment—tell him to have a good time.”

  Julie slipped on her robe and smiled. “I appreciate that. It seems the boys are plugged into Uncle Clay and you these days.”

  Hank shrugged. “It’s a guy thing. He’ll get over it. Thing is, are you going to be okay?” The urge to walk back and hold her in his arms caused him to grip the door handle a bit tighter.

  “I’ll be okay. I know it’ll be good for him,” she said with a soft smile.

  “He’s going to be fine. They wouldn’t take those kids up there if they didn’t feel they were ready.” Hank glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go. See you in a few days.”

  “Be safe. Call me when you get there,” Julie said. “I’ll miss you.”

  ***

  Five hours later Hank stood at the private pilot’s station at Midway waiting on his client. He’d managed to stop by his loft and grab some clothes and toss a few things out in the fridge that wouldn’t survive his absence. Elton John’s “The Bitch is Back” ringtone rumbled in his jacket pocket, signaling a call from his sister. He grinned. “Hey, Sis, I was just about to call you before my clients get here.”

  “You’re back in Chicago?” There was a decided enthusiasm, maybe curiosity, in her query.

  “Just came back to pick up some guys golfing in Arizona. Hey, I wanted to ask if you’d check on Philly for me?”

  “Wait, you’re not staying?” she asked. “How did it go? What did she say? What do I tell Mother if she calls?”

  “Tell her I’ll call her later,” he said. “And don’t forget Philly.”

  “Hank, I’m not good with plants. You know that. And may I remind you that it’s pretty weird that a thirty-two-year-old man names his plants.”

  “Thanks, Sis.” Hank ignored the dig. He spotted Alistair Rhoades walking toward him in stylish-though-heartbreakingly-retro golf slacks in a pale blue and yellow plaid, topped with a canary yellow polo. “Gotta run, Sis.”

  “But, Hank, you didn’t tell me. What d
id she—"

  Hank ended the conversation and stuffed the phone in his pocket as he held his hand out to greet the dashing, silver-haired billionaire. He had no desire to get into the complications of his marriage proposal with his sister.

  ***

  Hold that thought. Julie had held tight to the memory of smoothing her hands over Hank’s incredible body, the thought of how he whispered her name as he brought her to dizzying heights. It had been all she could do not to think of it. So much so that in recent days she’d become forgetful. She made excuses for the forgetfulness—work, helping watch the twins, helping with the cabin duties and Frontier Days planning. With half-hearted enthusiasm, she’d shipped her son off on the charter bus carrying a group of Boy Scouts on their first adventure camp to Colorado.

  Of course, she’d been thrilled when Hank had suggested Scouts to help her two boys meet new people when they first moved to End of the Line. Chris hadn’t quite been ready, sticking close to Julie and befriending Emilee, who was nearly his age, discovering they shared a love for horses. Whatever the reason, she chided herself as she marched through the diner’s back room, searching for her notebook which had become her lifeblood of daily lists. She stopped in her tracks as she walked into the diner, her gaze locked on the unexpected stranger.

  Had he been more refined, his hair cut shorter, his clothes more polished, he could have been Louis’s double. Julie blinked, unable to form any rational thought as she stared blatantly at the man seated next to Dalton at the lunch counter.

  Granted, a quick glance around the room proved she was not alone in her assessment and, given the two women with their noses pressed against the front window, she was, in fact, not dreaming. Frankly, between Dalton Kinnsion and the new stranger seated beside him, there was very little eating and a lot more slack-jawed staring going on.

  Hold onto that thought. Hank’s words jumpstarted her brain. Julie gave her head a shake. How ridiculous was she? The man, her ex, had not been who she thought he was. She’d been taken in by his charm and surfer-boy good looks, not knowing a monster lay beneath the surface. Was her judgment so flawed? Could she not see past a shiny façade?