Every Little Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 2)

“Well, if possible, my father loved her even more. When she died . . . he was a mess for a while. The only thing that stopped him from falling apart was me. I had a nanny but my dad was always there to tuck me in at night, read me a story, talk about our days. A day didn’t go by that I didn’t feel his presence in my life. As the years went on he dated but never anything too serious. Then about fifteen years ago he started a relationship with Diane. A very wonderful lady.” I could tell from the tenderness in his voice that he was fond of this Diane person. “While I was in New York she pushed my dad to consider marriage, something he has been adamantly against. Now they’ve separated. And he loves her. However, he has this deep-seated belief that he shouldn’t marry her because he gave that honor to my mother. He’ll never love anyone the way he loved my mother, but that doesn’t mean he can’t love at all. I worry he’s throwing away his happiness because of pure stubborn grief.”

For a moment I was astounded by Vaughn’s confidence in me. That he would share something so personal with me.

Yet

as I sat there thinking about what he’d said, some things started to become clear. “You don’t want to get married, either.”

“What?” He frowned. “No, I’ve said as much.”

“Well don’t you think that’s a little bit of a coincidence?”

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you ever thought that your problem is actually your father’s problem?”

“Bailey, stop talking in circles and just say whatever it is you’re getting at.”

“Vaughn, you pretty much hero-worship your dad, right? That’s clear. So a lot of your emotions are tied up with him. And you’ve spent the majority of your life watching him pine and grieve for his lost love. He can’t move on from her. No wonder you don’t want to commit to a woman. You’ve seen firsthand what it might do to you if you ever lost her.”

The muscle in his jaw ticked, a fairly good sign that he was pissed.

I braced myself.

Vaughn remained quiet for a while.

Then . . . “Maybe you’re right,” as he got to his feet.

I stared up at him, chilled by the blankness that had come over his expression.

“Or maybe you don’t know me well enough to make that analysis.”

“And whose fault is that?” I shot back.

With what sounded like a low rumble of frustration, Vaughn abruptly walked away, marching down the beach and out of sight around the bend. Running away. Like a little boy!

As for me I slumped back on the sand, willing the high-level hum to fade from my body. I was a furnace, and not because of the summer day.

To my utter horror the combination of Tremaine’s smoldering eyes and confiding in me had turned me on.

“Holy hell,” I grumbled, slinging an arm across my face so I could hide my mortified annoyance from the world.

Vaughn

He couldn’t get away fast enough.

If he’d stayed, he would have kissed her, touched her, and made her hate him all over again. He’d hate himself if he did that to her.

So he walked away.

The nonsense she’d spewed about his father and how he felt about it . . . maybe it wasn’t nonsense, maybe it was, but the fact was he’d seen the hope in her eyes when she drew that conclusion. As though finding the answer to his commitment issues would somehow solve everything.

This back-and-forth stuff had to stop. He was driving them both insane. But the jealousy, the possessiveness that had roared in his blood when he saw her with that boy controlled him. He wanted to lay a claim to her, and that’s exactly what he’d done in the park.

When he’d seen Bailey go after Rex, he’d found himself following against his will. The relief he felt watching that kid leave was overwhelming.

That need to make sure she was okay, that relief he felt, made him question himself the entire way down the beach. It made him question himself as he sat beside her, their arms brushing. He was aware of every breath she took, every facial expression, every thought that flickered across her beautiful green-gold eyes.

And he knew he had to make a decision.