Wild Kisses (Wildwood 2)

Then, with one hand on Trace’s arm and one hand curled into Avery’s, George drifted into sleep again.

Avery sighed deeply, a sound of pure relief. Trace new exactly how she felt, because he felt it every time he handed over care of his father to his grandmother or Zane. But when she lifted her gaze to his, her blue eyes, always so open and light, were definitely different.

“I guess they cleared everything up at the café?” she asked, quiet but cool and businesslike.

Trace experienced yet another wave of profound relief and nodded.

She did the same. “I’m glad.” She picked up some papers from the counter and set them on the blanket covering George’s legs. “He has the cut on his cheek that needed stitches. Otherwise he just has a few superficial cuts and bruises. Doctor says he’ll be sore for a while. These are his discharge papers. We were just waiting for someone to help us get him to my car. They should be here any minute.”

“Avery—” God, he didn’t know what to say.

“You’re going to need some time with him, I know. It’s fine. I’m going to postpone the café’s opening.”

“No—”

“It’s no big deal. I’ve been pushing for this opening too hard. It’s cost us all too much—”

He reached across the gurney and curled his hand over hers. “Avery.”

With her eyes downcast, she pulled in a shaky breath and shook her head but didn’t speak and didn’t pull her hand away. With her lips pressed tight, blinking quickly, Trace knew she was fighting tears, and the sight clawed at him.

“I want to say something that will make today go away,” he said. “I know it was wrong to hire JT. I know I was wrong to let such a piece of shit near you. I know this has cost you rumors that could hurt your business

—”

She jerked her hand away, and the look she leveled at him, so hurt, so angry, cut straight through his heart. “I don’t give a shit about JT. I don’t give a shit about rumors.”

The nurse stepped in, took one look at them, and murmured, “Um . . . I’ll come back.” She exited, closing the drape quietly behind her.

“The only thing I gave a shit about this morning was you,” she continued, her voice low and harsh. Tears slipped over her lashes, and she broke his gaze to push them away. “I don’t ask for much, Trace, but I deserve truth and respect.”

He pushed a hand into his hair as his mind spiraled backward. When hadn’t he given her both?

“I was going to sleep with you anyway,” she went on. “We’d already set up the ground rules, for God’s sake. But to change them only to turn around and yank the rug out from under my feet?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He rounded the end of the gurney and gripped her waist, holding her tight even when she tried to twist away from him. “No. Tell me what the fuck you’re talking about.”

She wouldn’t look at him. “I’m talking about you being ashamed of sleeping with me.” Her bluster faltered, and she was shaking. “Afraid I’d ruin your image?”

He cupped her chin and lifted her eyes to his. “Baby, I would never be ashamed of sleeping with you.”

She got that stubborn jut to her chin, and tears glazed her eyes. “Then why did you swear and cover your face when I said it earlier?” Her cheeks got red-hot, and her words started spilling out again. “I was trying to help. I wanted them to know—”

Trace stopped her mouth with a kiss. She responded at first, then jerked her head back and pushed at his chest. “Forget it. That’s not going to work anymore.”

So he kissed her again. Cupping her face he sipped at her lips, licked at her tears. Then he pulled back and pressed his fingers to her mouth so she couldn’t start talking again.

“Avery, you’re the hometown sweetheart starting a new business with every last penny to your name, and you stood in the middle of a room full of the worst gossips on the planet and admitted you were sleeping with the ex-con playboy who is still struggling years later to scrape his life back together, and who was, at that moment, suspected of a new crime. That’s why I swore and covered my face. It wasn’t exactly a glowing testimonial to your better judgment.”

“Well . . .” She was wearing the cutest little pout, half-belligerent, half-embarrassed. “Screw you,” she said with absolutely no heat, “and the horse you rode in on.”

For an instant, all Trace’s pain and fear fell away, and he laughed, pulling her close. “You are so damn adorable.”

Avery relaxed into him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her face against his chest. And she broke into a combination of tears and relieved laughter. “You scared the living shit out of me, Trace.”

“Knock, knock.” The nurse peeked around the curtain. “Is it safe to come in now?” She glanced from Avery to Trace and smiled. “Aw, all made up. I knew a little time and talking would fix everything. Usually does.” She pushed the drape back and introduced the man at her side. “This is Tanner. He’s going to help you get your father to your car.”

Avery followed Trace to his house, and together, with George’s arms around their shoulders, they walked him inside and put him to bed.