“She doesn’t want money. The young woman wants an apology—and if you have it in that brain of yours, a makeup kiss or two wouldn’t hurt.”
“Not happening. Love—especially the office kind—leads nowhere good. I did us both a favor and saved us a flaming tragedy.”
It’s Ma’s turn to roll her eyes.
“I swear you get that stubborn streak from your father because you’ve got my brains.”
“What?”
“Lincoln Burns, you’re no martyr. You’re acting like a fool who walked away from a wonderful young creature who adored you.” Her face tightens before she continues. “I’d give anything—anything—for one more hour with your father, and watching you give up on a woman you obviously care about, who loves you—” She throws up her hands. “If you weren’t almost three times bigger, I’d spank you right now.”
Brutal.
And of course she’s desperate for another hour with Dad. That’s because she’s heartbroken and too blind to see it—to see what I’m saving us from.
She holds my gaze and says, “The biggest lesson I learned after your father passed was how bitterly short life can be. You can’t waste it living in fear—”
“I’m not afraid, Ma.”
She laughs and takes a hurried bite of her cinnamon roll. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“What does that mean?”
“You were afraid of losing Dakota—”
“No, I wasn’t. We weren’t even together. It was a sham. I didn’t have anything to lose.” Yeah, right. Even I don’t buy it.
“Whatever you say. Either way, you ended it. Now, you don’t have to worry about it. But love is a gift, Lincoln. The only way it ends in tragedy is if you choose to go through life without ever loving because you’re scared to death you might get hurt. That’s the real tragedy, son. I just hope you figure that out before it’s too late.” Her voice softens.
I don’t know why that annoys me so much.
“Can we drop this?”
“Not likely. Dakota might’ve been the best chance for grandkids I’ll ever get. Also, I don’t care what you say, dear. You were happy with her. It was clear as day in every photo.”
“Huh? They were supposed to destroy those pictures,” I growl, irritated that somebody didn’t follow orders.
“I’m your mother. I told design to keep them locked up securely. How else am I supposed to know what you’re up to?”
That fucking figures.
Between Wyatt’s earlier comments about “Raven chick” and Ma’s two cents, I’m on knife’s edge. I’ve pitched nine-figure deals without this much adrenaline coursing through me.
“I have to get home to give Wyatt his medicine. He shouldn’t get out of bed alone.”
“Of course.” Mom smiles, having said her piece.
I stand.
“So, can I hope you’ll at least think about calling that girl?”
“You can hope whatever you want. Doesn’t mean it’ll happen.”
She glowers at me, her eyes dark with disappointment.
“One day, I’m going to join your father. Then you might be sorry you never had your own family.”
“You’re so ornery that won’t be for a while. Heaven thinks you’re too entertaining here and you scare the pants off the devil.” I lean down and kiss her on top of the head. “I love you, Ma.”
“Bah. If you did, I’d have a grandbaby by now.”
I leave her to lick my wounds in peace.
With my car on the ferry back to Seattle, I have plenty of time to think.
I’ve already met the Reaper face-to-face once, and again when I thought he had Wyatt’s ticket. I’m fearless in business, take risks, and always land on my feet.
So how the hell does one little blond with a spear for a tongue bust me up so much?
Dakota damn Poe runs through my head in chaotic scenes.
Arguing over cinnamon rolls.
Red-faced and crying because she sent the wrong attachment.
Pulling a greedy moan that tastes like pure honey from her mouth.
Standing beside me in a white dress that’s so goddamned beautiful it stops clocks.
My heart stops, too, because I know.
I know if I ever wanted a woman beside me in a white dress, it’s Nevermore, and no one else.
It’s that dress she wore like an angel sent to render me boneless.
Then I went and ruined what could’ve been by conning her into a fake-ass engagement. I let her worm of an ex get in my head and rattle me into shoving her away.
Why?
Dumbass, you know the answer.
I feel sick, and I never get motion sickness on these ships.
Fuck. What have I done?
Before I can regret it, I pick up my phone.
How are you, Nevermore? I text.
No answer.
No surprise.
How are you liking your new role? I try again.
That’s a genuine question. Mother said she’s miserable, and I thought she’d be happy being promoted.
There’s no answer by the time I’m driving off the ferry thirty minutes later, my jaw tight, every nerve bristling.
A bullet to the face would hurt less than wondering if I damaged Dakota Poe so much she’s given up completely.