“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”
A nod, and a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry—”
“No,” I interrupted. “No apologies. Not about this. Never about this. I’m trying to take it slow. It’s just harder than I expected.”
A quirk at the side of her mouth as she pushed her body into me, pressing against my rock-hard erection. “Isn’t it supposed to be hard?”
My burst of laughter was as surprising as her saucy tease. “My cock? Yes. Taking it slow so I don’t scare you off? That should be a lot easier.”
“Is it usually?”
“Easier? Hell yes, Buttercup.” The almost-forgotten childhood endearment slid out naturally. “Control is not usually an issue for me. Not like this.”
“Then why is it hard with me?” she giggled.
“Fucked if I know, but it is. So fucking hard.” Another giggle. I rested my chin on the top of her head, absorbing the sound of her laughter. “I forgot I used to call you Buttercup. Do you still pick them and hold them under your chin to see the sunshine?”
“Not in a long time.”
“We’ll have a picnic when it warms up,” I promised, remembering all the times I’d found her in the wild of the woods, curled up against a tree trunk with a book in her lap, a bouquet of buttercups at her side. She’d loved the sunny flowers that grew in abundance in the fields of Heartstone Manor.
“Okay.”
With another squeeze of my arms, I let her go, more reluctant to leave her than I’d expected, especially after that kiss. “Rest. Take a nap, a bath, whatever. Text me if you’re up for dinner later. Otherwise, there’s some cans of soup and frozen pizza in the kitchen.”
Another “Okay,” and she was gone, grabbing her suitcase and disappearing into the first bedroom she came to. I got in the elevator and hit the button for Cooper’s floor, feeling like I’d left some essential part of myself behind with Hope.
Buttercup. How had I forgotten that? And if I’d forgotten calling her Buttercup, what else had I buried? I didn’t have time to figure it out before the elevator was spitting me out into Cooper’s foyer. Time to face the music. I was not ready for this.
I didn’t think I ever would be.
Chapter Eighteen
Griffen
They were all waiting for me. Cooper. Alice. Cooper’s brothers Evers and Knox. All wearing similar expressions of concern. Alice came forward to give me a hug, her arms strong despite her tiny frame. When she let go, she leaned around me, looking back at the closed elevator.
“Where is she?”
Of course, Alice was looking for Hope. “Taking a nap. She needs it after the last twenty-four hours.”
“You got married?”
“Yep.”
“You going to tell us why?”
“Because we’re in love, why else?”
“She didn’t know?” Cooper asked, handing me a cold beer and leading us to the big couches in his living room. Cooper was sharp. He might not know the details, but he knew I hadn’t married Hope of my own free will.
“She had no clue.” There was a lot I didn’t understand, but I was sure about that. Despite the shitty things I’d said earlier, I knew Hope was innocent in all of this.
“And your brother’s in jail? Did he do it?” Evers asked, bracing his foot on the table, curiosity in his ice-blue eyes. He was the youngest of the Sinclair brothers, the most like me in temperament. Easy going, charming, hard to ruffle.
Okay, I had to admit, Evers was more like me before I was shot. Post career-ending shoulder injury, I was a cranky bastard.
“No,” I answered. “No way Ford did it.”
“Huh. Isn’t he the asshole who got you kicked out of town and stole your fiancée?” Cooper asked. Alice’s head pinged between us, taking it all in. Cooper alone knew the whole story thanks to a bottle of tequila years ago on the anniversary of my would-be wedding.
“He is,” I admitted. Might as well get it all out there. “It was a long time ago. A lifetime.”
“It was her too, though, wasn’t it? Hope had something to do with it?” Alice only knew bits and pieces of the story, but she was good at putting things together. They all were.
I set my beer on the table and went for the bar at the side of the room. “I need something stronger than a beer. Anyone want anything?”
“Bring the bottle,” Knox said. Always a man of few words, Knox got right to the point. I grabbed the decanter and five glasses.
Knocking back a generous slug of Cooper’s excellent whiskey, I started at the beginning of the end. “We were going to elope. My father didn’t like Vanessa. We’d dated off and on all through college. Prentice always hated her. When I started talking about marriage, he said it wasn’t going to happen. I ignored him. Right around then there was a business he wanted to buy, thought it would fill a hole in our portfolio. The owner didn’t want to sell. Prentice was playing hardball. My brother Ford and I were trying to stop him, to find a way to fill the hole without stealing a man’s livelihood.”