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“I’M SO SORRY, BABE,” STACY’S sultry tone brushed against Roman’s neck as she came up from behind and slipped her arms around him.
He was standing at the front window in the light of the glowing Christmas tree. Mia had been in bed for an hour, and Roman hadn’t been able to concentrate as he reviewed tomorrow’s script. So he’d come out here to gaze across the dark landscape of the ranch and try to put together a few thoughts on what had happened today. With Stacy.
Yet here she was now. Crowding in on any thinking he might have been doing. Acting as if they were still together.
Her hands locked about his torso as she pressed against him. Stacy was a beautiful woman, and she could be charming when she wanted to be. It appeared that she had another side to her, though, one in which she didn’t take no for an answer. How many times did he have to tell her they were over? That they could only have a working relationship? He didn’t want more—especially not with her. Time wasn’t going to change that.
Tonight had been a perfect example. At the ice skating rink, she’d ignored the fact that they were no longer a couple, by holding his hand and basically latching onto him the whole time. When he finally led her away from everyone to talk about it, she’d melted into tears. He’d apologized for hurting her feelings, and said they’d talk about it later, but for the activity, could she stop hanging on him?
Well, that hadn’t been the right thing to say either, because she’d stayed in the bathroom for the next hour.
Roman moved his hands to her wrists and stepped out of her hold. Then he turned around to face her.
Her arms dropped to her sides, and she blinked rapidly in the glittery light. “Are you still mad at me?”
“It’s not about being mad at you,” Roman said. “It’s about you acting like we never broke up. When I said I was fine with being friends, I meant it. I wasn’t being coy. I was being completely honest.”
Stacy bit her lip. “You said you wanted a break. It doesn’t mean we can’t still flirt a little, right? While you’re on your break?”
“I said I wanted to break up,” Roman said, trying to keep his tone even. “And yes, that I need a break from relationships, or even thinking about them. Mia needs to be my focus right now.”
Her smile appeared. “You don’t have to think with me.”
Oh boy. . . “Stacy, even when I’m ready for a relationship, I don’t want to get back together with you. We’re just not right for each other long-term. Please, I don’t want to sound like a jerk, but you and I are done. Forever. Flirting is just not appropriate anymore. Friends—actual friends with no strings, no benefits—is what I meant. We need to keep our relationship as a professional, working one.”
Stacy didn’t speak for a moment.
Roman’s entire body felt tense. Would she cry? Yell? Or finally listen to him? He didn’t want this to be ugly. There were still episodes to film this week, and another season to start in the spring. He didn’t want the change in their relationship to affect her contract or the professionalism of the show.
When Stacy finally spoke, it was in a trembling voice. “Is it her? That chef woman?”
Roman wanted to groan. What did Cara have to do with his breakup with Stacy? They’d broken up before Cara had come to the ranch. “There’s no other woman. When we were together, I wasn’t seeing or thinking about other women.”
“Nothing was really official, though,” she rushed to say. “We flirted and kissed. We didn’t even go out on a real date with just the two of us.”
They’d covered this territory already, more than once. Stacy was right. But Roman hadn’t wanted it to progress. Just as his feet got wet, he wanted out of the pool. Perhaps he was testing to see if he was ready to start dating. Clearly, he wasn’t, or even more clearly, he didn’t want to date Stacy Bernard. “I’m really sorry, Stacy. You’re an amazing woman. I hope you know that.”
Stacy brought a hand to her mouth, and her eyes filled with tears. “You’re really dumping me, aren’t you?”
A week ago. . . But Roman didn’t point that out. This seemed to be fresh for Stacy. What had she told herself last week and earlier tonight? He exhaled slowly. It didn’t matter. Hopefully it was all done now, and they were finally on the same page. He stepped away from her, because although it was hard not to comfort a crying woman, he couldn’t be that comfort to Stacy.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said in a quiet voice. “If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t have let it get so far.” It hadn’t really gone far in the first place, but he was trying to take some of the blame here to make her feel better. He could only hope it would work.
“Okay,” she whispered, nodding. “Okay.” She wiped at her eyes, then drew in a deep, shuddering breath. She pointed a finger at him. “But if I see you with the chef woman, then I’ll know you’re lying to me. I’ll know you’re a two-timing coward, Roman De Marco.”
Roman slipped his hands into his pockets. He wanted to argue with her. Tell her again that Cara had only been here a couple of days. A week after his breakup with Stacy. What was wrong with her? Maybe this was just her grief talking . . .
When morning arrived, Roman wasn’t feeling any more settled about Stacy. She’d been so upset that he could only hope he’d survive today’s filming. He didn’t have to be on set, but since this was his ranch, and since things went smoother when he was keeping an eye on things, Roman wanted to show up.
He missed the first glimpse of sunrise, thanks to a restless night. So by the time he reached the kitchen, the coffee maker was already on. He fully expected to see Lila bustling about, scrambling some eggs or mixing up a muffin batch.
Instead, Cara Prosper was sitting on a bar stool, scrolling through her phone. She hadn’t just tumbled out of bed like the day before when the delivery truck had arrived so early. Her hair was braided into a single braid, and she wore dark leggings—not the cat kind—and an oversized sweatshirt that had slipped off one shoulder.
He had an urge to adjust the sweatshirt, but instead, he cleared his throat as he walked into the kitchen.
Cara’s blue eyes cut to his, and her expression turned sheepish. “Oh hi, did I wake you? I hope I wasn’t clattering anything.”
“I’m always up pretty early,” Roman said. “Thanks for starting the coffee.”
