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She sat taller in her chair. “New York was about work. It wasn’t about thanking me for anything. It wasn’t about us.” She stood and moved to the sink. The ceramic of her coffee mug clanked as she rinsed it out and set it down. Whether the trembling of her hands was from anger or frustration she wasn’t sure. Maybe both. “What am I saying? There is no ‘us.’ I’ve helped you survive a silly Bake-Off. Nothing more.”

She looked out the kitchen window. Well, if one could call it that. It was more of a two foot by two foot square above the sink. But it allowed her to see the Marietta Elementary School campus. A beautiful property with big trees and lots of space for kids to run and play. Her kids—her students. The ones she’d come to know and love.

“Noelle.” The deep timbre of his voice moved through her, trying to break through the hurt, but she wouldn’t let it.

“It’s okay, Wes. Really.” She turned to him, crossing her arms in front of her as armor, leaning back against the counter away from him. “I get it. You’re a successful businessman. You didn’t get where you are by making bad decisions, or letting your emotions get in the way.”

“Noelle.” He leaned forward in his chair.

“We had a lovely time in New York. Truly. I’ll always be grateful. But that’s your life and your world. Where you belong. You shouldn’t concern yourself with what happens here.”

“I have every reason to be concerned with what happens here, and who things happen to.” He stood and stepped toward her. When their eyes met, she battled to keep the tears away. They sat on the edge of her lashes, threatening to fall, but she swallowed them down, along with her pride.

“I had to make sure I had all the information I wanted before…”

“I get it, Wes. I do.” She raised her hand between them to cut off his attempt to take another step closer. “You wanted control of the situation, and you got it.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not controlling anything, Noelle. I’m not even a part of this deal.” He ran a hand through his hair, the other he tucked again into his pants pocket. “You told me about some rumor. I figured out it was connected to my dad. I wanted to be sure it wasn’t bad for you, and in my opinion, it’s not. I honestly have no idea why you’re so upset. I was trying to protect you.”

“Making me feel like a fool doesn’t protect me from anything.”

“I never thought you a fool. You only shared with me what little information you’d been given.”

“On a subject you knew much more about but failed to share with me. Wes, if I lose my studio…” Her arms still folded in front of her, she turned her head. “This is my life. This is what I want.”

“You aren’t going to lose your studio, Noelle. I promise.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

She looked back at him. “How?”

“I told you, Ronald and I spoke in New York. He wants to change the facade of the buildings while filming but that’s all.”

He moved toward her, now close enough to hold her, but held back, his arms by his sides. “I would never let anyone hurt you, Noelle.”

“Too late for that.” The words spilled out, having the result she intended.

Wes stepped back, business demeanor back in full force. “I understand.”

He didn’t. There was no possible way he could.

“I’ll let myself out.” He turned and left, the click of the front door echoing through the apartment.

*

Wes pushed thebar away from his chest, his grunting echoing through the large workout room. His father had installed a full gym for Wes and his brothers to use, complete with every weight system available, Olympic weight-lifting equipment, a full locker room, and sauna. Two treadmills, two rowers, and three different types of exercise bikes lined one side, all facing floor to ceiling windows so one could look out at the glorious Montana landscape while working up a sweat in the comfort of the house.

At one point, Wes had called it excessive, preferring a simple jog on his treadmill in his penthouse with a set of weights that helped keep him in shape without taking up too much space. However, at the moment, he was thankful for the room to himself, as well as weights to throw around and his choice of what machine to beat himself up with while blaring heavy metal music from the surround sound stereo system.

After leaving Noelle’s apartment, he couldn’t get a grasp on what had happened, or how fast it had occurred. One minute they were kissing each other senseless and making a pie together, the next she was crying and mad at him, saying he’d hurt her and she wanted him to leave.

He pumped the bar off his chest again and back down, the repetitive movement matching the steadiness of his thoughts. No matter how many times he went over it in his mind, he couldn’t see how he’d made a misstep. Sure, he’d admit that not saying he had any idea of the deal might come across as him keeping something from her, but he wasn’t. And yes, he’d admit he was a guy who kept things close to the vest, but he’d done so to protect her, make sure things were good before saying anything. If they weren’t, he could step in and help. Either way, he had her best interests at heart.

“You’re gonna work yourself into a heart attack if you keep up that pace.”

Mike’s head came into Wes’s line of vision as his brother stepped behind him and grabbed the weight bar. He placed it in the rack and stared down at Wes, his face upside down. “You’ve been in here for hours. What gives?”

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