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“I thought it might be Charlie, but...I don’t know for sure.”
“What an asshole! I can’t believeanyonewould do that!”
She didn’t really want to talk about it. It was old news, something she was dealing with herself. There was nothing Paul could do about it, anyway. “I’m okay. Just needed a few stitches.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Partly because she’d been in good hands already, she realized. Brant knew, and he’d been looking out for her. She’d felt protected enough that she’d felt no need to drag anyone else into it. But maybe she would’ve told Paul if he’d still been talking to her. “I couldn’t,” she said. “You weren’t answering any of my calls or texts, remember?”
“You never sent anything about getting hurt!”
Apparently, he had been reading her messages; he just hadn’t been responding to them. She’d guessed as much. “I thought you were mad at me, Paul.”
He scowled. “I was,” he admitted. “I was shocked and hurt and mad as hell when Charlie told me what was happening here. You’d been away from me for less than a week—and already you were messing around with another guy? I couldn’t believe it. But after a couple days of going out of my mind, I realized if it happenedthatfast, it was probably nothing serious. I know how long it takes to get you into bed when you’re considering a relationship,” he joked. “So...what made you do it?”
Desire. She couldn’t remember ever wanting a man like she’d wanted Brant. But she knew that answer would only make matters worse. Paul had been chasing her for so long. Of course he’d want her to feel that kind of desire for him. And she’d been hoping she would—with time. “I’ve been trying to figure that out. I’m afraid I don’t have a good answer.”
Another couple came out of the restaurant. As they walked past, he lowered his voice. “It was just physical, though, right? An outlet for the stress you’re under being back here by yourself and facing people—Charlie and his family—who are so hostile to you?”
He was feeding her the excuse he felt he could accept. He wanted her to say that the time she’d spent with Brant hadn’t meant anything to her, that it was just a mistake and nothing had changed between her and Paul. But she wasn’t sure that was the case. Somethinghadchanged, because whenever she thought of Brant, she still felt that same desire.
“Talulah?”
After quickly considering her other options, she decided to go with what Paul had suggested, for now. She could sort out her real feelings later, once they were home. She and Paul had such a good thing going with the dessert diner. She had to be careful, thoughtful—and most of allcertain—before she stated anything too strongly, especially right now. “Maybe. I don’t know. Like I said, I can’t really explain it. Nothing like that has ever happened before.”
He gave her a searching look. “But...you’re coming back to Seattle, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” she said and that seemed to help.
Taking her hand, he smiled in apparent relief. “Then let’s put the past behind us. Forget it. As far as I’m concerned, what happened last week never happened, and we won’t talk about it again.”
“Okay,” she agreed. But she knew it wouldn’t be that easy.
It was only forty-five minutes later, when she was in the bathroom after breakfast and Paul was waiting for her to leave the restaurant so he could follow her back to the hospital, that she got a text from Brant.
How’s it going? Any pics of the new baby you can share?
She wanted to respond, to send him one of the many photos she’d taken of her beautiful new niece, and she would’ve done so had Paul not shown up. She might even have asked Brant if he was going to be around when she got back. That was what felt natural to her.
But because she couldn’t—because she didn’t know what to say—she didn’t reply at all.
Brant had texted Talulah three hours ago—and gotten no response. He told himself she was probably busy with her sister and wasn’t checking her phone, but as the hours passed, he began to grow concerned. Did she have an accident or something driving home?
He couldn’t bring himself to believe that Charlie or Averil would seriously harm her, so he doubtedthatcould be the problem. But then, he never would’ve thought either of them would throw a rock through her window...
Hey, you okay?
He sent that message after he finished work. Then he showered and had dinner—and there was still no word from her. Her silence seemed odd, and he began to worry about Paul. What kind of man was he? Could it be that he was obsessed with Talulah—and angry enough to harm her?
The longer it went, the more uneasy he became. Around eight, he sent her another message:Can you just let me know if you’re safe?
It took about fifteen minutes, but he finally received an answer.
Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you think something terrible had happened. I’m fine. We’ll have to talk later, okay? I can’t use my phone at the moment.
Why not? he wanted to ask. He also wanted to see if she was at home or still in Billings. But he refrained from being the kind of pain in the ass who’d text again after she’d said she couldn’t use her phone.
“What’re you doing tonight?” Kurt asked, coming into the living room, where Brant was sprawled in their father’s old recliner.
