“Because of you.”
“Because I own the land,” he corrected. “But you want to sell, right?”
“I mean, when I thought the house wasn’t worth anything and I had no money and nowhere else to live, I wasn’t desperate to sell, but now…”
If the house was worth something, Lainey couldleave. She could leave Timber Creek. Wisconsin, even! She could do…well, she wasn’t sure what she’d do, but she wouldn’t be livinghand-to-mouth anymore. For the first time in her life, she’d have the time and space towantsomething. She’d have decent health care. She’d have the money to set Gran up comfortably. She could take her medication as prescribed and work a steady job or take art classes or both. She thought back to her conversation with Bree at the VFW—herSliding Doorsmoment. For the first time in six years, she’d be able to buy a plane ticket to somewhere in France without picturing her bank account laughing at her in a haughty, francophone manner. That kind of money could buy her freedom. It could buy her access to a place where she could have affordable health care without having to stay married to her enemy.
“What ifIbought the house from you?” Elliot asked.
Her eyes narrowed. “I thought you couldn’t afford that.”
“Not right now, but what if…” He paced in front of the bed. “Instead of putting the summer’s revenue toward renovations, I DIY the bare minimum and save every penny we earn. I’d pay down some of my uncle’s debt and get to a point where I might actually be approved for a mortgage loan, and at the end of the summer, I make you an offer? Then we’d get divorced.”
Lainey got her face as close to his as was polite for a woman internally deliberating a sham wedding proposal. She squinted up at him, analyzing his expression, the creases bracketing his eyes, and the subtle cleft in his chin.Never trust a man with a cleft chin, Gran had told her.Smooth talkers. Every one of them.
“Why do you want this house so bad?” she asked with narrowed eyes. He seemed desperate, and desperate people usually scared Lainey. Desperate people were liabilities. Lainey preferred people who behaved as she expected them to—good or bad.
“Vincent Groff is why I became an architect. I never dreamed I’d be able to own something of his, let alone Forest’s Bridge,” he answered.
“You’d really marry a stranger you don’t even like just to have your name next to his in a coffee table book?”
“I like you,” he said through a smirk that made her feel light and queasy all at once.
She swallowed. Hard. Why was swallowing so hard? “I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
“I’d do just about anything for decent health insurance and a way out of this town, but I’m not saying yes to this unless you can convince me why it wouldn’t make more sense for you to just pack it in and go home, and if you mention the legacy of that dead philanderer one more time—”
“I don’t take risks,” he cut in, his expression serious. Nervous. Suddenly, he had her full attention. “Risks require hope and optimism. I don’t do that. I don’t need to wait for the next shoe to drop, because, in my mind, it’s already on the floor. But taking on this project—moving here—for aminute, I believed that I could have a different life. And if I don’t find a way to make something good out of this, I’m genuinely scared I’ll never try for anything ever again.”
Elliot stared back at her with firm, unblinking eyes. There was something so vulnerable about his wide gaze. The slight tremble of his full mouth. The scratch of his stubble along his palm when he rubbed his jaw.
“I actually believe you,” she finally answered after a prolonged perusal of his features.
What were her options, really? Carry on as she had been, trying her absolute hardest just to make it to the next day? What if,for a minute, she let herself believe she could have a different life, too?
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slowly up and then down. “You believe me?” he asked. His lips tilted sideways, like a kid getting away with nabbing a cookie from the jar.
“Don’t act so pleased, or I’ll have to take it back.”
She turned against his groans of protest, heading for the door until, suddenly, she felt the tug of his hand yanking her backward. He bent down to look at her, holding her hand in both of his warm ones. The movement stole the air from her lungs. She met his eyes, his pupils saucers in the low light. “I don’t even get a real answer?” he asked, a smile curling at the corners of his lips. “After you charged into my bedroom in the middle of the night?”
She lolled her head side to side, relishing teasing him. She pinched her eyes shut, though it offered no relief from the way every part of him curled around every other part of her. “Yes,” she whispered, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth. She blinked open her eyes to find that his were scanning every inch of her face—her lips, her nose, her ear, her lips again—like they were searching for clues. “I guess I’ll marry you.”
“Yeah?” He straightened and swept a strand of her hair over her shoulder, his eyes glued to his hand as his finger glided over her collarbone and down the blades of her back with surgical precision.
“Mm-hmm,” she answered, her skin tingling beneath her T-shirt. It took everything in her power not to shiver as his hand flexed against the dip of her spine. He leaned closer, his eyes pouring over her skin like warm syrup.
What kind of game was he playing? Did he want her to admit that, once upon a time, she’d felt something for him? Thatperhaps she still did, in a purely chemical sense that had nothing to do with the more unfortunate aspects of his personality? Would that make him feel like he’d finally gotten something over on her?
Her gaze drifted down to his lips. His breaths had turned short and expectant. He looked so sure of what she was about to do next. His eyes were daring her to do it. She couldn’t help but picture it. The tilt of her chin. Her hands on the hard ridge of his stomach. The way he’d pull her flush against his body as his hand skimmed up the back of her shirt. She’d tug his bottom lip between her teeth and listen for the sounds he made when her fingers scraped through his hair. Just to know. Just so she could stop imagining it.
But she didn’t do any of that. Instead, with a deep, shaky breath, she pressed two fingers to the center of his lips. “If we do this, I think it’s really important that we keep our relationship strictly business.”
For several seconds, he stared at her motionless—frozen. Then he cleared his throat. “Absolutely. I was thinking the same thing.”
“Sure you were.” She nodded, unconvinced.
