Fistful of Roses (What a Woman Wants, Book 1) (15 page)

“Sophie, if it hurts, maybe you should purge it,” he urged her, his voice profound and calm.

Resentment rose up and with it the need to punish the man behind her.

“I have a lot of hurts, Ryan. Where should I start?” Her tone was acidic, unremorseful.

She felt his hand tighten on her arm, and he breathed in sharply. “I understand my part in what you’re going through, but it doesn’t change that you’re holding on to stuff from your mother you could let go.”

She stiffened, pulled away from him, and turned, anger beating at her. “Your part in what I’m going through? Are you for real right now?”

He sat up slowly, confusion covering his features before he blanked them. Just shut down.

“No!” she protested, getting off the bed and pulling on her robe. “You don’t get to look at me like that.”

“Like what?” He cocked his head, brow furrowed.

“Blank. Like there’s nothing behind your eyes,” she responded as she paced. She stopped and looked at him, searching for the man he’d been days ago as he’d stared at her while Gloria had writhed in his lap.

He wasn’t there. But for that blank expression a moment ago, it was as if that man had never existed. Except she knew he damn well had; she’d seen him, watched as he moved Gloria over him.

“No, Sophie. Please don’t go there right now,” he pleaded. Pain and sorrow rang in his voice, or maybe it was her imagination.

“Why not, Ryan? Don’t want to talk about Gloria?”

He held up his hands. “If you want to, we will. I owe you—”

“You don’t owe me shit. I think you proved that to me last week, yeah? You know what? This was a huge mistake.”

He got off the bed, beautiful, naked, and intent. He strode to her, and she felt the ice around her heart crack.

“Please, Ryan. I don’t know how to handle this, and I can’t handle you for sure, right now. Please. If you’ve ever felt anything for me at all, just leave.” She turned, unable to bear the sight of his face.

He came up behind her, warm, solid, and it was as if his frustration reached inside her and squeezed her heart. The air at her nape stirred.

“Just let me explain.” His voice was as tormented as his face had been.

She shrugged away, hoping against hope he wouldn’t touch her.

He released a rough breath. “I’ll let you run from me right now, Sophie. I’m sorry I hurt you, and I don’t want to do any more damage to this thing between us than I already have. But I won’t let you run forever. I’m coming for your heart, Sophie Hanson. Prepare yourself.”

She heard the sounds of him dressing, and she stood there, staring out her bedroom window. She flinched when her front door closed, the sound heavy and loud in the sudden quiet of her house.

The tears came then, fierce and burning. They took her breath and her voice, battered her with their stinging affirmation that she was still alive and her mother was dead. They cleansed her mind and reminded her she’d found something precious with Ryan only to have it blown from its foundations before it’d been built properly.

They swept her away, bitter and tearing. In the end, they left her to drift to sleep on the river she’d cried.

* * * *

Something, somewhere, was ringing. And it needed to freaking stop. Sophie pried her lids open, squinted against the morning light, and moaned.

It was her phone. Damn it! Her neck ached like someone had karate chopped her, and she tentatively stretched, felt muscles in her back pull and slowly release. The ringing blessedly stopped and then started right back up again. Bleary eyed and more than a little hungover from her crying jag last night, she located the phone.

“Yeah?” Not much on the friendly side, but it was all she could muster this morning.

“Sophie Hanson?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got a—”

The doorbell rang. She dragged herself out of bed and to the door.

“A what?”

“A delivery, ma’am. Please just open the door,” a harried-sounding woman requested.

Sophie shook her head, discombobulated, hurting, and growing more than a little pissed off. She looked out the peephole. There was a white delivery van at the end of her drive. She opened the door and her mouth fell open.

On her porch were pots and pots of white and yellow jonquils.

A woman cleared her throat, and Sophie’s gaze sought her out. The woman smiled warmly and said, “Jonquils express a desire for a return of affection. I would say you’ve got a serious admirer on your hands.” She handed Sophie a pad and a pen.

Sophie took it, but her gaze went back to the flowers. There had to be over a hundred plants on her porch. “Who sent these?”

The woman stooped and picked up one more pot, a bigger one with a lot of purple flowers. “I don’t know, but whoever it may be, they’re apologetic, too. These hyacinths mean, ‘I’m sorry.’” She set the gorgeous purple flowers down in the middle of the sea of jonquils and looked expectantly at Sophie. “Can you sign that for me?”

I’m sorry
? Sophie scribbled her name and handed the pad back to the carrier. The woman left with a chuckle, but Sophie paid her no mind.

Her phone rang again. “Hello?”

“I’m sorry, Sophie. So damn sorry.”

She didn’t know what to say. The sweet smell of jonquils floated in the air, and her eyes watered.

“Sophie, the purple flower is my apology,” he continued when she didn’t respond. “I hurt you and—can you give me a chance to explain?”

“Mr. Locke, I’m tired.”

“Baby, I’m just asking for dinner. We never got to go out the other night, and I’d really just like to take you to dinner. You know, talk to you, explain things.”

Her heart weakened. Did the betraying asshat deserve another opportunity?

“I’m really worn out, Mr. Locke. This probably isn’t the best time to talk with me about anything. Maybe once this—”

“Now’s the best time, Sophie. And my name is Ryan. Use it.” There he was, the Ryan she’d grown to lo—

She shook her head, denying the word before it completed. He was such a domineering man, demanding and pushy, and Sophie was off-kilter, her entire world upside down. She leaned against the door frame and gazed at the massive amount of flowers on her porch.

Her brain screamed at her to run as far away as she could get from the man on the phone. Her heart murmured something entirely different. She’d misjudged him the other day when she’d startled him from sleep. Then he’d crushed her heart. On the heels of those hits, she’d lost her mother.

Now was not a good time to be sorting out what was wrong between them. Was it? She closed her eyes and hit the phone against her forehead. As if sensing her weakness, he pounced.

“I’ll pick you up tonight, at six.” His voice came through the phone, but for some reason it sounded like it came through in stereo. “Sophie, did you hear me?”

She glanced up, and the reason for the stereophonics stared her in the face. She lowered the phone from her ear. He stood on her porch, broad shoulders blocking out the sun, blue eyes determined.

“You just don’t give up, do you?” She could have kicked herself.

“Not when it’s something I really, really want.”

She shuddered under his gaze, and his words kick-started her heart.

“You don’t want me,” she whispered as he moved toward her, careful of the multitude of flowers.

He ran a finger down her cheek. “You’re
all
I want, Sophie Hanson.”

“No. You wouldn’t have done what you did if it was me you wanted,” she responded, and a tear followed his finger.

He speared her with a look and cocked his head. Ryan grabbed her hand, placed it over his heart, and said, “Does this feel like it doesn’t want you?”

She pressed her hand against his chest, the heavy beat of his heart reassuring but also morbidly painful.

“It feels like a heart, Ryan. But I don’t think it belongs to me.”

He leaned close, his lips at her temple. “Let me show you. Give me the chance to explain, Sophie.”

She breathed in, and the sound was harsh in the stillness of the morning. She leaned into him. It was impossible to stop her body’s gravitation toward this man.

“Just a chance to explain. That’s all I’m asking for,” he said at her lips now.

She opened her mouth to respond, and he kissed her. Sweet and slow, it was both a promise and a plea. Her heart kicked over and played dead. The man was persuasive, and she had no natural defenses against him. He pulled away, and her hand fell to her side. He stepped back, and her eyes drank him in.

Suddenly irascible, she called out, “So now you’re going to leave? What am I supposed to do with all these flowers?”

At the bottom step, he shot her a grin. Stupid heart.

“I don’t know … plant ’em?”

She groaned and he laughed outright. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

He stopped laughing, cut it off midguffaw, and gazed at her intently. “No, Sophie. I think I’m desperate.” Then he turned and walked to his vehicle.

She sighed. She had no idea what was going to happen, but for now, she was going back to sleep.

*

Ryan waited for her to go back inside before he pulled away from the curb. He rubbed his chest, the ache there intense. He’d hurt her badly. It was in the way she talked to him, the look in her eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking. He’d caused her pain.

He hit the steering wheel. If he wasn’t careful, he’d break it as much, as he’d been hitting it since getting involved with one Ms. Sophie Hanson. She ratcheted him up and refused to let him get any rest. Oh, she probably had no idea it was her fault he stayed awake most nights, but the truth was, she was changing him. He wanted to be something different from what he was right now and he wanted to do it for her.

His phone rang. “Yeah?”

“Yo, you made it back safe?” Hayden’s voice rang with amusement.

“Obviously. How’s it going?” Ryan had left his partner to deal with any fallout from his absence. Oh, well. That’s what business partners were for.

“I’d like to have you back, but I get the feeling that isn’t happening. How’s Ms. Hanson?”

“Still off-limits,” Ryan returned in a low voice.

“Touché. I guess I’ll have this wrapped up by the end of next week.”

Ryan didn’t respond. Hayden chuckled and it scraped Ryan’s already raw nerves.

“All right then. I’ll touch base with you in a couple of days.” Hayden disconnected.

Ryan tossed his phone onto the console and wondered how in hell his life had changed so drastically? Before he’d made love with Sophie he would have never left a job unfinished, let alone left his partner to pull Ryan’s share of the work. The woman had him twisted in knots. Sending flowers and begging for second chances. Son of a bitch, but she was worth it. It only took a thought of her to send his body into hyperdrive and what she did to his heart was unmentionable.

He’d grown up in the foster care system. At the age of eight, his father had beaten him to within an inch of his life and left him in the street to fend for himself. Literally. Someone driving by had called the police who had turned him over to DFACS. He’d gone into the system and become a problem pretty quickly. Ryan had been quick but small. He’d met Hayden in their second foster home, and they’d bonded fast. Hayden hadn’t been the runt Ryan was and had decided early on to protect his new friend. Ryan had a smart mouth and a shit-ton of anger. Fights had been the norm.

Neither boy had ever known normal. Hayden’s mother had abandoned him at the age of six at a homeless shelter. Ryan’s mother had died under his father’s fists the year before Ryan had gone into foster care.

Ryan looked in his rearview, checking his six as he always did, and met his own eyes. They were dead eyes, he thought. Did they burn when Sophie touched him? God knows everything else in him burned. Something about Sophie called to everything that was male inside him. Ryan had lived for so long with what his father had done that he’d begun to believe it was his fault and he would never be suitable for a wife.

He hadn’t intervened as his father had pummeled Sharon Locke to death in front of him. He hadn’t uttered a word, terror keeping him as silent as the plea in his mother’s ocean eyes. Someone blew their horn, and it startled Ryan. He looked around and realized he was stopped at a green light. The past hadn’t bothered him for a long time. Not until Sophie had come on the scene.

Ryan hadn’t spoken a single word for over a year once he’d entered foster care. Hayden hadn’t pushed him, and it was probably that more than anything that had bonded them together. Hayden liked to talk. Ryan didn’t. It’d worked then and still did now. Silent by nature and nurture, Ryan Locke was more prone to settle issues with his body, and his body was clamoring for Sophie.

He shook his head as he navigated Atlanta traffic. He didn’t have long before the meeting with the State Botanical Gardens. Something about her made him want to shower her with flowers. He had big plans for Sophie Hanson, and as he made his way through downtown, he wondered how in the hell a SEAL from the mean streets of Atlanta had come up with this idea? But she was too important to fuck this up.

He smiled. She’d never know he’d stolen her heart until he had it in his hand.

Chapter 14

Ryan had called her earlier and instructed her to dress up for their date. Sophie had no idea what his version of dress up was but hers was dressy. She stepped back from the mirror and looked at herself. For this occasion, which she still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to, she wore a sequined, silver, formfitting dress she’d bought at a consignment boutique last year. It was off the shoulders, hugged every curve she had, and hit her about two inches above the knee. She’d partnered it with an impressive pair of equally sequined, four-inch Manolo Blahniks, also consignment, that made the dress pop. It went well with her skin tone and her hair color. Add in some smoky eye makeup and fire-engine-red lipstick and she had to say, she looked pretty hot.

She held the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she applied a light layer of gloss. She’d just finished when a knock sounded at her door. “I gotta go, Gigi. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay, and let you know how it went.”