Bring Me Back Page 7

  “I couldn’t wear one anyway. Not in the shop. I’d lose my finger.”

  “Oh.” She looked back out the window. There was so much she didn’t know. Not just about him but about what he did, despite the fact that she worked in the same company and her dad owned it. Maybe she’d never know. “I’m surprised the twins weren’t at our wedding. Aren’t they going to Pennsylvania too?”

  “It wasn’t real. There wasn’t any reason for them to be there.” He tapped the steering wheel again. “They’re coming down. But I guess they needed more than a couple of hours to pack.”

  “They’re going to close up the house?”

  “Kind of. I’ll need to go back up for my toolbox.”

  “Couldn’t you just put it in the back?” She looked over her shoulder. There was plenty of room in the bed of his pickup.

  He snorted. “No way. I might even hire someone to bring it down.”

  “It’s that special?”

  “Yeah.”

  He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t ask any more questions. They should know more about each other, but he didn’t seem interested in knowing anything about her, and she was tired. She leaned her head against the window and fell asleep.

  Chapter 11

  Ben listened to the woman beside him snore. She’d been out for the past several hours, and now that they were less than thirty minutes from the hospital where his gram was, he figured he should wake her. But how?

  If it were one of the twins, he’d just grab her arm and shake her. He hadn’t coddled them growing up. Maybe they could have used the softness of a mother’s touch at times, but they had each other to comfort themselves, so he hadn’t worried about it.

  But Riley? It seemed a little calloused to just grab her and shake.

  Not to mention, he’d touched her at the courthouse. Just her hand, but it had almost been a disastrous mistake. Whatever the attraction was that constantly simmered inside of him when she was around had exploded into bright lights and shooting sparks when he’d gripped her hand. Maybe it was the nervousness combined with the atmosphere—they were getting married after all—but he’d have dropped her hand like a hot iron if he could have. As it was, he’d held as lightly as he could with two fingers, hoping she didn’t notice.

  He glanced over again.

  Her snoring was kind of cute. He’d never have thought that she’d snore. Guess the amount of money your family had didn’t affect what you did while you were sleeping.

  What had he done?

  Actually, what had she done? She should have had him sign a prenup. One that was about three thousand pages long to keep him from getting any of her family’s precious money or assets. He must have really surprised her to keep her from even suggesting it.

  He would have signed. He wasn’t after her stuff.

  Maybe she trusted him.

  He already knew she believed in him. Did she trust him that much, too? It wasn’t like she didn’t know him. Or at least know his reputation.

  The sun had set long ago, and as he slowed to make a turn, the streetlights hit her face, soft and vulnerable in slumber. Light lashes resting on soft cheeks. Her slender hands tucked under her chin.

  He always thought of her as strong and decisive. Determined. But right now, she looked fragile and defenseless. It stirred his protective instincts. Like the twins did. Like when his mother had gotten sick. He wanted to reach over and draw her closer, pull her into the protected circle of his arm. Have her rest her head on his shoulder and lean on him. After all, she believed in him, and she trusted him too. The least he could do was protect her.

  He’d married her. Real or fake, he considered it his job to take care of this woman.

  There would be time later to consider the implications of that. Riley probably didn’t want his protection or care, although that’s really all he had to offer in exchange for her belief in him and her trust. Didn’t really seem like a fair exchange when he’d take all she was giving but she didn’t want all he had to offer. He shook those thoughts away.

  Thankfully she stirred when he pulled into the hospital parking lot. It was nearly empty, and he found a spot while she straightened and looked around. “We’re here?”

  “Yeah.”

  He pulled out his phone, more to give her some time to wake up than because he thought he missed anything. There was a text from Cassidy’s number telling him Gram had asked about him and another saying they were leaving the hospital for the day because visiting hours were over.

  Well, he might be able to intimidate the nurses into letting him see his gram, but he’d put money on Riley being able to sweet-talk them into it. He grinned. It was nice to have that kind of competence on his side.

  He looked over at her. “Visiting hours were over forty-five minutes ago. Think you can get us in to see Gram?”

  The sleepy look had faded from her eyes, but a piece of her hair was bent over the wrong way. He reached up to move it.

  Her mouth had opened, maybe to answer him, but she froze as his hand touched her hair. He smoothed it down, marveling. With the twins, he’d kept their hair short until they could do it themselves, even though he loved long hair. It was too much trouble to mess with, with everything else he had to do. But with his fingers on Riley’s hair? His breath slowed way down as the silk slid along his fingertips, and he actually had to grit his teeth against the desire to plunge his fingers into it, every cell in his hand wanting to feel it slide along his rougher skin.

  Her eyes widened, maybe at the look on his face, and he dropped his hand immediately.

  “I can probably get us in.” Her voice sounded weak, like a motor with no turbo. “Do you know where we’re going?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got the room number.” His heart rate had gone back to almost normal, although his voice held a rough note that wasn’t usually there. “You ready?”

  She jerked her chin up and reached for the door handle.

  He should be opening the door for her. Why not?

  “Wait.” He got out and walked around.

  One side of her lips turned up as he opened her door and offered his hand. “There’s no one watching. You don’t have to do this.”

  “I’ve never been any good at pretending to be something some of the time, just to impress someone who’s watching. You’re my wife. I want to open your door.”

  He couldn’t read her expression. Her gaze was on their hands. Hers white and soft. His dark and rough. The contrast was obvious and striking. It made him want to protect her even more, until he realized what she was probably thinking.

  She’d said he wasn’t good enough. Their hands told the whole story. A person couldn’t look at his hands and not know with certainty that he did manual labor for a living. Hers? They looked like a pampered millionaire’s hands. Too good for the likes of him. Especially when one took in the ring on her finger. It looked crude and ugly next to the porcelain white smoothness of her perfect skin.

  He helped her out and closed her door, slamming it a little harder than necessary.

  He’d been right. It didn’t take Riley fifteen seconds to convince the nurses to allow them to go back to his gram’s room, and suddenly, he was walking in to see the grandmother he hadn’t seen in twenty years, almost to the day.

  Very conscious of the woman beside him, of the unresolved animosity between them, and especially of the fact that they were supposed to be happily married, he walked down the hall, close but not touching.

  He intended to do everything humanly possible to help her get her company’s terminal running in the black, cash in at the top of the company, make her dad proud, and get the corner office that he knew she coveted. He would insist that she play the part of his wife with equal dedication.

  Which meant he was going to take her hand.

  Would she allow it?

  It would be better to find out here in the hall, out of sight of his grandmother and family members.

  Married couples didn’t necessarily need t
o hold hands, a little voice in his head said quite clearly. He knew it was right. He didn’t want to take her hand because of his gram. He wanted to take her hand because walking beside her this close and not touching her was torture.

  But she looked down on him. She didn’t think he was good enough. She couldn’t have been more clear when she’d said that to him in high school.

  His heart hardened, and his jaw set.

  Then her hand touched his. His breath caught. He wavered for a millisecond before he took her hand, threading their fingers together. He’d never kissed her, but he’d held her hand when they met behind the bleachers before school, every morning of their senior year from Christmas until the night of prom.

  He pushed the thought away, unwilling to remember.

  The sparks were still there. Muted. Her hand felt like it was made for his, perfectly fitting as skin slid against skin. His arm tingled, and his heart warmed.

  Riley must have felt his unease, because she squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, wanting to pull her closer, not wanting to let go. The thought scared him a little. The marriage was for convenience and revenge. Why was he enjoying holding her hand and squeezing it? He almost pulled his hand away but stopped himself. He didn’t need to remove his hand. He simply had to stop enjoying holding hers. Easier said than done.

  He squared his shoulders and stepped in as Riley thanked the nurse.

  An old woman, so much older than the picture in his mind, lay on the hospital bed, hooked up to lines and monitors. White hair billowed in a thin cloud around her head. Same stubborn chin. Wrinkles where her smile lines were.

  No fear and no uncertainty in her frail body. Maybe she hadn’t changed that much.

  A thin curtain separated her from her roommate whose TV flashed in the dim lighting. At least it wasn’t blaring loud.

  His gram’s eyes were open. They narrowed. Recognition flashed.

  “Jimmy?” she said.

  He cringed. She thought he was his dad. Grateful for Riley—at least he could prove that he hadn’t deserted his “wife” like his dad—he stepped closer. “It’s Ben.”

  “Benjamin?” His gram’s blue eyes lit up. “Is that you?”

  Something buzzed against his side. Riley’s hand slipped out of his, and she pulled her phone out. He could read the screen: DAD.

  She looked up at him. “I need to get this.”

  He tilted his chin. She’d done what she needed to do for him. Gram had seen her at least.

  Riley turned and stepped out into the hallway. For a brief moment, Ben wondered if that’s the way it would be if they were married for real. Daddy first. If Riley had a flaw, that was it.

  He turned back to his gram. She struggled to sit.

  “No, Gram. Stay down. You remember me? Ben?”

  “Cassidy whispered to me that you were coming.”

  “Told her I would.”

  “I didn’t believe it,” she rasped. “It’s been twenty years since you left.”

  “Long time.”

  She looked back past his shoulder, her eyes hopeful. “Was that one of your sisters?”

  “No.”

  Her shoulders stooped.

  He took a breath. He didn’t have to lie. Not about this, at least. “That was my wife. Riley.” It felt good to be able to tell the truth, and he made a mental note to thank Riley. He didn’t think he’d done that. Of course, he was going to work his heart out for her, just so she could put a smile on her old man’s face. That should be thanks enough.

  “Riley? I don’t think you ever told me her name.”

  “Probably not.” He looked over his shoulder. Riley stood out in the hall, the phone to her ear. She wasn’t talking. He smiled to himself. Probably she didn’t do much talking when she was on the phone with her dad.

  “She was pretty.”

  “Yeah.” He supposed she was pretty. It wasn’t something he’d ever really thought about. Her drive and commitment, her fearless tendency to jump in and figure things out as she went along, unafraid to admit she was wrong and change course, those were all things he’d admired in her since the first time he’d met her.

  “Where are your sisters?” Gram’s bony, wrinkled hand fingered the scratchy hospital sheets.

  He stepped closer, until he was beside her, and reached down, picking up her hand and holding it. “They’re coming tomorrow.”

  “Both of them?”

  “Yes.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I never got to apologize for the way you found out about your mother and sisters.” The machine above her clicked and rattled. The numbers flashed. Gram’s eyes closed tiredly.

  Compassion stirred in Ben’s chest. “I realize now it wasn’t your fault.” His dad had been a real piece of work. He’d had two “wives” and had taken Ben from his mother and moved him in with his other wife so all his boys could be together. Ben had been too young to remember much, just had some nagging, ragged memories. His brothers’ mother had been a nice woman. Duped just like his own mother.

  “Fourteen-year-olds aren’t the most rational age group on the planet.” He tilted his head. “I’m sorry I ran away. I guess I could have talked to you, but you knew the truth all that time and never said anything.”

  His gram nodded sadly. “Your real mother was too afraid to say anything to anyone.” Her hand shook in his. He used his other hand to stroke the top of it. “Your dad threatened to kidnap or hurt you if she called the police. She knew she was right, but she also knew he’d do what he said. He promised you’d be safe and cared for if she let you go.” Her ice-blue eyes met his. “You were. I kept in touch with her. She wasn’t a strong woman, and she didn’t have any money or resources. I kept my mouth shut to keep the peace, too, although in hindsight, maybe I shouldn’t have.”

  He nodded. The memories he had of his dad weren’t good ones. But the man was this woman’s son, and he wasn’t going to bad-mouth him. “I shouldn’t have opened that letter, but when I realized I had sisters, and that Dad hauled logs out of Maine so he could visit his other wife, my real mother, I couldn’t stay any longer.”

  His real mother had found out about his dad’s second family and written a letter telling him she knew. Ben had gotten the mail on his way in the door from school, and although he’d known it was wrong, he couldn’t resist opening the letter addressed to his dad with a return address of “Pat Baxter.” He might not have figured it out if she hadn’t mentioned her son, Ben, and begged his dad to bring him home. Ten years after his dad had taken him, his mother still loved him, remembered him, and wanted him back.

  “How did you get to Maine?” his gram asked, her voice soft and scratchy.

  “Hitchhiked.”

  Her lips pressed together, and her face scrunched up like his answer hurt. It probably did. He’d die if his sisters decided to hitchhike from here to Maine.

  “Thank God you made it.”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t want to talk about it, really. At the time, he’d been so angry at everyone. His mother, for not fighting for him. His gram, for knowing the truth and not telling him. His brothers because they got to live with their real mother, even if she was dying of cancer. But most of all, his dad. Which he figured he’d turned into a good thing, with his determination to not be like him. Not even a little.

  Gram studied him, and he looked away, not really wanting her to see all the ugliness that he’d carried for a long time. A lot of anger.

  His eyes landed on Riley at the foot of the bed. He hadn’t realized she’d come back in. Her eyes held sorrow. But he thought he might have seen some admiration there, too. Although what she’d found to admire in that mess, he really didn’t know.

  She walked around and stood at his side. Awkwardness seemed to sit in the space between Riley and him, and it sure felt like his gram could see it. Those eyes might be old, but they were sharp.

  It took him about five seconds of fighting with himself to not touch her before he decided he could put his arm around Riley. S
o he did. She leaned into him a little, and he lowered his head, breathing deep of her feminine scent. He couldn’t place the scent, but it reminded him of ambition and determination and butterflies and steel wrapped in silk. And she believed in him.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Riley,” his gram said.

  Riley slipped out from under his arm and bent over the bed, hugging his gram. When she straightened, his gram had a look of peace on her face.

  “I worried about you, Ben,” Gram finally said. “Lean down here and give this old woman a hug.”

  Ben obeyed. He should have done it to begin with.

  It was kind of funny that the pride that swelled in his chest should be for a wife that wasn’t really a wife. But she’d made his gram happy and at peace. He definitely needed to thank her.

  “It’s late, and we told the nurse we wouldn’t be long, so we’d better leave.” He stepped back, thinking to reach for Riley’s hand again. Strange how natural it felt to hold it. But he shoved his hand in his pocket instead. He didn’t want to feel too at ease with her. There needed to be distance.

  His gram closed her eyes. “Will I see you again? Or are you leaving for another twenty years?”

  “I’m staying for a while. I’ll be in tomorrow. Sometime.” They hadn’t talked about when they were starting at the Coleman terminal. They’d seen his gram. He felt Riley had been very convincing in her role as his wife. Ben was eager to get started keeping his end of their bargain. “The twins will be in, too.”

  “You’re going to talk to your brothers?”

  “My half brothers,” he corrected. “I’d imagine we’ll run into each other here at some point.” He wasn’t going to avoid them.

  “You’re the oldest. You’re also the one who left.”

  For good reasons. But they’d done a good job of making his gram happy; he wasn’t going to ruin that. “I hear ya. I’ll think about it.” He leaned down and kissed her dry forehead.

  “It was good to meet you,” Riley said.