Say You'll Never Love Me (5 page)

“No need to worry.”

“Do you know how upset Mom will be when she finds out you’ve reconciled with Julie?”

“I haven’t.” Jared peered toward the bedroom to make sure his bed partner wasn’t listening. “I can’t talk right now. I’ll come by and fill you in later. Don’t say anything to Mom or Dad. And tell Maggie the same.”

“Stop by before you go to work. I’m not sure I can keep my little Magpie quiet about this.”

“Okay.” Jared disconnected and went to the coffeemaker. He’d surprised himself at the amount of anger he still had concerning the breakup.

Arms slid around him from behind and jarred him for his thoughts.

“Morning, Stud.” She giggled. “Lord, Jared. Once on the chair and two times in bed? That’s more sex than when we first got together. I hoped you’d be glad to see me, but I underestimated how much.”

Still naked, she angled to face him and tiptoed for a kiss. When their lips parted, she smiled. “After all this time, I still love you. I made a terrible mistake by leaving.”

He stepped back and chuckled without humor. “Only took four years?”

“I wanted to come back before then, but I was embarrassed. I’d made this big production about going to New York and had too much pride to admit I was wrong. But the longer I stayed, the more it became clear I’d never be happy there, away from you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him again, and melted into him.

He pushed away. What kind of monster had he turned into? Getting even gave him a hard-on. He slipped a condom from his pocket and tore it open.

She glanced at his erection and smiled. “Here, let me help you with that.” She rolled it onto his hard shaft, then took him by the hand and guided him to the sofa. Pushing him down, she straddled him. Within a few seconds he was pounding into her.

She arched back, rested her palms on his knees, and matched him thrust for thrust. He didn’t want her to climax, but she did. And as she whimpered his name over and over, it drove him to the edge, and he came undone.

Limp against him, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I love you, Jared.”

He lifted her from his lap. “So you want to take up where we left off?”

“Yes.”

“As I recall that was with you leaving. So get your shit and get out.”

Color drained from her face and the question came out in a weak whisper. “What?”

“Did you honestly think you’d waltz back into my life and everything would be fine?” He clamped his teeth together. “You destroyed me. I loved you. But not anymore.”

She gulped for a breath. “But last night, you were so tender and loving. What was that about?”

Yeah, he’d taken his time to remind her of what she’d given up. He thinned his lips into a hard line. “I’m more than willing to give you my dick, but not my heart. Never again.” He stood. Waited. She clutched her throat as if choking on what he’d said, then turned and ran down the hall. In a few minutes, she walked past him without comment, rushed out and slammed the door behind her.
Good riddance.
He went into the bathroom and adjusted the shower. He wanted it nice and hot. Burn her out of his memory.

He should be remorseful for what he’d done, but he wasn’t. She’d left him to face their friends, and he figured he’d been the punch line to plenty of jokes. It’d taken almost a year before he made it through a day without thinking about her. That kind of hurt festered and took ages to heal. Seeing her again had reopened the wound, and he admitted revenge helped close it.

An hour later, after he’d assured his brother Julie was out of the picture, Jared arrived at the office. He noticed the shrubs around the sign out front had grown so tall you could barely read, Sloan and Sloan Architecture. He’d trim them after work.

“Hey, Cheryl.”

“Good morning. Tom Bradford had questions about the plans you dropped off yesterday, so your dad’s gone to meet with him. He called to say the meeting is taking longer than expected. Needs you to cover the appointment at St. Paul’s.”

“Okay. I’ll get over there in a while. Oh, would you check with Melinda over at Escape Day Spa and ask when she’ll decide on the bid for the interior? If it’s Beth, I want you to schedule my meetings separate from her.”

Cheryl raised her brows. “What’s that about? Trouble in paradise?”

“We broke up. I want to avoid her.”

“Gotcha. Will do. Oh, and Jared, while they repave the lot, most of the parking is closed at the church, so use the associate minister’s spot. He’s on sabbatical.”

“Sabbatical?”

“Translation, rehab for drinking.”

He chuckled and thought how much he’d like a drink right about now.

RAYNIE WASN’T SURE
how long she stared at the papers, but it was as if the word divorce froze everything around her. How could it be? Celeste and Evan had been the perfect couple. Did he have the surgery without her consent and it’d caused trouble? Or had he been unfaithful again? His affair happened years ago, and Celeste forgave him. At least she said she did.

Raynie wanted answers, and she’d tried to read the document, but all the words blurred. She wondered if she’d ever stop crying so much. She hated that Greta knew more than she did. If not, why make the remark about death keeping them together.
Bitch.
She threw that morsel out to see if Raynie knew anything. The realization pissed her off. Double pissed. At Greta for not telling her the whole story, and at Celeste for not confiding in her. Why hadn’t she said something?

She covered her face with both hands. Did Silbie know? Did she witness screaming matches? Heated arguments? Physical abuse? God, she hoped not. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her cell and the paper with the contact numbers from her pocket. Greta’s, first on the list. Raynie dialed and let it ring until it went to voice mail, then left a message.

She wished to clear her head. Get out of there. Go for a walk. Man, what she’d give to get drunk and forget her troubles for a while, but she couldn’t because in three hours she’d pick up Silbie. She stuck the phone back in her pocket, hurried to the kitchen and grabbed the house key, then flipped the latch behind her.

Mr. Remmus might know something, but his car was gone. Ridiculous notion. Celeste would never cry on an old man’s shoulder.

Thankful today the wind wasn’t strong enough to stir dust, Raynie headed south with no idea of where she was going. She needed to leave that house with all its secrets and lies and the pretend life Celeste and Evan shared.

The sound of a jackhammer shook her from her worries, and she noticed her surroundings. Construction workers were busy adding a section to the Episcopal Church. She gave attention to the parking area. A man loaded boxes into the backseat of his crew cab pickup truck. When he closed the door, she saw the marker, Associate minister, J. Sloane. “Father?”

He spoke over his shoulder. “Sorry, but I’m not . . .” He turned. Paused. His gaze drifted over her. “How may I help you?”

He wasn’t what Raynie expected. Weren’t ministers supposed to be older, fatter, and balder? This guy appeared to be about her age, and gorgeous. Dark hair, brilliant blue eyes, and when he smiled, dimples deepened like sugar down a funnel. Not dressed like a preacher should either. He wore jeans and cowboy boots. Silly her. What did she expect from a west Texas town with nothing but farmers and cowboys? “I was wondering what support groups your church offers.”

He fished keys from his pocket, but continued to keep his eyes on her. “What kind do you need?”

“New mother.”

Raising his brows, he eyed her from top to bottom. Not in a sexual way, but more as if judging her appearance. She’d not put on makeup, and her hair, well he’d probably never seen straight, crimped, and braided combined.

“That’s okay. I see you’re about to leave. I’m sorry I interrupted.” She turned to go, but he stepped forward.

“No bother.” He scanned the area. “So you’re a new mother?”

Facing him again, she shook her head. “No. Yes. No.”

Now he pulled his brows together. “Is it multiple choice?” And there were his dimples again.

Why was she so nervous? Must be his profession. She swallowed hard. Who was she kidding? Preachers needed her type. Sinner deluxe.

“No children of my own, but I recently became guardian to a six-year-old. I thought my sister had the perfect life, and today, learned it was anything but that. I’m a mess right now and don’t know what to do.” She flapped her hand in the air. “I should work this out on my own.”

He moved two steps closer. “Are you unable to discuss this with your husband?”

“No husband. No boyfriend. Nobody. I don’t even live here.”

He offered a handshake. “I’m Jared.”

“Just Jared? No Father Sloane or Father Jared?”

“No. I was about to go down the street to Caprock Cafe. Why don’t you join me and we can talk.”

There was kindness in his voice. Surely a tone he’d practiced to offer sympathy and understanding to parishioners. She slid her palm into his. Warm and soft. Clearly he didn’t do physical labor, but he must work out. What else could explain the broad shoulders and the way his butt filled out those jeans.
Holy crap.
She shouldn’t be looking at his body parts or the shape they were in. “Okay, I’m Raynie.”

He held the door for her, and she climbed in his truck. He walked around and slid behind the wheel, then started the engine. “So where are you from?”

“Austin.”

“Hmm. Nice city. How long you been here?”

“Two weeks. I’m staying until the end of the school term. I thought a move this soon might be too traumatic for my niece.”

The café came into view, and he parked near the entrance. Raynie got out before he did and met him at the front of the truck. Inside the eatery, every stool, occupied. Conversations hummed. Waitresses in black aprons worked behind a long wooden counter like ants gathering food for the winter. Jared pointed to a corner booth. “How about that one? It’ll give us privacy.”

She nodded and headed in that direction. Once seated, he opened the menu. “You want something to eat? I’ve not had lunch.”

She panicked. No money. No purse. But she’d not eaten either.

He peered over the folder. “My treat.”

“In that case, sure.”

“Great. I hate to eat alone.”

Raynie wondered what made a guy who looked like this go into the ministry. Harrowing experience? Family tradition? Low testosterone?

The waitress came for their orders taking Raynie from her daydream.

When the server walked away, the padre rested his arms on the table. “So why are you a mess?”

“I can’t understand why she died. Celeste was the good one.”

“Compared to who—you?”

She nodded.

“So, you’re bad?”

Another nod.

“And why is that?”

“The short version? Two arrests. Two divorces. A penchant for bad boys.”

He chuckled. “You didn’t kill anybody, did you?”

“Public intoxication back in college.”

“Well, none of those things make you a bad person. We all make mistakes, especially in college.”

She wondered what trouble the good father had gotten into. Something really bad like staying out past curfew. Or was he wild before he converted? She’d like to have known him then. Lord. What was wrong with her? She had enough on her plate without wicked fantasies.

She leaned forward and threaded her fingers together. She should give him the long version. “I know I’m not a horrible person. But today I discovered Celeste’s marriage was on the rocks and now she and Evan are dead. A friend said the craziest thing. That God took them to avoid divorce. Do you think that’s true?”

“I think we interpret things to fit our needs.”

He looked as if he might say more, but the waitress returned with their drinks. Once alone again, Raynie went back to the conversation. “I’ve had this child put in my care, and I’m no good at it.”

“You’re asking for advice, so I’d say you’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

Raynie took a sip. “You know what I hate most? The constant uncertainty. I’m a strong independent business owner. Ask any of my friends and they’ll tell you I’m self-assured to the point of being a smart-ass. Oh, sorry. I’ll watch my language.”

She waited to be scolded, but instead, he smiled, those deep cheek dents distracting her. She glanced away. “But in my current circumstance, I doubt everything I say and do. I’m so afraid it will be the wrong thing and Silbie will suffer because of it.”

The food came, and Raynie didn’t say anything else, just concentrated on eating, and he did the same. He wasn’t like any clergy she’d ever met. She expected him to sermonize, but he didn’t. Mostly listened.

He swigged his tea, then trained his deep blues on hers. “Well, you haven’t complained about your niece being a burden, or having to give up your so-called bad-girl lifestyle. I think you’ll be fine.”

“You know, padre, I thought you’d be all preachy, but you’re different from any minister I’ve ever met.”

He double dimpled her. “People forget ministers’ struggle like everyone else.”

For the next few minutes they fell into another comfortable silence, and Raynie tried to read his expression, but couldn’t. He was so handsome, she wondered why he wasn’t married. The church didn’t prevent it, and first impression said he was a real catch. Oh God. Maybe he was gay. No. Her Gaydar was pretty good, and no alarms had sounded.