The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings Book 2) (43 page)

Eventually, he straightened, and as he ran his palms over his eyes, she became alarmed. “Samuel T.—what is going on?”

His chest expanded, and as he exhaled, he said, “I need you to just let me get this out, okay? For once in your life—and I’m not fixing to argue here—for once in your life, please just listen. Don’t respond off the cuff. In fact, if you don’t respond at all, it’s probably better. I just … I need you to hear what I’m saying, all right?”

He glanced over at her. “Gin, okay?”

Abruptly, she became aware that her heart was beating in a crazy way and her body had broken out in a sweat.

“Gin?”

“Fine.” She put her arms around her stomach. “Okay.”

He nodded and splayed out his hands. “I think Richard hits you.” He put a palm up. “Don’t respond, remember. I’ve already decided he does, and you know me better than anyone. As you’ve so often told me, once I
make up my mind, it takes an act of Congress to get me to change it—so there is nothing you can do to alter this conclusion.”

Gin refocused on the beautiful flowers … as she tried to ignore the fact that she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“I think those bruises came from him, and that you’re wearing scarves to cover them up.” His chest rose and fell. “And although I can quite confidently say that you have driven me to the brink of madness many, many times, it never once occurred to me to lay a hand on you. Or any other woman.”

She closed her eyes briefly. And then heard herself say bleakly, “You’re more of a man than that.”

“The thing is, I just … I need to tell you that the idea of anyone, and I don’t care who the fuck it is, striking you or yanking you or … oh, God, I can’t bear to think of what else …”

She had never heard him trail off before. Never heard this cocksure, maddening, contrary man seem so completely defeated.

Samuel T. cleared his throat. “I know you married him because you think your family’s out of money and that scares you. At the end of the day, you don’t know how to be anything other than rich. You’re not trained to do anything. You almost dropped out of school because of that child you had. You’ve flitted around creating drama for a living. So yes, the idea of having to rely on yourself, without a safety net of incredible wealth, is going to be really terrifying, to the point where you can’t even comprehend it.”

She opened her mouth.

And then closed it.

“What I really want to say is two things,” he continued. “First, I want you to know you’re better than that, and not because you’re a Bradford. The truth is, no matter what happens to the money, you’re a strong, smart, capable woman, Gin—and up until now you’ve used those virtues in bad ways, dumb-ass ways, because quite frankly, you haven’t had any real challenges put in front of you. You’ve been a warrior without a field of battle, Gin. A fighter without a foe, and you’ve been lashing out at everything and everyone around you for years now, trying to burn off the energy.” His voice grew unbearably hoarse. “Well, I want you to channel all that in a different
way now. I want you to be strong for the right reasons. I want you to take care of yourself now. Protect yourself now. You have people who … you have people who love you. Who want to help you. But you’re going to need to take the first step.”

As he fell silent, Gin found her own eyes pricking with tears, and then her throat began to hurt from her trying to swallow without making a gulping sound.

“You can call me,” he said roughly. “Anytime. I know you and I haven’t made sense. We’re bad for each other in all the ways that count, but you can call me. Day or night. No matter where you are, I’ll come for you. I won’t ask for any explanations. I won’t yell at you or berate you. I won’t judge you—and if you insist, I won’t tell Lane or anybody else.”

Samuel T. moved to the side and took his cell phone out of the pocket of his slacks. “I’m going to start sleeping with this left on from now on. No questions asked, no explanations demanded, no talking during or afterward. You call me, you text me, you say my name in the middle of a party, and I’m there for you. Are we clear?”

As a tear escaped down her cheek, he brushed it away, and his voice cracked. “You’re better than this. You deserve better than this. Your family’s glorious past is not worth a man hitting you in the present just because you’re afraid you won’t be anything without the money. You’re priceless, Gin, no matter what’s in your bank account.”

Now he was the one pulling her in and holding her to his chest.

Beneath her ear, the beating of his heart just made her cry more.

“Take care of yourself, Gin. Do whatever you need to do to make yourself safe …”

He just kept saying those words in an endless stream, as if he were hoping the repetition might get through to her.

When she finally sat up, he took his handkerchief out of his back pocket and pressed it to her cheeks. And as he stared at her with sad eyes, she found it was hard to believe that after everything they’d been through, he was there for her like this.

Then again, maybe everything they’d been through was the explanation.

“So what’s
the second thing you wanted to say,” she murmured looking down at their feet.

When he didn’t immediately respond, she glanced back over at him—and recoiled.

His eyes had grown cold and his body seemed to change even as he didn’t shift at all.

“The second is …” Samuel T. cursed and let his head fall back. “No, I think I’ll keep that to myself. It’s not going to help this situation.”

But she could guess what it was. “I love you, too, Samuel.”

“Just think about how strong you are. Please, Gin.”

After a moment, he reached out and moved that big diamond around so it was hidden. Then he brought her wrist up and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “And remember what I said.”

Getting to his feet, he showed her his phone again. “Always on. No questions asked.”

With a last look at her, he put his hands in his pockets and walked away, a solemn figure bathed in the peachy light of the lampposts.

And then he was gone.

Gin stayed where they had sat together for so long, the night air turned cold enough to raise goose bumps on her forearms.

Yet she found it impossible to go home.

A
s Edward
said the words in the middle of the busy restaurant, he was amazed at how good they felt. It was a simple chain of syllables, nothing too fancy vocabulary-wise, but the admission was a tremendous one.

I’m in love with somebody.

And actually, he’d already told Sutton the truth of it all. At the business center after they’d made love. He’d just done it so softly, she hadn’t heard the words.

In response, Shelby looked around at the other diners. The waitress. The people behind the counter and the ones cooking in the back. “Is she the reason you wouldn’t … you know, get with me?”

“Yes.” He thought of those nights they’d spent side by side in that bed. “But there was another reason, too.”

“What’s that?”

“I know what you’re doing with me. I remember what your father was like. Sometimes we do things over, you know? When we feel like we didn’t get them right the first time.”

Hell, it was the story of him and his brothers and their father. If
Edward was brutally honest with himself, he had always wanted to save his siblings from the man, but the damage had been done anyway. Their father had had that much power, at once absent, and at the same time, totally controlling.

And violent in a cold way that was somehow scarier than outbursts of yelling and throwing things.

“I’ve done that myself,” he said quietly. “Actually, I’m still doing it—so you and I are the same, really. We’re both saviors looking for a cause.”

Shelby was quiet for so long, he started to wonder if she was going to walk out or something.

But then she spoke up. “I took care of my father not because I loved him, but because if he killed himself, what was I going to do? I had no mother. I had nowhere to go. Living with his drinking was easier than facing the streets at twelve or thirteen.”

Edward winced as he tried to imagine her as a little girl with no one to care for her, desperately attempting to fix an adult’s addiction as a survival mechanism for herself.

“I’m sorry,” Edward blurted.

“For what? You had nothing to do with his drinkin’.”

“No, but I had everything to do with being drunk around you. And putting you in a position you’re too goddamn good at—”

“Don’t you take—”

“Sorry, darn—”

“—my Lord’s name in vain.”

“—good at.”

There was a pause. And then they both laughed.

Shelby grew serious again. “I don’t know what else to do with you. And I also hate the suffering.”

“That’s because you’re a good person. You’re a really, really GD good person.”

She smiled. “You caught yourself.”

“I’m learning.”

Their food arrived, the chicken nestled in baskets lined with red
and white paper, the French fries thin and hot, the waitress asking if they needed more soda.

“I am starving,” Edward remarked after they were alone with their food.

“Me too.”

As they set to eating, they fell into silence, but it was the good kind. And he found himself feeling so glad they hadn’t ever had sex.

“Have you told her?” Shelby asked.

Edward wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “What? Oh … yeah. No. She leads a totally different life than I do. She’s where I used to be, and I’m never going back there again.”

For more reasons than one.

“You should probably tell her,” Shelby said between bites. “If you were in love with me … I’d want to know.”

As she spoke, there was a wistful tone in her voice, but her eyes were not glassy from some kind of fantasy or sad from some sort of loss. And when she didn’t pursue the issue, he thought about what she’d said before, about her accepting people exactly where they were, just like she did the horses.

“I want you to know something.” Edward smacked the bottom of a bottle of ketchup to add more to the side of his fries. “And I want you to do something.”

“Do I get to pick which one you tell me first?”

“Sure.”

“What do you want me to do? If it’s about Neb, I’ve already scheduled the vet’s check-up for tomorrow afternoon.”

He laughed. “You read my mind. But no, that’s not it.” He wiped his mouth again. “I want you to go out with Joey.”

As she looked up sharply, he put his palm up. “Just a dinner date. Nothing fancy. And no, he hasn’t asked me to talk to you, and frankly, if he knew I was, he’d leave me limping worse than I already do. But I think you should give the poor guy a chance. He’s got a bad crush on you.”

Shelby stared across the table in complete confusion. “He does?”

“Oh,
come on. You’re spectacular around horses, and you’re a damn good-looking woman.” He put his finger up. “I did not say God.”

“I just never noticed him much, other than the workin’.”

“Well, you should.”

She sat back and shook her head. “You know … I really can’t believe this.”

“That someone might actually be attracted to you? Well, someone who isn’t trying to suck you down into their own black hole of self-destruction, that is?”

“Well, that, too. But I just never would have guessed that you’d be openin’ up like this.”

He picked up his Coke and considered the fizzy goodness. “Guess sobriety affects me like alcohol does most people. Makes me chatty.”

“It’s kinda …”

“What? And be honest.”

“It’s real nice.” Her voice got soft and she looked away. “It’s real good.”

Edward found himself clearing his throat. “Miracles do happen.”

“And I’ve never seen you eat this much before.”

“It’s been a while.”

“So do you just hate my cooking?”

He laughed and pushed his fries away. One more and he was going to burst. On that note, he said, “I want ice cream now. Come on.”

“I don’t think she left a bill.”

Edward leaned to the side and took out the thousand dollars. Peeling off two hundred-dollar bills, he said, “This should cover it.”

As Shelby’s eyes bugged, he got to his feet and held out his hand. “Come on. I’m stuffed, so I need that ice cream now.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Oh, it does.” He started limping for the door, going around the other diners at their tables. “Cold and sweet settles the stomach. It’s what my momma, Miss Aurora, has always said, and she’s always right. And no, I don’t hate your cooking at all. You’re very good at it.”

Outside,
he took a moment to appreciate the night air again, and it felt good to have a certain lightness in his chest for once, a singing sensation that would have been optimism in someone else, but in his case, was relief.

“Except you don’t want to go heavy with the ice cream,” he informed her as he walked forward, checking to see if there were any cars coming. “Keep it light. Vanilla only. Maybe with chocolate chips, but nothing with nuts and nothing too gooey. Graeter’s is best.”

With a clear shot across the two lanes to her truck, Shelby fell in step beside him, shortening her stride to accommodate his lack of speed.