Chapter 10

Ford

“Feeling better?” I ask. I need to say something, and a simple greeting doesn’t feel right. It’s too clinical, too cold. I’m overcome with emotion whenever I see her, and yet, I can’t articulate any of it. I’m like a mute jackass in a two-bit rodeo, kicking cans across a muddy paddock.

“Yes, thanks for asking.” She blows right by me, not even stopping to take a breath. I watch her retreating back until she reaches Taryn. Clearly, she’s going to ignore what happened between us, resulting in the most electric kiss we’ve ever shared. Well, two can play at that game.

My laptop sits open in front of me. I hear the whir of the machine in the background of my foggy brain. I try to focus on the screen, but my mind keeps going to Haylee. The way she smells, the way she moves. Her taste. I can’t seem to eradicate any of it. She’s overtaken every sense. I’m not sure what in the hell remains between us other than the charcoal ash of a haunted past. All I know is that it lingers, and I have to let it.

Nix looks over at me and raises one eyebrow in that superior glare he’s perfected. He’s probably pissed at me for dragging Haylee back down into it with me. Reagan, the most logical one of us all, will think I’ve lost my mind. And I have, but ask me if I give two shits.

If I think about it long enough, my salty trail of tears cried at Haylee’s feet make me out to be a first-class asshole. But I’m not. Thing is, she doesn’t know that because I haven’t done anything other than let her down. It’s a fact I’m hyper aware of, to the point that I’m desperate to make over my image. In her eyes at least. Only in her eyes.

And I have no fucking idea how I’m going to do that.

All I know is that there’s a little hope in my heart. It’s just a sliver peeking through, a little bounce in my gait that makes me feel better than I have in years. I feel alive. Like a real breathing, bleeding human being instead of a work-a-holic business owner striving for a career-ending coronary and a spot in the family crypt.

In a world consumed by work, Haylee’s the first bloom after a long, frozen winter peeking through the snow and reaching toward the sun. She wanted me before so that means she will want me again. The opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference. Even though it appears from the outside looking in that indifference is what she’s giving me, I know better. I know those subtle physical cues she’s trying to hide.

She’s pissed, and her anger gives me hope.

Nix walks over and hovers. He’s softened the trademark glare, and now he just looks constipated. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. Things seem to be going well with the shoot.”

“Yeah, all’s well from this end,” I agree, hitting a few keys, and bringing up some proofs for Nixon to see.

“Looks good. I really like that one,” he says, pointing. My eyes scan the picture he’s chosen. He’s right. But then, Nix has always had a great eye for beauty. The lines of the Armónico can attest to his taste, right along with the lines of his stunning fiancée. It’s not lost on me that both of my brothers have put a ring on it and succumbed to the allure of being leg-shackled. If you’d have asked me ten years ago, I would have sworn the first brother married would be me.

Chuckling, I imagine me in a tux walking down the aisle. Then I shake my head to chase away the image. It’s too compelling, making me wish it were reality complete with stretch limo, reception photo booth, and drunk wedding night sex.

“What’s so funny?” Nix asks.

“Just thinking that I never thought you’d be the first Caldwell brother to get married.”

He scoffs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Why not? I’m the oldest. It only makes sense.”

“It’s just that…”

He doesn’t ask what I’m referring to – it’s common knowledge. The words just fall to the floor between us. I feel like baring my soul to my brother. Unlike Reagan, I know Nix won’t laugh right in my face, nor will he judge me for being pussy-whipped. Reagan thinks everything’s a joke, and when it isn’t, he makes it into one. I guess we all have our own way of dealing with two dead parents and a criminal who has tortured us for years. Some of us deal with it better than others.

He pauses like he always does before he’s going to say something profound. I used to hate these long bouts of silence in the past because I knew his words would blow my mind and remain there as if they’d sprouted roots in my brain. Now, his wisdom flows over me and I allow it to sink in. Sometimes, it’s not what I want, but mostly, it’s what I need. Nixon’s a great big brother, and I know how proud my mom and dad would be of the man he’s become.

“When I first found Marcella, I did my damnedest to push her away. It was like my brain understood what I wanted, but my subconscious didn’t understand it, so it rebelled. I could have fucked it up, Ford. I could have lost the only thing I really care about outside of this casino and our family. I know you feel like that’s what you’ve already done. But you haven’t. I see how Haylee still looks at you when she thinks no one can see her. Life’s granting you a second chance, brother. It might not be easy, but you better grab it with both hands and don’t ever let go again. You feel me?”

The feeling isn’t the problem in this challenging situation. Seems that’s all I’ve been doing since I stepped off the damn airplane.

“I hear you,” I say, brain spinning with the implications of Nix’s warning. Giving my head a firm shake, I glance over at Haylee, and a grin spreads across my face. He’s right. It’s time for second chances.

Nixon’s eyes follow mine, and he steps away to talk to one of the photographers. I’m surprised he’s this involved in a lower level task, but Marcella’s modeling for some of the shots and he’s like an Old English sheepdog watching over his errant lamb through his spastic doggy bangs. The moment she steps out of the flock, he’s there to nip at her heels and guide her back to safety. Nix has always been a little bit of a control freak, but his heart’s in the right place. He’s lucky that Marcella understands his motivations. If that were Taryn or Haylee, he’d be told to go fuck himself.

“Well, well, if it isn’t three of the Caldwell whelps standing in the same room. I half expected the other two to be here, too, but number four’s downstairs emulating Chef Boyardee, and the fifth is still in the schoolroom.”

Dante’s voice booms throughout the room, causing Taryn’s head to snap up. Her brilliant green eyes sparkle with fire. Reagan takes a step closer as if he’s readying himself for a gunfight. I half expect him to turn, walk ten paces and blast Dante in the chest with an eighteen hundreds silver revolver that miraculously appears from his interior pocket. Every muscle in my body tenses as Dante waltzes right up to Taryn and puts a slimy hand on her shoulder. He’s way too fucking close to Haylee for my comfort.

Taryn shrugs him off and walks away, effectively putting distance between them. Haylee looks Dante over, and I see something in the turn of her gaze that causes my heart to race and my palms to glisten with the sweat of a man possessed with a certain woman. She’s interested in Dante Giovanetti. I look at the man with fresh eyes. He’s attractive and well put together if you like that Armani suited look. Not a hair out of place, a deep desert tan, and brown eyes. But those eyes are dead as dirt, and I can’t believe that Haylee doesn’t see it.

Before I can get over there, they’ve shaken hands and are involved in a lively conversation. Haylee’s giving him that smile. The one that used to be reserved just for me. Stowing my laptop in my leather briefcase, I abandon ship and walk toward them. This is all fucking hands on deck because I feel like a tidal wave just swept over me, dragging me down into a turbulent sea of anger. How dare he come on to Haylee like he has a snowball’s chance in hell? Then I remember, to Haylee, who’s a server in a casino café, a rich, powerful man like Dante probably looks like he’s galloping in on his shiny white horse.

“It was so nice meeting you, Miss Jacobs. I can’t wait to see you again. I’ll call soon.”

What. The. Fuck.

I don’t even bother to ask Dante why he came here because I know Nix will tell me that later. There’s no viable reason except that maybe his charity is going to feature the app I created. The bastard was involved in the charity fashion show because I sabotaged his laptop and had a hologram of Tupac take over his runway instead of his famous supermodel. The man seems to hide behind the veil of charitable contribution in order to torment his targets.

“Why were you talking to him?” I ask, stopping in front of Haylee and looming over her. I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. But if I start spouting censure and warnings, she’s going to think I’m doing it out of selfish reasons and not with her best interests at heart.

“None of your damn business,” she snaps, holding a beautiful cocktail dress in her hand. It’s a silky fabric and the exact shade of her turquoise eyes. I’m dying to see her in it. The room spins as I imagine us alone. Then it turns into a cyclonic tornado as I imagine Dante’s hands on her.

Stop, Ford. Breathe.

Inhaling a huge breath only makes me want to pass out. It takes everything inside me not to head to the door and run.

She tilts her head, looking at me curiously. “Is there something wrong with you, Ford? Your glasses are foggy.”

“Yeah, I don’t want you seeing him again. He’s bad news.”

“You don’t want…” Her eyes darken with anger. “Are you kidding me? You lost the right to want anything when it comes to me back when you left me without a goodbye.” She pokes me in the chest. “I don’t know who you think you are. If you think you can just waltz back into my life because you’re some hot shot tech genius with deep pockets…guess what, your money isn’t accepted here, Ford Caldwell. Buzz off!”

Haylee grabs the dress and clutches it to her chest, eyes lit with an anger I caused. Taryn’s head pivots around, and she glares at me as if I deliberately baited Haylee to get her to lose her temper. Maybe Taryn knows about mine and Haylee’s ancient history, maybe she doesn’t. If it’s the latter, she probably thinks I’m an asshat.

“Did she just agree to go out with Giovanetti?” Nixon’s voice cuts through the electric atmosphere in the room. It’s like a lightning storm blew through, striking everything down in its wake, leaving nothing behind but charred remains.

“I’m not sure what happened. It sounds like she agreed to take a phone call from him. When I asked her about it, she pretty much told me to go take a flying leap off the Armónico roof.”

“It can’t happen,” Troy’s voice says. Shit, I didn’t even notice him enter the room. The guy’s like super stealth.

I rake a hand through my hair and give the ends a sharp tug, welcoming the pain. “I know. But Haylee’s a grown woman. I can’t very well send her to her room without supper and lock her in.”

“No, you can’t do that,” Troy says. I’m not sure, but I think I see the beginnings of a grin turn up the corners of his mouth. It softens him a little. He’s not so badass. “But I have an idea.”