Chapter Nine
The rest of the week passed quickly. Too quickly for Kendall’s liking. Because once the farm’s receivables came in and Damian could buy her out, she would have her money and be on her way to pay back her label. Just like they’d agreed. She still didn’t know where since she’d avoided thinking about the future, or even beyond the moment, so that she could throw herself into every second she had with Damian on the farm. But the hard and rewarding work during the day nearly always ended with them on the cottage porch, Kendall picking at her guitar and Damian sipping a beer. Sometimes she sang and he listened. Sometimes they talked. And every night she went to bed next to Damian with something raw and broken in her chest. Something that felt an awful lot like longing for the farm. For Blackberry Cove. For Damian. For home.
The downstairs floors in her grandmother’s house had been transformed quickly with the help of the farm staff and had gone in even faster when Damian hired a contractor to mill and plane the reclaimed wood, and then installed it. Damian and Kendall had sanded it before Damian stained it. By Saturday, he was on the second coat of stain and Kendall couldn’t believe how new floors could make the old house come back to life.
By Saturday night Kendall wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed next to Damian in his cottage, which she’d never left after the night she’d hurt her ankle, and read a romance novel or watch a movie. But that was the night she’d promised to have dinner with Delilah. And though she looked forward to spending time with her old friend she’d had some reservations about exposing herself to the townspeople again. Walking into Otto’s alone was tantamount to walking through the town square buck naked. An idea that did not appeal to her in any way whatsoever.
But she was used to doing everything on her own. And this was no different. Nor was it something special. Really, how difficult was it to go out to dinner with a friend, and maybe do a little dancing? Hell, she should be happy she could do that here without some asshole photographer trying to get a photo under her dress or provoke her into saying something stupid on video. She wasn’t exactly anonymous in Blackberry Cove, but she was, at least, a little less notorious.
When she walked out of the cottage’s bathroom after putting the final touches on her hair and makeup, Damian was lounging on the bed with his hands behind his neck and his long legs crossed at the ankles. The look on his face was dark…not quite angry, but ferocious all the same.
“You know, cowboy, if that were my bed, I’d kick you to the curb for putting your boots on the comforter.”
Swinging his legs down to the floor, he reached out and placed his hands on her hips. “You look crazy fucking sexy in these leather pants.” He leaned forward and kissed her belly on the exposed swath of skin that wasn’t covered by her low-slung pants or her “country girl” T-shirt.
“Don’t worry, I’m going to put on a big floppy sweater,” she said pointing to the long red, ruffled garment she’d left on the bed.
“I’m not worried.” Her body shuddered as he ran his tongue just above the edge of her pants, essentially melting anything hard or jagged in her body for good. His hands ran up and under the hem of her shirt until they palmed her lace-covered breasts. She leaned in to him as a warm, liquid feeling pulsed at the apex of her thighs.
“No?” She gasped the word.
“You know you belong to me, don’t you, sweetheart?” His mouth moved to her left breast, and bit sharply at the hardened bud there, mouthing her through the cotton material. “Everyone knows, don’t they?”
The shudder turned to a tremble. Her whole body ached and wanted and needed. Another bite to her other nipple stole her response so she answered with a nod. To deny their connection, their hold on each other, would be a lie. And she was done lying.
Kendall finally gathered her waning energy and wrapped her hands around his head, angling his face up so she could see his beautiful eyes. “But that goes both ways, doesn’t it?”
His lips quirked up and his eyes went from beautiful to mesmerizing, hypnotic. “Baby, what are we going to do?”
She hadn’t meant to sound so achingly hollow. But it was there…in her tone. And he heard it but kept that smile and bit at her belly before letting her go. She knew he’d overheard part of her call from the record label that morning when they’d been feeding the goats. He hadn’t asked her about it yet and she hadn’t shared the content of the discussion. She would, but first she had to process it.
“That all depends, doesn’t it?” he said, handing her the sweater.
“On what?”
He stood and kissed her cheek. “On whatever it is you have going on up there in that fast-moving brain of yours.”
“We’ll talk about it. Not now—” she glanced at her phone and stepped into her black-heeled knee boots “—but soon.”
He nodded, almost curtly, a sharp quick motion that succinctly ended that portion of the conversation.
“I’d like to drive you tonight. I’m going to meet my mom for dinner.” He laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. Maybe it’s time to mend some fences.”
“I’m really glad.” And she was. Dr. Sloane had been so obviously pained and remorseful that Kendall had felt sorry for her. Besides, it had been Mr. Sloane who had been so cruel that night. She’d only assumed that his wife agreed with his involvement. But that appeared to not be the case. “But you don’t have to drive me.”
“I want to. I can drop you off, have dinner with my mom, and pick you up. If you’re not ready, I’ll just have a beer at the bar.” He said it like this was a normal thing. A husband dropping off and picking up his wife. And she wished it was—God she wished it so much. But that wasn’t their relationship and he didn’t have to play that role.
He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, gently stroking the underside. Shivers ran up her arm…but, hey, what else was new? Every time Damian touched her, her skin went on high alert. “It’s okay. And, it’s probably a win-win if you want me to pick you up earlier,” he said leaving out the real reason she might end the night early, which would be that it did not go well, or she ran into someone who might say or do something hurtful.
He was right, though. The night could go south quickly. It was nice to have him on her side. Even if it was just temporary she would take it. She’d take just about anything he was willing to give.
Kendall reached up and kissed him on his cheek, loving the rough texture of his stubble against her lips. Moving his head, he turned the sweet peck into a sensual and suggestive dance of tongues. When he finally pulled away they were both breathless.
“Well it’s a good thing I’m wearing lip stain, cowboy.” She laughed, not liking the nervous lilt of her voice. She was getting in too deep with him. Again. And it was going to hurt more than ever when she had to walk away.
And once she told him about the call from the label, he’d be more than ready to wipe his hands clean of her and their relationship. But for right now she desperately wanted to hold on to the moment, this one right here, with him.
Because the moment she started thinking she might actually already be home, Kendall would remember the call, remember what she owed, and how badly she’d hurt her husband. And that dream, the one of living here in Blackberry Cove and being a real wife to her husband would drift away.
She had to tell him about the call. Just not yet.
*
When she swanned in promptly at nine, Kendall was shocked at how full the room was. If Blackberry Cove could possibly experience something as modern as gentrification, then perhaps the once-notorious bar and grill had been caught up in a renaissance because instead of cheap, torn, and mismatched plastic chairs and tables it now featured a modern steel and wood bar across one side of the Victorian warehouse-like building. Plush dark blue booths lined the outside edge of the room, lending an impression of privacy, although it was more likely that the raised booths were where one sat if they wanted to see and be seen. Most of the booths and the tables sprinkled throughout the room were full of people as was the dance floor before the stage on the farthest side of the large room.
The second she walked in she was instantly considering her options for flaking on the one person in town who still might actually like her. The impulsive decision to meet her at what was apparently the most popular place in town had been foolish. Since Kendall was not interested in exposing her throat to the wildlife of the town any more than she already had. Thankfully, Damian had seen her anxiety and she felt much better, more settled just knowing he’d be coming back for her.
And, really, all she wanted to do after the ridiculously hard, but still kind of fun, day on the farm was go to bed…and not dream about her soon-to-be ex-husband and his tanned, sinewy forearms or the way they bulged and pulsed as he dug post holes or unloaded hay from the back of the farm truck. Or the way her heart sang and then sunk every time her gaze would collide with his.
Though they’d had sex several times since that first night, it had been more a frantic combustion of pent-up lust, and perhaps a need to christen every damn surface in the cabin, than a communion of their souls. Maybe that was because they had a lot of lost time to make up. Or maybe it was the sheer exhaustion of working a farm every day. Either way, she couldn’t help wondering if it was something else. Something having to do with Damian keeping her at a distance. Which made sense, right? She was leaving, and he didn’t want it to screw up his whole world again. And though she desperately wanted more from Damian, how could he trust his heart to her again. After how she’d left? But she’d had reasons, right? Real reasons to protect him from a shaky future.
Or were they really just more excuses to keep her from more heartache? Had she left because she feared he’d eventually leave her like everyone else had? The realization was a kick to her stomach. But when her friend called to her across the room she chose to shove that feeling down. Way down.
“Hey, girl, over here.” Delilah waved, her short black bob straight and glossy under the low lights, and called across the noisy crowd. So much for a stealthy entrance or an even stealthier exit. “Kendall!” Delilah called again from a corner booth and Kendall felt a number of eyes turn and glare at her. Yep, this had definitely been the wrong decision. So, so, so wrong for so many reasons.
Delilah looked stunning as usual in a short flowing skirt and tight corset-style top that complemented her high cheekbones and bronze skin tone.
Kendall hugged her friend and they slid into the booth, both pretending to ignore the attention their little get-together was attracting from the other patrons.
“Stop looking so…so mad,” Delilah said before hiding her smirk behind a sip of her cranberry-colored drink. “Unless that’s still your thing.”
“My thing?” Kendall squeaked.
“Yeah. You know, you like being hated or whatever. The tragic, unloved Kendall Kelly of Blackberry Cove. The whole sadly romantic notion of star-crossed lovers and all that.”
The acidic ribbon coiled tighter in her body. Kendall didn’t trust her voice so she shook her head. That was so not true.
Or was it?
“Really? So you’re happy then? Awesome, shall we toast to your success?” Delilah raised her glass in mock celebration.
Thankfully the waiter interrupted and took their order, which bought Kendall a few minutes to silence her galloping heartbeat and figure out her exit strategy. She loved Delilah and had missed her, so much more than she’d realized until her friend had wrapped her in a real hug, but she wasn’t ready for this heart-to-heart. She suspected that once they started talking about her precarious life situation then the whole mess of self-deceiving lies she’d built her life on would turn to dust and she’d have nothing left to hide behind.
But before she could formulate her exit, the waiter turned from the table revealing a tall, blonde, very attractive woman.
“Hello, Carissa,” Delilah said coolly. “I’m sure you remember Kendall.” The other woman smiled. A sort of vicious slash on her sculpted, beautiful face.
“Of course. How odd to see you here still, Kendall. I thought you’d be long gone by now. I’m sure you’ve heard I’m dating your ex-husband,” she said, the words hitting their intended mark, sliced through her center leaving her feeling raw and exposed.
“You mean my husband.” Kendall smiled back, as cheerfully as if she were on a press junket, not giving Carissa a chance to see her bleed.
Carissa’s face reddened. “Ex-husband,” Carissa said again. Kendall had spent the last few years on stage or in front the camera, and she couldn’t bear to let go a situation so ripe with drama. So she paused. For one, two, three beats. She waited until nearly everyone in the restaurant had predictably stopped talking and turned to glare at her.
“No, honey. We’re still very married.”
They all hated her. She knew that. Once Kendall had realized her efforts to charm the people of Blackberry Cove had failed, she’d done practically everything in her power to ensure they’d have reason to dislike her. So why did she taunt Damian’s would-be date? Why did it matter anymore? Especially when he was sharing her bed—or vice versa—and she’d be gone soon enough anyhow.
“That’s a lie,” Carissa croaked. “He divorced your ass years ago.”
“Did he actually tell you that, Carissa?” Kendall asked and watched the other woman’s face dropped when she realized she’d assumed, just like everyone else in town, that Damian and Kendall had legally ended their marriage.
Kendall snagged Damian’s gaze as he walked up behind Carissa. His face looked cold and passive, but his beautiful hazel eyes glowed green so he was either livid or turned on. Somehow she doubted he was feeling passionate as his potential new girlfriend and estranged wife paired off.
Kendall stared at her husband, the only man she’d ever loved, admiring his dark hair combed back and his black barely there beard neatly trimmed. He wore a blue and black plaid western shirt rolled up at the sleeves to reveal insanely muscled forearms, the same ones that had driven her crazy all day, tucked into low-hung jeans. Goddamn, that man was fine. She’d been all over the country and met models, actors, and musicians that the commercial world considered smoking hot and not one of them even came close to him. Not one. Ever.
Slowly the side of his mouth curved into that wildly sexy smile of his. That little bend did crazy things to her insides, flooding her with images of him in bed that morning. This man had always held too much power over her. Even when he was standing next to another woman she couldn’t look away from the intensity that shone from his every pore.
“Yes, Carissa, Kendall is still my wife.” Damian’s voice was deep and crystal clear. And when he leaned down to hand Kendall her purse—the one she must’ve left in his truck—he pressed his mouth to hers in a provocatively lingering kiss, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was claiming her once again. She should push him away. One gentle shove to his chest and he’d back off. It would save them both a lot of trouble in the end.
But she couldn’t. Dammit. She wouldn’t. That feeling of belonging to someone, to him, of knowing that he would have her back came flooding over her. It was overwhelming. She was drowning in him. Here in public. But her hand came up to cup his jaw, to rub her thumb across the long stubble there, to luxuriate in the moment of being Damian’s once again.
He pulled back and smiled at her before standing. “Hello, wife.”