Chapter Thirteen
Cassidy woke up at her usual time on Saturday and gave herself a few minutes to savor the pleasure of not having to roll right out of bed. If she closed the diner, and got a job somewhere else, a nine-to-five job in an office or something, she could sleep late every day. And she’d have time to ride Casey, too.
Which was the idea that had her staggering to her feet and searching for jeans. Even without closing the diner, she had a little bit of time right then, and she needed to use it. She snuck down the hall past Emily’s door, her boots in her hand, picked a bit of chicken out of the leftovers in the fridge to fill her stomach, and then headed out the front door.
“You running away to join the circus?” Will’s amused voice floated out from his office.
She peered around the doorway, resisting the impulse to feel as if she’d been caught in some misbehavior. “Why are you awake?”
“Why are you?” He pushed away from his desk and stretched as if he’d been sitting there for quite a while. “You don’t have to go to work yet, do you? Not on Saturday.”
“I want to ride Casey.” She frowned, suddenly self-conscious. “Is that okay? I mean, we’re not making that goat trade, so he’s still your horse.”
“Of course. And the goat trade’s going to happen. I’m just looking for ways to sweeten the pot.” He smiled as he approached.
It always took her a while to get used to his proximity. When she wasn’t around him, she could think clearly: she could label him as Emily’s father, or the meddling millionaire, or even the guy she was having a little fling with. But when she was with him, he was just Will. Sexy, infuriating, overpowering. His smile dissolved her common sense, his scent made her heart speed up, and his touch? His touch inflamed her and drove away all thought.
She wanted to step back, wanted to rush toward him. Instead, she stayed frozen between the extremes, and when he stood before her and raised a hand to cradle her jaw, she leaned into the contact and closed her eyes. “I missed you last night,” he whispered, and then he gently tilted her head, and their lips met and she melted.
It was difficult to stay upright when her muscles and maybe even her bones were turned to goo, but he held her to him, his body hard and warm against her softness. He kissed her like he had a right to, as if there were no complications, no conflicts, just the two of them, fitting together perfectly. His lips trailed down her neck, and she let her head fall back, exposing her throat. She was tired of being careful, tired of trying to protect herself. She wanted to be vulnerable, wanted to let him do the protecting.
His stubble rasped against her tender skin, and his lips kissed away the burn. “I want you,” he murmured into her skin. “We can make it work.”
And it was that lie that brought her back to reality. He wasn’t trying to deceive her, she didn’t think. He probably believed it, believed that there was some sort of future for them, for the millionaire and the waitress, a future that didn’t have her feeling like a servant or a charity case. But she knew better, and her knowledge gave her the strength to stand on her own and push him away. “I want to ride,” she half gasped.
His eyes were closed, and he swayed a little on his feet, as if there was a battle raging inside him and he had to concentrate on making sure the right side won. Finally he said, “There’s no chance you mean that in a dirty way, is there?”
The sound she made was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “No. I want to go to the barn and exercise your horse.”
“If I really work at it, I can make that sound a bit dirty, too.” His eyes were open, now, and she didn’t want to look at him, so she turned away and headed for the door. But his voice stopped her before she got outside. “Can I come? Can I watch?”
“Are you going to make that sound dirty, too?”
“Too easy. I just want to see what you’re doing. I’m trying to understand why you like it—I know lots of people who own horses, but I’ve never really paid much attention to them.”
“You probably know people who ride English. Jumping and dressage and polo and whatever. Casey’s trained Western. Like a cowboy’s horse.”
“Well that’s way more interesting already. Cowboys are sexy, right?”
“Some of them,” she agreed carefully. “But, seriously, there is nothing sexy about to happen at the barn. And probably nothing all that interesting. He’s been off work for a while, so I’ll just be warming him up, seeing where he’s at—we’re not going to be putting on a show or anything.”
“That’s fine—I probably wouldn’t know what to look for if you were doing a show anyway. But, if he’s a cowboy horse—do we need cows? You’re not allowed to lasso my goat, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Damn it. He was too adorable, too sweet. “I’m not going to lasso your goat. But if you’re looking for phrases that could sound dirty…”
“I thought of that, too,” he said with a wicked grin. And somehow they were walking, and he grabbed a jacket as they headed out the door, and everything was back to being comfortable and easy. His fingers wrapped around hers, and she didn’t pull away.
“Casey’s a reining horse,” she said, trying to keep her mind on anything other than his long, lean body right next to hers. “It’s the Western version of dressage, kind of. There’s no lassoing involved.”
“So Eliza’s safe. Good. And it’s good you didn’t fight me when I said she was my goat. I’m glad you’re starting to accept that. The trade is real, my friend. This is business, and I always win in business.”
“Trading a scrub goat for a well-trained purebred horse is not business. It’s madness.”
“You just don’t see my larger strategy.”
“Oh, really. Okay, explain it to me.”
“No way. I’m not giving away trade secrets. You can just sit back and watch as your horse keeps eating his way through all the oats and my goat starts producing—but, no, I’ve said too much.”
“Producing milk? Have you ever actually tried goat’s milk? It’s not for everyone.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that there will be milk involved in my plan. Or cheese. I can’t say anything about cheese.”
The walk to the barn wasn’t long enough. It wasn’t that Cassidy didn’t want to get down there and start working with Casey, because she absolutely did. But she also wanted to keep walking with Will, keep holding his hand and making up stupid nonsense about goats. She wanted to freeze the moment forever: the cool of the early morning air, the warmth of his hand, the glow of the sun coming over the horizon, and the indefinable, undeniable rightness of their connection, their bond.
But nothing lasted forever. They reached the barn, and he released her hand, and she tried to go on about the business of luring a groggy horse in from his pasture without feeling a sense of loss. The moment with Will was finite. She knew that and had always known that. And she knew she had to distract herself with other things in order to keep from crumbling at the loss.
…
Will set up the school visits for Friday of the next week, and, without argument, Cassidy posted a sign saying the diner would close after lunch on Thursday and not reopen until Saturday dinner. He was there when Mr. Emerson, the grumpy regular with the pickle fetish, complained, and he saw Cassidy politely but firmly explain that she had family commitments, and then offer to make him a delicious bag lunch he could enjoy on Friday. Maybe there were other disgruntled customers Will didn’t see, but Cassidy didn’t mention them, and after she shot down one cautious inquiry, he didn’t ask any more questions.
She was maybe a bit subdued when he and Emily swung by the diner to pick her up Thursday afternoon, and he wasn’t sure if he should have argued with her decision to sit in the backseat, leaving Emily up front with him, but it still wasn’t a crisis. Cassidy sat quietly most of the way to the city while Emily peppered Will with an exhausting series of questions about where they’d be going, what they’d be seeing, and how he felt about every damn thing.
“So Broadway shows aren’t just for tourists?” was one of her inquiries. “The internet said they were, but I’m sure you’ve been to Broadway shows. Just because you live there it doesn’t mean you haven’t seen The Lion King. Right?”
He reassured her that while he hadn’t seen that particular show, he’d seen others, and she seemed happy for about ten seconds. Then she’d started in on shopping, and how expensive things were, and he was pretty sure he sensed Cassidy’s ears perking up in the backseat.
“It’s an expensive place to live,” he admitted. “But a lot of that is the real estate. I own my condo, so it’s not that expensive, month-to-month. It’s an investment, really. Other things? You can spend a lot of money on food and clothes if you want, but there are much less expensive options, too. There aren’t that many working class people who can afford to have an apartment right in Manhattan, but there are plenty who come in to work and buy lunch there without going broke.”
Emily nodded happily and went on with inquiries about different neighborhoods and where the schools she’d be visiting were, and Will gave her the information she wanted while sneaking looks at Cassidy via the rearview mirror. For once, he couldn’t read her emotions on her face, and he didn’t like it.
It wasn’t until they crossed over the George Washington Bridge that Emily stopped chattering, and as soon as she was quiet, Will wished she’d start talking again. Without her questions, the atmosphere of the car seemed oppressive, as if Cassidy’s mood, whatever it might be, was spreading.
“I didn’t make reservations anywhere for tonight,” he said, trying to sound light and chatty. “But we can order in pizza, if you want. Or go somewhere casual. And then tomorrow we’ll be blitzing the schools and probably just pick up lunch whenever we have a minute. I can also get us tickets to a show Friday night, or whatever else you want to do. Maybe shopping after we’re done at the schools? You guys can think about that, okay? Let me know what would be fun, and I’ll set it up.”
“Central Park,” Emily said quickly. “You’d like that, Aunt Cass. Right? Lots of trees and stuff. And I think there’s even horses.”
“I don’t know about the horses,” he said. There’d been some sort of controversy about riding in the park a few years earlier, but he hadn’t cared enough to notice how it was resolved. “But the park is right down the street from my place. We can go there whenever we want.”
“Sounds great,” Cassidy said. She didn’t sound totally enthusiastic, but Will didn’t think she was being sarcastic, either. “Must be nice to live that close.”
“I don’t get to the park all that often, actually.” Too busy working, making money, even though he already had more than he could ever spend. “But I guess it’s nice to know it’s an option, yes.”
And then they drove in silence, down along the river, Will trying to see the familiar scenery as it must seem to someone who wasn’t used to it.
He still thought it was beautiful. This was his city, his home, and maybe he couldn’t be objective about it, but surely no one could see that skyline and not be moved? They couldn’t refuse to feel the energy of the place, even from inside a vehicle? It was New York City, for God’s sake.
He looked over at Emily, saw her practically bouncing out of her seat, and grinned. Yeah, she felt it. He couldn’t pretend it was proof of his paternity, because Pippa had always loved the city, too, but it was one more similarity between them, one more bond. Then he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Cassidy looking down at her lap.
Damn it. This wouldn’t work if he couldn’t get Cassidy on board. It wouldn’t work for Emily, and it wouldn’t work for him. He refused to bulldoze her on this. If she didn’t want Emily to go to school in the city—damn it, what if Cassidy didn’t want it but Emily did? And if he thought it was where she’d get the best education?
It would be unworkable, and therefore it was unacceptable. Cassidy would just have to be persuaded, without being coerced. That was his job for the next two days.
Emily’s questions resumed as they approached his condo. She would spot a landmark out the window, spin to ask him about it, and turn back to the window to spot something new before he was even finished talking.
“Like a golden retriever watching people play catch,” Cassidy said wryly. He wished he could reach back and touch her. A squeeze of her hand, a touch to her knee, just something to reassure and reconnect. But of course that was forbidden with Emily in the car.
Then they were at the entrance to his parking garage, and Emily kept him busy with even more questions.
He explained the security system in his building as they entered, and added, “There’s a gym on the main floor, and a reception suite a floor above that. I can sign it out if I want to have a party too big for my place.”
“Do you have big parties?” Emily asked skeptically.
“You think I don’t have friends?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen you with anybody but us. Do you have friends?”
“I have a few. A few very good friends who are looking forward to meeting you. And many, many acquaintances, some of whom I sometimes entertain in the reception rooms.” Usually for business events, but he didn’t bother to explain that distinction to her. She’d understand in time.
Of course, based on what he’d seen of Cassidy, Emily might be used to adults who didn’t really have friends. Cassidy was too busy at the diner, too busy with Emily. And while her relationship with her sister hadn’t been healthy, at least by Will’s standards, it had obviously been pretty close. Maybe Cassidy hadn’t wanted any friends beyond that. Maybe.
But maybe he could find her some in the city. If he did a good job, that could be the thing that convinced her to make the move.
He unlocked the apartment door and stepped aside to let the others in. Emily bounded through the doorway, and Cassidy, of course, hung back suspiciously. “There are no traps inside,” he told her solemnly. “And the lock on the door only keeps people out, not in. I promise—you’re safe.”
A slight eye roll, and then she stepped carefully over the threshold.
“It’s huge!” Emily yelled from the living room. “I thought New York apartments were tiny, but this is bigger than our house! And it’s so nice. Everything looks so new.”
“Barely looks like anyone lives here,” Cassidy said. Will could feel the judgment in her tone but couldn’t figure out what she meant until Emily scampered down the hallway toward the guest rooms and Cassidy added, “If Emily moves here, you’ll need to be home for her. She can’t come back to an empty apartment night after night.”
He bit back the retort about Emily being used to going home to an empty house, and instead said, “I’ll need to make some lifestyle adjustments. I know that.”
“She needs stability,” Cassidy said. She had a way of making the words sound like a challenge, one she clearly didn’t think he’d be able to meet. “She’s been through a lot, and this would be just one more change. If she comes to the city, she needs to know there’s someone at home for her.”
“Absolutely,” he agreed. It was too much of a chance for him to pass up, so he added, “I’m hoping there will be two people here for her. Or if this place doesn’t work for you, we could move. If you want a house, there are places just over the river, in Jersey or Connecticut or wherever. We could find somewhere with space for the horses, but Emily could still commute in to school, or she could stay at school during the week and come home on weekends, if that was better. There are a lot of options to consider, but I really, really hope you’re going to be part of whatever we come up with.”
She turned away quickly, but Emily was still in the other room, so he continued with what he needed to say. “It doesn’t have to be sexual. You and me, I mean. If that’s what’s holding you back—even if you don’t want to live in the same apartment as me—we can figure that out. I can buy another condo in this building for you, or we could move somewhere with a main house and a—”
“A nanny suite?” she said quickly. “Is that how you see this going? I have no money, so you can just assign me whatever job suits you, and I’ll be grateful. It’s not convenient for me to keep running the diner, and it doesn’t make much money, so I should close it down and come join your domestic staff.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Cassidy,” he started, but then Emily bounced back into the room, and he had to let it go. He tried to focus on his daughter, not the frustrating, defensive, beautiful woman who stood behind her, watching them both with an expression of mixed affection and concern.
He needed advice. He was back in the city, and he had people here. Friends who would tell him the truth and help him see what he needed to do. They should probably meet Cassidy, just to get a better idea of what they were dealing with.
And because he wanted them to meet her, he realized, for her own sake and for theirs. He wanted her to understand that he knew about tight bonds, about loyalty. And he wanted them to understand that she was special. Unique. He wanted them to meet her so they’d know how serious he was about finding a way to make this all work out. Somehow.