Chapter Nineteen
“You gotta know when to fold ’em.”
—“The Gambler,” as quoted by a ranch hand in Wyoming, circa 2005
The wedding had been beautiful. Even as a man, Waylon could recognize that. Jill and Cal had glowed with happiness, their love undeniable, and the venue couldn’t have been more spectacular. Additionally, Waylon couldn’t be prouder of Heather.
Only, he’d love to lay eyes on the woman again.
The wedding party had been transported via limousine to the reception hall rented in town, and Waylon and Rose, having not been in the wedding itself, had been left to get to The Carriage House Hotel on their own. They’d been there for thirty minutes now, and he’d yet to see Heather.
“Daddy?” Rose tugged on his pant leg.
“Yes, Rosebud?”
She smiled brightly, as she did most times when he called her by her nickname. “I want to dance with Grampa, but he keeps dancing with Ms. Blu.”
Waylon sought out the man in question. Music had begun playing shortly after they’d arrived, and sure enough, his dad had his hands wrapped all the way around Blu Johnson. Not that he was surprised to see it. Heather had told him about their conversation with Blu earlier in the week, and when Waylon had asked about it, his dad had shared that lately the texts had morphed into “sexts.” Which was not something Waylon had ever wanted to hear. And now that the foster girl Blu had taken in had been placed with a family member, Charlie Peterson planned to take the T off sext.
Waylon dug his thumb and forefinger into his eyes.
“Dad?” Rose tugged on his pant leg again.
“I’m sorry, Rose, but you’re going to have to . . .” Wait in line, he thought, as he watched his dad’s hand slide lower down Blu’s back. If he told Rose that, though, she’d go over and line up behind her grandfather. “Be patient,” he said instead. “Grampa will dance with you. I’m sure.”
It just might be a while.
Waylon picked Rose up and began to dance with her himself, as he kept an eye out for his date. He’d not actually gotten to take his date to the wedding. Nor bring her to the reception. And in fact, he hadn’t even gotten the opportunity to speak to her since she’d crawled from his bed the morning before. But she was still his date. And if things went according to plan, she’d be a lot more before the end of the night.
“You look very beautiful in your dress, Rosebud.” He kissed the top of her head as he searched the crowd.
“I know that, Daddy.” She gave him her bored voice. “You told me that earlier.”
He squeezed her tight. “And I’ll probably tell you again before the night is over.”
He pulled back and winked at her, and she giggled like her mother used to.
Sadness over the way Nikki had wasted her life suddenly rushed him, and he wondered how much Rose knew about her mom. He’d told her very little himself. With Rose being so young when Nikki passed, he’d never figured out just what to share and what not to, so he’d basically given her a picture of her mother, and that was about it.
But he should have done better. Nikki had been a light in this world. She might have had problems, but the good parts of her were all in the little girl now in his arms.
“I love you, Rosebud.” He kissed her on the nose.
“And I love you, Daddy.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the nose, same as him.
He continued to sway with his daughter in his arms, and after catching sight of Cal and Jill returning to the ballroom, hope grew that Heather wouldn’t be far behind. It took a couple more minutes, but suddenly, there she was, so beautiful in pale green. The color was perfect for her.
“I’m going to tell Heather how pretty she is, Daddy.”
Waylon had stopped moving when he’d seen her, and he and Rose now both stared.
“Are you going to tell her, too?” Rose asked.
He knew he should look at his daughter when speaking to her, but he couldn’t make himself take his eyes off the woman he loved. “I sure am. And I might even tell her twice.”
Rose giggled again, then scrambled out of his arms, but before he could head off toward Heather, he spotted another beautiful woman close by.
Rose had stopped a few feet away and turned back when she’d realized he hadn’t followed. “You go on.” He motioned toward Heather. “I’ll be over in just a minute.”
She pursed her lips. “But where are you going?”
He stooped so he was at Rose’s height, and pointed out Irene Reynolds, who sat at the next table over. “Do you see that beautiful woman sitting right there?”
“The one with the white hair?”
“Yes,” he answered. “The one with the white hair.” He saw Ms. Irene’s lips lift into a smile.
“I do see her, Daddy. And she’s pretty, too. I love her blue dress.”
He kissed Rose on the cheek. “You go see if Heather wants to dance with you, and I’m going to ask this lovely lady over here to dance with me, okay?”
Rose glanced at Irene once more before nodding. “Okay.”
She bounded off, and by the time Waylon reached Irene’s side, her smile was bright.
“I’ve been eavesdropping on you, Sir Waylon.”
“I hope you didn’t hear anything too bad.”
“Only that you plan to dance with two different women tonight.” She tsked teasingly. “I always knew you were a flirt.”
He threw back his head with laughter, and then he reached his hand down to hers. “May I have this dance, beautiful lady? But I do need to hurry. I wouldn’t want to get caught.”
She giggled, and let him lead her a couple of feet away. They’d been dancing for only a few seconds, doing little more than picking up their heels as they swayed, when Irene lay her hand on his chest.
“I always knew you had a good heart.” She patted the white shirt under his suit jacket. “I should have also known you’re a daddy.”
He smiled as he watched Rose, who was now dancing with his dad. “And how would you have known I’m a daddy?”
“The gentleness inside you.” She kept her palm flat on his chest, but now rested her cheek beside it. “The father of a little girl has a softness about him.”
He looked down at the top of her head. “Don’t you be going around telling people I’m soft, Ms. Irene. No cowboy needs to be known for that.”
She chuckled, the sound muffled against him. “Okay, then. It’ll be our little secret.”
“Oh, secrets with my secret lady.”
Her smile grew wider, and they both fell silent. Then Waylon’s gaze landed on Heather once again, and he saw her watching him. She had the kind of look in her eyes that he’d love to see every day for the rest of his life.
“You must have just seen your lady,” Irene murmured. “Should I run and hide?”
He laughed and held the woman a little tighter. “I’ll bet you were a riot in your day. Am I right?”
“That would be correct.”
“Tell me how you knew I’d just seen her. “
She tapped his chest with her finger. “It beats strong for her.”
He grinned. “Not soft?”
“Not for this one, no.”
He had to agree. He let his eyes smile at Heather, hoping she could see his love, and he agreed with Irene. “Never for this one.”
The song ended a few minutes later, and he escorted Irene back to her seat.
“Thank you for the dance, young man,” she said before he could give the same thanks to her. She patted his hand. “Now go ask your lady.”
He paused, still half-bent over the table. “Ask her . . . what?”
She couldn’t possibly know what he intended to ask Heather tonight. Could she?
“Love is special, Sir Waylon.” She held her hand over his. “Love can get you through anything. Don’t wait. Go ask her now.”
Waylon wasn’t going to ask her at that very minute, but he did leave Irene and head straight for Heather. And when he reached her, he took her in his arms.
He kissed her, not caring who might be watching, and silently prayed she didn’t get upset over the kiss. And when he finally pulled back, the satisfied sigh that slipped out of her told him he was going to be just fine.
“I missed you,” he told her.
“And you just found me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe. “Miss me like that much more,” she whispered, “and I might show you where the coat closet is.”
Her words had him grinning from ear to ear as he danced her in a wide swath around the floor, but a couple of minutes later, he wanted to bring things down a notch. Make them more intimate. So he took one hand in his and brought it between their bodies, and he held her palm over his heart. He kept her tucked in against him as they danced, in a way that should let her know he planned to keep her there for quite a while.
A few minutes later, he brushed a kiss over her forehead. “Now that you’ve made your appearance in your special dress, I can tell you that I have a surprise waiting for you at my house tonight.”
Her breath tickled his neck. “Was I going to your house tonight?”
“You absolutely are.”
Her head turned, and he knew she was looking for Rose, so he twirled her out from him before bringing her quickly back.
“Rose loves sleepovers,” he reminded her as he resettled her against him. He returned his palm to the small of her back and pressed her close. “And so does her daddy.”
Her lips curved languidly, and she leaned her cheek against his chest. “You’d think with all the sex we’ve been having lately, we’d be getting tired of this.”
“I don’t plan on ever getting tired of this.”
She peeked up at his words, and he let his features grow serious as their eyes connected. He wanted her to understand where he planned to take them tonight, but he also intended to build the anticipation awhile longer.
“Don’t you want to know what your surprise is?”
She nodded, her eyes still on his.
He could feel her need, so he leaned over and put his mouth to her ear. “Orange chiffon cake,” he whispered, and she instantly stopped dancing.
“Please tell me you aren’t making that up. Did you get Aunt Blu to—” She glanced around as she spoke, and Waylon watched as her gaze landed on Blu. The older woman was once again in his dad’s arms, and Heather’s entire body seemed to soften at the sight. “She did it,” Heather whispered. She turned back to him. “They’re on a date.”
“It certainly looks that way.”
He followed her eyes back across the room and watched the other couple for a moment longer, and as had happened the day the two of them first met, Waylon experienced a tug of jealousy at the thought of his dad now spending more time with Blu than he did with him. Not that Waylon had any demands on the man’s time.
It would sure be nice, though, if the time they did spend together didn’t still carry the weight of two ships passing in the night.
Tonight wasn’t the time or place to be worrying about a relationship that had likely already reached its pinnacle, though. Tonight was about Heather. And him.
He turned her back to him. “Blu didn’t make the cake.”
She eyed him contemplatively. “You don’t really expect me to believe that you made Aunt Blu’s orange chiffon cake?”
“I told you I would.” He kissed the tip of her nose and restarted them dancing. “And in case you’re wondering if it was made especially for you”—he twirled her under his arm—“we literally put your name on it.”
She lifted her hand back to his. “My name?”
“In pink.”
Her smile was one of the top five things he loved about her, but when her lips curved with naughty intent, it jumped straight to number one. “So you’re saying that Rose helped you make this cake?” Her throaty voice matched her smile.
“I am saying that.” Waylon brought her fingers to his mouth. “But I do not plan on letting her be around when you eat it.”
He felt her shudder in his arms.
“Is that because you plan to feed it to me yourself?” Her gaze was fastened on his mouth. “Or because you intend to work the calories off me while I lick the fork clean?”
He groaned under his breath. “You’re killing me, here.”
She wrapped both arms around his neck and whispered, “Just wait until you get me home, Mr. Peterson.”
He lowered his mouth to her neck, another groan slipping out, but at the same moment his lips landed on her warm skin, he sensed a subtle shift in her mood. She’d turned her head and was looking toward the door leading into the back hallway, so Waylon followed her line of sight, trying to find what had bothered her.
“What is it?” he asked. No one out of the ordinary had come into the room. Some of the show personnel who hadn’t been there before walked in, but given there’d been cameras all over the place throughout the day, he didn’t think that would be the issue.
“Heather?”
She dragged her gaze to his, her look stark.
“What is it?” he repeated.
“I met a man yesterday afternoon.”
That stopped him. He quit dancing, and sought out a quieter spot in the room.
“Not that kind of man,” she said as he practically dragged her across the floor.
He didn’t speak until they had a modicum of privacy, then he forced himself to unclench his jaw. “Okay. Then what kind of man did you meet?”
Worry tightened the skin around her eyes, and she said, “The type that offered me a job.”
He waited, knowing there had to be more to it. A job offer was typically a good thing.
“A job I think I’d really love,” she added. But again, her worry remained, and he continued to be at a loss.
“That’s good, isn’t it?” he asked. “If it’s something you’d love. You’ve been trying to decide what comes next.”
“But this job is in Atlanta.”
“It’s what?”
She nodded, her concern remaining. “I was trying not to think about it tonight. I didn’t want to bring it up until I’d had time to sort through my thoughts about it, but then I saw the show’s executive producer come in, and . . . well, he’s the one who told this guy about me . . . and suddenly I couldn’t help but think about it.”
Waylon stared at her. “Were you even going to talk to me about it? I mean, before you decided to leave?”
“Of course I was. But like I said, I haven’t even had time to think about it myself. Right after he made the offer, Trenton and I had to meet up with Jill, and there’s been one thing after another since then, and I’ve just . . .” She stopped talking and frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Heather. You know I can’t just move to Atlanta. Not right now. Not with things the way they are with Rose.”
“And I don’t even know if I want to take it or not,” she argued.
“But you’re thinking about it?”
“Yes, I’m thinking about it. Don’t I have to? It’s with an up-and-coming landscape architecture firm, and he came here looking for me. Do you know how special that is? I don’t even have a degree in that field, yet they want me. And the projects he showed me that they’d done . . . They were just wow, Waylon. Truly amazing.” Excitement glowed from her. “And I’ll tell you, there was nothing normal and routine about any of them.”
He continued to stare. “But Atlanta?” He forced the question out. Everything about him was trying to shut down. “Do you even want to live in a big city? Have that kind of lifestyle?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it before.”
He dragged a hand down over his face. He couldn’t believe this was happening right now. Right when he was about to—
Someone yelled over by the door, and he and Heather turned.
Waylon dropped a protective hand to Heather’s arm as the man shouted out again, and he looked for Rose. Whoever this guy was, he didn’t sound as if he were there to party.
When the voice rose up once more, the music shut off and everyone looked toward the door. Waylon found Rose standing with his dad, and a second before his gaze shifted to land on the culprit, a memory surfaced.
“There he is,” the guy yelled. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Waylon felt his world being swept from under his feet. His gaze landed on the man’s face, and he saw red-hot anger being directed at him.
“Yeah, that’s right,” the guy said. “You.” He pointed at Waylon, and all heads turned to him. “I found ya, now. Thought you could get away, huh?” The man moved toward Waylon, the guests parting as if they were the Red Sea. “Looks like you’re some kind of fancy movie star now. You cheat to get that, too?”
Too many things hit Waylon at once.
The guy’s name was Patrick.
Heather had gone stiff at his side.
And how would he even know Waylon had a part on the show?
Fear for how this guy’s showing up could impact every aspect of his life burned through Waylon, and as Patrick made it across the room, a police officer appeared at the same time.
The cop’s name was Billy. He was a guest at the wedding.
“Everything okay here?” Billy asked. He looked at Waylon. The two of them had met right after Waylon arrived in town, and they’d eaten dinner together several times.
Waylon opened his mouth to reply, but Patrick beat him to it.
“No, everything’s not okay here.” Patrick jabbed a finger in Waylon’s chest. “This man stole six thousand dollars from me, and I came to get it back.”
All remaining conversation in the ballroom ceased.
Patrick suddenly lunged forward, kneeing Waylon in the right thigh, and gasps echoed through the room. Waylon almost went down. He reached out as he collapsed, catching himself on the back of a chair just in time, while Billy restrained Patrick by locking the man’s elbows behind his back.
Cal headed toward them.
“What’s going on here, Waylon?” Billy kept his voice low, but Patrick continued lashing out.
“You pay me my money, you asshole, or I’m going to finish what the last guy started.”
More gasps hit Waylon’s ears, and he forced himself to ignore the searing pain in his thigh. He had to think. And the main thing that came to mind was that this guy wasn’t going to stop.
Waylon found his dad in the crowd, and saw the fear on his daughter’s face.
“Dad?” he called out. “Take Rose and go home?”
His dad nodded, and Blu stepped to Charlie’s side. She reached one hand out for Charlie’s arm and rested the other on Rose’s shoulder, and Waylon nodded as if the two of them had spoken. “Take Ms. Blu, too.” He worked to keep his tone gentle, and he looked at Rose. “Let Grampa and Ms. Blu take you home, okay?”
Rose shifted her gaze to Patrick, but Waylon moved to stand between the two, not wanting Rose to be a part of this in any fashion. Cal reached his side and stood shoulder to shoulder with Waylon.
Fear remained on his daughter’s face, and Waylon nodded encouragingly. “Show Ms. Blu the cake we made, okay? Let her see if it’s as good as the ones she makes.”
“You made a cake today, Rose?” Blu asked, bringing a level of calm to the situation that Waylon had yet to accomplish.
“We did,” Rose slowly answered. She looked from Waylon to Blu. “It’s orange cake. But it doesn’t have your name on it. We wrote Heather’s name on it.”
Blu held her hand out to Rose while also turning her away from the commotion. “Then maybe we can taste a piece that doesn’t have Heather’s name on it. Does that sound okay?”
Rose glanced back one last time. “That’s okay. I suppose. There’s lots of pieces like that.”
She suddenly let go of Blu’s hand and ran to Waylon, and threw herself against his legs. She hit in the same spot Patrick had just kicked, and Waylon groaned, but he held his daughter tight.
“I love you, Daddy. And I’m going to stay up until you get home.”
The reminder of a time when he hadn’t come home hit him. Along with the fact that Rose had been moved halfway across the state at that point, and it had been weeks before he’d even been able to talk to her on the phone. “You stay up, Rosebud. Absolutely. And I’ll be home. I promise. I’ll be home very soon. But don’t you eat all the cake, okay?”
She finally giggled. It was stilted, but it was a giggle. “I won’t, silly. It’s a big cake.”
Rose ran back to Blu and Charlie, and Waylon decided to ignore Heather for a few minutes longer. He couldn’t face her until he got this mess moved out of the room. But even once he did get it out, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. The custody hearing was in four weeks, and he had no doubt the Jameses would try to use this against him if they caught wind of it. Was he going to have to come up with the money somehow just to keep Patrick from causing more trouble?
Not that he owed this asshole one dime of that.
“I want my six thousand dollars,” Patrick said, his elbows still pinned behind his back.
“And I can only draw out a few hundred from the ATM tonight.” Waylon tried to think fast. He hated that this had ruined the reception. “It’s a weekend,” he pointed out. “If you want more, you’re going to have to wait until Monday to get it.”
“I can wait.”
“I’ll bet you can,” Waylon muttered.
Pissed off, but unsure what other choice he had at the moment, Waylon looked at Billy. “Can you take him outside? I’ll be right out.”
“Sure thing, Waylon.”
Then finally, it was time to face Heather. He took a deep breath and sought her out. But it took only one glance, and he knew. He was losing her.
“Heather—”
She held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it.” Her lips barely moved when she spoke. “No more excusing away your actions. No more”—she shook her head, the move tight and her eyes expressionless—“no more lying, Waylon. No more nothing.”
She finished without an ounce of warmth, and Waylon wanted to slam his fist into a wall. “Just let me go take care of this.” He tried his best to remain calm, all the while knowing that the whole damned room was watching. “Ten minutes,” he pleaded. “Give me ten minutes, and we’ll talk.”
But she’d started shaking her head again before he’d finished. “Really, there’s no need. I’ve made my decision already.”
Disappointment nauseated him. They were no longer talking about them. Or about the man who’d just interrupted the reception. She was going to take the job. She was going to walk away without so much as a conversation.
“Don’t do this, Heather.” The crowd was forgotten. “Not because of what you just witnessed. I told you about this guy before. I didn’t steal anything from him. What I won, I won fair and square.”
Her posture remained stiff. “And I told you this is a great opportunity for me. It’s one I can’t pass up.”
He locked his jaw, and he pleaded with himself not to say anything more. Not to be that guy.
But this was Heather. He had to give it one last try.
“You know me, and you know my heart.” He reached out to put her hand to his chest, but released her when she immediately pulled back. “And you know that I love you,” he finished softly. His eyes burned steadily into hers, ignoring everything inside him that called him a fool. He’d never told a woman he loved her before, and this was how it happened.
He stood unmoving, praying she wouldn’t turn away. Praying he had to mean more to her than that.
That they meant more.
But she proved him wrong with barely a moment’s hesitation. She didn’t say another word as she turned, and he watched until the door nearest to her swung closed silently behind her. It was over.
He’d lost.