After settling Ronnie in the passenger seat of his car, Ford took his time walking around to the driver’s side. What the hell was she thinking, barging in like she owned the place then insulting everyone she came in contact with? Who does she think she is?
Ford stood beside the door for a moment, willing his anger to dissipate. He’d learned from bitter experience, yelling at her would do no good. The louder he got, the less she listened, and she needed to hear him. But first, she had some explaining to do.
She refused to look at him as he joined her in the car. He cranked the engine, adjusted the air conditioning, and muted the radio before backing out of the parking space reserved for him. In the last few months, his car had spent more time in his company parking slot than it had at the gatehouse he called home. At first, it had been out of desperate necessity. He’d put in long hours trying to coax the company back from the brink of bankruptcy. Once things began to turn around, the hours had been spent dreaming up new products to keep the company moving forward. These days, he spent his time doing what he loved—designing. And he had the time to design because Becky Jean did everything else, and did it well. He wouldn’t let anyone come in and insult her the way Ronnie had.
He exited the parking lot and took the longest possible route to Scott’s new leather factory. “What are you doing here?”
“I would think my reasons would be obvious.”
To some, maybe, but he didn’t have a clue. “Maybe to you, but not to me.”
“My boyfriend and my brother have forsaken me for this place. I’ve come to see why, and to take you both home. I’ll drag you if I have to.”
Ford unclenched his jaw. “First, no one has forsaken you. Scott and I have asked you to visit on numerous occasions. Second, I’m only your boyfriend when you don’t want to attend events alone. We had an agreement—no strings, no commitments.” He glanced at her. “Don’t even try to tell me you’ve been alone the entire time I’ve been here.”
Before she could respond, he continued, “Third, I can’t go back right now. We’re expanding at a staggering rate. Becky couldn’t possibly handle it all on her own.” Liar. Becky could handle anything and did on a regular basis. He’d be lost without her, not the other way around.
“That’s what employees are for. You hire people to do the jobs you don’t want to do, and anything else you do via videoconferencing until you sell. Then it’s all someone else’s problem.”
“Sell?”
He didn’t think a block of ice could get any colder, but judging from the frost coming off the woman next to him, it could. “Yes, sell. Remember your original plan? Hang on for the year stipulated in your father’s will then sell the factory and come home.”
“I don’t know what you’re up to, but get this straight. I’m not selling.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her laugh chilled him to the bone. “Of course you are. Everyone and everything has a price.”
Ford braked hard at a stop sign. He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white and jaw clenched, as he held onto his patience by the thinnest thread. He didn’t believe for a second she missed him. If she had, she would have shown her face in Texas months ago. Coming here had to be an excuse for… something. He just didn’t have a clue what.
If he had any doubts his relationship with Ronnie had run its course, she’d erased them today. From the minute she’d walked into his office and kissed him like a drowning victim stealing the air from his lungs, he’d felt nothing beyond anger toward her. He could barely recall the desire that had brought them together the year he and Scott graduated from MIT. She’d attended the commencement ceremony and the party afterward, showering him with the kind of attention he hadn’t been able or inclined to turn away. With her love of fashion and everything fashionable, she dazzled, and he’d followed her like a lost explorer followed the North Star. Being outside her orbit for the last few months, he’d found his own way. He liked the direction he was going, even if she didn’t.
“No. I’m not.” He checked for traffic, and, seeing none, he took a moment to compose himself. “Why are you here, Ronnie? And cut the bullshit about wanting me to come home. If you wanted me to come home, you would have been here a long time ago.”
“You don’t know anything about me. You never did.”
And the inner bitch shows her face. He would have laughed had she not been so predictable. The sooner he found out what she was up to, the better. On the flip side—he knew she wouldn’t tell him until she was good and ready.
“Where are you staying while you’re here?” he asked, accelerating through the intersection.
“With you, of course.”
Oh, hell no!
“This is a small town. It wouldn’t be appropriate.” He turned on Walnut Street. A large, yellow Victorian stood proud a few blocks down. The old maple in the front yard was majestic in its fall colors. “Scott’s at The Yellow Rose. We’ll stop in and see if they have a room.” If they didn’t, he’d kick Scott out, put him up in the gatehouse, and move in with his mother if he had to. He only wanted Becky Jean in his bed, and she probably wouldn’t ever speak to him again after today.
“You have to be kidding me. Ford? You are kidding, aren’t you?”
Ignoring her whining, he pulled to the curb in front of the only B&B in town. Bright yellow and orange mums lined the recently repaired concrete walkway up to the front porch. It appeared things were looking up for Roseanne. He almost hated to dump Veronica on her. She didn’t deserve the punishment. “No, I’m not kidding. Trust me, Ronnie, this is for the best.”
Her laugh sounded more like a cackle. Why had he not noticed that before?
“Have you seen the sign at the city limits? Someone changed it from Butte Plains to Butt Plug. It’s because of you and your ridiculous sex-toy business, so don’t tell me you’re worried about propriety. I’m not buying it.”
He smiled at the image of the revised welcome sign. The town’s old guard must be beside themselves.
“Ford Adams! Tell me what’s going on! I thought we…. I thought—”
“You thought wrong.” Time and distance allowed him to see past Ronnie’s outward beauty to the spoiled brat beneath the surface.
She huffed out a breath. “I’ve waited patiently for you to come home, and I’m sick and tired of it. People understood the reason you had to stay at first, but the company is doing better than ever. There’s no reason for you to still be here. Tell me, Ford. Why are you still here?”
Unbidden, an image of Becky Jean, her face a mask covering her emotions as Ronnie clung to him, popped into his mind. She’d put up a seemingly impenetrable barrier between them since the night he’d spent in her bed, and, given what she’d seen in his office earlier, he couldn’t imagine how he’d get through to her after this.
It’s where I want to be. He’d known it for a while, but saying the words out loud would be irrevocable. He’d been happier since coming back to Butte Plains than ever before. He was doing what he loved—with a woman he loved.
His brain skidded to a stop, hung up on the realization he had fallen in love with Becky Jean. He forced air into his lungs and steeled himself for the panic attack sure to follow such an earth-shattering revelation. But instead of panic, a pinpoint of heat sparked in the region of his heart, erupting into a flash fire of warmth and contentment.
No, there was nothing scary about loving Becky Jean—except she probably hated his guts. He’d once heard a person could only hate someone they loved, as both emotions stemmed from passion. And Becky Jean had passion. She’d shown it to him the night he’d spent in her bed. He hadn’t imagined the way she’d responded to his touch or the way she’d given herself to him. She felt something for him. Love or hate. Two sides of the same coin.
He could work with that.
“It’s where I want to be.” His tone brooked no argument. It was high time he set things straight. “You were rude to Carolyn and Becky Jean. Neither one of them deserved to be treated with such callous disregard. You owe them both an apology, and, in the future, I expect you to treat them with the respect they deserve.” He didn’t wait for her response. Exiting the car, he stalked up the sidewalk, ready to buy the Victorian and evict all the registered guests if it would keep Ronnie out of his home.
~~~
There was no accounting for taste. It was the only explanation for why Ford would be involved with someone like Veronica Ramsey. Ever since the witch had shown up, uninvited, the previous week, Becky’s life had been Hell. The half-assed apology the woman had given for the way she’d behaved the day she arrived had been as shallow as a hastily dug grave.
“I swear, if she comes in here asking for more financial data one more time, I’m going to go flying monkey crazy on her.”
“Were you talking to me?”
Becky jerked her attention away from the stack of purchase orders on her desk and to the man standing in her doorway. Ford looked good enough to eat, leaning against the doorjamb in his faded jeans and a Don’t Mess with Texas T-shirt.
“Nope.”
Ford’s gaze swept her office. “Talking to yourself, then. That’s not a good sign.” Without invitation, he settled into the one guest chair facing her desk. “So, who has you in such a snit you’re talking to yourself?”
How could such a brilliant man be so clueless? Veronica had everyone in the place looking over the shoulder for witches on broomsticks. “Nobody.” She shuffled papers around on her desk, hoping if she appeared busy enough, her partner would take the hint and leave. When he gave no sign of moving on, she clasped her hands together on the cleared blotter and changed the subject. “How’s the new line of male products coming?”
“Good, if I do say so myself.” When he talked about his work, he looked like a kid in a toy store. A smile lifted both sides of his mouth, and his eyes twinkled with a light from within. She couldn’t be mad at him when he looked at her that way.
Becky nodded. “I talked to Scott this morning. He’s sending over a contract for the leather goods you designed. Once the paperwork is all squared away, he estimated three weeks until the first shipment is ready. I think direct sales is the way to go on this one.”
“No middleman means more profits.” He rubbed his hands together. Like either one of them needed more money. “We should slot out some time on the shopping channel to showcase the new line.”
“Already done.” She sorted through the folders on her desk, picked one out, and slid it across the desktop. “Here are the schedules for the next two months.”
“Only two months?”
Becky looked up at him. “You want more?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’ll be who knows where by then?”
He tilted his head to one side and narrowed his eyes at her. “What makes you think I won’t be here?”
“Ms. Ramsey said—”
“She was here? What, exactly, did she say?”
Ford spent most of his time in his office, drawing on his sketchpad or computer, but he still managed to have a clue about most things happening in the office. Could it be possible he hadn’t asked Veronica to help him, and he had no idea what his girlfriend had been up to the past week? “She’s been here every day this week, asking to see the financial reports, production schedules….”
His face turned a shade of red she’d never seen before, and he clenched his fists at his side.
“Did she say why she wanted the reports?”
“She said you asked her to get them.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Did she say why?”
“No. I assumed you were talking to a potential buyer.”
His gaze bore into her. “I’m not selling, Becks. Not today. Not next week or next month. Not ever.”
“Oh.” Her heart did a flip at the use of the pet name he’d given her, only to plummet to her stomach as she realized what he’d said. “Then…? You…?”
“No. I didn’t ask her to get them for me. I knew she had to be up to something, coming here, but I had no idea what. I still don’t.” He tossed the schedule she’d just handed him on her desk. “Shit. I’ve got to go.”
“Ford!”
He stopped in the doorway and turned.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
He couldn’t remember being this angry, ever. For the last week, he’d ignored Veronica, and since she hadn’t bothered him, he’d assumed he’d made himself clear on the subject of selling and going back to New York. She’d shown up the next day, apologized to Becky Jean and Carolyn, and he hadn’t seen her since. He’d assumed she’d decided to spend her time visiting with Scott, but in truth, he had no idea she remained in town. Should have paid more attention.
Well, he was paying attention now. He grabbed his car keys out of his desk drawer. Whatever plans she had, he would put a stop them.