Rockies Retreat: Destination: Desire, Book 5 Page 14

  But she’d hesitated to do so because it also seemed that he might be avoiding her. He’d gone into Denver for a few days to meet with the TV station rep about the possible show, and he hadn’t invited her. In fact, she hadn’t even known he’d gone until Mimi mentioned something casually. Hadn’t that been embarrassing? Because it had been painfully obvious to the other woman after about three sentences that Laurel knew nothing about the trip.

  She stepped out of her cabin into afternoon sunshine and hurried toward the lodge for lunch. She needed caffeine something fierce today. It had been difficult to sleep lately, both because she’d gotten so used to Neil holding her in the night, and because she was plagued by questions that wouldn’t stop.

  Was the avoidance a sign that he was upset Violet had talked to her and not him about being bullied? Was he trying to put distance between her and his daughter? As far as she knew, he hadn’t limited Vi’s contact with Laurel, just his own.

  Which meant she was mostly just baffled and hurt.

  And deep down, she wondered if this meant he’d decided to end their affair, but hadn’t found a non-awkward way to tell her it was over. So he was just keeping himself occupied until the summer was over and he could walk away. She really didn’t want that to be the case, but she had to acknowledge the possibility.

  She entered the lodge and followed the crowd to the buffet. Loading up on coffee, soup, fruit, and a sandwich, she turned to scan the room for an empty table. She wasn’t really interested in company.

  “Laurel!” Violet waved from a spot near the window, her curls bouncing with the vigor of her movements.

  Shit. For the first time, she didn’t want to sit with them. She didn’t think she could endure Neil’s silent treatment, but there seemed no graceful way out of it. Hurting Vi’s feelings wasn’t an option.

  Vi dominated the conversation during the meal, with Laurel and Neil only needing to respond to direct questions. When his daughter got up for another serving of sliced cantaloupe, Laurel took a breath and tried for some small talk.

  “I heard you finished your screenplay.” And it had stung to have to hear that from Vi instead of Neil, but Laurel kept that small pain to herself.

  “A draft of it, yes.” He flicked a glance at her, but refocused on his lunch too fast for her to read his expression. “I’m nowhere near done.”

  Arching a brow, she asked, “Didn’t you promise to have a draft done by the end of the program?”

  He hunched a shoulder. “Yes.”

  The lack of eye contact became unsettling. “So you fulfilled your obligations for the summer. Congrats.”

  His snort was derisive, his tone condescending. “The work never stops.”

  It took serious effort not to snap, and her teeth ground together. “No one’s work ever stops, Neil, but it’s okay to take a break and celebrate when you reach an important goal. Which you’ve done, and under tremendous pressure.”

  “Yeah.”

  That was all. But it was enough to make her frustration boiled over.

  “What’s this about, Neil? Is it Violet getting bullied?”

  He flinched a bit. “It’s nothing, Laurel.”

  “You’re beating yourself up, aren’t you?” She leaned toward him. “You’re not a failure as a father, Neil. Don’t think that.”

  He cut a blistering glance at her, but said nothing.

  She sighed. “She takes too much on herself…a lot like her dad.”

  “I don’t want to discuss this.” He stabbed at a piece of melon on his plate, his brows drawn together in a scowl.

  “She’s growing up, Neil. She’s going to stumble and make mistakes. She’s going to want to be more independent, to try to handle things on her own. That’s part of becoming an adult. When she needs you, she’ll come to you.”

  His blue gaze was darker than a stormy sea. “She came to you first.”

  “She considers me a friend.” She threw up her hands. “Friends are who you tell secrets to. Dads are who you go to when you need rescuing.”

  “She never used to keep things from me before. Especially nothing that important.”

  “It’s really that shocking?” She sniffed in disdain. “Isn’t this around the age you started keeping things from your parents too? Sneaking out late with the guys, kissing girls—”

  He didn’t refute her, just doggedly stuck to his guns. “I should have been paying better attention. The bottom line is, I fucked up. I should have asked more questions about her school.”

  “But her grades didn’t slip, right?” She pressed her point. “And she didn’t complain about anything, so of course your focus was on this huge loss she’d suffered. Why would you assume otherwise?”

  “Leave it alone, Laurel. I don’t want to talk about it.” His voice cracked like a whip.

  She leaned back, a quiver of unease and fear passing through her. Swallowing, she said carefully, “You don’t want to talk about it at all, or you just don’t want to talk to me about it?”

  “Does it matter?” His tone went cool.

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, I think the distinction is an important one.”

  “You can take it however you want. I have work to do. I’m too busy to quibble with you over semantics.” With that, he rose and walked away, ripping her heart out in the process.

  She pressed a hand to her chest, stunned by the blow she hadn’t seen coming. His words were so like something her father would say to her that she felt small and stupid, just as she had her entire childhood. As if she wasn’t good enough, as if she wasn’t worth his time, and no matter what she did to get attention, it was never going to be enough. With her parents, she’d learned to accept that she just wasn’t the type of daughter they wanted—too artsy, not serious enough, too different from the people they associated with. That wasn’t her fault.

  Neil knew that, and he was still treating her the same way. It was a betrayal that was almost crippling in the agony it caused her. It was her worst fears wrapped up in one terrifying package. She loved him. Desperately. He was every bit the workaholic her father was, and she was his last priority. Worse, she simply wasn’t a priority. Remembering his cold, distant expression, it was difficult to convince herself he even cared at all.

  Dropping her gaze to her plate, she refused to watch him walk away. There was no way to force someone to give a damn about you, to love you. He couldn’t have made it any clearer that he was done with her, with them, with whatever they’d had together this summer. That maybe there was never a them to begin with.

  He was just one more man she loved who’d decided she was an unnecessary, bothersome mistake he wanted to put behind him. Bile coated her tongue and she wanted to vomit.

  Violet walked up, concern on her face. She glanced from Neil’s retreating back to Laurel. “Are you and Dad fighting?”

  Agony and impending loss squeezed her insides. “No, we’re not.”

  They weren’t fighting, they weren’t fucking, they weren’t talking, they weren’t…anything. But that wasn’t something she cared to discuss with Violet.

  The girl parked herself next to Laurel. “Ruth and me are meeting up to play pool after lunch. We’re also going to set up her Instagram account and follow each other. Since she turned thirteen, her parents say she can join.”

  “When does Ruth go back to Seattle?” Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Laurel dragged herself from her misery to focus on the girl she adored.

  “Her parents are coming to get her a few days after everyone leaves. Too bad I don’t get to meet them.” Vi waggled her eyebrows. “I bet they’re as cray-cray as Gloria.”

  “No one’s as cray-cray as Gloria.”

  She giggled. “True story.”

  Laurel gave the teen a one-armed hug. She was going to miss her so damn much, despite how her dad had just ditched Laurel. “How’s yo
ur book going?”

  “Pretty good.” Violet leaned into the embrace. “I didn’t finish the first draft like I planned, but I didn’t think there’d be anyone here to hang out with. Or babysit.”

  “The best things in life are often the ones we don’t expect.”

  Vi nodded. “Like you and Dad getting together.”

  Oh God. Laurel snatched up her cold coffee and took a deep swig. She would not cry, she would not cry. Not in public and not in front of Vi. She’d save that for when she got back to her cabin. “You know we might not stay together when we leave. Not every good thing in life is for keeps. But you and I can stay friends, even if your dad and I don’t. We can email or Facebook or whatever social network you prefer. I get down to LA for gallery showings a few times a year. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind us doing lunch or shopping or hanging out at the beach.”

  “We won’t be in LA though. We’re moving.” Expectation shone in Vi’s gaze, as if Laurel should know something that she didn’t.

  But shock was rippling through her. One more thing to prove Neil was over her and moving on, literally and figuratively. When her voice emerged, it sounded almost normal. “Oh, yeah? Talked to your dad about hating it there, huh?”

  “Thanks to you. I’m glad you didn’t tell him everything.”

  “I promised you I wouldn’t. I’d never break a promise to you…unless I really thought you were a danger to yourself or others.” She gave the teen a look. “We were pretty close this time.”

  Heaving a deep sigh, Violet wrinkled her nose. “Yeah.”

  “So, where to, if not LA?” Laurel dropped a kiss on the girl’s crown and then tidied her tray. She really needed some alone time to bawl her eyes out. “I have a suitcase and a passport. I can travel anywhere if we need a visit.”

  “I don’t know yet. Dad and I are talking. We’ll need to go back to pack our stuff and house hunt in other places.” Something calculating flashed in Vi’s gaze. “Where would you go if you could live anywhere?”

  Wasn’t that a thought Laurel had had more than once lately? “I’m thinking about buying a place close to my brother in Half Moon Bay. Maybe be there more for my nephew growing up.”

  Where else did she have to go? She’d hoped, way down deep where she didn’t have to admit it to anyone, that she might be spending more time with Neil after the program ended. That maybe she might find the place she belonged—not a location but a person. The right person—the right sort of man. The one who, no matter where they were on Earth, as long as she was with him, she was home.

  But she’d been wrong.

  Neil felt like shit. Complete, utter, unmitigated shit. He’d watched the hurt and confusion reflect in Laurel’s gaze, saw when he’d landed a killing emotional blow, and hated himself when he’d left her sitting alone. For the millionth time, he ran through the reasons why it was the best thing for her, why she deserved better, but it didn’t help. He still just felt like shit. She was determined enough that if he hadn’t pushed her away, and pushed hard, that she might have tried to talk him into continuing their relationship.

  And he didn’t have the willpower to say no. So he’d acted like an asshole.

  He worked the rest of the afternoon on his script, had dinner with Vi and Ruth—who decided to continue teaching themselves to play pool—then went back to the cabin and did some packing, then read through Helen’s new pages. She was progressing well and had added several particularly gruesome plot twists. It was great stuff, and he had to admit it was one of the few things he felt good about these days.

  In the distance, he heard a screen door slam, and he glanced out the open window to see Laurel leaving her cabin. It took every ounce of self-control not to call out to her. He wanted her near, missed her so much it was a physical ache inside him.

  How the hell was he going to make it through the rest of the trip without her? For that matter, what about the rest of his life? It fucking sucked to take the high road sometimes, to put the person you loved above yourself and your needs.

  The sound of footsteps on gravel made his heart leap, and he was on his feet before his brain could catch up. “Lau—oh, hey, Helen.”

  “Hey, boss.” His protégé stood at the bottom of the steps, the fading sunlight playing off her jet-black hair. “I came to see if the revisions I did were working for you.”

  Well, this was a first. She usually scheduled meetings with him so she could coordinate toddler duty with her husband or babysitters. He held open the screen door. “Yeah, they’re great. I think this should be the final round and then you’re ready to start thinking seriously about publishing.”

  “Awesome.” She didn’t come in. “Care to join me for a walk? I’m supposed to be home soon. It’s best not to leave Pedro outnumbered for long. He can be a little too laid back about what the kids get into, you know?”

  Curiouser and curiouser. “Sure, let me grab a sweatshirt. It’s going to get chilly tonight.”

  “It’s the elevation. It’d still be roasting and muggy in Texas all night long.”

  “Yeah.” As he shrugged into his hoodie, he tried not to recall the day he’d forgotten it and Laurel had returned it. The first time they’d made love. It felt like just yesterday, but he also felt like a different man from the one who’d arrived here.

  He stepped out and they set off down the road. Helen was remarkably quiet, but he could feel her gaze on him as she kept glancing his way. Clearly, she wanted to talk about something, but he decided to wait her out rather than asking. His mentee wasn’t the type to remain silent long. Quite the opposite, actually.

  Finally, she heaved a small sigh. “You want to talk about it?”

  “About what?” With her, the options were pretty limitless.

  Her face scrunched. “There are few enough of us here that if you have a little tiff over lunch, people are going to notice.”

  “And gossip, apparently.” Fuck. The last thing he wanted people speculating about was Laurel and him. They’d been a popular topic when they’d first begun dating, but this was different.

  “Gossip goes without saying.” Helen flicked her fingers. “But I was worried about you when I heard, so I came over.”

  He shoved his fists into the front pocket of his hoodie. “I thought you came to discuss your pages.”

  “I’m a woman. I multitask.” She shrugged as if this was obvious.

  “Of course.” But he didn’t want to talk about how things were going with Laurel, or his sense of failure as a parent and a person. Nope, those things were not on the table for discussion. So, maybe it was time to sidetrack his protégé in a big way. He’d gotten some important news for her that morning, but had wanted to wait to tell her in person. Her reaction was going to be too good to miss. “So…I’m recommending you to my agent.”

  Her breath caught audibly, and for the first time in three months, she seemed utterly speechless.

  “Actually, no,” he mused. “That’s not true.”

  That breath whooshed out, but still no words were forthcoming.

  “I already recommended you to him. And sent your first three chapters to him. I thought we’d polished them to a point that they were more than ready.” He watched her from the corner of his eye, thoroughly amused for the first time in days. When he thought she might be ready to explode from the waiting, he casually mentioned, “My agent would like to see the full manuscript, but thinks it’s at a point where he can start shopping the proposal to publishers. He’d like to speak to you over the phone when you have a free moment. He hoped tomorrow, one o’clock eastern time. Would you like his number?”

  “Would I—” She all but picked him up she hugged him so hard. “Oh, shit! This is awesome. Neil, you’re the most amazing mentor of all time! You know you have the best agent in the business, right? You know he was on my never-going-to-happen list, right?”

 
He patted her shoulder, grinning at her fervor. “I know, but I think you’ll suit each other, and he’s got the contacts and clout to get you a kick-ass first contract. I think there’s a market for your work, and so does my agent, which is more important.”

  “If I couldn’t sell it to a big publisher, I was going to self-publish it and hope for the best, but I really did want the traditional publishing route. That was always my dream, to see my books in stores, not just print-on-demand and ebook.”

  “You’re babbling, Helen.”

  “I know.” She hung on his arm as if she feared she’d fall. “It’s either that or cry.”

  “No crying. Please.” He urged her down the road, grateful when he saw the mammoth bulk of the lodge come into view.

  “I won’t. I won’t. I promise.” She sniffled several times as they walked, but managed to keep it together. “Oh, there’s Laurel and Mimi. I have to tell them.”

  She dragged him along with her, though he didn’t exactly resist. It was a masochistic pleasure to see Laurel. She sat on the porch with Mimi. They’d propped their feet on the railing and each held a goblet of red wine. The two women went dead silent as Helen and Neil approached, which gave him a hint of what they might have been discussing. He doubted it had been flattering to him, and he felt heat flood his cheeks.

  He nodded, keeping his voice even. “Mimi. Laurel.”

  “Graves.” Laurel’s expression was as blank and smooth as glass, not a single emotion showing.

  Mimi just nodded back, the most hostile look he’d ever seen morphing her normally friendly face. Yep, tales of his assholery had been told. He deserved nothing less, did he? He’d known what he was doing, and his plan had been effective. He was a piece of shit, and everyone knew it. Helen offered him a pitying glance, which he wasn’t sure was better than the hostility.