Can't Stop Loving You Page 3

  She snorted, still eyeing him warily. “Oh, come on, now. Did you expect me to pick up where we left off twelve years ago? Neither of us wants to go back there.”

  “I want to know how you’re doing. How you’re really doing. I want us to make peace with each other. To be friends.” He remembered a time when she’d laughed a lot. Now she seemed so . . . serious. It made him sad. “Look—” he began.

  “No, Roman,” she interrupted. “Don’t ‘look’ me. I’m having a hard time understanding why you’re suddenly so anxious to pull the friend card.”

  “You say that like you’re blaming me for leaving town. As I recall, you didn’t exactly care if the door hit my ass on the way out.”

  “You offered me marriage out of guilt. I didn’t want you to have to marry me. I wanted you to stick around because that’s what people do when they love somebody.”

  He’d asked her to marry her because he’d loved her, but there was no way he was saying that now. “Yeah, well, people who love other people don’t tell someone loud and clear to get lost.”

  “My father threatened to kill you. What else was I supposed to do?”

  He loosened his tie with a fierce tug and unbuttoned his collar. She looked pissed as hell, those elegant brows drawn. Livid.

  Suddenly, their entire relationship came back in one word. Tempestuous. They were both passionate people. Neither one of them had ever been good at holding back their emotions.

  She shook her head adamantly and folded her arms, indicating the discussion was closed. “You don’t know anything about anything. I think you’d better take me back to the wedding.”

  “Fine.” He tried his best to keep the irritation out of his voice as he turned the key, put the truck in gear, and headed down the country road. “Hope your buddy Les has moved on to someone else.”

  She shrugged. “I left Ethan by himself. I need to get back anyway.”

  He bristled at the name of his former friend and basketball teammate. He knew they’d had a thing a few years back. Hell, maybe they still did if they’d come to the wedding together. “He’s your date?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Not a thing.” Everything. Ethan was wrong for her in every way possible. He was sedate and affable, pleasant enough, but where was the passion? Bella needed a man who brought out her spirit, not one who would subdue it. Roman couldn’t believe she would date Ethan . . . sleep with him. The thought made him wince.

  His jaw felt tight enough to split a nail. Plus he had a massive headache, thanks to the hot-blooded Italian chick whose temper had not cooled in a dozen years. He drove straight down the road, knowing there was a turnaround ahead.

  Suddenly something four-legged and hairy flashed in front of the truck. Fox? Coyote? He swerved and braked, barely missing the creature, a move that sent the truck careening off the shoulder and bumping into a shallow ditch.

  Clouds of dust settled. With the motor cut, the early-September night was all crickets.

  “Shit,” he said, but thought a lot worse. “Are you all right?”

  He looked over to reassure himself that she was. At the same time, she pointed out the windshield, accidentally poking him in the eye.

  “Ow,” he exclaimed from the sudden stab of pain. His vision fogged with tears.

  “Oh my God, I’m sorry,” she said, leaning over to help him.

  “Geez! You may be mad at me, but do you have to stab me in the eye?” He blinked a few times, keeping her at arm’s length. Somehow he felt safer with some distance between them.

  “It looked like a dog,” she said, which told him her priorities. “He ran into that field over there. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Don’t worry, I still have a second eye.” He held a hand in front of one eye and then the other. Yep, both still working.

  “I didn’t poke you that hard,” she said. “Did I?”

  His next expletive wasn’t so PG.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I lost my contact.”

  “It is a dog,” she said, looking out his window. “He’s just sitting there. I think something’s wrong with his leg.”

  He blinked and squinted to see. “It looks like a limping raccoon.”

  Bella rolled her eyes; he saw that clearly. “Now I’m really worried,” she said. “That just confirmed you’re blind.”

  “I think the contact might have fallen on the floor.”

  Bella bent down to look. “Wow, it’s really immaculate down here. What, do you vacuum every day?”

  “No, I just like to keep my things clean.”

  “There’s not even a piece of fuzz anywhere. You’re still just as neat as ever.”

  “Some of us see that as a virtue, not a negative. At least I never lost my cross-country jersey right before the district meet among the mountain of clothes on my bedroom floor.”

  She popped her head up. “That was one time. And it didn’t even impact you.”

  “Maybe you don’t remember I was the one who drove you all the way to Crooked Creek so you could borrow one from that kooky girl who graduated the year before us.”

  “She was nice, Roman. She helped me out in a pinch.”

  “She had to take it out of her framed T-shirt box. We practically had to pry it out of her hands.”

  The sudden sound of Bella’s laughter was snorty. Sonorous. Unexpected. Exactly as he remembered. It made him laugh, too.

  “That was pretty funny,” he said.

  “Yeah. It was,” she said. He would’ve given anything to see the expression on her face, but everything was too blurry.

  “Aw, the dog is walking off.” He heard the click of the door handle as she released it.

  “Before you go running off after a stray animal, will you check my shirt? Besides, you really shouldn’t go out there by yourself.”

  She threw her hands up in the air. Of course. Never a half reaction with her. “I wasn’t about to leave you without your stupid contact. You’re just as bossy as ever.”

  “I’m not being bossy. I’m looking out for your welfare.”

  “Like you did twelve years ago?”

  Whoa. The silence that followed that zinger was long and thick. She’d let him have it, he’d give her that one.

  Baggage. They had so much of it, airfare would cost a fortune.

  “I—I’m sorry,” she said before he could muster a response. “That was uncalled for.” She pulled out her phone, turned on its flashlight app, and started running the light over his shirtfront.

  “Thanks,” he managed. He just needed to find his contact so he could get them the hell out of here.

  “Could it be in your eye?” She turned the light on his face, temporarily blinding him.

  “Hey!” he said, tilting the light away.

  “Let me look and make sure it’s not in there,” she insisted.

  He relented with a sigh. “I don’t think it is, but okay.” And he had another problem. She was very close, so much so that he could smell her perfume, and it was sweet and wonderful enough to make him think of nuzzling her lovely neck. That would certainly distract him from his blindness.

  She knelt on the seat and spread his eyelids apart with her fingers, commanding him to look up, look down, while his eyes teared up again from the brightness. Every nerve ending came alert from her touch. Even though it was no-nonsense, not exactly caring and gentle, but definitely competent, warm, and soft. It threw him off his game. Worse, it made him remember.

  Through his tears, he snuck a good look at her, intent as she was on her task. She had beautiful eyes, big and wide; they were a rich mahogany color, darker than his own. God, that artist with a bold hand, had given her striking features, strong brows and cheekbones, and full lips perfect for kissing.

  “I don’t think it’s in there,” she finally announced.

  He breathed out in relief, except she wasn’t done with him yet. She ran her hands over his shirt. Her fingers were on him, flicking ov
er the material. He could feel the heat from her hands. As she bent her head, silky curls hit his face, his neck, and he couldn’t help closing his eyes and inhaling the fragrance of her hair. More subtle and sophisticated than the in-your-face berry scent of her teen years but amazing nonetheless. Dammit, how could she still affect him after all this time? Even when he was so pissed off?

  “It’s not on your shirt. I’m checking your pants.”

  Oh, that would be a very bad idea right about now. “Maybe you’re right,” he said quickly. “We—we should just go get the dog.” Oh, bollocks. Did he really just say that? But what other choice did he have? He couldn’t have her groping around down there. She might just discover some—er—developments that he definitely did not want her discovering.

  Outside, they heard a whine. Thank the Lord, because that made Bella finally take her hands off him and look out the passenger window. “Hi, sweetie,” she crooned. “You’re okay. I’m coming right out.” She turned back to Roman. “He’s crying like he’s hurt,” she said. “Do you think the truck—”

  “No. I missed him. But he seemed to be favoring a leg when he ran across the road. He’s probably hurt.”

  “We’ve got to find this contact.” She bent her head low and ran the light over his pants legs. Fortunately she started down by his knees.

  He had to work hard to distract himself from her touch before she saw the visual result herself. “Do you have to do that?” he asked, swallowing hard.

  “Do what?” She paused and looked up at him, but he was too blind to read her expression clearly. He could guess it was wary, though. “Oh, for God’s sake,” she said. “Do you really have that inflated of an ego that you think I’m trying to—”

  Of course he didn’t think she was trying to hit on him, but he had to distract her somehow. He put his hands up in defense. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

  “If you actually think I’d try and—”

  Suddenly he groaned, but not from the fact that she was touching him. Red-and-blue lights were flashing in his rearview mirror. Could this night get any worse?

  “Oh, for crying out loud, Roman—” Her head was still low, and suddenly he felt a sudden pinch on his thigh. “Wait, I think I found it.”

  “Forget the contact, Bella. Now.” He reached down and tugged her upward.

  “What’s going on in here?” a deep voice asked.

  “Got it!” Bella said, popping her head up. The look on the face of Mirror Lake’s finest, Tom Rushford, the police chief, was priceless, as he stood outside Roman’s door with a flashlight.

  “Well, I’ll be,” the cop said on a breath. He was more than a little speechless.

  “It’s not what you think,” they both said in unison.

  “Wow, after all these years,” Tom said. “Who knew?”

  “We are not together,” she said, pushing off from Roman’s thighs and sitting up. “And if you start that rumor I’ll—I’ll make Joey contaminate your next mulch load with earwigs.”

  “What have you got to say for yourself, Roman?” Roman could swear Tom was biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing.

  “A mangy-looking dog ran in front of the car, and I hit the brakes. She poked me in the eye and my contact dislodged.”

  “Oh, okay.” Tom let his flashlight hover over Roman’s lap, which Roman quickly covered up with his hands.

  “All zipped up. See?” Roman said hastily.

  “All righty,” Tom said, checking his phone. “Well, I’d love to help you two out with that dog, but I’m getting another call. You two behave yourselves, you hear?” He gave a knowing wink and left.

  As soon as Tom drove off, Bella was out the door. Roman reinserted his contact and hopped out of the truck.

  Right around then, rain pelted down in big, fat, unrelenting droplets. If someone would’ve told him just an hour earlier that he’d be ruining his suit running around some farmer’s field in the rain watching Arabella D’Angelo try to coax some skittish wounded dog to come home with them, he never would’ve believed it.

  “Don’t get too close to it,” he said. “Maybe it doesn’t have its shots.”

  She responded by taking off her heels and edging closer to the dog.

  “Fine. Ignore me. You always did what you wanted anyway,” he mumbled.

  “I heard that,” she called over her shoulder. He couldn’t help smiling a little.

  She crooned sweetly to the dog, who was sitting under a big oak. “Such a nice puppy. It’s okay, buddy. We’re going to take care of you.”

  He practically snorted. “We” was definitely not going to translate into “him.” She was welcome to do what she liked, but all he wanted to do was get the hell out of here. “It’s really raining now, Bella. Let’s call it a night.”

  She turned around, her curls misty from the rain. “Give me another minute. Go wait in the truck if you want.” She kept sneaking closer to the dog, creeping through the low grass. She’d always been tenacious. Clearly that trait had grown a hundredfold in the years they’d been apart.

  Finally, she stood two feet away from the animal, who emitted a low whine. Wet, he looked even more mangy than before. Nothing but a tangled mass of dark hair, brown or black, he couldn’t tell. Skinny, basically pathetic. Just the project of compassion she loved to take on. It wasn’t surprising she’d become a psychologist.

  As she inched closer, the animal got up, although with difficulty. The skittish thing was getting ready to bolt, Roman sensed it. Maybe it was because he himself had once been alone and afraid, a mangy kid himself. Not that that experience would necessarily translate into having any kind of camaraderie with a wounded dog. Suddenly, the sky broke loose, the rain changing from drops to soaking sheets.

  Out of patience, Roman flung himself forward and grabbed the animal, one arm around the neck, another around the belly. The animal let out a yelp, and he feared it was going to take a chunk out of his hand, but it was out of steam. Against his chest, the animal was listless, trembling. Cold.

  The trembling part got him. Someone had made this creature fear him, just as his parents had with their own children. “I got you, now,” he found himself saying. “Just stay still.”

  Bella walked over and shone her light on the dog, oblivious to the fact that her clothes and hair were ruined. “His left leg is all messed up.” Sure enough, there was a clot of blood and a gaping wound. “He needs the vet hospital.”

  Roman shot her a look. “Of course he does.” Because what else could possibly make this night more hellish?

  She rolled her eyes. “Look, just drop us off and I’ll find a way home. Then you’re off the hook. Okay?”

  Off the hook. Like she thought he’d been after he left her that day she’d come home from the hospital.

  But she’d thought wrong. He’d never been off the hook as far as she was concerned. How shallow did she think he was?

  He carried the dog, who probably weighed forty pounds tops, toward the truck, planning to toss an old blanket that he kept in the back over the bed.

  “I’ll hold him on my lap,” she said, wiping wet hair from her eyes. Her dress was soaked, her makeup running. Her hair was drenched too, but she had too much for it to ever go completely flat.

  “No way.” That ball of mud in his immaculate cab?

  “It’s really raining, Roman. And the poor thing is shivering something fierce.” She trained those big brown Italian eyes of hers on him, her how-could-you glance accusatory.

  He blew out a sigh. “Fine. Get in.” She hopped in, tossing her shoes to the floor and making a futile gesture to squeeze out her hair. At any other time, he’d be thinking how her muddy feet were ruining his nice carpet, and how she and the dog were dripping all over his upgraded leather upholstery. But those things barely crossed his mind. How could he possibly think that this soaking wet, tangled mess of a woman was beautiful? After all these years?

  An old saying his grandpa used to say came to mind and almo
st made him laugh. I wouldn’t kick her out of bed for eating crackers.

  He put the hairy bundle in her lap, then reached around and pulled the blanket out and tossed it over the shivering dog and her. Then he shut the door and walked around to start his truck.

  CHAPTER 3

  “It’s all right, sweetheart,” Bella crooned to the dog as they sat in the waiting room of the animal hospital, which was located about ten minutes outside of town. She was trying to use the words to calm herself down, too. Roman being back in town was bad enough. But having a run-in with a hurt dog in a muddy field with him and ending up here instead of back at the wedding was something else entirely.

  The hospital was staffed by both of the town vets—Ethan and his senior partner, Cole Hansen, who was just a few years older than Ethan. The vets from Crooked Creek, the next town over, provided coverage, too, and one of them was on call tonight.

  Bella used Roman’s phone to call Ethan to let him know why she’d gone AWOL and to send word to Gina to take their father and Aunt Fran home. She felt bad shirking her duties, especially when Gina was having a rare night out with Manny. Ethan hadn’t said much, but she could hear an edge in his voice when she’d told him about Roman.

  There had always been animosity between him and Roman, ever since Bella began dating Roman in high school, and it had only worsened in the years after Roman left. Roman sat there pretending to flip through magazines while she was on the phone, but she could see his brows lift in judgment. She considered telling him there was nothing between Ethan and her, but why should she? She didn’t have to justify her life to him. The life he’d been completely absent from while Ethan had not.

  She finished her call and took a seat next to Roman on the vinyl-covered bench, as far away from him as possible without being too obvious. He sat there, his long legs stretched out, his pants dripping water onto the tile floor. The years had made him taller and more muscular, traits she tried hard not to notice. She shivered a little in the air conditioning and crossed her arms for warmth, but she was soaked to the bone. A big glob of mud ran down her leg. The hem of her dress had caught on something in the field and torn. They looked like they’d just come straight out of an episode of Storm Chasers.