Make Me Believe: Jilted: The Bride Page 12

  “Anyway, it was a good opportunity and a good investment. It’s already increased in value,” he said in a rush.

  She stared after him as he got out of the truck. He’d bought the house she’d fallen in love with when all they could do was drive around on five dollars’ worth of gas and dream about the day he’d make it big and he could afford to buy it for her.

  He’d bought her house.

  Even though they’d broken up years before.

  “Are you getting out or are you going to stay in the truck?”

  “What?” She looked at to her right, at Luke holding her suitcase in one hand and the passenger door open with the other. She hadn’t even heard him open the door. “Oh. Yes, sorry.”

  The seatbelt cut across her neck. “Gah.”

  Luke chuckled. “It helps if you unbuckle it before you try to get out.”

  “Really? I like to contort myself and wriggle out of it.” Now she was embarrassed. She’d been so focused on Luke’s bombshell she forgot the basics of exiting a car. In her defense, no one had ever bought a house because of her. What was she supposed to do with that knowledge?

  He climbed a short flight of unfinished stairs that led to a small vestibule off the kitchen.

  “That’s a big utility sink,” Rowan said. It was low to the ground, wide, and deep.

  “It’s a dog washing sink.” He flipped on lights as he continued through the room.

  She followed him into the large kitchen. “Do you have a dog?”

  “No. I’d love to have one, but I’m not home enough. It wouldn’t be fair. I thought about getting one and taking it on the road, but one of the guys in my band is deathly allergic.”

  “That sucks. This kitchen is huge.” It had to be four times the size of the kitchen in her apartment, had an eat-at counter that could seat eight people comfortably judging by the space between the bar chairs, and faced a wall of windows.

  “I know. I probably only use three of the cupboards. The house is honestly too big for me, but…you know.” He shrugged and turned down a short hall to what she assumed was the main entry.

  “Wow. That staircase is gorgeous,” she said. The dark wood matched the floors almost perfectly and gleamed. “What year was the house built?”

  “Nineteen-forty, I think.” He turned up the stairs. “I’ll have to check.”

  She didn’t care if it was nineteen-forty or nineteen-eighty, the craftsmanship was phenomenal. All hardwood floors and wide moldings.

  She peeked into the empty living room before following him up the stairs, running her hand up the smooth banister. The colors were understated and the lack of furniture made the rooms appear huge. Turning around on the stairs, she went back down and stood in the archway between the entryway and the living room.

  There was no furniture. Not even a chair. The entryway was large enough for a full-sized couch and there wasn’t even a table to set his keys on.

  “Rowan,” he called.

  Rushing up the stairs, she found him waiting at the top in a large landing that at least had a couple of couches and a table. “Why isn’t there any furniture downstairs?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t spend any time down there, except in the kitchen.”

  “But you have a whole house with almost no furniture,” she said to his back.

  “I haven’t been here a lot. It hasn’t been a priority.”

  Who buys a house and doesn’t furnish it? “Luke, why did you buy a house you don’t even need?”

  He stopped inside a large bedroom and turned so quickly she almost ran into him. “Because it was a link to you. However weak, however tenuous, it was a piece of you that I could still have when I didn’t know if I’d ever have anything of you again.”

  Her heart might literally have skipped a beat.

  He stepped closer, putting them toe-to-toe. “I wasn’t lying when I said I missed you. I’ve missed you every day for the past six years.” He cupped the back of her head and gazed into her eyes. “I’ve imagined you in every room of this house. I imagined your excitement as you bought couches and rugs and silly knickknacks to hang on the walls. The reason it’s still empty is because you weren’t in it.”

  Rowan didn’t know if she reached up or if he pulled her closer but either way, his mouth settled on hers, heavy with emotions she was only beginning to let herself feel. Desire. Desperation. Regret. Longing. So many others she couldn’t put a name to.

  They were two puzzle pieces fitting together. The way she wrapped her arms under his; the way he wrapped his around her shoulders, tilting her back—it was all so natural and so terrifying at the same time. Like a roller coaster she’d ridden dozens of times, but her stomach still rolled in anticipation of that first drop.

  He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. “I promised myself I wouldn’t rush you—that I’d follow your lead. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” she whispered. “I would have kneed you in the nads if I’d wanted you to stop.”

  He chuckled and kissed her temple. “Should I wear a cup?”

  She smiled. “Not yet. Maybe have one on standby, though.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He rubbed her back then stepped away. “Is Chinese good? I wasn’t kidding when I said I only use three of the cupboards.”

  “Chinese is good.”

  “Okay. I’ll be downstairs. There’s towels and stuff in the bathroom.” He backed out of the room, pulling the door shut with him.

  Rowan pressed a hand against her rumbling stomach. She’d been too nervous to eat on the plane and now she was hungry.

  It was overwhelming. The house. Luke’s confession about the house. Being back in Nashville where it all started. The walls pressed down on her and she sat on the edge of the bed. The comforter felt stiff under her hand and she leaned down and sniffed. It still had that just-out-of-the-bag smell.

  She sat up and looked at the furniture. The dresser, the mirror, the bed—it was a set. Like one of those you buy from a Rooms-to-Go store, complete with lamps and artwork. On a hunch, she went to the bathroom and felt the stack of towels. They were new as well. He hadn’t thought to wash them first.

  He’d probably bought the bedroom set and linens not long after she’d told him she would come to Nashville because the only bed he had in the house was his. It was so considerate. So the Luke she used to know. Closing her eyes, she pressed her hand to her stomach again. Hopefully, that stomach flip was because of hunger and not because she was falling for him again.

  Who was she kidding? She could be starving in the middle of a Thanksgiving feast and her stomach would still flip for Luke.

  The flat white paint of the ceiling held no answers. Rowan should know—she’d been staring at it for the last three hours. Full of Chinese food and some local craft beer, she’d expected to fall asleep, even with her nap on the plane. No such luck. Replaying the evening in her mind, she’d tossed and turned until she finally spread out like a starfish and tried to watch the little floaties in her eyes.

  Conversation had started off stilted and awkward—like a first date after a one-night stand, neither one of them sure what to say. She didn’t know what she’d expected after dinner, but it hadn’t been for Luke to walk her upstairs, kiss her breathless and leave her at the door to his guest room.

  Who was she kidding? She’d imagined him picking her up at the bottom of the stairs and carrying her up to his bedroom like he was Rhett Butler and she was Scarlett O’Hara. She sure as hell hadn’t pictured him dropping her off like she was past curfew and her dad was waiting on the other side with his hunting rifle.

  Was that…? She cocked her head toward the door as if that would all of a sudden increase her ears’ ability to hear. Throwing back the blanket and sheets, she tiptoed toward the door and pressed her ear to the crack. Yup. Guitar.

  Giving up on sleep, she left her room and crossed the large landing, following the sound of the soft music to what must be the master bedroom. She hadn’
t felt right exploring earlier even though Luke told her she was welcome to.

  One of the double doors was cracked and she knocked before peeking her head in. Jeez, she thought her room was big. The master took up the entire width of the house. She finally spotted Luke in a wingback chair on the other side of the undisturbed bed.

  “Hey,” he said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  She shook her head. “You didn’t—I couldn’t sleep. Can I come in?”

  “Of course.” He rose and leaned the neck of his guitar against his chair. “I have some water up here. Do you want me to make you some tea or something?”

  “No. I can get a glass of water if I’m thirsty. Can I…?” She pointed at the blanket on the end of the bed.

  “Make yourself at home.” He waited until she’d curled up on the small couch across from his chair before picking up his guitar and sitting down. “Do you mind? I’ve got a melody going and I want to get it out.”

  “That’s why I came in.” She snuggled into the couch and laid her head against the armrest. He was brutally honest with her earlier—the least she could do was give him something in return. “I missed listening to you play.”

  “I missed having someone to play for all the time.”

  Heat crept across her chest and her stomach clenched. “Where do you see this going? Us going?”

  “Forward, I hope.”

  “It’s hard to see a way forward,” she admitted.

  “All I see right now is that you’re really far away.”

  She didn’t know if he meant metaphorically or right at that moment. “I can’t be any closer right now.”

  “What will it take to get you next to me?” His fingers continued to move over the strings, softly strumming a song she didn’t recognize.

  “I don’t know yet,” she whispered. “I’m trying to figure that out myself.”

  He nodded. “Thank you for coming. I meant what I said earlier—I’ll do what it takes to make you believe in me—in us—again.”

  It was up to her. She’d taken that first free-falling step. Now she needed to follow the path ahead of her and see where it took her. To a future with Luke? Or one without him?

  “Will you keep playing for me?”

  “Always.”

  Chapter 23

  Rowan stretched and twisted her hips, popping the kinks out of her back. Raising up to her elbows, she looked around the room. She was on top of Luke’s bed, under the blanket she’d curled up on the couch with. No sign of Luke and the other side of the bed was made.

  “Good, you’re awake. I brought you some coffee. Still cream, no sugar, right?” Luke entered carrying two mugs.

  “Yeah. Where did you sleep?”

  “I took the guest bedroom.” He set her coffee on the table. “If you hurry and take a shower we can get stuffed French toast before the crowd gets too thick. Think you can be ready to go in thirty minutes?”

  “Uh…sure.”

  “Okay. Chop-chop. We’ve got a lot to do today.” He crossed the room and entered the master bath, closing the door behind him.

  Rowan picked at the crusty sleep in the corner of her eye and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Taking the coffee, she left Luke’s room. Curiosity got the better of her and she detoured to look in the other bedrooms. All four were empty. Her bedroom and Luke’s were the only ones with any furniture in them. A six bedroom house…for her. She sipped her coffee. It was perfect—exactly the way she liked it.

  Since he wanted to leave soon, she didn’t bother washing her hair and only applied basic makeup. Stuffed French toast sounded casual so she pulled on jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Luke waited in the kitchen, checking his phone, when she turned the corner.

  “Do you want a cup to go?” he asked.

  “No, but I will take some water.”

  “Sure.”

  He filled two bottles for them to take and led her out to the garage, holding the passenger door open for her before settling into the driver’s seat.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Sky Blue Cafe,” he said, backing out of the garage. “I’ve heard good things about their French toast and I remember how much you liked beignets. That’s all you ate when we went to New Orleans for spring break.”

  She smiled. “Not too many foods can beat fried dough and sugar.”

  He stopped at the end of the drive to check for traffic. Flashes and shouting greeted them from across the street as a small group of photographers ran across to swarm the truck.

  “Assholes,” Luke muttered. He pulled onto the road and sped away before they could get back in their cars.

  “Does that happen a lot?” she asked.

  He glanced at her. “Not usually. Especially in this neighborhood. There are a lot of big-name celebrities that live here and they all take their privacy very seriously. I think it’s one of the reasons the town has its own police force instead of relying on the city or the county.”

  “Is it because of what happened with us?”

  His eyes shone with regret. “Yes. I’ve never warranted that kind of attention on my own.”

  “Were they camping out before today?”

  “When I first got home, but then I left for Johnson City. No one bothers me there.”

  “So they somehow know you’re back and or that I’m here with you.”

  “Probably. I’m sure someone snapped a picture of us at the airport and posted it online somewhere. I can get ahold of my PR person and have her get it taken down.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Rowan appreciated the gesture, but even if she was able to work that kind of magic, two more would probably go up.

  “You know—I haven’t had any since that trip,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Beignets. I haven’t had any since our trip to New Orleans.”

  The corners of his mouth rose. “Let’s hope the French toast is a close substitute.”

  Luke parked in a garage half a block from the restaurant. When they were dating, he’d always reached for her hand when they walked together, but now it was like he actively avoided her. He touched her lower back to guide her around obstacles in their path but would remove it as soon as they were passed.

  After that kiss last night and his comment that he wanted her closer, she expected him to reach for her, but he felt more like a polite, distant acquaintance than someone who wanted to be in a relationship.

  Why was he holding back?

  The cafe looked like any other corner diner and they were seated quickly. Rowan saw the waitress’s eyes widen when she brought their waters, but she managed to tamp down her obvious excitement long enough to take their orders. At least until she pushed through the door to the kitchen. Then she let out a squeal that could be heard in the dining room.

  Rowan raised her eyebrows at Luke. “Does that happen a lot?”

  He grinned. “More and more lately. Even before…you know. The good thing about Nashville is everyone is really low-key about seeing celebrities because they just live their lives here. They go to the grocery store, they take their kids to school, they pump their own gas. It’s normal.”

  “You do know you’re one of those they, right?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Not really. I think of Tim McGraw and Faith Hill, Vince Gill, or Keith Urban when I think of celebrities.”

  Rowan’s eyes widened. “Keith Urban is married to Nicole Kidman. I love her. Do you know them? Can you invite them to dinner?”

  He laughed. “Sorry, Row. I don’t know them.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “Darn.”

  He kept laughing at her while he played with his straw wrapper. “I still get that way when I meet people I’ve looked up to my whole life.”

  Their plates arrived quickly and they talked while they ate. Not about anything important—how their families were doing, what friends from high school were up to, but not them. Not what was happening between them. Not what either of them expected ou
t of her trip.

  The entire day was like that. Lots of doing, not a lot of talking. Luke hadn’t been kidding when he said he had a full day planned.

  After breakfast he took her to the Country Music Hall of Fame, then the Ryman Auditorium for a behind the scenes tour. She’d always wanted to do it when she’d lived there but couldn’t justify spending the money on it while she was in school. He bought a picnic lunch to eat on the grounds of the Parthenon, something they’d done when they were in college and too broke for the six-dollar entry fee, then they toured the art collection inside. From there she thought they were headed back to his house, possibly for a nap, but he pulled into the parking lot of the Belle Meade plantation.

  Rowan rested her head against the seat for a second before pushing her door open and hopping down out of the truck and waiting for him to walk around. He laced his fingers with hers and a small frisson of electricity shot up her arm, just like it had all day, every time he’d touched her.

  Every nerve ending was hyper-aware of him to the point that she felt the small hairs on her arm sway in whatever direction he was. Was it too much to ask for the two of them to spend some time alone?

  She’d figured it out after the Ryman—Luke was taking her to all the places they talked about going when they were poor college students only worried about having enough money for gas to drive between Clarksville, where he’d gone to school, and Nashville, where she’d gone to school. He seemed so excited to take her everywhere that she didn’t want to burst his bubble, but she wanted to spend time with just Luke—not spend hours at tourist attractions.

  They joined a group getting ready to go through the house and followed along. Rowan admitted the history was interesting, even if she did have a visceral objection to it as a slaveholder plantation. Halfway through the tour, a few girls started whispering and looking their way. He had been recognized again. They made it all the way to the end of the tour before they approached en masse.

  “Hi. Are you Luke Stone?” one of the girls asked, eyes wide and bright.