Chapter 22: One Bossy Proposal: An Enemies to Lovers Romance: Chapter 22

Iforgot how cozy the guesthouse can be until I brought Wyatt home.

It made sense and it gives him plenty of space while he recovers. Plus, the place is single level, so it’s easier to take care of him until then.

The nurse steps out of Wyatt’s room.

“How’s he doing today?”

“Definitely better. His vitals look excellent today. I’ll be back in the evening to check in,” she tells me.

“Is he awake?”

She smiles. “Yeah, you can go on in. I’m sure he’ll love the company.”

I walk her to the door, and once she’s gone, I retrace my steps and enter Wyatt’s room. He’s sitting up in the bed, leaning against the frame, only half as ghost-white as he was a few weeks ago.

I grin. “This is the longest I’ve seen you up. Looks like you’ll be running around in no time.”

He looks at me but doesn’t say anything.

“The nurse says you’re doing better. With any luck, you should—”

“Lincoln Burns, you are a fucking idiot,” he growls, cutting me off.

I can’t say I mind the insult. I haven’t heard him talk smack since before he got sick. If I needed a real sign, here it is.

“Good morning to you too?” I roll my eyes. “At least I know you’re feeling better.”

“I said you’re a damn idiot,” he snaps, pulling at his newly trimmed beard.

“I heard you the first time, pal.”

He holds my gaze.

I fold my arms. “Am I supposed to ask why you’re calling me stupid?”

“How long have you been glued to my side?”

“Glued to your side?” I don’t follow.

“Telling me old war stories like I didn’t live through that shit with you, and bad jokes that are never funny for anyone but you. Can’t remember the last time I heard something besides your voice.”

“You’re talking about the coma? I didn’t want to leave you hanging, and I figured if you could hear anything while you were out cold, I thought you’d appreciate the entertainment.”

“Burns, you have a life to live. You were finally starting to do something besides work.” He huffs out a breath. “What happened to Raven?”

“Raven?”

“Blondie. Worker bee. The chick with the raven tattoo.”

My lips turn up.

“Nevermore, you mean.” Then I remember she’s truly and my smile vanishes. “I—well—it didn’t work out.”

“Why not?”

Fuck.

I stare at him, unblinking.

“Why didn’t it work out?” he repeats. “She had a husband she forgot to mention? Because anything short of that, and you’re one dumb bastard.”

“I ruined it, okay? Are you satisfied?” I bite off. “It was bringing out the worst in me and I left her in a good place. She’s in management now.”

I clamp my jaw shut, not telling him I’m basically out the door. He might have a heart attack if he hears I’m no longer on the corporate train.

Wyatt chuckles. “What the hell ever. I don’t doubt you left her better off than you found her. That’s not the point.”

“What is?”

“Your voice is almost cracking like a sixteen-year-old kid just talking about her, man. I might be stuck in bed, but shit. If I find out I’m the reason you dropped that girl, I will beat you to such a fucking pulp you’ll wish like hell I’d left you buried in Iraq.”

I snort at how ridiculous he sounds.

“You’re a Nevermore fan, huh?”

He glares at me. “I’m a Burns fan. And you don’t have many of ’em who aren’t interested in your bank account, so it might benefit you to tune in and listen for once, you stubborn cock.”

“Those drugs make you nicer than usual,” I grumble sarcastically.

“Without them, I’d be dead because I’m dealing with you. Now tell me what happened with Raven.”

I cross the room and drop down on the window seat next to him.

“I won’t deny I miss her. Walking away from her was hard as hell, but it’s for the best. Trust me.” I shrug quickly. “It was going to hurt far worse later, if I’d let her linger.”

“Uh—I’m the guy on drugs. What kind of you mean?”

“The kind you know,” I say, trying to be gentle and failing. My gaze hardens. “You loved Olivia more than life, way back. She came to the hospital one time while you were sick, and only then because I threatened her with everything I could think of if she didn’t bring Micha. You loved her so much and she just fucking abandoned you. How can anybody believe in love after that?”

“She saw me three times.”

He’s confused. I shake my head sharply.

“She came once, Wyatt.”

“Nah, she came again the next day, before they had to catch a flight. She apologized for everything. For such a brilliant man, you can be one dense motherfucker.”

“Not possible. I barely left the hospital. They came once.”

“You must have just missed each other then. I’m the guy who was laid up with nothing better to do than listen to people talk,” he says, tossing his body back against the pillows.

“I don’t believe she apologized. She fought with me like crazy in the hall.”

Somehow, he laughs.

“You just have a hard time concealing your venom, and Olivia was never one to take shit.”

I don’t answer.

Arguing with him won’t do either of us any good.

“Seeing me so busted must have stroked whatever mouse-sized soul she has left,” he says. “She apologized for everything and said as soon as I’m well, she’ll make sure I see Micha again. We’ll never be best friends or whatever, but I can respect that.”

I stand slowly, pulling at my shirt.

“Respect? After everything she’s done to you, you’re going to forgive her? She was crying over a man in a coma. Who knows if she’ll follow through—though I hope she will.”

Wyatt looks up at the ceiling and laughs, falling into a brief coughing fit.

“Careful,” I whisper. “You know, it’s not important—”

“Burns. How have you survived on the planet this long? You really are clueless. Forgiveness is earned. I don’t want a second chance with Olivia. But for my family’s sake? Yeah, that apology is the start of something better for everyone.” He pauses, stroking his beard. “Now that you’ve burned up my energy, I need to sleep.”

He rolls over and turns his back to me.

Goddamn, this is frustrating, but he’s also right.

Wyatt isn’t furious at Olivia anymore.

What if she’s not his personal Satan?

Maybe I am a certified fool.

What if I’d tried harder to work through my crap, my constant doubts about love? Would I still have Dakota Poe warming my bed?

I hate that I’ll never know.

I might never stop regretting what I did to her, either.

A Regis roll stares up at me from Mom’s best china like it’s a radioactive tumor on a plate.

I don’t go to Sweeter Grind anymore.

Since I’ve finally got Wyatt expanding his palate beyond pure sugar and it reminds me of Dakota like a knife to the face, there’s no need.

Thank God.

Ma, on the other hand, still damn near worships the things. She bites her roll in half with an excited smile, chewing as she looks at me.

“Are you okay, Lincoln?” she asks after she swallows.

“I’m peachy.” I’m just not here.

I’m still beside a campfire with Dakota in a homeless camp.

I’m still watching her eyes glisten in the rain.

I’m still on a moonlit overlook, trying to kiss her, but some jackass who can’t buy a muffler steals my thunder.

I’m still driving into her, a gentle hand on her throat, waiting until she looks at me before I unload inside her so hard I see stars.

I’m—

Pulling my head out of the gutter, apparently. Because I’m having coffee with my mom and pretending to stuff a mess of sugar into my mouth.

“You’ve barely touched your cinnamon roll or your coffee. No appetite today?”

“I’m fine, Ma. Just not hungry.”

“I’m worried about you, Lincoln. You should be learning to unwind without a company to manage. This past month is probably the only time in your life where you haven’t been workaholicking.”

I look up. “You can’t make workaholic a verb, Ma.”

“I just did,” she says, putting her fork down with a decisive clatter.

I shake my head, muttering under my breath.

“Okay. Whatever. It’s not like this is a vacation. It may be the rest of my life,” I tell her. “Plus, Wyatt still needs a lot of care.”

Mom nods. “You’re a good man, Lincoln, which is why I don’t understand how you could be so horrible to that poor girl.”

“I told you, I did the best I could. I left her a better job than the one she had. I would have made her a frigging exec if it were up to me, but she doesn’t have a lot of experience at that level, so I couldn’t force it.”

“The job makes her miserable, son. She didn’t even show a flicker of excitement about the profit share I gave her.”

That grabs my attention.

“What? She told you that?”

“She didn’t have to. She was pale, Lincoln, minus the dark lines under her eyes…”

I rattle a fist under the table, wishing I had one of those stress balls right now.

“Ma, just because you something doesn’t mean it’s true. You thought the fake wedding was a good idea.”

“In another universe, it might have been. One where Miss Poe didn’t have a stalker and you didn’t have such a sorry past that turned you into a short-fused grizzly bear.”

Damn. I roll my eyes.

Everyone’s calling me names today.

“I did the best I could for Dakota, all right? I even had you pitch her that fee out of stake in the company, didn’t I?” I take a loud slurp of coffee to shut my yap.

“She doesn’t want money. The young woman wants an and if you have it in that brain of yours, a makeup kiss or two wouldn’t hurt.”

“Not happening. Love—especially the office kind—leads nowhere good. I did us both a favor and saved us a flaming tragedy.”

It’s Ma’s turn to roll her eyes.

“I swear you get that stubborn streak from your father because you’ve got my brains.”

“What?”

“Lincoln Burns, you’re no martyr. You’re acting like a fool who walked away from a wonderful young creature who adored you.” Her face tightens before she continues. “I’d give anything—

—for one more hour with your father, and watching you give up on a woman you obviously care about, who loves you—” She throws up her hands. “If you weren’t almost three times bigger, I’d spank you right now.”

Brutal.

And of course she’s desperate for another hour with Dad. That’s because she’s heartbroken and too blind to see it—to see what I’m saving us from.

She holds my gaze and says, “The biggest lesson I learned after your father passed was how bitterly short life can be. You can’t waste it living in fear—”

“I’m not afraid, Ma.”

She laughs and takes a hurried bite of her cinnamon roll. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“What does that mean?”

“You were afraid of losing Dakota—”

“No, I wasn’t. We weren’t even together. It was a sham. I didn’t have anything to lose.” Yeah, right. Even I don’t buy it.

“Whatever you say. Either way, you ended it. Now, you don’t have to worry about it. But love is a gift, Lincoln. The only way it ends in tragedy is if you choose to go through life without ever loving because you’re scared to death you might get hurt. That’s the real tragedy, son. I just hope you figure that out before it’s too late.” Her voice softens.

I don’t know why that annoys me so much.

“Can we drop this?”

“Not likely. Dakota might’ve been the best chance for grandkids I’ll ever get. Also, I don’t care what you say, dear. You were happy with her. It was clear as day in every photo.”

“Huh? They were supposed to destroy those pictures,” I growl, irritated that somebody didn’t follow orders.

“I’m your mother. I told design to keep them locked up securely. How else am I supposed to know what you’re up to?”

That fucking figures.

Between Wyatt’s earlier comments about “Raven chick” and Ma’s two cents, I’m on knife’s edge. I’ve pitched nine-figure deals without this much adrenaline coursing through me.

“I have to get home to give Wyatt his medicine. He shouldn’t get out of bed alone.”

“Of course.” Mom smiles, having said her piece.

I stand.

“So, can I hope you’ll at least think about calling that girl?”

“You can hope whatever you want. Doesn’t mean it’ll happen.”

She glowers at me, her eyes dark with disappointment.

“One day, I’m going to join your father. Then you might be sorry you never had your own family.”

“You’re so ornery that won’t be for a while. Heaven thinks you’re too entertaining here and you scare the pants off the devil.” I lean down and kiss her on top of the head. “I love you, Ma.”

“Bah. If you did, I’d have a grandbaby by now.”

I leave her to lick my wounds in peace.

With my car on the ferry back to Seattle, I have plenty of time to think.

I’ve already met the Reaper face-to-face once, and again when I thought he had Wyatt’s ticket. I’m fearless in business, take risks, and always land on my feet.

So how the hell does one little blond with a spear for a tongue bust me up so much?

Dakota damn Poe runs through my head in chaotic scenes.

Arguing over cinnamon rolls.

Red-faced and crying because she sent the wrong attachment.

Pulling a greedy moan that tastes like pure honey from her mouth.

Standing beside me in a white dress that’s so goddamned beautiful it stops clocks.

My heart stops, too, because I know.

if I ever wanted a woman beside me in a white dress, it’s Nevermore, and no one else.

It’s that dress she wore like an angel sent to render me boneless.

Then I went and ruined what could’ve been by conning her into a fake-ass engagement. I let her worm of an ex get in my head and rattle me into shoving her away.

Why?

I feel sick, and I never get motion sickness on these ships.

Fuck. What have I done?

Before I can regret it, I pick up my phone.

I text.

No answer.

No surprise.

I try again.

That’s a genuine question. Mother said she’s miserable, and I thought she’d be happy being promoted.

There’s no answer by the time I’m driving off the ferry thirty minutes later, my jaw tight, every nerve bristling.

A bullet to the face would hurt less than wondering if I damaged Dakota Poe so much she’s given up completely.

I can’t leave it like this, even if I can’t even fathom how to fix it.

I sit in a chair beside Wyatt’s bed, glaring at my phone every five minutes.

“Has your girl called yet?”

I roll my eyes. He knows damn well she hasn’t.

“Quit acting like a lovesick fool and up your game,” he tells me.

“I’ve sent texts. She won’t answer.”

He jerks forward with a snort so hard it makes him cough.

“Burns, I’m beginning to get how a pretty rich boy manages to stay single.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

He barks laughter. “Like hell! You denied her in front of your people, and then you kicked her while she was down. Sending a text is—”

“A cop-out,” I cut in.

He nods, a hard smile on his face like he’s amazed it’s getting through to me.

“What would you do then, love doctor?”

“Only you can figure that out.” He slumps back, waving a hand.

Before he can sling more crap at me, an alert for the gate chimes on my phone. I pull up the camera view.

Whoever it is stands in the shadows, a slow night rain pelting them. I’m not expecting anyone, so it must be important, or a huge scam.

“Someone’s here. I’ll be right back.” I get up and hit the microphone icon to speak to them. “Burns residence. Who’s there?”

“Uh, Meadow. From the park?”

Oh. I unlock the gate remotely and dart outside, waving her toward the house.

A minute later, Meadow stands on my porch shyly, not saying anything.

“Come on in and dry off,” I tell her, ushering her inside. “What brings you here?”

Timidly, she looks up at me and lets out a deep breath.

“…I heard Wyatt might be staying here. He always mentioned you bothering him to move in and it took forever to find your place, but…I had to try. I had a little help. Sorry for any intrusion.”

“It’s fine. He’s in my guesthouse. You want to follow me over?”

She nods. “Thank you.”

“Who helped you find my place?” I ask.

“Oh, uh. I can’t say.”

I chuckle. “Can I ask why?”

She holds up a hand like she’s apologizing and says, “Well, I don’t think it’s true, but says you’re a giant douchenozzle. And if I mention her name, she’ll never tell me anything ever again.” She laughs lightly. “Hard to argue with that, right?”

I know who Meadow means.

I nod. “Did you see her at the park?”

“No, that coffee shop up the block. Sweeter Grind. Sometimes they donate their used grounds for compost.” She squeezes her eyes shut and hangs her head. “You won’t say anything, will you?”

“I’m no rat.”

She follows me to the guesthouse, where I open the door for her. I hear Wyatt stirring before we’re even down the hall to his room.

“Well, hell. I guess it’s not your damn girl, is it? I couldn’t be that lucky, could I?” Wyatt calls loudly through the cracked door.

Meadow grins, covering a giggle with her hand.

I put a finger to my lips to shush her.

“Keep giving me hell, Emory, and you’ll regret it,” I say, poking my head in the room.

“Burns, I’ve regretted plenty in my life. None of it was giving you shit.”

“He sounds better!” Meadow whispers.

She has no clue.

“What’s taking so long? I need my meds. I damn near broke a rib hacking up a lung and it hurts all the way down to my ass crack.”

“Wyatt! I’m going to suggest you shut up. You’ve got company. Are you decent?”

He goes dead silent.

As soon as he calls “Yeah,” I lead Meadow into his room.

“Who—oh. Miss Green Thumb.”

It’s brutally hard not to laugh when the big bad badass blushes. His face reddens under his beard, a stark contrast against his body’s lingering paleness.

And he’s not alone. Meadow’s cheeks are redder than cherries as she snickers.

He glares at me. “You couldn’t have warned me was here?”

I cross my arms in front of my chest. “And miss you making a fool out of yourself? Nah, that’s payback.”

“Whatever, dude.” He turns to Meadow. “You weren’t at the hospital,” he says softly.

“I—” She looks down. “They only let family in the room. Lincoln said he was your brother—”

“She rode in the ambulance with you,” I add.

“Eh, I don’t like hospitals anyway. I couldn’t stay too long. But are you okay?” She’s so shy, this small thing approaching this rude hulk occupying my guest bed.

“I’m fine, lady.” His tone is soothing.

He’s stuck in a bed, but he’s comforting her.

She leans down and hugs him. His arms close around her. I can’t help staring.

After everything Olivia put him through, if Wyatt can find the strength to mend his black lump of a heart under that broken body, what the hell is my excuse?

I don’t have one.

I turn to exit and give them some privacy.

“You’re not gonna stay and hang out with us?” Wyatt asks.

“You guys should catch up. I just realized I have something to take care of.” I to get Dakota’s attention.

“Someone, you mean,” he says with a laugh. “About time.”

I ignore him, moving to the door.

“And if she won’t take you back, remember—grovel more!” Wyatt yells after me.

“Oh, stop. I’m not sure today is the day for that,” I hear Meadow tell him. “I don’t think she’s ready to talk.”

I block out her words and keep moving.

If I want to send up a flare, I’ll need a real plan.

I won’t stop until she’s mine again—or until I believe she’s happier without me.

How the hell do I talk to a woman who won’t give me the time of day?

I know where she works, yeah. That’s a start, but I sure as hell won’t become her stalker ex.

I to be the man she can count on.

The man she turns to.

The man who restores what we had before I went and fucked it all up.

Since I don’t know what else to do, I reach for inspiration.

“Lincoln? To what do I owe this late-night call?” Ma answers the call like she’s waking up from a dead sleep.

“In those silly movies, if a guy pissed off his fake fiancée, what would he do?” I can’t believe I’m asking.

Mother gasps.

“Oh, dear! You’ve come to your senses.”

“Ma, no. This isn’t about me,” I lie. “Wyatt’s fighting with his girlfriend.”

“Oh, Lincoln. You may bend the truth at conferences and get away with it, but I’m your mother. You can’t lie to me.”

“Answer my question, then. What happens in the movies?”

“I’ll tell you a few you can watch. You’ll figure it out,” she says, mischief in her voice.

Six hours later after I’ve watched the titles she rattled off, I’m only sure of one thing. I’d be better off if I were a prince from a country no one’s ever heard of.

Since I’m only the Duke of Dickheadistan in her eyes, I have to find a better way to lay out my soul. To show Dakota Poe she’s everything.

All the constellations in my life, all the light, all the soul I’ll ever need.

Even above my own pride and dignity and coldhearted logic.