Western Future (Copper Kings Book 3) Page 9

  Grace smiled at her. “And that’s something we love about you. You’re genuine, honest, kind, and open. Those are qualities to be admired, and if Mr. Blackgate cares for you, he won’t want you to be someone you’re not. You can’t be someone else just for him.”

  Charlotte knew Grace was right. She couldn’t be anyone else, and she didn’t want to be. That’s what was so exhausting.

  “You need to tell him” Emery said. “And if he cares about you at all, then it shouldn’t make a difference. He asked to court you. He wanted things to move forward. Even if he’s not ready to return your feelings, he must know that by spending time together you would develop some.”

  Charlotte knew Emery was right, but the thought of telling Max she loved him, of opening her heart and leaving herself vulnerable, terrified her. But what was the alternative? She could either walk away, knowing she didn’t even give it a chance and regretting she’d never took the leap—or she could tell him and risk everything, but possibly gain happiness for the rest of her life. As much as she wished for things to continue as they were, she couldn’t. “I’m scared,” she said honestly.

  Sitting on each side of her, Abby and Grace reached out and held her hands. “We know,” Abby said. “But you can do this. We’re here for you, to help you in any way you need.”

  The bond they shared, the love she felt from them, overwhelmed her. “I don’t know how I got so lucky,” she said, looking at the others. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, how I would’ve made it here.”

  “We all feel the same,” Lily said. “We need each other.”

  As Charlotte looked around the group, she felt the truth in it. She’d found a group of sisters, and if she was brave and took another chance, she might even find the love of her life.

  * * *

  Charlotte nervously fidgeted with the tray of tarts on the counter, giving it a quarter turn, then back one eighth of a turn, as if her presentation would somehow make the coming discussion easier. Oh, she knew it was ridiculous. Her tarts would have no bearing on how things turned out between her and Max, but it kept her mind and hands busy.

  Fortunately, she’d sold out of the last of her inventory early, giving her a chance to clean, whip up this batch of tarts, and settle down before he returned. She just wished there wasn’t so much time left.

  Forcing her hands away from the tray, she put them down at her sides, only to realize they’d found each other, and she was now wringing them. She was going to go mad by the time he got back.

  Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe she should continue on and see if he spoke of his feelings first.

  But even as the thought occurred to her, she pushed it away. She couldn’t manage that, and it was only her fear and uneasiness playing tricks on her that was making her rethink this.

  Max cared about her. And because he cared about her, he’d want her to be honest with him. So that’s what she was going to do. She was going to be honest and direct and tell him everything she felt. But she wouldn’t push him to return her feelings. That was not her intention. She didn’t want him to give more than he was willing and able to. It was important she made him understand that.

  She blew out a pent-up breath, shaking out her hands at her sides, when the door to his apartment opened upstairs.

  At the sound, she jumped. He was home. And in a moment, he’d come down the stairs, and she’d have to tell him how she felt.

  His heavy boots echoed on the floorboards upstairs, and she assumed he was cleaning up and changing into a fresh pair of clothes. The grime didn’t bother her, but it surprised her how dirty he was each day. She couldn’t imagine he enjoyed it.

  Knowing he must be hungry, she fetched a freshly baked loaf of bread and sliced it, hoping the small offering would take the edge off his hunger. Her mother had taught her never to have a serious discussion with someone who was hungry. It made a person unreasonable, and Charlotte wanted to give herself this edge, if possible.

  She chuckled at the thought, surprised she could laugh through her nerves.

  At the same time, steps sounded on the stairs. “It smells delicious in here,” Max said. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her tight.

  Her stomach fluttered. It didn’t matter how many times he’d done that, it still affected her just as it had the first time.

  He straightened and sniffed the air. “Apple tarts?” he asked, and when she glanced over, she saw the grin on his face.

  Unable to help it, she chuckled and nodded toward the front room. “A fresh batch just for you.”

  He quickly kissed her forehead before heading for the tarts. Amused, she finished slicing the bread and slathered on strawberry preserves. At least she was sure he was in love with her cooking. If only that were enough.

  He brought the tray to the back, already munching on one of them. Silently, she handed him the sticky-sweet slices of bread.

  “Thank you,” he said, taking a bite after swallowing the tart. “I was starving.”

  “You usually are,” she teased.

  He finished off both pieces and another tart, before sighing contentedly. “I needed that.”

  “Good.” She tried to sound relaxed but couldn’t quite pull it off. Now that he was here—and had eaten—the conversation she needed to have hung between them.

  He dusted crumbs off his hands then looked at her. “Is something wrong?”

  Suddenly, the same fear she’d felt earlier whooshed back, and her gaze darted around the kitchen for a distraction. But there was nothing left to do. She’d made sure of that earlier.

  He took her hand, pulling her forward until she looked at him. He scanned her eyes before dropping his hand from her chin. “Something is wrong.”

  She shook her head, not wanting him to think what she had to say was bad. “Nothing’s wrong, exactly.”

  “But something’s bothering you.”

  He had that direct, practical look on his face. The one she’d found so cold when they’d first met but had since come to love. She sighed. “Yes. I mean, no. It’s not bothering me, exactly. I guess I’m just nervous to tell you.”

  As if her words had activated a defense mechanism, his back straightened, and his face went cold. “When something is difficult to say, I find it best to be as direct as possible.”

  That was so like him. Direct, upfront, logical. In a way, it reminded her of Lily, but it had never been how she’d operated herself. But in this, at least, he was right.

  “I love you, Max.”

  His body jerked as if the shock had jolted him. He gaped at her, remaining silent.

  Charlotte waited for his shock to fade, for him to respond, but after a moment, she realized he wasn’t going to. “I know that isn’t what you want to hear, but I can’t pretend I don’t feel that way anymore.” Her stomach dropped, realizing how true her words were. He didn’t want to hear this. And even though she’d been afraid of that, of his reaction confirming he couldn’t accept these feelings, the reality crushed her. “I can’t lie to you. I won’t. So even though you may not want to hear it, I had to tell you.”

  A dozen emotions crossed his face, and he scrubbed a hand over his mouth. But he still didn’t say anything.

  Fear and frustration filled her. “Max?” She waited for his eyes to meet hers. She raised her brows in expectation. “Is there really nothing you want to say?”

  He spun away from her, and her heart sunk along with her shoulders. “I don’t know what to say,” he finally said. “I don’t know what to feel.”

  She took a step toward him, her hand reaching toward his back, but she thought better of it. She stopped, lowering her hand. “You don’t have to say anything back. I’m not requiring you to reciprocate my feelings or make any promises. All I’m asking for is acknowledgment, for you to accept how I feel.”

  His jaw clenched, and he looked away. Was it really so hard for him to accept that she loved him? That she had feelings for him? Had the woman
before her truly damaged him so much he couldn’t even accept the gift she offered him?

  Or maybe he didn’t believe she didn’t expect anything in return? “I mean what I said,” she said, tentatively. “I don’t expect anything from you. I would never push you to feel or do anything you’re not ready for.”

  He spun toward her. “Then why are you telling me this?”

  She flinched. “Because I always want to be honest with you. Because it feels wrong to continue with what’s happening between us and remain silent. How are we supposed to have a relationship if we can’t even speak the truth to each other?”

  He mashed his lips together, looking like he wanted to say something but was holding back. Finally, his nostrils flared, and a wild look entered his eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I can’t do this,” he said as he walked past her, speeding up with each step until he raced out the front door.

  She stood in the opening to the kitchen, staring at the front door, shock filling her. She turned, slowly sinking down the wall until she landed in a heap on the floor. Curling into a ball, she squeezed her legs tight, unable to stop the sobs racking her chest.

  He’d left. He just left.

  Everything she’d feared, everything she’d dreaded, had happened. Not only had he not returned her feelings, he’d run from them. She’d been terrified to tell him, but she’d never truly thought he would leave her over it.

  She felt stupid, embarrassed, regretful, and angry as tears filled her eyes.

  She’d given him her heart, and he’d broken it.

  Chapter 11

  It took Max almost half an hour to calm down enough to process what Charlotte had said to him.

  I love you. The words continued to ring through his mind as he rode his horse through the wilderness, allowing his mount to go wherever he wanted.

  She loved him. The thought thrilled him, terrified him, comforted him, and made him sick all at once. How could three little words affect him so much? How could they turn his entire being upside down?

  After his talk with Lucas and Chase, he’d thought he was ready to take the leap into love, but after she’d admitted her feelings, he’d fallen apart.

  And the look on Charlotte’s face—he’d never forgive himself.

  He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He’d never wanted to do that. Charlotte, more than anyone else, deserved love. She was the best person he’d ever met, a woman with a happiness for life, one with whom a man could build a loving home, a family, and a future.

  He didn’t deserve her. Especially not after what he’d just done.

  But the thought of another faceless man taking his place and becoming her husband was too much to bear. The thought of Charlotte loving someone else, of building a life with anyone else, gutted him. He wasn’t worthy of her, but he knew that no one could care for her more than he did. No one could love her like he did.

  Torment racked his soul as he thought of the anguish he’d caused her. She’d opened her heart, had trusted him, but he’d broken that trust.

  He cursed. He didn’t deserve her trust. He was the one who had hurt her, just as much as Crystal had hurt him. It didn’t matter if it was intentional or not. The results were the same.

  He didn’t deserve her.

  But he still wanted her. He wanted her with every beat of his heart, and to the depths of the soul. Charlotte was meant for him. There was no doubt about it—he’d been a fool, allowing fear to hold him back from love. He might have already destroyed it.

  Realizing all he might’ve lost, he took in his surroundings, surprised to see that his horse had led him to the meadow he’d shown Charlotte. Every inch of it, every flower, reminded him of her, of what they shared, and the love he held for her.

  Instead of embracing everything she had to offer, he’d hurt her. And even if he could somehow convince her to give him another chance, he’d never forgive himself for what he’d done.

  He wanted a life with Charlotte, and as he stood looking out over the field of flowers, he realized he was done with letting the past shackle him. He wanted her more than he feared getting hurt.

  He thought he’d let go of the past when he asked to court Charlotte, but even then, he’d held a part of himself back, still worried he would get hurt. Yet, all he’d managed to do was hurt her.

  That was done.

  Charlotte was everything to him, and he’d make sure she knew she had every piece of him as well.

  As he imagined their life together, the future they would build, the meadow transformed in his mind. He saw a house over by the tree, just as Charlotte had said, a small stable with horses nickering off to the side, and a large vegetable garden with children running and picking flowers.

  This was his future. This was what he wanted, more than anything else in the world.

  He’d intended to come to Promise Creek to fulfill his duty and then return East to work on another project. New challenges were what had fueled him in the past, what had kept him pushing forward. But now he saw how empty it was. What did it matter how successful a business was when there was nothing else in his life? Numbers weren’t what was important. Efficiency wasn’t what fulfilled him.

  Love did.

  It didn’t matter what he had to give up, he’d be happy to do it if it meant he could be with Charlotte for the rest of his days.

  He’d been a fool. But as he continued to look at the field, to imagine his future, his heart filled with hope. Even if Charlotte didn’t forgive him, he planned on staying, on building the life he’d found here, hoping that one day, she would.

  Charlotte was his future, and he would never want anything else.

  * * *

  Charlotte didn’t know how long she’d been sitting on the floor. But after her tears ran dry, after her breathing evened, she realized it was time to get up. Time to move on.

  Her heart might be broken, but that didn’t mean the rest of her was. She still had her life here, her friends, her business. And regardless of everything else that had happened, those were the things that were still important to her.

  They were her future.

  She placed her hands firmly on the floor and pushed herself up. Her knees wobbled, her legs shook, but she did it. No matter what, she would continue to move forward and build the life she’d always dreamed of. That dream had included the man she loved, but while that wouldn’t happen now, it didn’t mean she couldn’t have the rest.

  It started now. No wallowing. No feeling sorry for herself.

  A clean break. A fresh start.

  It might hurt, but she was at least grateful it was done. There would be no hanging on to Max, hoping and dreaming that something might happen. It was better to know now so she could move on.

  Things would be awkward with him still staying in the apartment above, but with any luck, he’d soon finish what he’d come to do and leave. The thought of him going left a hole in her heart, but she ignored it. It was what needed to happen. She was grateful to Max for the way he’d instilled some practicality in her. She intended to make full use of it now.

  She got a scratch piece of paper and a pencil, scribbling down the items she’d need to bake for tomorrow’s inventory. She thought about starting some of them tonight and getting a head start, but she decided against it. Truly, she didn’t want to be here when Max returned, but she also knew it would be good to get a full night’s rest, allowing sleep to restore her body and her spirit.

  Tomorrow looked bleak, but at least it was her first step forward.

  She added a few new recipes to the list. She’d have help in the front tomorrow, so she might as well spend more time baking in the kitchen. It was probably better that she stay away from the front of the store. She didn’t think she’d be up to making light conversation.

  Her nose twitched, slightly irritated, but she ignored it, still thinking of everything she needed to do. But when it happened two more times, she rubbed it, realizing it hadn’t alleviated the sensation.

  Comin
g out of her thoughts, she focused on her surroundings, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

  Something was wrong—

  Smoke.

  The scent was faint, barely even there, but it was enough to cause alarm. She spun from the counter, racing to the back room, her eyes darting around for any sign of fire.

  Everything was quiet, and she didn’t see any open flames, but her anxiety didn’t ease. She headed toward the back door, but before she reached it, it opened and a large-framed man stepped in.

  Her throat went dry in fear, and her hand swung to her neck as if it could hold back her scream. She calmed down a moment later, realizing how ridiculous she was being. “I’m sorry, we’re closed for the evening,” she said, realizing this man must be a customer—even though he’d entered from the back.

  “Oh, I know you’re closed—permanently.”

  He stepped forward out of the evening shadows and into the room, shutting the door behind him.

  Fear sliced through her once again. The man’s face, which would be handsome if not for the cruel smirk across it, didn’t look away from her. He didn’t move toward her either, just watched her as a hunter stalks its prey.

  She inched backward, hoping he didn’t realize she’d moved towards her knives.

  He held up a finger. “Uh-uh. Not another step.” His eyes moved toward her knives. There was no way she could get to them before he caught her.

  “What do you want? I haven’t made my deposit to the bank yet. You can have everything I made today,” she said, hoping he was just after the money.

  He shook his head and took a step forward. “I don’t want your money.”

  Lead settled in her gut. “If not money, then what?” she asked, fearing she knew the answer.

  A laugh rattled in his chest as he realized what she meant. “I don’t want your body either.”

  His words didn’t put her at ease. “Then what? Tell me.”

  He held up his hands. “This place, of course. Did you really think I’d let it go that easy?”