Page 38 of A Family Affair: The Vow
“It has to… I’ve planned and given up and waited and changed… I’m a good person and I’m a good partner. Why can’t he see that?” Her gaze narrowed on Rae and when she spoke again, the sweetness had evaporated from her words, replaced with accusation. “You slept with him, didn’t you?”
“That is a highly inappropriate question, one I don’t plan to answer.” Rae stared at Monica Whitmore until the woman looked away. Then she headed to her car and the man who better know how to stop Monica Whitmore’s crazy accusations.
A light snow had started falling as Rae pulled into Vic’s driveway and parked behind his pickup truck. She’d driven past his house a few times, curious to see where he lived. The two-story farmhouse suited him with its long front porch, railing, and double front door. The lot was a decent size with a detached garage to the right, and a rectangular fenced area beside it that could have been a garden. Vic Tramont, a gardener? She would have guessed he didn’t know the difference between a zucchini and a cucumber, but maybe he did. Rae wondered what else she didn’t know about the man as she climbed the front steps and knocked on the door. Monica Whitmore’s confrontation and accusations better not happen again and Rae planned to make sure Vic handled it. Were there other Monicas out there, lined up and waiting to accuse Rae of preventing them from becoming Mrs. Victor Tramont? That was absolutely ridiculous and—
“Rae?” Vic stood on the other side of the door, dressed in flannel and jeans, his brows pinched together, eyes trained on her. “Is something wrong? Is it Josh?”
“Josh is fine, but we need to talk.”
He stepped aside to let her enter, held out a hand for her jacket. “Ah, I hear the ‘ticked’ in your voice.” Big sigh, followed by “What did I do now? No, don’t tell me. How about I pour you a glass of wine and then you can tell me what’s on your mind.” He didn’t wait for her to object but plowed forward. “Red or white?”
There was no sense arguing about a glass of wine. “Red, please.”
A nod and an almost smile as he motioned toward a room in the back of the house. “The living room’s that way. I’ll be right back.”
Rae made her way to a large room with a couch, recliner, end tables, and a massive flat-screen TV. The floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace, tongue-and-groove cherry walls and bookshelves finished the space, gave it a masculine but warm feeling. She eyed the beer bottle and bag of pretzels on the end table near the recliner and took a seat on the couch. She hadn’t expected leather or such a well-coordinated design, but the woods of the table and walls complemented one another and the recessed lights were a perfect touch. Her gaze shifted to the stone fireplace and the high gloss of the mantel. Was that walnut? Had he refinished this room or had he remodeled it? Both possibilities seemed plausible, especially after learning how he’d worked on Lily Desantro’s apartment. The place suited him, but with a little work and a few touches, she could picture a family here...a child...a dog...a—
“Here you go.” Vic’s words scattered the images of a family sharing his home. He handed her the glass. “Enjoy.”
She took a sip, savored the taste. “This is actually quite good.”
He sank onto the recliner, grabbed his beer, and took a long pull before answering. “Are you surprised? You know, I spent a few years in California with a group of people who could probably rival your East Coast friends. Always the best wine, top-shelf booze, courtside seats, the loge. I hated every minute of it. How can you talk to a guy who doesn’t know the difference between the football divisions and what a safety is?” The look on his face said he’d rather forget those days, but his next words suggested it was not likely. “I retained a few bits of knowledge from my time there, tossed out the rest as inconsequential, and vowed never to fall into that trap again.”
“Well, at least you’re not still stuck there...miserable and unable to escape.”
“Right, there is that.” Pause and then “Why are you here, Rae? If this isn’t about Josh, what could we possibly have to talk about?”
So cold...so impersonal, as if they’d never shared a moment, let alone a whole night together. Well, isn’t that what she’d wanted? Rae took another sip of wine, clutched her glass. “Monica Whitmore cornered me after the Bleeding Hearts Society meeting tonight. She has some interesting things to say about the two of you and warned me to stay away from you.”
“Ah, Monica.” Vic shook his head, blew out a long sigh. “Did you tell her we have to work together?” Another shake of his head, another sigh.
“Of course I told her that, but she wanted me to limit my time with you to strictly business,andshe made sure to tell meshewas the perfect match for you. Then she said something that was actually quite bizarre.” Rae spoke the words she’d been wondering about since Monica said them. “Monica insisted there’s something in the way you look at me and it bothers her because apparently you’ve never looked at her that way. What is she talking about, Vic?” Seconds passed with no response and then he merely shrugged. Did that mean he didn’t know, or did it mean hedidknow but didn’t plan on telling her? After several more seconds with no comment, Rae jumped in. “Would you like to know what I told her?”
Those blue eyes turned bright, glittered. “Sure.”
“I told her if there was something between the two of you, then it wouldn’t matter who came to town or how different they were… None of that would matter because you wouldn’t care. You would only care abouther, and if that hasn’t happened yet, then maybe it was never going to happen.”
The brackets around his mouth turned deeper. “Sounds about right.”
“If she bothers me again, I won’t be as nice. You know, she’s not as genteel and sweet as you might think she is. I’ve known a lot of women like this. They use this sort of passive-aggressive stance to get what they want while playing the victim. Making someone feel guilty, the soft accusations… They’re all there and if a guy isn’t careful, he’s going to get snagged or guilted into doing something he absolutely does not want to do. Don’t fall for it.”
“No worries, I can take care of myself, though a lot of people think I’m incapable of spotting a manipulator.” His gaze narrowed on Rae. “I’m not. It’s just a question of how much do I want to let myself be manipulated and for what reason? Take you, for example. I fell into a trap with you three years ago and then again, the other night…” His expression turned dark, his voice hard. “You know the other night, the one we aren’t allowed to talk about that can never be repeated? I was a suckeranda fool for those tears. The emotions sure seemed real, but again, they were only a means to an end.”
What was he talking about? That wasn’t true. “I didn’t use you, Vic. You helped me and the moment was there…and...”
“Yeah...and.... Want me to finish it for you?” He sat up, placed his beer on the end table, crossed his arms over his chest. “Andafter a night of pure pleasure and white-hot sex, you ran, didn’t show up for two days, and when you magically appeared on the third, you made damn sure I knew that night was mistake.Ididn’t think it was. In fact, I thought it was pretty incredible, but hey, what do I know? I’m just the sucker. That’s when I realized you were never going to open up to me and be real. I’m done playing your game and hoping you’ll see just how good we can be together, and I’m not just talking about sex. It’s too much work and you demand too much of my soul. So, I’ll make sure Monica doesn’t bother you again, okay?” Her head dipped the tiniest bit, but it was enough for him to continue. “Okay then. We’re good. Now I think you should get home because the roads are going to turn bad and you’re not used to driving in this stuff.”
“I have driven in snow before.” She wished he’d talk to her the way he had the other night: gentle, caring. The cold stare made her look away. He really didn’t want to have anything to do with her. Isn’t that what she wanted? To push him away and keep him away? And why exactly? Because she didn’t care about him or because she didn’twantto care about him?
Or worse, because shealreadycared about him and didn’t want to admit it. That last possibility shifted from probability to certainty the second she stole a look at him. There was something about the man that pulled him to her, even as she rejected the attraction as crazy and impossible.
But what if it weren’t?
What if their differences complemented each other, made them stronger, better? What if she stopped fighting the attraction and gave them a chance,a real chancewhere she opened her heart and stopped being afraid? Could she do it?
“Rae?”
She blinked, blinked again to bring him into focus. “Yes?”
