His Off Limits Best Friend - Vivian Wood Page 0,72

didn’t know why that realization was so hard to sink in. Instead of just protecting her, like he should have done, he took the opportunity to rail at his father and then turned around and blamed her, too.

He was so goddamned blinded by his past, he didn’t stop for even a second to think about her. She never would have done that to him. It was no surprise that his father had propositioned her. Actually, Connor was surprised it had taken his father so long.

Connor knew that Sam would never take his father up on anything. But in that moment, all he’d seen was red.

It had taken him an hour to cool down in the woods. At first, he’d stomped around like mad. Scared rabbits had darted out of bushes. But slowly, he’d calmed down. Nature had hugged him close, and it had soothed him. The crunch of his shoes on the ground and the twittering of birds had eventually had a calming effect on him.

By the time he’d circled back around to The Cottage, he’d made up his mind. He’d make an apology, a genuine one, and smooth everything over. He was madly in love with her. He’d known it for quite some time. Why had he been so stubborn about it?

Connor had broken out into a smile when he saw the stately white resort come into view. He’d bounded up the steps and raced to their suite. The first thing he’d noticed was all her belongings were gone. Then he’d seen the ring on the dresser with a blank piece of paper beside it.

It was a small gesture, but it had gutted him to the core. He knew it was over for good. Of course he’d have James get all the money to her, but he didn’t give a damn about any of that. He just wanted her.

He’d stopped trying to reach her after six voicemails and countless texts. Connor could tell she’d read none of them. She probably deleted them as soon as they came in.

“Fuck,” he said loudly as one of the solids, for the other team, went neatly into a pocket.

He stood up and saw Jay and Chase give each other a look. “Why don’t you just call her?” Chase asked.

Connor was startled. Was he that obvious? Why didn’t they assume it was about work or something? It’s not like he’d told them his father had fired him from his lofty figurehead position.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said as he chalked his cue stick. There was already a thick layer of blue on the tip.

“Dude, come on,” Jay said. “We’re tired of your moody ass. It’s been a month and you’re not letting up.”

“Can we just get back to the game?” he asked.

“We’d love to! If you could remember how to play,” Chase said.

Connor sighed. They were right. He’d thought of nothing else for the past month but Sam. She’d been right all along. That line he’d given her about not wanting to be tied down was childish. It was immature and needlessly hurtful. Besides, he’d been engaged before—to her, it must have looked like an obvious jab.

He wandered to the bar and pulled out his phone. It went directly to her voicemail. Damn. Connor downed the last of his lukewarm beer. “Hey, guys,” he said as he walked back to the billiards table, “I’m gonna head out.”

“Yeah?” Chase asked. “Early day tomorrow?”

“Something like that,” he said.

He was almost home when his phone lit up with a text from her. I need to see you. Your place, she said. His heart started to pound.

Finally. He’d get a chance to apologize and everything could be made right. It was all he wanted. Her, that was all he wanted. Be there in ten, he replied.

When he pulled up, she was on the porch steps. His headlights hit her, and his heart lifted. She looked amazing in tight jeans and a flowy peasant blouse. Without having to try, she always looked perfect. But there was a look of worry on her face.

“Sam,” he said, and bolted out of his car. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t,” she said as she held up a hand. “I need to get this out.” She took a deep breath. “I want you to know, I don’t expect anything from you. Financially, emotionally or otherwise. But I still think you deserve to know.”

It was obviously a pre-planned speech, and he forced himself to be quiet. It was the least he could do for