The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings #2) - J. R. Ward Page 0,142
decided that his little girlfriend out in that stable would just rub and go. Or maybe not dry off at all so she looked as dewy as she was.
Twenty. Twenty-two at the most. And Sutton, at thirty-eight, felt like a hundred in comparison.
“I was going to call you,” Edward said as he went into the galley kitchen.
The sounds of cupboards opening and closing seemed as loud as jet engines taking off.
“I don’t need anything to drink—”
As he came back and presented her with a glass, she frowned as she caught a telltale whiff of— “Is this my lemonade?”
“Yeah. Or at least, it should be close to it.” He limped over to his chair and let out a curse as he sat down. “I remembered the recipe. Your grandmother’s.”
She took a test sip. “Oh, you got it right.”
“Took me forever to squeeze the lemons.”
“They have to be fresh.”
“Makes a difference.” He glanced up at her, his eyes tracing over her features. “You look … so good.”
“Come on, my hair’s wet, and I—”
“No, you are as beautiful as you always are.”
Sutton stared into the lemonade as she felt him stare at her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m re-memorizing everything about you.”
“And why are you doing that?”
“I need something to keep me warm at night.”
She thought of that woman out in that barn and almost asked him what was up. But she didn’t have that right. Or … more likely, she didn’t want to know.
“Sutton, I really …”
“What?”
He cursed softly. “I wish I could give you what you deserve. I truly do. You are … one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. And I should have told you that sooner. I wish had. I wish I had … well, done a lot of things. But it’s just … life has changed for me, as you know. I’m never going to be what I once was. The things I used to do, the person I used to be, the company I kept … hell, the company I worked for? That’s all gone for me and it’s never coming back.”
Sutton closed her eyes. And as a silence bloomed, like he was waiting for her to respond, all she could do was nod: She was afraid if she tried to speak, the sobs she was holding in would escape.
“What you need in a man is nothing I can provide you with. I’m not going to be good for your public profile—”
“I don’t care what people think.”
“You have to. You’re head of that whole company. You are the Sutton Distillery Corporation. I mean, maybe it wouldn’t be quite so bad if you weren’t selling your own name, if you were an arm’s length businessperson, but you’re not. Plus you need stability in your life. You deserve someone who’s going to hold you at night and be there on holidays and stand by your side at your civic things. Don’t lie to yourself, Sutton. You know I’m right.”
She took another sip of the lemonade. “Why did you make love to me the day before yesterday?”
“Because I’m a weak asshole. And sometimes we do things we feel like we need to even if they’re not really right.”
“Ah.”
“I won’t ever forget you, Sutton. Ever.”
“You make it sound like Ogden County is on the other side of the world.”
Then again, it wasn’t geographical distance that was the problem. “If you want to hate me,” he said roughly, “I won’t blame you.”
“I don’t want to do that.” She went across and focused on the trophies because she didn’t want him to see her eyes. “Tell me something.”
“What?”
“When I see you, you know, out and about—”
“You won’t.”
Abruptly, she imagined him avoiding her at the Derby by running and jumping behind support columns and bathroom doors.
“You won’t see me, Sutton.”
“So you’re really closing me off, huh.” She turned back around and indicated her glass. “Do you mind if I put this down somewhere? I’m not really thirsty.”
“I’ll take it.”
Lifting her chin, she walked over and put the glass in his hand. It seemed appropriate that thunder shook the cottage as she stepped back.
“Do me a favor?” she said hoarsely.
“What?”
“Don’t try to walk me to my car, or suggest I stay in here a minute longer. Let me leave with some pride, okay?”
His eyes, those fucking eyes, stared up at her with such intensity that she felt like he was taking a long-exposure photograph.