what?”
“Or this,” I say and knee him right in his giblets. He groans and drops to his knees, and when he does, I see who’s standing in the doorway behind him.
The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. I grip the counter, blink once, twice, sure I’m hallucinating, but the image won’t go away. Maybe someone spiked my drink because no way in hell would Jay Andrews be here in New York, a place he hates, standing in my friend’s kitchen.
“Attagirl,” Jay says as Bradley rolls around on the floor. “I always knew you were tough.”
“Jay?” I say, my voice stammering as my knees wobble. I push off the counter and take a step toward him, needing to touch him, or poke him, some kind of sign to prove I’m not losing my mind and seeing things.
Bradley grabs my foot, and I let loose a yelp as I fall forward, but Jay is there, right there to catch me before I face-plant on the kitchen floor.
“I got you,” he says, and my stupid heart tumbles in my chest.
He bet against you, Alyson.
“How did you find me?” I ask around the massive lump punching into my throat.
“I tracked down your father.” He angles his head, want and need radiating from every pore. “He told me where you were.”
“What are you doing here?” I swallow and work to ignore the sensation that someone just drove a tractor straight through my heart.
His eyes narrow in on me. “I should be the one asking you that question.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I stand up straighter, but his hands linger on my waist. Damn if that doesn’t feel so good, and damn if I don’t want to stay exactly where I am, taking pleasure from his light touch. My pulse picks up tempo, dancing wildly in my neck.
He looks over my head, takes in the empty bottles, the keg, and all the party supplies. “This isn’t who you are.”
I laugh, but it holds no humor. “Oh really, like you know who I am.”
“I do,” he says. “Just like you know who I am.” I open my mouth to speak, and he gently presses his finger to my lips. “Please hear me out.” My first reaction is to say no, but when I walked away from Farmington, from him, I left a piece of my heart behind.
I’d like it back.
“Fine.” He takes a measured step back, and I instantly miss his warmth.
“I screwed up.” His jaw clenches, his muscles so tight, I think they might snap. “Big time,” he adds.
“Yeah,” I say. “We’ve established that.”
“I was wrong, Alyson, and when you said I was no better than anyone else in your life because of what I did, you were right.”
I swallow, remembering all his kindness, the way he cared for me. The man is all strength and character, but like me, he has demons and flaws. Yes, he bet against me, and while I hate everything about that, including the godawful pain ripping me apart, there is a part of me that understands his actions.
I left the city to run a farm I had no idea how to run, and maybe I was a little bit cocky, flippant, and dismissive when I tossed around words like “How hard it could it be?” I was insensitive, judgy, and harsh, and probably hurt Jay more than I ever realized. Maybe we both said and did some really stupid things.
“I met you, and the first thing I did was judge. I assumed you were just another city girl, afraid to get her nails dirty, and that sooner or later, you’d run back to the city. I was projecting my fears, expecting you to be no better than my ex. I think I wanted to drive you away before you could hurt me, but I made a stupid mistake, and I’m so sorry, Alyson.”
A sound crawls out of my throat as I wave one hand around. “I did run back.”
“No, you didn’t. You didn’t run back to the city because a leopard can’t change its spots. You left because I’m an asshole.”
“I guess Capone was right all this time.”
That brings a small smile to his face. “Looks that way, and you are nothing like my ex. Your place was sabotaged. Even when all the signs pointed to me, you still believed in me.”
I glance at my feet, take in my pink painted nails. Talk about a hack job, but a pedicure does not fit into my budget, and I’m