“What if reality is better than anything she or you could ever dream up?”
Tate’s belly tightened with . . . anticipation. And maybe hope. He’d never feared losing a woman in his life.
He’d never hoped things would work out with one this bad.
Declan read his mind. “If you go into it worried that you’ll mess it up instead of intending to make it work, you’ll doom yourself to failure. From all I’ve heard”—Declan feigned ignorance though he’d had his fair share of women in his life, though not lately—“relationships take work and require compromise. You’re friends already. You’ve got an easy rapport. I have no doubt any challenges that come up, you guys will work them out. If you want her.”
The more he thought about it, imagined them together, yes, the more he wanted it.
Now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Tate checked his watch. “She should be home soon.”
Declan waved him away. “Go see her. Figure this out before your mind spins out of control and you talk yourself out of what you’ve always wanted again.”
One side of Tate’s mouth drew back. “I’m not talking myself out of it.”
“You’re spending far too much time talking yourself into it rather than just doing it.”
Tate gave him a dirty look.
“Go. Pin her down,” Declan mocked.
Tate went to the truck door. Before he climbed in, he overheard Declan say under his breath, “I’ll hold down the fort alone.” Tate wasn’t the only one who wanted a partnership—and love—like Drake had found.
On the way into town, Tate thought about how things had been for him and Declan the last few years, running the ranch, working hard, and hardly living. Tate found a few hours here and there to get out and have some fun. Declan mostly stayed back, finishing paperwork, placing orders, paying the bills. He’d shouldered the burden without complaint, oftentimes pushing Tate to hang with his friends.
Tate went because he’d rather have fun than do more work after a ten- or twelve-hour day. But now he wondered how Declan did it. How much of a toll had all that work and no play worn on Declan?
The drive into town didn’t give him enough time to figure out what he was going to say to Liz. Maybe he should just take Declan’s advice, not say anything, and just kiss her already.
One thing for sure, she needed to dump Clint if she hadn’t already.
That guy was no good for her.
Tate wouldn’t stand by and let some asshole disrespect her.
He pulled into her complex and parked the truck in a visitor slot. Since her carport was on the other side of the building, he didn’t know if she was home yet and headed up to her condo to find out.
He took the stairs up, stared at her door for a second, and sucked in a deep breath, gathering himself to finally get this done. He wasn’t leaving until they settled things between them.
He knocked on the door and waited but didn’t hear her moving around inside.
The door behind him opened. “Oh, it’s you. Good. That other guy is a dick.”
He didn’t have to ask who she was talking about. “What happened?”
“She didn’t want to talk about it, but I overheard them fighting. Sounded like things got physical.”
A wave of rage made his blood boil.
“I pounded on her door, told them I’d call the cops if I didn’t see her. She looked rattled but okay. She asked him to leave, but he didn’t, so I made it clear I’d call the cops if he didn’t.”
“Jeez. Did he go?”
“He wasn’t happy about it, but yeah. I think she crashed after that. I didn’t hear anything more last night.”
She’d talked to him and not said one damn word about any of this. “Good. Okay.” He didn’t know what else to say or do. He needed to see her.
“She usually gets home about now. If you want to wait in my place, I might have a beer. It’s probably some crap IPA my ex liked.”
Tate laughed under his breath. “Thanks.” He hoped Liz got home soon. He wanted to know exactly what happened last night.
What he really wanted to do was hunt down Clint and kill the fuck for making one second of Liz’s life unhappy. If Clint hurt her, he’d wish he was never born.
That voice in his head yelled, And what does that tell you about how you feel about Liz?
Chapter Eight
Liz walked out of work and headed for the parking area, but stopped short when she passed the first row of cars in the lot and spotted Clint leaning against the hood of her car. He smiled like nothing happened last night. Like she hadn’t woken up with a gasp in the middle of the night and a nightmare image of him trying to strangle her.
Things hadn’t gone that far, but who’s to say he wouldn’t do something worse next time. She wasn’t about to give him a chance.
“I texted you last night and today. You didn’t respond. You didn’t answer my calls.”
Twenty-seven texts. Fourteen phone calls. One very sweet voice mail. Three that became increasingly angry and bitter. “I was working. Besides, I have nothing to say to you.”
“I’m sorry, Liz. I would never hurt you. Things got out of hand . . . I just wanted you to listen and understand that I care about you. I want us to go back to the way things were before Tate got in the way.”
“Tate wasn’t in your way.”
“No? You’re in love with him.”
She couldn’t deny it. “I do love Tate. He’s been my very best friend since we were children. He knows me better than anyone.”
“I want to have that with you.”
“I thought we might have a chance at that, but you are so obsessed with keeping me away from Tate you’ve ruined the last few times we were together.”
“I just don’t understand how you two can be friends.”
“We are, and that’s not going to change. But you’ve changed. Or you’re just not the man I thought you were.”
Clint stood and took a step away from her car.
She held up her hand to keep him from coming any closer. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Apologize? Touch you? Kiss you? You’re my girlfriend. Of course I want to make this right. Of course I want us to be everything, and more than we were before he showed up during our date.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m not your girlfriend. Not anymore.”
“Come on. Don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”
She hated that he told her what she meant. “You put your hands on me last night. You scared me. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
He put his hand out again to touch her, but she stepped out of his reach. “Babe, come on. I didn’t mean any harm. You wouldn’t listen.”
Anger flashed. “Are you saying it’s my fault you left bruises on me?”
“Let me take you to dinner. We’ll talk about it.”
“Now who isn’t listening?”
His eyes narrowed and darkened. “Don’t do this, Liz. You’ll regret it.”
“That sounds like a threat.” She regretted that she hadn’t listened to her intuition about those little things that niggled at her in the back of her mind before what happened last night. She wasn’t sticking around to see if even more of his real personality came out and she regretted that. Or worse.