Faked (Ward Family #2)(58)

He turned to me and held out his hand, which I took. I swear, I tried not to cringe at his grip, I really did.

"Logan," he said.

"Bauer Davis," I told him. "Appreciate you having me, sir."

At that, he finally cracked a reluctant smile. "I'm not that old. Logan is fine."

Isabel had turned on her stool, peppering Claire with questions about where we'd stayed, and Lia whispered behind the counter with Paige.

Emmett tore around the house, oblivious to any undercurrents of my visit.

The rolling chatter of the family never ebbed, just stayed at a constant hum. A buzz that seemed to grow louder and louder in my ears.

"That's romantic as shit," I heard Isabel exclaim. "A tiny cabin in the woods? Can't ask for better."

Claire laughed under her breath, reaching for my hand.

Already, the small gesture felt like an anchor, holding me steady. Could she have known that I needed it?

Of course, she could have. She was perceptive enough to know that big families weren't exactly my expertise, especially when two of the people present were probably waiting for me to bolt.

Maybe because I absolutely wanted to. Bolting sounded great. Take Claire and go back to her bed. Better yet, drive her up to Whistler so we could break in my bed too.

Paige turned a burner down on the stove and wiped her hands on a towel that was slung over her shoulder.

It was impossible not to compare her to the only other matriarch I knew in Adele.

The irony was that while Paige had made her living as a supermodel, years earlier, and Adele made hers helping at-risk youth, I knew which woman I'd want in my corner. And which woman was absolutely terrifying to have pitted against you when she was looking at me in the way she was.

She reminded me of a lioness as she came around the island and headed in our direction. Ready to rip me apart with her bare teeth.

"Bauer," Paige said evenly. "How'd you do on your end of the bargain?"

I blew out a breath. "The bargain where you threatened my life if I hurt her?"

Paige tipped her wine glass at me. "That would be the one."

Logan joined us, sliding an arm around her waist. "You being nice, my sweet wife?"

To stop my nervous laughter, I rolled my lips together.

Paige beamed at him. "The nicest."

"Isabel was singing your praises before you got here," Logan said.

I laughed uncomfortably. "Was she?"

"Heard you're a hell of a competitor." Logan gave Paige a loaded look. The inquisition was over, at least for now. "Though, to be honest, I don't know much about snowboarding as a sport."

"It's cold, and you don't make much doing it," I told him as honestly as I could. "But I wouldn't trade it for anything."

He smiled. What else would he do? The man got a yearly check with a shit ton of zeros behind it. Even if I could find another sponsor, most professional snowboarders rarely cracked fifty g a year. It was why most of my friends waited tables. Why I tended bar in the off-season. Why most of us found odd jobs as we traveled around to our favorite spots to catch fresh powder.

"Being able to find something you love and you're good at," he said, "it doesn't happen to most people. You're lucky."

His reaction was one I could add to a list of what was already so different from what I knew.

Again, I knew it should have made me feel more comfortable in their home, surrounded by all these people who loved Claire so much that they were willing (to varying degrees, obviously) to welcome me into their home. But instead, it made the skin itch under the collar of my shirt.

But never, not once, had I had a woman look at me with such expectation in her eyes. And now, she came with a family, who'd want to know what I did, how I made my living, because that affected Claire too, or might someday. My hands started tingling, and my chest felt tight.

"Excuse me," I said to them and disentangled my hand from Claire's so I could head to the bathroom I saw off the kitchen.

Once the door was closed, I braced my hands on the sink and stared at my reflection.

The bolts of panic tightening the muscles along my back were foreign, but the only reason I knew I wasn't having a heart attack or something was the overwhelming urge to flee.

I wanted to be back at that cabin where it had been simple. Where my feelings came easily, and I could take ownership of them. Where it wasn't hard to put words to what she was doing to me. In that crowded, happy kitchen, I had to face the realization that I didn't know how to be in a serious relationship for shit. I didn't know how to share someone I was falling in love with, with this giant group of people who was just waiting for me to screw up.

Cranking the water on, I cupped my hands under the faucet and splashed my face a few times. When I felt like my heart rate slowed and I could breathe normally again, I walked out. Lia was in the laundry room adjacent to the bathroom, finishing a phone call.

"Yeah, thank you, I'm thrilled." She held up a finger for me, but because she looked happy, I didn't feel like she was baiting me. "I'll call you tomorrow and let you know for sure. Thanks."

I tucked my hands in my pants pockets and let out a slow breath.

She did the same.

Before she started talking, I could tell she was trying. Maybe she was repeating the same mantra I'd had in my head all day. That for Claire, she would try.