Heroes Are My Weakness(114)

Livia’s face turned into a thundercloud. “I don’t want to go!”

“Don’t give Annie a hard time,” he said. “I’ll finish the fairy house. You can see it later.”

The fire had disrupted Livia’s world. She hadn’t had enough sleep, and she was as cranky as only an overstimulated four-year-old could be. “I’m not going!” she cried. “And if you don’t let me stay, I’ll tell your free secrets!”

Annie grabbed her arm. “You can’t tell a free secret!”

“You absolutely can’t!” Theo exclaimed.

“I can!” Livia retorted. “If they’re both the same!”





Chapter Twenty-five


THEO COULDN’T GET HIS BRAIN to work. He stood there like one of the Harp House gargoyles, his feet frozen to the ground, as Annie somehow managed to get the recalcitrant four-year-old to the car. He watched dumbly as she drove away.

“I can! If they’re both the same!”

Annie had been crystal clear when she’d said he had too much baggage. But he didn’t feel that way now. The smoldering ruins of the house represented everything he was leaving behind. Everything that kept him from seeing into his own heart and being the man he wanted to be. He loved Annie Hewitt from the depths of his soul.

Annie had told Livia she loved him? What exactly had she said? Because he had a sinking feeling she didn’t mean the same thing he meant.

Reality had slapped him in the face the same day he’d found Regan’s beach glass. When Livia had demanded he tell her what she called a “free secret,” the words had slipped out of him as freely as his breath. He felt as if he’d loved Annie since he was sixteen—and maybe he had.

“You have too much baggage.”

Annie’s words had turned him into a coward. He had a dismal track record with women, and for all her cracks about his money, she didn’t want any of it. If she ever found out he was the one who’d bought that damned mermaid chair, she’d never forgive him. All he could give her was his heart—something she’d made clear she didn’t want.

But he wasn’t such a coward that he wouldn’t put up a fight. He’d planned to give her until the last day to cool off from their argument at the wharf. He’d intended to make the best breakfast of his life and take it to her on the Lucky Charm this morning. Somehow, he’d figured out he could convince her his baggage was a thing of the past—that he was free to love her, whether or not she could love him in return. But the fire had screwed everything up.

He needed a clear brain. A few hours’ sleep. Definitely a shower. But he didn’t have time for any of that. Annie had to feel his urgency as powerfully as he did. It was the only way he could convince her not to give up on him.

Good luck with that. You’ve already blown it.

His lack of sleep had gotten the best of him. Now he was hearing her puppet Scamp. He turned his back on the ruins of Harp House, headed for his car, and raced down to the cottage.

She was already gone. She’d handed Livia over and sped toward town as if her life depended on getting away from him. Anxiety gnawed at the pit of his stomach as he took off after her.

The Suburban was no match for his Range Rover, and he caught up with her quickly. He honked, but she didn’t stop. He kept honking. She had to hear, but—not only didn’t she stop—she sped up.

I told you, the damned puppet said. You’re too late.

Like hell I am! They were on an island, and she’d reach town soon. All he had to do was be patient and follow her. But he didn’t want to be patient. He wanted her now, and if she couldn’t understand how serious he was, he’d show her.

He bumped the rear end of the Suburban. Not hard enough to make her swerve. Just enough so she knew he meant business. Apparently so did she because she kept driving. The Suburban was a piece of crap with so many dents another couple wouldn’t matter, but the same couldn’t be said for his Range Rover. He didn’t care. He bumped her again. And again. Finally, the Suburban’s only surviving brake light flared on.

The car lurched to a stop, the door flew open, and she threw herself out. He jumped out, too, only to hear her scream, “I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Fine!” he shouted back. “I’ll do the talking. I love you, and by damn I’m not ashamed of it, and you may not have as much baggage as I do, but don’t pretend you don’t have some with all those losers you attached yourself to.”

“Only two!”

“And only two for me, so we’re even!”

“Not even close!” They were fifteen feet apart and she was still screaming. “My two were self-centered *s! Yours were homicidal nutcases!”

“Kenley wasn’t homicidal!”

“Close enough. And all I did after my breakups was watch Big Bang reruns and gain five pounds! That’s not the same as doing penance for the rest of your life.”

“Not anymore!” He was shouting as loud as she, and he hadn’t moved, either. His brain was jumbled. His throat raw. Every part of his body ached. She, on the other hand—with her electrified hair and blazing eyes—looked like a vengeful goddess at the height of her powers.

He stalked toward her. “I want a life with you, Annie. I want to make love with you until you can’t walk. And have kids with you. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure out, but I’m not exactly used to having love feel good.” He poked his finger in the rough direction of her face. “You talked about being a romantic. Romance is nothing! It’s a tiny word that doesn’t come close to what I feel for you. And I know sooner or later you’re going to find out about that damned chair, but that’s the way I do things! And from now on—”