Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)(64)

“Then you go ahead and rest,” he said. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, Gin. My heart belongs to you. If you’re ever ready to give me yours, well, you come find me, darlin’. I’ll be waitin’.”

She tried to catch her breath but ended up sobbing and sniffling before continuing. “You d-deserve the best, W-Woodman.”

“Which is why I’m waitin’ for her to come to her senses,” he said, chuckling lightly.

“You love me that much?”

“That much and more,” he said, the words coming easily and feeling right. “Close your eyes and rock awhile beside ole Woodman. I love you, Gin. I’ve got you covered. You just take your time, darlin’.”

The next breath she drew was finally clean and deep, and he felt her relax against him, her fingers still braided through his, her head heavy against his shoulder. And Woodman closed his eyes too, his heart strangely content in its surrender, in giving up any remaining control to the woman he loved, and placing his destiny completely in her hands.





Chapter 14


Ginger



Dinner with the Woodmans was an exercise in torture after what had happened with Cain, and it didn’t help that her mother drank too much Chablis and started in on her and Woodman getting married someday. After her charged exchange with Cain, it was the very last conversation she cared to have or listen to. All she really wanted to do was curl up in her bed and cry herself to sleep, so she stayed quiet and pushed her food around her plate as she tried not to burst into tears at her mother’s dinner table.

Woodman, who seemed to sense her despondency, suggested they take a walk, and finally they excused themselves to sit on the porch swing. Though she couldn’t tell him what had transpired with his cousin—not that she wanted to, it was almost too humiliating to bear—at least she wasn’t subject to her mother’s unbearable teasing anymore.

“You’d think it wouldn’t be so much fun for them after ten years,” she said.

Woodman chuckled softly. “They were worse’n usual today.”

“They treat us like Daddy’s horses. Go breed us some grandbabies, daughter! It’s disgustin’.”

“Aw, come on, now. They’ve always been a little silly about us.”

She’d cried all the way from the old barn back to her cottage this afternoon, and then for an hour or more on her bed, until the Woodmans arrived for supper. And now her tears threatened to return again so she summoned anger to try to negate her deep sorrow. “It’s just a big game for them—who we love, who we want.”

“Ginger—”

“I’m nobody’s puppet, Woodman,” she said, turning to look at him as he sat down beside her on the swing.

“I know that,” he said gently, his face grieved. “You’ve always had a mind of your own, darlin’.”

“Even if you want to control people, you can’t. Our hearts make decisions that our heads don’t even approve. We can barely control ourselves. And nothin’—nothin’ on earth—ever works out the exact way you want it to.”

She was talking about Cain, of course—about how she’d stupidly thrown herself at him, believing that he’d draw her into his arms, make love to her for days, and declare his undying devotion. And he had soundly rejected her, trouncing her heart, humiliating her, and closing the door on whatever future she’d dreamed they could have.

So Woodman’s next words surprised her because he must have assumed that she was talking about him.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

“For tryin’ to force you to love me.”

“Oh, Woodman,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I do love you.”

“I know you do. Like a best friend. Like a brother.”

She shrugged helplessly, a sudden memory of him taking her to the homecoming dance flashing through her mind. “And at times . . .”

She looked over at Woodman—at his blond hair and clean-shaven face. He was handsome and kind, and he’d do just about anything for her. Ending up with him would be a good life, a fine life, a life that would suit her far better than a life with Cain, and maybe, just maybe, if she let her dreams of Cain die, she could open her heart completely to Woodman.

Suddenly she remembered him giving her the charm bracelet for her twelfth birthday, how she’d felt a strange surge of attraction to Woodman, and again at the homecoming dance, when he’d saved her bacon and kissed her for the first time.

“There have been times,” she said softly, “when I thought I felt somethin’ more.”

“I love you,” he said, as though her words had given him the courage to say what he felt. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

As the very words she’d wanted so desperately from Cain spilled from his cousin’s lips with such tenderness, such constant earnestness, a dam broke inside her, and tears of hurt and frustration streamed down her face.

“Woodman,” she sobbed.

“If you told me ‘no,’ Gin, if you told me ‘never,’ I’d leave you be. You know that, don’t you? It would damn near kill me, but I’d . . . I promise you, I’d walk away. But until you say those words, Ginger, I will keep hopin’ and keep waitin’ for you.”