One Bossy Offer (128)

“It’s not just that. I’ve had some time to think since you were away. It’s just... We’re very different people. Sometimes, we’re good together. Sometimes, we’re too good, if I’m honest. But I don’t know if sometimes is enough, and when it’s not, our lives clash and short-circuit and nothing works.” I don’t dare look at him. I turn my head and pretend to stare at my computer screen. “I’m staying here in Pinnacle Pointe, no matter what happens, and I’ll try to make Gram proud. Going back to Seattle pretty much confirmed how off it feels. But I don’t think that’s the life you want—”

“How? I own the house next door,” he says.

“And you’re not living there most of the time. You have other interests, a massive company to run, and traveling is almost as easy as snapping your fingers. How could you ever settle for this and... and really make a life here?” I pause. And make a life with me, is what I really mean, but I can’t bring myself to say it.

We both draw heavy breaths at the same time.

“Deep down, you’re a good man. Someday, I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for, but I don’t think it’s me and my little inn. If we tried to start a life together, I’d only get in your way. Our personalities would clash. You’d always be there to bail me out or try to protect me, but sooner or later, I’d just get hurt again. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. If a fish loves a bird, where do they live?”

“Am I the fish or the bird?” His smile is so sad it breaks me.

I can’t help smiling back, feeling my heart turn to dust. “Whatever you want, but my point is, we’ve had our moment.”

“Don’t do this, Jenn. I know I fucked up and I’m sorry.” He reaches over, clasping my hand, always so small in his palm. His fingers curl around it like a security blanket I can’t stand to throw away.

God, I’ve missed his warmth so much.

And I’m going to miss this man forever.

The tears slide down my cheeks, but I put on a brave face.

“I know it’s... it’s hard. And I’m sorry, Miles. It’s killing me too, but if we get back together and break up again like I’m sure we will, it’ll only hurt worse later. Plus, if I hadn’t found Ava Wickes by accident and followed her to get a confession, would we still be having this conversation at all?”

He doesn’t answer as he releases my hand and falls back a step.

I nod. “That’s what I thought. I’m sorry. It’s probably best if you go...”

“It’s not like that,,” he whispers. “The only reason we wouldn’t be talking is because I’d still be running around trying to figure out the truth about my dad to save him and save the damn company. The second that was done, I’d be here. Tell me you know that, kitten.”

Kitten.

Oh my God, he’s shattering me into pieces so small I’ll never fit together the same way again.

“I can’t live without you,” he rasps, all smoldering pain.

Fumbling, I reach for a tissue at the edge of the desk and wipe my eyes. “Y-yes, you can. You were doing it just fine before me.”

When I hear him sigh, I think that’s it.

I’m expecting him to storm off like he should.

Instead, he reaches over and grabs my hand again.

“What are you doing?”

“Come with me. I need to show you something first, before I know I’m done.”

“Miles, you should go.” My voice hitches again.

“I’ll leave as soon as you see it, if you still want me to.”

With a sigh, I don’t resist as he leads me out the back door and around to the gardens.

They’re different.

A lot of Gram’s old pots and worn boxes are suddenly surrounded by shiny new brass-colored urns. Some are empty and some are already occupied with vibrant cold weather perennials.

Even with winter creeping in, it’s the first time since I got here that the garden looked truly green and alive.

Almost like it used to under Gram’s green thumb.

I open my mouth and try to speak, but he goes first. “Just had them brought over. The empty pots have all the seeds for next year recommended by a master gardener, the same guy who landscapes my place. And that’s not everything.”

I follow to where he’s pointing and gasp.

“What’s this?” I see a neat row of new pink bee boxes tied to the tree.

“If you’re keeping the name, I thought you might want honey for Bee Harbor next year. I already set up an order with a bee specialist for the spring. They’ll be delivered then, unless you cancel. Otherwise, we can plan on making our breakfasts with the best local honey again.”

We.

We.

This whole thing is so thoughtful, so beautiful it hurts.

Miles Cromwell, are you trying to torture me?

“It’s gorgeous. Really stunning, Miles,” I force out. “Everything I’d want with new plants.”

“No, ma’am.”

Another hot tear rolls down my cheek. He’s going to argue with me now?

“Oh?”

“They’re not new. They’re the same plants your grandmother always had in this garden. The bee boxes aren’t the same color, but you like pink, and I wasn’t buying them for Lottie.”