Not the One (Spring Grove Book 1) Read online

  Horror filled her face as she shook her head. Yes, all that was in his past, but still, it shaped him into society’s version of the piece of shit who was standing before her. But she didn’t look at him like that. She looked at him like he was worthy of love from an angel. “Not on purpose.”

  “It was my fault. I was drunk, I got into the fight that killed him. I’m junk, baby. Run away.”

  She shook her head. “No. I can’t.”

  “You have to.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Ashley…”

  “Travis, I love you.”

  His eyes fell shut as he inhaled deeply, his whole body moving with the action. He knew she loved him. He knew he should have stepped away after the first time he got her in his arms, but he couldn’t. He craved her. Needed her. But he couldn’t ruin her life the way he had ruined his. He cared for her too much.

  Shit, he might even love her.

  Fuck.

  When he looked up, to tell her to leave him, and fast, she was undressing. His eyes widened as he choked out, “Ashley?”

  “Take me, Travis,” she said, her eyes burning into his as she skimmed out of her panties. “Against this table. I want every single inch of you inside me. Make my body ache, not my heart.”

  He was speechless as his sweet, beautiful angel leaned on the table, perking her ass in the air. His cock throbbed, straining against his shorts, as he watched the inside of her appear, her slick center glistening at him. Screaming for him. Just like her eyes were.

  “Take me,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder at him. “Now.”

  His hands shook, his heart pounding but he—

  “When is your flight?”

  Gen jumped as she shut her computer, and she inhaled quickly at the sound of Montgomery’s voice. They hadn’t spoken since their fight two nights before. He was working, she was working, and she was pretty sure they were both ignoring his mother. Which she actually had no problem with whatsoever.

  “My car should be here in about ten.”

  “Oh. I thought I was driving you.”

  Still not looking at him, she picked at her nails. “I assumed you’d be at work.”

  “I took off to take you.”

  “Well, you should have said something.”

  She looked back at him. He was wearing a pair of shorts and a button-down shirt. Very casual but also very sexy. She was so used to seeing him in either a suit or naked that seeing him in the clothes he used to wear before he became a workaholic sort of made butterflies go crazy in her stomach. “You should dress like that more often,” she said before she could stop herself.

  His brows pulled together as he shrugged. “I’m always working.”

  “Which is a problem.”

  His brows furrowed more. “You’ve never complained before.”

  “Because you were living your dreams,” she said, standing and reaching for her laptop bag. “I supported you.”

  He didn’t say anything as she put everything in her bag and then put it on her shoulder before pulling down the cuffs of her shorts. Looking up at him, she exhaled. “My car should be here in a few.”

  Before she could pass, though, he held up a hand to her. “Gen, stop.”

  “What?” she asked, looking up into his heated blue-green gaze. She could see the hurt, the uncertainty, but she couldn’t back down on this. If it came down to him or her writing, she was choosing her writing. She could never be happy as just a housewife.

  “Genevieve, it feels like you are calling this off.”

  Did it?

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “I won’t,” she stressed, gazing up at him. “But I won’t stop writing. I won’t stop giving life to my characters or publishing. Not only do I love it, but I have to do that. You knew that, surely you knew that going in.”

  “I didn’t think this was a forever thing.”

  “Well, it is.”

  “But—”

  She held her hand up. “I’m not quitting, and I want to be with you. I love you. But I will not be with you when you won’t support me.”

  “That’s not fair. That’s basically an ultimatum and only weeks before the wedding. That’s fucked up, Gen.”

  She nodded. “You’re absolutely right. This should have happened years ago, so both of us wouldn’t be standing here, staring into each other’s faces, thinking, ‘Fuck, we just wasted years on each other—’”

  “I don’t feel I’ve wasted anything. I want to be with you.”

  “And I want to be with you, I do, Mont. I love you, but I refuse to stop what I love. Why can’t I have you and my career?”

  He threw his hands up, frustration filling his features. “Because it’s stupid. It isn’t even a real career. It’s like painting, no one makes a career of art. It’s dumb—”

  She laughed ruefully. “And that’s where you are wrong, and I’m sorry, but basically a snob because there are plenty of people who make a career from art, from dance, from singing. Anything. People love people who are creative. It’s a passion—”

  “It’s an excuse to be lazy.”

  She inhaled sharply, her eyes widening, completely taken aback by that. “When have I ever been lazy? Please, tell me a time.”

  “You sit up in that room—”

  “And I work, I clean, I come to your events, I even bring you lunch if you ask. I have done everything but stop writing. That’s not fair to say. I am not lazy. Creative people are not lazy. They are geniuses, if anything. For goodness’ sake, Mont, you design buildings. You’re basically creative.”

  He recoiled in horror. “No. I’m a developer.”

  “Which is the same fucking thing!” she yelled, striking her hips. “Same thing.”

  Before he could go on, a horn sounded and then the doorbell. She shook her head as he looked away, both of them breathing hard. “I have to go.”

  “I don’t think you should go.”

  “Well, I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for her bags. “But I don’t care. The same way you don’t care about my career.”

  He glared back at her. “We have a lot to discuss.”

  “No, Mont, we’ve said enough. I know damn well all we’ll do is go round and round the same issue,” she said, moving past him and into the hall. She couldn’t believe everything had blown up in her face like this. She thought she’d had it all. The man, the career, the life, but she was obviously ignoring the big fat elephant that had the potential to crash their so-called perfect life. “Take these two weeks to think this over. Hell, to miss me and to want to accept my career. I don’t know. But I’m not doing this,” she said, moving her hand between them, “if you can’t support me. So when I come home in two weeks, it’ll be to pack my shit or get married.”

  “This is ridiculous,” he muttered as the horn beeped again. “We need to fix this.”

  “Can we?” she asked, holding his gaze. “I’m ready. You’re the one who’s not accepting me.”

  “Gen, this is stupid—”

  “Yeah, we’re done here.” With that, she turned and started down the hall, shaking her head. Tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t believe this. All she wanted to do was finish her book. Yeah, she didn’t want this huge wedding, but damn it, she did love him.

  “What is this? You getting cold feet? Need a last hurrah?”

  She rolled her eyes. Looking back at him, she said, “I’m going to go finish my book, not go to Vegas.”

  “But you’re going to the place where he was—”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “Are you serious?”

  He shrugged, looking away. “It just seems fishy.”

  “I have not seen or heard from him in years. Swallow your issues with your daddy’s affairs when it comes to me. Because I’m not him. I don’t cheat. I have never given you any kind of reason to assume that. Let’s remember, I’m not the one who stepped out on the other.”

  It