"Wait, hold on. Slow down." He frowned. "You said she told you I was dead. Hell, she said the same thing."

"Maybe you should have let her finish. She would have explained, you know. But I guess that didn't occur to you." Her voice was clipped, dripping with sarcasm.

"You explain." He sank back into his chair, suddenly unbelievably tired.

"She told me you were dead, because she believed it. Because my grandfather was an asshole. All Mom ever said was how amazing you were. Like you'd been some fairy-tale prince who'd promised to come back and rescue her. Except you didn't come back because you didn't survive."

"Leroy told her I was dead?"

Elena nodded. "My grandfather. Yeah. And then she told me. She wanted to make sure I had a sense of you growing up. But I don't think I ever really believed it. That you were really dead, I mean."

He frowned. "Why not?"

A tiny smile tugged at her mouth. "Because then it wouldn't be a fairy tale, would it? If the prince gets eaten by the dragon? In a fairy tale, the prince has to slay the dragon."

"Are you sure I'm the prince in this story? Maybe I'm the dragon."

Her forehead crinkled. "Huh?"

He thought of Eva, and the way he went off on her. The cold, closed-off expression on her face before she'd walked away. "Yeah," he said softly. "I think maybe I'm the dragon in this one."

Chapter Six

Eva's duffel bag slapped against her side as she hurried through the bar and toward the exit door.

What had she been thinking? Seriously, what hellish demon with a twisted sense of humor had urged her to drop everything and jump on a plane? And why was she so ridiculously hurt that he didn't drop everything, swoop her into his arms and kiss her soundly?

She stopped midway out the door, the impact of the last thought hitting her. Because, dammit, it was true. Clearly, she was either losing her mind or reading too many romance novels, because somewhere deep inside she'd been nursing the insidious fantasy he'd pull her into his arms, tell her he'd missed her, and then cast a loving look at Elena and tell her what a good job she'd done raising their girl.

Idiot.

And not just because she'd pictured the scenario so damn wrong. No, she was an idiot for even fantasizing about him in the first place. After all, he had a life here. A bar he owned. A family he obviously loved if the picture on his desk and the ring on his finger was any indication.

And as for her, she had a thriving career back in San Diego. Austin was a diversion. She'd come to protect her daughter, not for herself. And the more firmly she kept that in her head, the better.

The light changed and she crossed Austin's busy Sixth Street. It was past ten p.m. on a Wednesday now, but still the street was hopping. She'd been here once before, during college, and she'd liked the town then. She hoped when she returned home from this trip, the memories wouldn't be tainted.

On the north side of the street, she turned left and walked the few short blocks to the stunning historic hotel that was tucked in among the modern buildings. She entered The Driskill through the main entrance on Brazos, nodding at the doorman who pulled open the glass door for her, then immediately relaxed. The place was stunning. A piece of late nineteenth century history with beautiful floors, tall ceilings, and every tiny detail seen to.

She mostly did portrait photography these days, but she itched to pull out her camera and take a few shots. Instead, she went to the front desk, got her key, and headed up to the room after begging a complimentary toothbrush to replace the one she'd forgotten in her haste.

On the way, she texted Elena her room number, and got a quick thumbs-up emoji in reply.

By the time she reached her room on the third floor, some of her anger had dissipated. After all, the man had been blindsided, whereas she'd known for a month that he was alive. She'd had time to think about him and to plan what to say. Granted, today's trip was a whirlwind--she'd barely had time to run home and toss a few things into her duffel before rushing to the airport--but the fact remained that she'd known what was coming. He hadn't.

So while his reaction had frustrated her--and, let's be honest, hurt her feelings--she kind of got it.

Her departure tonight would give him some time to cool off and adjust. Plus, Elena was there, and she could explain the whole convoluted tale about how they'd believed Tyree was dead--and why.

And it was best if that came from Elena, anyway. She was the one Tyree would want to see. Not Eva. Not when he already had a life with a wife and a son.

She sat on the edge of the bed and sighed, wishing she didn't care that he was married. That she hadn't seen the photo on the desk and the gold band on his finger.

But that was unfair, and she knew it. Time hadn't stood still for her; why on earth had she thought it would for him?

Except she hadn't thought it. She hadn't let herself think anything at all. But then she'd seen him and everything had flooded back. Memories, hopes, dreams, regrets.

She'd walked into his office and seen him. His heavy brow softened by the kindest eyes she'd ever seen. His broad shoulders. The strong arms that had held her so tight, keeping her safe and warm. His big hands, so gentle on her bare skin. And that wide, delicious mouth that had done such decadent things to her body.

Tags: J. Kenner Man of the Month Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net