The Good Girl's Second Chance (The Bravos Of Justice Creek 2) Read online

  There was more, he was certain. He pushed for it. “And?”

  “The note also said that he, um...missed me. I threw everything—the vase, the flowers, that damn note, too—in the trash compactor and ground it all to bits.”

  “When was that?”

  “A week ago. Last Wednesday night.”

  He wanted to pick up her tea mug from the table and hurl it at the far wall. But he kept it together and said levelly, “That was the night we sat out on your deck and talked for two hours.”

  She gazed at him warily now. “What are you getting at?”

  “I wish you had told me then—or any day or night since then.”

  “That’s not fair and you know it. It’s been happening pretty fast with us. Think about it. I just couldn’t tell you, didn’t even know how to tell you—not the night it happened or the next day, or the day after that. I can barely talk about it now.”

  She had a point. He knew it. And really, he only wanted to neutralize any threat to her. “I don’t blame you, angel.” He said it softly, without heat. Because it was true. “No way do I blame you.”

  Her sweet face crumpled. “You mean that?”

  “You know I do.” He reached for her. She let out a small cry and allowed him to wrap his arms around her again. He held her tight, loving the way she felt, so soft in all the right places. “That’s it, then? That’s the only move he’s made on you since you came back home?”

  “Yes. That’s it.”

  “Did you call him and tell him to leave you alone?”

  “Uh-uh. You have no idea how many times in the past I told him to leave me alone. That only seemed to encourage him.”

  “I hear that. So, then, don’t engage him.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. “Did you go to the police?”

  “And tell them what? That my ex-husband sent me flowers out of the blue and a nice little note?”

  “Don’t get defensive. I agree that you don’t have anything to charge the creep with. I just want to be sure, to know everything that happened, to know exactly where we stand with this piece of crap.”

  “We?” She pushed away from him again, smoothed the yellow skirt of her pretty summer dress over her knees and then looked him straight in the eye. “Quinn. Ted is in no way your problem. This thing with him is for me to solve. I will not drag you into my mess. I don’t want you going after him, or approaching him, or contacting him or getting near him, ever. I need your word on that.”

  He would give her anything—the world on a gold platter. But not this. “That guy needs to know you’re not alone anymore. He needs to know someone’s got your back.”

  “I couldn’t care less what he needs, Quinn. I’m talking about what I need. And that is to know I can tell you my hardest secrets and trust that you won’t go racing off to solve all my problems for me in your own way. Because they are my problems and I’m the one who gets the final say when it comes to dealing with them. It’s about respect, and you know it. You have to respect me and let me figure out how to mop up the mess I created. Please.”

  He really hated that what she said made sense. “You will tell me, if he does anything, if you hear so much as a word from him again?”

  “I will, yes.” She folded her hands on her knees. “And you will honor my wishes and let me handle this in my own way?”

  He scraped both hands down his face. “You got me up against the ropes here.”

  “Because you do respect me. I know you only want to protect me and you have no idea how much I love that about you.”

  Love. It was a big word. And it was also the first time she’d used it in reference to him. Quinn liked the way it sounded coming out of that fine mouth of hers. He liked it a lot.

  What he didn’t like was not being allowed to teach Ted Davies an important life lesson. Then again, guys like that always managed to get what was coming to them eventually. Quinn fervently hoped he’d have the honor of taking Ted to church when the time came.

  “Quinn?” she asked, all breathless and hopeful. “I need your word that you’ll leave Ted alone.”

  Damn it to hell. He gave it up. “All right. For now, for as long as he never tries to get in touch with you again, you got my word.”

  * * *

  Chloe was no fool.

  She fully understood what it cost Quinn to make her that promise. He’d done a really good job of hiding his anger at Ted. But already, in the short time they’d been together, she’d learned to read him. He wanted to go after Ted, he needed to do that, needed to step forward and be her protector.

  What woman wouldn’t appreciate that in a man?

  But he’d done protectiveness one better. He’d agreed to go against what he needed to do and leave Ted alone. Because she’d asked him to. And if she hadn’t already been halfway in love with him, well, that he had made that promise kind of sealed the deal as far as she was concerned.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, taking his big hand, turning it over and smoothing his beefy fingers open. “Thank you...” She bent close and pressed a kiss in the center of his rough, hot palm.

  “Let’s just hope we’ve seen the last of him,” Quinn muttered gruffly.

  She couldn’t agree more. And not only because she wanted nothing to do with her ex. Now there was Quinn to worry about. If Ted made another move on her, convincing Quinn to stay out of it was going to be exponentially tougher.

  But they’d spent altogether too much of their evening on unhappy subjects. She forced a brighter tone. “First my mother, then Ted. Let’s forget about both of them for now, huh?” She reached up and smoothed the thick brown hair off his forehead. “Now I want it to be just you and me, here on the sofa, doing whatever comes naturally.”

  He studied her face for a moment, his head tipped to the side. And then he kicked off his shoes. She followed suit, sliding off her sandals and pushing them under the coffee table.

  “Come here.” He took her by the shoulders, turned her and settled her with her head in his lap.

  Chloe stared up at him, feeling better already. The hard things had been said. And now it was just her and Quinn, alone for the evening. He traced the curves of her eyebrows with a slow finger and then caught a lock of her hair and wrapped it around his hand the way he liked to do.

  She said, “I hope I didn’t drag you away from anything important at home...”

  He shook his head. “Annabelle’s all tucked in bed. Manny and I were just having a beer on the deck.”

  “Do you still want to marry me?” The words kind of popped out. She’d hardly known she would say them—until she did.

  He gave her his bad-boy half smile. “Oh, yeah. But I’m not pushing. You decide what you want and you do it in your own time.”

  “Even after all the grim stuff I told you tonight? I’m not sure I’m such a good bet, Quinn.”

  He unwrapped her hair from around his fingers—and then twined it right back again. “You’re not your mother and it’s not your fault that your ex is a psycho dog. You are a good bet, angel. You’re a fine woman with a big heart, the best there is.”

  His generous words warmed her, made a glow down inside her that all the trials of the afternoon and evening couldn’t dim.

  I think I’m falling in love with you, Quinn.

  It sounded so right inside her head. But she wasn’t quite ready to say it out loud yet. Talk of love still had some taint for her. It still held ugly echoes of the past.

  She shut her eyes and drifted, cradled, safe, with her head in Quinn’s lap.

  Marriage. To Quinn.

  Was she ready for that? They’d been together such a short time and she’d messed up so badly before. How could she be certain?

  She opened her eyes.

  And he was gazing down at her, steady. Sure. Not having to say anything, just being there with her.

  When she looked in his eyes, her doubts about herself and her future and her iffy judgment just melted away. When she looked in Qu
inn’s eyes, she was sure.

  And come on. She’d dated Ted for a year before she said yes to him. And then it was another year until their lavish wedding. She’d given herself plenty of time to really know Ted. She’d done everything right.

  And still, it all went wrong. Ted was the man her mother wanted for her.

  And Quinn?

  It was so simple. Quinn was the one she wanted for herself. He was her choice, her second chance to get it right. She trusted him. She knew he would be good to her, that she would be good for him—and for Annabelle and Manny, too.

  Together, they could make a full, rich life, the life she’d always wanted. The life she’d given up hope that she would ever find.

  Until now. Until Quinn.

  He unwound her hair again. And she sat up and took his arm and wrapped it across her shoulders. He gathered her closer. She drew her legs up onto the sofa and folded them to the side so she was facing him. Looking right into those wonderful eyes, she said, “Well, I’ve decided, then. And my decision is...” She stretched up enough to nip his scruffy jaw with her teeth. “Yes.”

  For once, he actually looked taken completely off guard. “What did you say?”

  “I said yes, Quinn. I will marry you. I want it to be a small, simple wedding, just family and close friends. And I want it to be soon.”

  “Chloe.” He took her face between those big hands. “Seriously? You’re sure?” He looked so vulnerable right then, as if he couldn’t quite believe she really meant it.

  She did mean it. “Yes, I am very sure.”

  “Damn,” he whispered prayerfully.

  He kissed her, a kiss that curled her bare toes and created that incomparable heavy, hot yearning down in the core of her. And then he scooped her up in those big arms of his and carried her to her bedroom.

  Late into the night, he showed her exactly how happy her decision had made him.

  Dawn was breaking when he left her. She stood out on her front porch in a robe and slippers, watching him walk across the street to his temporary home, knowing her hair needed combing and her eyes were low and lazy. She was fully aware that she had the look of a woman thoroughly and repeatedly satisfied—and she didn’t care in the least who saw her.

  She’d made her decision. She was marrying Quinn and finally getting the life she’d always dreamed of.

  Chapter Eight

  At the showroom a few hours later, Chloe called Tai and asked her to come in early.

  At ten, Quinn picked her up. They drove to Denver, where they had lunch and he bought her a beautiful engagement ring and a platinum wedding ring to match. She bought him a ring, too, a thick platinum band that she couldn’t wait to slip on his finger when the big day came. She was back at her showroom by four.

  That evening, just as she was letting herself in the front door, the house phone rang. She saw it was her parents’ number and let it go to the machine.

  A few minutes later, she checked to see what her mother had said. But it turned out it was her dad. He’d left a two-sentence message: “Chloe, this is your dad. Please call me.”

  She did, right then.

  He asked her if she was all right and Chloe told him that she would be fine.

  Doug Winchester said, “Your mother’s just brokenhearted over what happened last night.”

  Chloe refused to let him play the guilt card on her. “We don’t see eye-to-eye, Mom and me. And I don’t think that either of us will be changing our positions anytime soon.”

  “She loves you. You know that. I love you.”

  “Thanks, Daddy. I love you, too. But sometimes love really can’t make everything right. Not with Mom, anyway. With Mom, it’s her way or nothing. And I’m through doing things her way. In fact, Quinn’s asked me to marry him and I’ve said yes.”

  The line went dead silent. Then her father asked cautiously, “Isn’t this a little sudden?”

  She resisted the urge to say something snappish. “I care for him deeply, Dad. It’s what I want.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I am.”

  Another silence. And then her father had the good grace to say that he hoped she would be happy. “I think I’ll wait a few days to tell your mother about your engagement, though.”

  “Right now, Dad, I don’t care if you tell her or not.”

  “Chloe. You don’t mean that.”

  She didn’t argue. What was the point? “I’ll call and let you know about the wedding. It’s going to be small and simple.” Nothing like the three-ring circus in Sonoma when she’d married Ted. “I hope you can come. Quinn wants me to be patient with Mom, so I’m going to give it a little time before I decide whether I’m willing to have her at the wedding.”

  Another deep silence from her dad. Then, “Let’s just see how things go, shall we?”

  Chloe agreed that would be wise. They said goodbye.

  A few hours later, when Quinn came over, she cried a little for her fractured family. He held her and told her it would all turn out all right. Somehow, when he said it, she almost believed it.

  * * *

  Friday morning first thing, Nell Bravo dropped by Chloe’s showroom. Chloe broke the big news and showed off her gorgeous ring.

  Nell said, “So, then. This makes it official. You’re gonna be my sister. And that means we’ll have to bury the hatchet permanently, you and me.”

  “You know, you really scare me when you talk about hatchets.”

  Nell laughed and grabbed Chloe in a hug and waltzed her in and out of the various carpet and flooring displays. Then Quinn’s sister confessed, “I already knew. Quinn told me this morning. And I’m here to find out when you’re breaking for lunch so I can get a table at the Sylvan Inn for you and me and my sisters.”

  Chloe met the Bravo sisters at the Sylvan Inn at one. There were four of them. Clara and Elise were the daughters of Franklin Bravo’s first wife, Sondra. Jody’s and Nell’s mother was the notorious Willow Mooney Bravo, who’d been Frank’s mistress during most of his marriage to Sondra. The day after Sondra Bravo’s funeral, Willow married Frank. He moved her right into the mansion he’d built for Sondra. Frank Bravo’s refusal to observe even a minimal period of mourning after Sondra’s passing caused no end of shock and outrage in the angry hearts of the judgmental types in town, Chloe’s mother first among them.

  Tracy Winham, Elise’s best friend and business partner, joined them, too. And so did Rory Bravo-Calabretti, a cousin to the Bravo sisters. Rory was an actual princess from a tiny country called Montedoro. But Rory didn’t act like a princess. She loved Justice Creek and she was down-to-earth and lots of fun. Recently she’d decided to make her home in America. She lived with her fiancé, Walker McKellan, at Walker’s guest ranch not far from town.

  As a matter of fact, all the Bravo women were lots of fun. Even more so after a couple of glasses of the champagne Nell had ordered to toast Chloe and Quinn and their future happiness together. Chloe never drank alcohol at lunch. After all, she still had half a day of work ahead and she preferred to be alert and clearheaded on the job.

  But today, she drank the champagne—more than she should have. And she had a fabulous time sharing stories about the old days with Quinn’s sisters.

  “Quinn was always so moody,” said Jody, and everyone nodded. “He was mad at everything and just about everybody.”

  “But even then there was a certain sweetness about him,” said Clara, who was Sondra’s oldest daughter and considered the family peacemaker.

  Back in the day, when the two sides of Frank’s family were constantly at odds, Clara was the one who kept trying to get them to make peace and come together. She and Quinn and Chloe were the same age.

  “I remember,” Clara said, “when we were in Miss Oakleaf’s class, first grade. Remember, Chloe?”

  “Yes, I do. Miss Oakleaf was so pretty. I wanted to be just like her when I grew up.”

  “Oh, me, too,” Clara agreed.

  “She pinned her hair up in a
twist and she always looked so elegant. And she wore high heels and pencil skirts.” Chloe frowned. “Were they even called pencil skirts back then?”

  Clara considered. “Straight skirts, I think. And yeah. Miss Oakleaf was a beauty. Quinn had a big crush on her.”

  “She was patient with him,” Chloe said softly, remembering how he struggled to keep up with the rest of the class.

  Clara remembered, too. “He would get mad and act up and she would talk to him so gently.”

  “And then,” said Chloe, “the Hershey’s Kisses started appearing on her desk every morning...”

  Clara took up the story. “Just a few of them, lined up in their shiny silver foil wrappers, waiting there for Miss Oakleaf on her desk pad at the beginning of every day.”

  “No one knew who was leaving them,” said Chloe.

  And Clara said, “Until Freddy Harmon spotted Quinn in the act. Freddy spied on Quinn through the window, didn’t he, and saw him sneak in and put three Kisses on Miss Oakleaf’s desk?”

  “That’s right,” Chloe replied softly. “Quinn was so humiliated...” She shook her head, aching for the troubled little boy he’d once been.

  Jody said, “The way I heard it, he went ballistic.”

  Clara nodded. “He chased Freddy around the playground till he caught him, and then he beat the crap out of him. For that, Quinn was suspended for two weeks. Looking back on our elementary school years, it seems like he spent more time suspended or in detention than he ever spent in class.”

  They all laughed. They could afford to laugh about it now that Quinn was a grown man who’d built himself a fine, productive life.

  Nell asked, “Remember that time he and Jamie and Dare got into it on the playground?” James and Darius were Clara’s and Elise’s full brothers, Sondra’s sons.

  Elise nodded. “It was two against one. Plus, Jamie and Dare were older and bigger. But Quinn just wouldn’t give up and go down.”

  Rory shook her head. “It’s so strange, knowing him now, to hear what a troublemaker he used to be.”

  “By the time he was twelve or so,” Clara said, “no one would fight with him. By then, they all knew that he would never quit. If you took on Quinn Bravo, it was going to be long and ugly and there would be way too much blood.”