A Brand New Ending (Page 3)

No.

Shock barreled through her, along with a burning pain and emptiness she’d thought was impossible to ever feel again. She stumbled back a few steps and mashed her fingers against her trembling lips.

Kyle was here. At her front door.

Why was he here? What did he want?

Maybe he’d go away.

She kept silent, as if a mass murderer was waiting to attack her rather than her childhood friend-turned-lover. Another round of pounding rose in the air, this time with more demand.

“Ophelia! I saw you through the curtain, so it’s too late to pretend you’re not home.”

She closed her eyes and mentally cursed.

Unbelievable.

She’d been crooning sappy love songs—and conjured up the one man she never wanted to see again.

“For God’s sake, I’m freezing my ass off out here. Can you open the door?”

Damn, damn, damn.

She held her breath. She couldn’t let him in. Wasn’t there a law against ex-lovers seeing each other after nearly a decade—especially when one wasn’t looking hot? Right now, she was so far from hot she was on the edge of the mental-patient look. Her hair was tangled and stuck up in a clip. She had no makeup on and was wearing old, dirty clothes with no bra.

His fist shook the door. “Ophelia, I have nowhere else to go right now. You can yell at me and throw me out later, but I’ve just had a three-hour drive from the airport and I need a bathroom. Please.”

It was the last word that sealed her fate.

Guess even all this time couldn’t dull the effect of Kyle Kimpton asking her for what he needed.

She shoved away the memory of him saying that same word over and over while she was on her knees.

Dear Lord. She had to open the damn door.

It took her a few moments to force her feet forward and her stiff fingers to turn the knob. The blast of icy air hit her full force, and she reveled in the shock, preferring frostbite to the silly leap of her heart when she gazed at the familiar, solid body before her. She schooled her features into resting bitch face and hoped she’d finally pulled it off. How badly she wanted to be one of those women like Mia, her brother’s girlfriend, who could command a room with an icily lifted brow. Ophelia’s emotions were always too close to the surface—especially around Kyle.

“Come in.”

He stamped his boots a few times and pushed through, closing the door and dropping his bag at his feet. When he turned back to face her, Ophelia thought she was prepared. Defenses firmly up, bitch face arranged, breath firmly dragged into her lungs, she met his gaze head-on.

And found herself dragged back to being that helpless, lovesick, teenaged girl.

The years had been kind to him. His face now held carved lines that took away the pretty-boy looks from youth and added character. Those famous dimples and classic square jaw were now covered by scruff that emphasized the sharp, almost aristocratic, blade of his nose. His white-blond hair had turned a softer dark gold, the burnished strands a bit on the longer side to spill over his brow and cover his ears.

He used to wear old jeans and T-shirts, and had no idea what designer clothes were. Now, it seemed he had his own tailor. He wore a black wool coat that fit his trim frame like it was custom made and a plaid Scottish wool scarf wrapped around his neck. Rich leather gloves hid his long fingers. Snow dusted his hair and the shoulders of his coat. But it was his eyes that told her how he’d really changed.

Those forest-green depths were still highlighted by lush lashes, but instead of the zeal and inner light that had always shone like a beacon, there was a weariness that halted her breath. His force had dimmed. The knight who’d promised to fulfill all her dreams now wore tarnished armor, and the familiar passion seething under the surface throbbed with something brand new.

Disillusionment and the faint waft of regret.

A cocktail she knew too well.

Emotion surged upward from her very core, but this time, she’d had nearly a decade to practice blocking any chink in her defenses. She stared back at him, refusing to retreat from the raw chemistry that still crackled between them. It would always be there, but her calm acknowledgment hopefully gave him the message she was finally in charge.

“Ophelia.” His voice seemed deeper, more gravelly, but it still stroked all the sweet spaces between her spine like one long shiver. Trying desperately to mask her reaction, she allowed herself a few steps back, her name lingering in the air like a question. “It’s been a long time.”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest to hide her braless state. Best to keep the conversation polite, yet cold. He’d use her bathroom, and she’d throw him out of her inn.

“What are you doing here?”

He rubbed the top of his head. It was a signature move that always told her he was frustrated or uncomfortable. Right now, he looked both. “You’re not going to like it.”

She kept quiet, cocking her head with a touch of impatience that Mia would be proud of. Maybe it would intimidate him.

“Ethan invited me to stay here for the next few months.”

Ophelia blinked.

Impossible.

On Thanksgiving weekend, her brother had brought up the idea of Kyle staying at the inn to write some script, but she’d quickly shut it down, telling him in no uncertain terms that Kyle was not welcome. He’d been confused by her vehemence, but Ophelia had pushed back hard. Ethan had finally agreed to find Kyle another place.

“There must be some kind of mistake. I specifically told Ethan you couldn’t stay here.”

Kyle rubbed his head harder and muttered something under his breath. “I swear, I’m going to kill him for this.”

“For what?”

His jaw clenched. “Ethan never told me I wasn’t welcome. He said he spoke to you and you had a room specifically set up for me through March.”

Her voice rose a few pitches. “He lied?”

“Yep. When I called from the plane to tell him I was landing, he confessed you had no idea I was coming. Said he was sure you would change your mind and it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Oh, she was going to murder her brother. Painfully. But right now, she had to deal with the fallout of his dumbass decision.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t offer you a room. You can’t stay here.”

“You’re booked up, then?”

She opened her mouth to lie, but nothing came out. All she had to do was say yes. It didn’t matter—he’d never really know, and she’d threaten Ethan if he breathed a word of the truth. “I’m very busy,” she said, hoping she sounded convincing. He nodded, and relief coursed through her. “Maybe you can stay with Ethan tonight and catch a flight back tomorrow?”

“No, I can’t go back to California. I have to write this script here. In Gardiner.” He paused, his gaze delving so deep she felt captured. “Every single room is booked?”

She wet her lips and looked slightly to the right. “I’m sure you can find a local hotel or stay at your father’s.”

He flinched, and his voice turned stone cold. “My father doesn’t know I’m back. I intend to keep it that way.”

How many times in the past had she tried desperately to help the two men mend their relationship? Kyle’s pain from his father’s verbal and emotional abuse broke her heart, but she knew how important family was, and she had always been hopeful one day his father would make amends. Of course, that was no longer her business. Her old need to fix everything bad in Kyle’s life was permanently deleted, like a corrupted computer file.