Love Me (Promise Me Book 4) Read online

  I should be grateful that someone took the initiative to speak to me without a barrage of questions about my past. Take me under her wing, so to speak. It could have been much worse.

  But I’d left my grateful at home, along with my energy.

  Mrs. Fishman used her free hand to snag another flute of champagne from a passing server. She sent me a wicked smile before downing half the glass. “You stick with me, girl. We’ll be the envy of everyone in the room. Your beauty and my vivacity.”

  She certainly was full of vivacity.

  “Your hospitality is appreciated,” I responded. “Thank you again.”

  While she wasn’t my preferred choice for company, Mrs. Fishman served her purpose. She was great for keeping my mind off my mistakes. I was up by a few points in the war between River and clumsiness.

  “Now, I know you’re new here, and I can’t help but pry. I trust your time in Heartwood has been decent,” she prodded.

  I glanced around the room for the antique grandfather clock I’d spotted on arrival, before returning my attention to Mrs. Fishman. Somehow, I’d survived past the first hour mark without any casualties. Score! “I was born here in Heartwood. It wasn’t a large leap to make the move back,” I told her.

  “Then you’re already accustomed to country life and Heartwood time.”

  Yes, Heartwood time—the nebulous concept most used as an excuse to be tardy.

  “Not exactly. I haven’t lived here since I was seven. I’m still finding my rhythm.”

  “What about friends, dear?”

  “Not a lot of opportunity to meet people before I was enrolled in school. Whatever playmates I had then have long since moved on.”

  “What a shame.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And have you made the decision to stay? I know it isn’t always the easiest place to live, and the natives are not always sweet. Have you made a home here?” she wanted to know.

  I hesitated before answering. “Yes, I think I have.”

  “What do you do for work?”

  My elbow rested on a glass shelf heaped with mementos from years gone by. There was no point in being rude and unsociable. I tried to remember my manners from the hundreds of parties I’d been forced to attend in the past. If I could make it then, this should be no issue.

  “I do online data input for an independent company. It’s not much. I’m still trying to find a job in town. Several leads have presented themselves,” I continued.

  Mrs. Fishman blinked once before her gaze narrowed. “How delightful.”

  “Yes, I’ve had to do a little digging. However, I plan on finding a full-time position within the next month.”

  “Then you’re unemployed?”

  “Not exactly.” Hadn’t I mentioned the data input? Then I noticed the third full glass of champagne in her bony claw and sighed. Was it the third? Or had I lost count?

  Gesturing with my hands, I told Mrs. Fishman the intricacies of my online career. Why I didn’t want to be an accountant anymore despite a vacancy at the Heartwood office.

  “Careful where you stand, dear,” she interrupted.

  “I’m sorry.” Staring at the valuables, I shifted my stance away from the treasure trove. Good idea.

  “River,” Weston called from across the room, holding up a hand to capture my attention. “I need you.”

  I sent a warm smile toward my gracious companion for the evening. “It’s been a pleasure. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

  She drowned her answer in the last of the champagne and gestured her consent for me to leave.

  I took a single step forward and…my heel caught the tail of my dress. My stomach plummeted to the center of the earth. Arms windmilling, balance out the window, I managed to catch myself before collapse.

  For a whole two seconds.

  My vision narrowed and focused on a single point in front of me. The world stopped and time slowed. I watched Mrs. Fishman’s mouth round into an O of horror when I went down, using the shelf to catch myself. Hysteria bubbled up inside of me, though I was too dazed to recognize it.

  We were both shocked when the brackets held. Only I was unsurprised the moment I fell, the glass tipped, and each of the tedious-to-dust knickknacks swan-dived to the floor with a resounding boom.

  And there I was, in the middle, on my ass.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I’m sorry!”

  A thousand apologies weren’t enough for Weston. I trailed him into his townhouse with my shoes dangling from my thumb and the soles of my feet resembling a coal miner’s face.

  “It was an accident,” I cried out for the umpteenth time. “I shouldn’t have stood that close to a shelf of breakables. I’m not coordinated enough to be around glass. I know that now.”

  “Do you think an apology is going to cover almost a thousand dollars in damage?” He asked the question already knowing the answer. A vein popped in his temple. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. You promised me tonight would be different. River, this is the fourth time I’ve taken you out somewhere to have it end in disaster.”

  “I know, and I’ve tried my best. I’ve never had a problem until now!”

  He shook his head, striding toward the sink and throwing on the faucet. “I thought you said you were the go-to date at your old firm. Somehow I find it hard to believe.”

  I fiddled with the straps of my shoes as he splashed water across his face. I hadn’t expected a relationship so soon after relocating. Weston had been a surprise. Not unpleasant, but unexpected. We fit together smoothly, on the rare occasions I hadn’t opened my mouth to insert my foot.

  I imagined the two of us together at my old office parties. Mingling and chumming around with the crème de la crème of the corporate accounting world. My group of girlfriends would have loved him. My mother did love him.

  My father would have given him the scrutiny he deserved. Now I’d never know Ralph Shayne’s opinion on the mayor of Heartwood. Or his opinion on the current verbal lashing. It wasn’t always fun and creampuffs between us, but Weston gave me the comfort I’d been missing. The physical presence I needed in my life when I suddenly found myself alone and missing my father.

  “Give me a few months to save up the extra cash,” I told Weston, “and I’ll pay for the destruction of property. Once I find a full-time job, you can put me on a repayment plan. I can only apologize so many times.”

  He was a good man, sure. Debonair and handsome. Charming and witty. Everything River from Knoxville would have loved to have in her corner. Now he looked like a bull ready to impale me.

  I was wearing red.

  “I wish it were a simple matter of me writing a check. Unfortunately, there is more at stake here than you realize,” Weston stated from the kitchen. “It’s not the cost of the damage that has me bothered. It’s the implications.”

  “What implications? If you’re going to berate me, at least let me get this bra off.” I tugged at the top of my dress and the strapless bra beneath. “I prefer to be relaxed if we’re going to argue.”

  At least give a girl a moment to defend her honor. And her recently developed klutzy nature.

  “This isn’t an argument.” Weston strode forward, a hint of moisture dotting his upper lip, and ripped the tie from his neck. Let it drop to the floor. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

  “Could have fooled me. Usually a slammed door signals an argument.” Good thing his front entryway was sturdy.

  “It’s not—” He broke off on a sigh. “It’s not an argument, River. You told me tonight would be different and you’d be on your best behavior. We were pushed out the door without dinner!”

  I stomped down the hall and into the master bedroom, listening to his footsteps echo behind me.

  “I know I did some harm. It was a mistake. It’s not like I shattered crystal everywhere on purpose. If you want to blame someone, then blame Mrs. Fishman. She refused to move away from the valuables. She was positively asking for disaster.” My finger
pointed to Weston’s nose when I swirled to face him. “Maybe it was a set-up.”

  “Or maybe you can’t control yourself in public,” he retorted.

  I dragged my eyes to the clock. The digital numbers read 10:30 p.m. in the dimness. It was too late in the evening to bother with putting on a performance. There was nothing for me to hide.

  “I don’t want to come off as an asshole here…” Weston continued, letting his voice drop.

  “Then stop acting like one.”

  He held up his hand, golden light from the bedside lamp glinting off the key in his hand. Noticing the twinkle, he placed the front door key on the nightstand with a groan. “I wasn’t thinking, and I’m sorry. Let’s talk this over.”

  “Fine,” I croaked, the remnants of anger coloring my voice. My heart thudded faster. “Although I feel bad enough without you making it worse. Try to act like a decent human being who didn’t miss his dinner.” In response to the word, my belly rumbled, the dry sparkling wine sitting uneasily on my empty stomach.

  Weston wrenched off his jacket and let out an audible breath of relief. “I apologize. All right? These functions are exhausting and I can get a little grouchy afterward. It’s worse when the topic of conversation is less than stellar and I’m basically booted out the door.” His shoulders drooped, the result of a full day and not enough sleep. “This is my fifth dinner party in as many weeks and it takes a lot from me.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Weston’s cat Pookie wound into the room, pausing to lean against the dresser before shooting me the pitiful stare of the hungry. We both ignored her. She’d at least gotten her kibbles before we left. I hadn’t.

  “No, not really.” Weston ran agitated fingers through his hair. “It’s not about the crystal. Or the Zassios’ scorched curtains. Before you say anything, no, this is not about the dry-cleaning bill for Mrs. Underwood’s taffeta gown either. Although I heard about all those things before we left this evening.”

  I chucked my shoes in the general direction of the closet before moving to stand next to him. “What is it about?”

  “There has been talk. About you. It’s come up frequently since we started to date and I haven’t mentioned anything yet.”

  “People are talking about me?” A ball of knots dropped into the gaping hole of my gut. “And?”

  “And?” The forced cheer of his reply was a clear indication that nothing good was said.

  “Sounds like I’m in for some more verbal punishment. Do I need to stand or can I take it lying down?” I flopped down on the bed.

  “I had a chat with the hosts before we left. Not only them, but several other people as well. Your name came up multiple times in the conversation.”

  “Sure,” I said. I was pleasantly surprised by my casual tone. “We’ve been seeing each other for almost six months. I’d be surprised if someone didn’t mention me. I’ve also sent out a dozen handwritten letters of apology to anyone I might have offended at past gatherings. I think I’ve done my share.”

  It had been a blissful six months of casual dinners, intense conversation, and intellectual stimulation that, I’ll be honest, I hadn’t expected for a town with a single stoplight. I wished I’d met Weston back in Tennessee. When I’d been surer of my life.

  Now I was walking a fine line between certain and bat-shit crazy.

  His confident smile did not falter despite the gravity settling between us. “There were some comments made that were unfavorable.”

  Oh. Back to reality. “Yeah?”

  He broke our mutual stare. “We need to work on your image.”

  “Work on my image? My image is moose-in-an-evening-gown.” I gestured down to the wrinkled material on my lap. “Although I can go back to old faithful—Grandma-in-her-flannel-pajamas-with-a-smutty-romance-novel.”

  I tried to make light of the situation until I saw the set of his brow. This had somehow taken a wrong turn from a simple accident to a serious problem.

  People had taken offense to me. Purposely playing ignorant wouldn’t solve this conundrum.

  “The comments were…less than stellar. I didn’t realize how the public felt about us dating so soon after Odette left,” Weston responded.

  Pookie darted between my ankles, weaving amidst the folds of the dress and mewing. I used my foot to push her away. “They should feel pretty damn good. From what I’ve heard, she had the social graces of a homeless man.”

  I didn’t realize how upset his words made me. No negative thoughts, I reprimanded. God help me, I was ready to reach out and attack at the slightest provocation. I urged my fingers to release their stranglehold on each other. They refused to obey.

  “Mrs. Fishman told me that Odette was not the nicest person.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Weston reached out to take my hand, which had formed a fist on my lap. “Though I don’t share the public opinion, I thought you needed to know. The people I’ve heard from do not see you as favorably as they should, which is a shame. They think you’re awkward.”

  “And?”

  “Judgmental.”

  “Judgmental!”

  “The word emotional also came up a few times.”

  I pointed at his face for a second time. “Now you’re making me mad.”

  “I think together we can put our brains to work and figure something out.”

  I didn’t see why it was up to us to figure something out. I glanced down at the book on the nightstand, a raunchy romance, one where the heroine captured the love of the hero in less than three hundred pages and they lived happily ever after.

  My psyche wasn’t exactly up to a happy ending at present.

  Shifting my focus away from the flash of irritation casting a shadow on my thoughts, I fixed on Weston and stifled any dark urges.

  “This is ridiculous. What do they expect me to do? Tap dance my way into a bigger and better apology? Donate a kidney? What?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I’m not ready to give you up,” I stated. “I won’t break up because some people like to gossip and decided to catch me in their crosshairs.”

  “Oh, honey, no,” Weston said. He sat and shuffled close, the mattress bowing with our combined weight. “I don’t want to give you up, either. We need to find a way to increase your public appeal.”

  I wasn’t following. “Like a boob job?” Copper filled my mouth, a product of biting the quick of my index fingernail until it bled.

  His eyes glanced down to my average B-plus chest before returning to my face. Heat warmed his gaze. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I’m not sure what you want me to do here, Weston.” I felt too vulnerable, and struggled to adjust my position. “I go along and do my part like everyone else. I happen to have a mayor for a boyfriend. Now I’m being punished for it? Is it the fact that I’m still looking for a job?”

  “You aren’t being punished!” He shook his head. “People here can be opinionated. Some simply stated they don’t feel comfortable with our…”

  “With our what?” I asked impatiently. “Our relationship?”

  “I’m sorry, River. I’m sure this is a slap in the face for you.”

  “Ya think?” I’d never had an issue with image before. “Way to spring it on a girl. You could have picked a better time to let me know.” I showed him my trembling hand, cuticle ripped and raw.

  “It’s not what you want to hear. It’s not what I wanted to hear either, but it’s not going away. We’re going to have to deal with it sooner rather than later. Then we can get back to our lives.”

  “None of this would be an issue if you were a regular guy. Or if I could walk in heels and not feel like a baby giraffe.”

  Instead of lightening the mood, storm clouds gathered on his face. Weston squeezed my hand . “Well, I’m not a regular guy. I’m the mayor, and there are certain things expected of me. It’s a position filled with responsibility, and anyone I choose to let into my life needs to accept the significances. Y
ou knew this when we first went out.”

  “Yeah, I realize. I’m saying I don’t think it’s fair. Why should I have to change who I am to please your doting public?” I pushed to my feet. Nervous energy electrified every limb and had me pacing the room. “Did you tell them that I work from home fifteen hours a week? I’m sure they brought up my unemployment, those vultures.”

  “There was little mention of your job, and no, I didn’t bring up any of your personal details. I’m not asking you to change who you are,” Weston stated with a tight smile. “I adore you. I’m trying to work together to think of something we can do to change their minds. There has to be something.”

  “I moved back here to find myself. Starting over from scratch wasn’t easy. Now I’m at a crossroads again, right when I was getting my rhythm.” I hated them—the faceless them who whispered in Weston’s ear.

  “It’s not fair and you’re right. Please, work with me. I don’t want this to affect us.”

  I exhaled in defeat. I’d worked too hard to establish my place to stumble back two steps now, and I’d be damned if I’d let someone else’s opinion of me impact my relationship.

  “I feel like something has to give,” I said with an exhale.

  “Let’s talk this out. What can we do to improve your image with the public?”

  “Nothing cosmetic?” I asked. “I can keep my kidneys?”

  Weston chuckled, his black mood gone. “You can keep your kidneys, because I have a few ideas. I’ve had time to consider the matter.”

  “What? On the drive home?”

  “I was thinking along the lines of volunteer work.”

  “Volunteer work,” I repeated slowly.

  It was something I could handle, sure. In my mind, I pictured overalls and a hammer and helping raise a roof for a non-profit like Habitat for Humanity. I wasn’t the best with physical labor, though I could handle a few days of pounding nails and be done.

  Would it be enough?

  “What are our options in the county?”

  “We’re pretty limited unless you want to drive.” Weston scratched his head. “Somehow I doubt working outside town will appease the critics. We need to appeal to people here. The hard-working men and women who contribute to Heartwood daily.”