Part 4 (2/2)

”My measuring tape.” She searched the desk drawer to no avail. ”I wanted to measure one of the walls.”

”We could do it the old fas.h.i.+oned way with our feet. I'm a size eleven, so that'll get you a pretty close measurement. Which wall?” He wandered over to the help-me-I-need-paint wall.

”That's the one,” she managed to get out, her mind having immediately jumped to shoe size indicating another size. Or was it big hands that meant a big- ”Back me up here, shop owner.” He gestured her over with a lift and tilt of his chin.

She hustled to his side while she extinguished all thoughts of inches and how she'd felt him pressed up against her their night in his hotel room.

”You all right? You look a little flush.”

”Fine.” She glanced down with every intention of looking at his feet, but got stuck on his zipper instead. Involuntary and sooo inconvenient, given he cleared his throat. Her gaze jumped back to his handsome face.

His very nice white teeth sparkled. c.r.a.p. He'd caught her checking out his junk. This man dis...o...b..bulated her from here until Tuesday.

”Like what you see?”

”I don't know what you're talking about.” She kept eye contact, daring him to call her bluff.

”I could show you.”

She shook her head. They couldn't flirt and keep the tenuous connection they'd just established. ”No. You can't.”

”You're right.” He pressed a hand to the wall and looked down. ”Sorry. I forgot myself for a minute.”

”It's okay. I did, too.” Turning off the feelings he triggered whenever he stood close hadn't been as easy as she'd hoped it would be. ”So, measurement?”

”Let's do it.”

With silent agreement, they focused on his shoes and she quietly kept track of each step he took along the wall.

”Fifty-seven,” he said at the same time she said, ”Fifty-three.” She'd let his very nice counting voice intrude on her thoughts for a couple of seconds, but she thought she'd stayed with him.

”One of us can't count,” he teased before his attention drifted and he veered around her to pick something up off the floor. ”Look what I found.” He held up the tape measure.

She snagged it from him. ”Five bucks says I'm closer.”

”You're on.”

They worked together to take the measurement, Bryce hanging on to the metal dispenser while she pulled the tape. ”Sixty-two,” she said, letting go and watching it fire back into its case.

Bryce gave a small victory smile. He put the tape measure on a box marked ”Roseville” in messy black marker and strode toward her. ”Tell you what, keep the five and tell me about that.” He nodded toward the small square pillow sitting on the window ledge that Payton had made for her.

Happy surprise filled her at his notice. She sighed. ”It's beautiful and awful at the same time, isn't it?” A five year-old boy, hands caked with mud, sewed better than Payton.

”Is that supposed to be a b.u.t.terfly on there?” Bryce followed her toward the window.

”Yes.” Honor picked up the unskillful gift she loved more than anything. ”Payton made it for me.”

”With her eyes closed?”

”We both know she was about as artistic as a baboon.” She glanced up at him. ”A really pretty baboon.” His blank expression threw the beat of her heart off for a second. Maybe he didn't know that about her. ”Anyway, I thought it should have a home here.”

”The saying underneath the b.u.t.terfly is familiar.”

You're my estate, it said. ”It's taken from Emily d.i.c.kinson. Her quote goes, 'My friends are my estate.' I'm surprised you recognized it.”

”My sister is big on literature.”

Honor nodded. She didn't know he had a sister.

”Payton told me you were the most important person in her life.”

”Until she met you.”

He shrugged. ”I don't think so. If she was as committed to me as I was to her, then I would have been with her until the end, too.”

Bryce's pained expression was like a hundred poison arrows to her heart. She knew he valued relations.h.i.+ps. Payton had shared that he'd had several girlfriends before her. Nothing too serious, but he liked commitment. He didn't do things halfway or without care. Another reason he was completely off limits to a girl like her.

The only thing Honor had committed to was tying her Nike's. And that was because she'd tripped over the d.a.m.n laces one too many times when left undone.

She had selfish bones she wasn't proud of.

Even if she wanted to get to know Bryce better, she couldn't. She'd fail him, just like she did everything else, and she hated the thought of failing something so good.

Lance flashed through her mind. Her high school boyfriend had wanted forever with her. A year behind him in school, they'd been together a year when his Senior Prom arrived. ”I've got a very important question to ask you tonight,” he'd told her the morning of the big party. She'd silently freaked out. She was only seventeen and while she loved Lance in her own way, she didn't love him the way he wanted. His proposal-she knew that was the question-loomed over her with a death grip on her chest all day and when the time came to go to prom with him, she couldn't do it. She bailed and went for a drive down the coast with Bobby Gibbs. Bobby was only a friend, there to lend support, but her selfish action had hurt Lance. Rather than talk to him like she should have, she'd taken the coward's way out.

The next day Lance hurt himself.

”You're not a commitment kind of girl,” Lance said when she visited him in the hospital. ”Deep down I knew that...you're no good, Honor, not to anyone.”

She'd nodded her agreement as he continued to insult her and then she'd left, hating herself and what she'd done.

”Honor?” Bryce's voice broke into her recollection and brought her back to the present.

”I need to go,” she said, putting the pillow down and sidestepping around him. She hated hearing concern in his voice. Hated that he may have seen something on her face she didn't want him to see. Eager to get out of his reach, she tripped over a broken floorboard and fell to her hands and knees. ”Dammit.” Pain stung her kneecaps.

Bryce's warm touch wrapped around her arms. He lifted her up. ”You okay?”

”Fine.” She shrugged out of his hold, but the flash of comfort his gentle grasp elicited lingered. ”Just have a ton of things to do today.” The first of which included putting as much s.p.a.ce as possible between her and the man who stirred up way too many unwelcome emotions.

Honor's unrestrained laugh drew Bryce's attention for the tenth time. He couldn't stop keeping track of everything she did. Meet his gaze from the other end of the L-shaped dining table? Four times. Twirl her finger in her hair? Five times. Smile at something the guy sitting next to her-Drew, Mark's brother-said? One time too many.

The sound of silverware striking a gla.s.s broke into his calculations and drew his attention. Zane stood up.

His best friend cleared his throat. ”Thank you all for being here tonight and this weekend.” A visible swallow made its way down Zane's throat before he glanced down at his bride-to-be and took Sophie's hand in his. ”I never imagined I was good enough to find this kind of love and happiness, but somehow this amazing, beautiful woman decided I was worth something. She's taught me so much these past six months and I think I've taught her a few things, too.” Sophie blushed. ”For the rest of my life she's stuck with me and every single day she'll know what a gift she is.” Sophie stood, kissed his cheek, and whispered something in his ear.

And no d.a.m.n way. Zane's cheeks actually reddened. Bryce smiled. Throw every adjective at his friend-infatuated, enamored, captivated, mad about, hot for-and Zane had it ten times worse.

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