The phone, still held to his ear, stopped ringing suddenly and clicked over to voicemail, Rusty’s voice coming down the line asking him to leave a message.

He didn’t—he fired the fucker across the room.

She’d seen the contract. She’d seen it and run.

He’d lost her.

I’ve ruined fucking everything.

With a roar, Reid swiped his arms across his desk, sending the neat stacks of paper and his laptop flying, crashing to the floor. Breathing hard, hard enough he thought he might be hyperventilating, he went to his knees, searching for his phone.

Finally, he found it. The screen was cracked, but it still worked. He tried her number again. It rang a few times, then clicked to voicemail. She’d cut off his call.

He couldn’t blame her.

You should have told her yourself. Instead he’d come up with excuses, telling himself that keeping the truth from her was for her own good. That since he no longer intended on going through with it, it really didn’t matter. Anything to avoid facing the shitty thing he’d planned to do.

He had to talk to her, explain, make her understand. No way would he let her go this time without a fight.

Scrambling to his feet, he jogged downstairs, out the door, and climbed into his car. He had to tell her he loved her. Beg her to forgive him.

Somehow, even with his foot planted on the gas the whole damn way, he made it to Rusty’s cottage without a speeding ticket. The Plymouth rocked to a stop outside her place, and he shoved the door open, striding to the front of the house. He banged against the solid wood, but no sound came from inside. He rested his forehead against the door. “Rusty, open up, baby. Please, I need to explain.”

He waited. Nothing. Leaving the porch, he checked the street. No sign of her pickup. He walked around the back of the house. Piper’s Corvette was missing, but Rusty’s truck was parked there.

Relief washed through him, hard and fast.

She was inside.

He went to the door and started banging again. “Rusty. Talk to me. You’ve got it all wrong.”

To his surprise, a few seconds later, the door opened.

He took in the woman standing in front of him. Hair wet, smelling like the vanilla soap she used. She wore faded jeans, body covered up except for her bare feet, toenails still the same blue from the night before. The baggy Guns N’ Roses tee she wore swamped her frame. She looked small, almost fragile.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was steady, cold.

“You didn’t answer my calls.”

“No, I was in the shower, washing your stench off my skin.”

Her expression was closed off, distant. And fuck, her words cleaved him in two. “Rusty…”

“Your smell, the memory of your hands on me…it makes me feel like a whore.”

He grabbed the door frame, because her words had the power to knock him on his ass. “Don’t say that.” He tried to step closer, but she crossed her arms and stepped back.

“Don’t touch me. You have no goddamn right.” Her eyes held his, but there was nothing there, the fire completely extinguished.

She was destroying him, every word out of her mouth a knife to the heart. “You know why I’m here, Rusty. Please let me explain. Will you do that? Will you hear me out?”

“Did you ask me out so you could get your hands on our business?”

Shit. “At first, but…”

“There’s nothing more to say.”

“There’s a fuck of a lot more to say.”

“Not from where I’m standing. You’re nothing but a ruthless, using asshole, and I don’t want to see you ever again. Now leave.”

He lunged forward, grabbed her shoulders, and dragged her up against him. She stood motionless, a fucking statue in his arms. Her skin even felt cool.

He backed her up, pressed her against the wall, cupped her precious face. “You have to believe me. I changed my mind. I could never take West’s from you. I know how you feel about that place. Shit, Rusty, I want you, not your business. Baby, I’ve fallen for you. I love you.”

A sound that could only be described as agony broke past her lips. It tore him up, made him feel like the monster he’d always thought he was—until Rusty, until she made him believe he was more than that.

She started to struggle, pounded against his chest. “Don’t you say that, don’t you fucking say that to me, you lying son of a bitch.”

He took it, took the hits, then held her away to look her in the eye and said it again. “I love you, Rusty. So fucking much.”

She seemed to shrink in on herself and jerked back, grabbing his wrists when he held on, shoving them away. She shook her head in denial. “No, you don’t. And I don’t love you. I could never love someone like you.” Her face was closed off again, all the fight drained from her.

He released her immediately, because yeah, that hurt. Hurt more than any hit he’d taken from his old man. More painful than the split lips and black eyes—all the broken bones put together. “You don’t mean that.”

She met his gaze. “I always mean what I say, Reid. Unlike you, I always have.” She took a retreating step. “Now, just go. Leave me the hell alone.”

He had no choice but to do as she asked. He’d destroyed what they had, all his hopes for a future with her. And he realized as she shut the door in his face, nothing could fix it.

He’d lost her, and this time there was no chance of forgiveness, no explaining it away, no getting her back.

It had been close to a week since she ended it with Reid—six whole days since he’d pressed her against the wall and told her he loved her in that deep, broken voice.

But when Rusty heard the deep growl of an engine roaring into West’s parking lot—even though it wasn’t the distinctive rumble of Reid’s car—her belly still flipped. And that pissed her off. What made her angrier still was the shot of excitement that spiked through her veins.

She shook her head. It had been lies, all of it. He didn’t love her. How could he and keep something like that from her?

But unfortunately, her traitorous body still hadn’t caught up, hadn’t gotten the memo from her brain that no, she would never feel his hands on her bare skin again, never feel him moving above her, pushing deep inside her. Never feel his mouth on hers.

Stop this. Shut it down.

The sound of boots hitting the concrete floor behind her, followed by Alex’s greeting, had her relaxing her shoulders, though she hadn’t even realized she’d tensed until that moment. She’d known without looking it wasn’t him, still her body continued to betray her, anticipation flooding her system.

“Rust,” Alex called. “Someone to see you.”

Great.

Rusty straightened from the engine she was working on, wiped her hands on a rag, and turned to face the door.

Law, Reid’s friend and business manager, stood by the double roller doors, shoulder propped against the frame, taking in the workshop with sharp assessing eyes. “I can see why he wanted it.”

Prick.

Throwing the rag on the work bench, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You taking a shot now, Law? Did your boss send you to woo me as well, seduce me into handing over my business to him? Or maybe Pipe’s more to your taste? Alex is taken unfortunately. It’s just my sister and me to choose from. You like blondes or redheads?”

He pushed off the wall and came toward her. “Reid doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Then why are you? Trying to earn yourself a Christmas bonus?”

He shook his head, crossing his heavily tattooed arms over his leather cut. “He’s not the man you think he is, Rusty.”

“No?” Jesus, she did not need this right now. Did not want to hear whatever he was about to say. “And you’re here to what? Enlighten me?”

“You could say that.” He stared at her for a few uncomfortable seconds, then gave her a sharp nod, as if he’d made some kind of decision. “He fucked up. Big. No one knows that more than he does. I don’t know why, but he’s spent his life trying to prove to himself, to everyone else, that he’s not like that asshole father of his. And sometimes it makes him do stupid shit. But I can tell you now, he gave up on wanting this place as soon as he spent time with you.”