It was his fault.
Her ex-husband.
She’d asked him if he was going to the reunion—not face-to-face, she hadn’t wanted to ever see him again after the divorce. But she’d e-mailed him and asked him.
And that’s all she’d done—she’d asked him. Nicely. Politely. She hadn’t goaded him or challenged him or done anything to provoke him. She hadn’t even let him know that if he was going, she wasn’t—although that had been her plan. She’d only e-mailed and asked him if he was going. A simple question that had only required a simple, straight-forward, honest answer.
And that’s what she’d thought he’d given her.
He’d said there was no way he was going, that he and his new wife—the woman he’d married less than twenty-four hours after his divorce from Clair had been finalized—had better things to do.
So naturally Clair had figured the coast was clear and she could go. She could go without worrying about seeing Rob. Without worrying about seeing his new wife. Without feeling uncomfortable. Without having to relive the pain of the past eleven months. She could just go and have fun.
Which was all she’d intended to do.
But she should have known better. She should have known that Rob wouldn’t forgo anything so anyone else—especially Clair—could have free rein with it.
So of course, who had she met at the sign-in table within five minutes of arriving at the Northbridge High School gymnasium?
Rob.
And his new wife.
His pregnant new wife.
And as if that hadn’t been enough salt poured into Clair’s wounds, Rob had seized the opportunity to place his hand on his new wife’s belly, smile smugly and say, “So now we know I wasn’t the problem.”
The memory of that moment still hurt. It was one of the worst of Clair’s life. She’d whispered, “Congratulations,” in a shocked, choked voice, and then she’d made a beeline for the ladies room to hide in one of the stalls and sob.
That was where she’d been when her old friend Cassie had found her.
Poor Cassie had spent an hour standing outside the stall door to talk her through her misery until Clair managed to muster enough courage to finally come out.
“I’m going home,” she’d announced then.
But Cassie wouldn’t hear of it. “I won’t let you do that,” Cassie had said. “You’re here, and you can’t just turn around and go back to Denver before we’ve even had a chance to say hello. It’ll be okay. I’ll stay right by your side and I won’t let Rob get within a hundred yards of you again.”
It had taken more talking on Cassie’s part to convince Clair, but in the end she’d succumbed and agreed to stay.
But not without a stiff drink.
The problem was, one stiff drink had become two. Then three. Then Clair had lost count.
And although Cassie had tried to be good to her word and remain close by, she’d been the head of the reunion committee and had had other responsibilities and duties that had made that impossible.
Instead, Cassie had sent her twin brother to act as a buffer.
Her twin brother, Ben. Reformed town bad boy. Hunk extraordinaire.
Clair had not minded that Rob had gotten to see her with the best-looking man in the room.
And since one semester at Northbridge High hadn’t left Ben a lot of things to reminisce about, once Cassie had turned Clair over to him, Ben had stayed by Clair’s side from then on.
Of course even though Clair didn’t know it for a fact, she’d assumed that Cassie had told Ben about her situation and, looking back on that night, Clair thought he’d probably just taken pity on her. But it hadn’t seemed that way at the time. At the time he’d been disarmingly sweet and charming. His wry observations of their classmates had made her laugh. He’d somehow managed to actually lift her spirits. To put her at ease. To make her feel good about herself again. To help her rise above the low blow her ex-husband had struck and make her completely forget Rob and his pregnant new wife were anywhere around.
And all the while he’d kept both her and himself well stocked with margaritas.
Yes, he’d had a whole lot to drink, too. Which had no doubt contributed to the fact that they’d ended up together…for the entire night.
“Northbridge. Fifteen miles,” Clair read aloud.
Take a deep breath and blow it out. Take a deep breath and blow it out….
It would have been so much easier if she hadn’t let Cassie talk her into staying at that reunion, Clair thought now. Or if, once she’d stayed, she’d continued not knowing Ben Walker existed—the way she’d hardly known he existed ten years ago.
But oh, brother had she known Ben Walker existed. With those smoky blue-green eyes and that deliciously wicked quirk that curled the corner of this mouth when he was showing that hint of devil that still lurked beneath the surface.
Clair had most certainly known he existed that night in June.
Not that she had a vivid memory of too much more than that when it came to Ben Walker, though. Beyond the way he looked and being with him during the early portion of the evening, she hardly remembered anything. She definitely didn’t recall how they’d gotten to her room at the local bed-and-breakfast where she was registered. And from that point, the rest of the night was just a blur she couldn’t bring into any kind of clear focus no matter how hard she tried.
But the next morning? Now that she remembered.
She’d been mortified to wake up in bed with a man she barely knew.
So mortified that while he was still sleeping, she’d run out on him without a word, without leaving him a note, without a remnant of herself left behind—as if that might erase what had happened between them. She’d left him in her room, thrown her suitcase in the back seat of her car and driven straight home, hoping she would never have to see Ben Walker again.
Hoping she could just forget that reunion, that trip to Northbridge, that one night. Hoping she could just forget it all.
And wouldn’t that have been nice….
But instead, a month after the reunion the Realtor who had been trying to sell the Northbridge School for Boys on her behalf had called to say he had a buyer. A buyer named Ben Walker.
Okaaay, she’d said, hoping the transaction could be done by proxy, that she still wouldn’t have to face him.
There was just one glitch.
Since her father was no longer living and able to turn the place over to the new owner himself, Clair had told the Realtor she was willing to do it. Only she’d told the Realtor that before there was even a buyer and before she’d had any idea that that new owner would be Ben Walker. And he was taking her up on the offer.
The
