"But I don't want anyone else falling over herself. I just want you."
She couldn't help but giggle. "I'm not in the habit of falling all over myself."
"Maybe you could make an exception. Just this once."
Still laughing, she pressed a soft kiss against his shoulder.
This seemed to encourage him, because he added, "I'll be happy to pick you up, any time you fall all over yourself to get to me."
"That's good to know."
"And just think how nice it would be."
"How nice what would be?"
"For us to be together. For us to not to have to compete all the time."
Warning bells started to go off at the back of her mind. She'd known this was too good to be true-there must have been a reason for her to feel so guilty afterwards-but she'd wanted it so much she'd ignored her rational thoughts. "Why wouldn't we compete?"
"We could be partners." He lifted his head, his eyebrows drawing together. "Right? I've always said we should work together instead of always working against each other. Then all the competition wouldn't matter. Silas could work for both of us. There wouldn't be any tension."
"Oh. Right." She took a deep breath, suddenly realizing she'd been stupid again. So incredibly stupid.
She was overwhelmed with a familiar wave of grief, of guilt, of knowledge that nothing would ever really change.
"What's the matter?" He could obviously tell that something was wrong, because he was lifting himself up into a sitting position.
"It's like last time."
"What's like last time?"
"You act like you're all sweet and supportive, but you really just want my business."
"I don't want your business." A frown had tightened over the pleased satisfaction on his face. "I want us to work together."
"I should have remembered how hard you worked to poach Silas, just this week. I don't know how I...You've been trying to get what you want all been about."
She remembered how she'd felt when she overheard Joe in the hardware store, laughing about how crazy she was about him, how easy it would be to convince her to sell out. She'd felt so cheap. So used. So foolish. She'd known-she'd known-the same thing might happen again, but she let herself be foolish anyway.
Because she'd wanted it so much. She'd wanted Joe. She'd wanted to move on.
She'd wanted to let go of all the grief and guilt lingering from Carl's death.
But she couldn't let go. Not like this, anyway. Not when Joe had an underlying agenda, exactly as he'd had two and a half years ago.
She suddenly couldn't bear to be close to him, to have him see how crushed she was at this realization. She scrambled out of bed and reached for her clothes on the floor.
"What are you doing?" Joe asked, straightening up, his expression becoming urgent.
"I'm leaving."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not going to go through this again." She couldn't find her panties, so she just pulled on her sweatpants without them, followed by her tank and sweater. "It's just like last time, isn't it?"
"No!" Joe was trying to get off the bed, but he evidently got tangled up in the sheets. He gave a frustrated roar as he tried to get the covers off him. "It's not like-"
She didn't wait for him to finish. She slid on her shoes and grabbed her purse before hurrying for the door.
"Vanessa, wait! Damn it!" It sounded like he stumbled in the bedroom, but she was at the front door now and moving quickly. "It's nothing like last-"
Of course, it wasn't exactly like last time. It was much, much worse.
She was close to tears as she ran down the stairs and out onto the street. Fortunately, her car was parked close, and she was fumbling for her keys as Joe burst out the door behind her.
He'd pulled on his boxer briefs, but he had nothing else on as he stood on the sidewalk. "Vanessa, wait! I said it wrong before. I made it sound wrong! It's nothing like-"
She was in the car before he finished the sentence, and she pealed out into the street before he could reach the car door.
She glanced back into the rearview mirror and saw him standing in his underwear on the sidewalk, watching her drive away from him.
***
Joe kept calling her until she finally had to turn off her phone. She went over to Missy's house instead of going home, in case Joe decided to show up at her place to talk to her. Missy was happy to have her stay and sleep on the couch, even though she'd shown up in the middle of the night without warning.
Later in the morning, Vanessa would have avoided Eden Manor completely, but today was the deadline for the staircase, so she had to make sure Ruth got it done and there wasn't anything else that needed doing before Mr. Damon arrived tomorrow.
She waited until late in the morning to show up, and she was relieved to see that Joe's truck wasn't parked in its usual place.
Ruth had worked late the evening before on the balustrade, and it was looking beautiful when Vanessa entered through the front door to inspect it.
"It just needs a final polish," Ruth said, grinning as she gazed at her work. "What do you think?"
"It's perfect. Hal is coming this afternoon with his buddy to finish up the steps. They should be able to get them done by this evening so the stairs will be perfect tomorrow." She took a deep breath and tried to be happy about this project being finished on time and so well, but she felt sick and exhausted and just wanted to go to bed and sleep for several days. She wanted to wake up and not have her heart crushed like it was.
None of that was likely to happen, however, so she pushed the emotion away. Since she didn't want to sit around all day and think about Joe, she decided to help Ruth polish the balustrade.
Vanessa focused on rubbing the beautiful wood with polish and tried to clear her mind of everything else. At one o'clock, they were almost done. Her back was sore and her shoulder was tired, but at least she'd managed to accomplish something constructive.
"Why don't you head out?" she said to Ruth, who had stood up and was stretching her back. "I just need to finish this last section and it will be done."
"I can-"
"You've already gone far above the call of duty," Vanessa said with a smile. "You've done an amazing job for such a short amount of time. Go get some rest."
Ruth nodded. She looked tired, and so didn't seem inclined to argue too strenuously. But she said, "I'll stop back here around dinner time to make sure the steps turned out well."
Vanessa agreed to this plan and went back to polishing. She emptied her mind again, pouring all her focus and energy into the simple motion of her body, the way the wood began to shine inch by inch.
She was so intent on her job that she didn't know anyone else had entered the hallway until she heard a voice from behind her.
"It looks great."
She gasped at the words and jerked so abruptly that her back caught. With a pained wince, she tried to straighten up from her position crouched on the bottom step.
When her eyes could focus, she saw Joe standing just inside the front door. He wore jeans and a gray T-shirt and looked just as tired as she felt.
He hadn't shaved again today. His beard was growing out.
"Thanks," she said, her instinctive manners kicking in without her thinking. When someone gave you a compliment, you thanked them-no matter who it was.
"Why did you leave like that?" Joe asked, after a moment of silence. His tone was strangely quiet, as if he were holding back something powerful with only the force of his will.
"Because I didn't want to talk to you."
"We need to talk."
She gave a little shrug. "Maybe. But I'm not ready to yet."
"When will you be ready?"
"I don't know."
"I'm tired of waiting," he said, rubbing his chin. He looked more than tired. He looked battered and worn.
"I'm sorry you're tired, but you're not the only one involved in this, and you don't necessarily get everything exactly as you want it. I'm really upset, and I don't want to talk to you right now."
"There's no reason for you to be upset, Vanessa." He took a step forward and reached out to cup her face.
She jerked away from him, since his touch was so intimate, so much what she wanted. "Yes, there is. Do you think I like letting myself be an idiot again? Letting you take advantage of-"
"I didn't take advantage of anything," he snapped. He reached out for her again, this time clasping her upper arm in an urgent gesture, as if he was afraid she would slip away. "You know that."
"I know-"
"You know that. You're still protecting yourself. I get that. I really do. But if you would take a minute to think about it, you would know this is nothing like it was two years ago. I would never do that."
"Do what?" she burst out, taking several steps away from him. The rag was still in her hand from polishing, and she clutched at it desperately. "You would never pretend to be interested in me to get what you wanted?"