Well Built (Book Boyfriend #3)(12)

"Yes . . . no," she quickly amended when she realized what she'd agreed to. She looked thoroughly flustered, her complexion blushing an attractive shade of pink. "Not like that."

He shrugged and shoved the tips of his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

She frowned at him. So much for coaxing a smile from her or breaking the ice.

She released a slow breath, and the rigid set of her shoulders slackened a bit as she met his gaze, her own imploring. "Kyle . . . I want that building. Badly," she said in a soft voice that lacked any of the frustration or the attitude that had accompanied her into his office a few moments ago. "I'd planned on expanding the market, which is long overdue, and I already had local artisans lined up to sell their products in the addition, as well."

She shifted on her heels and swallowed hard, and he knew this plea wasn't easy for her. "I don't know why you bought the building in the first place when you don't even live in Woodmont, but I'd like you to sell it to me. I'm willing to offer what you paid for it, plus an additional ten percent on top of that for your trouble. It's not a bad profit for one day's time."

His stomach twisted into a giant knot of regret, because at the moment, with her guard down, she looked so relatable. And so much more vulnerable, which added to the emotional conflict he was suddenly experiencing. His Ella had always been feisty and strong-willed, and he could only imagine what it had taken for her to show him anything less than confidence and unwavering determination. She was such a fighter, and he was about to crush any chance she believed she might have to get the building back. 

"I'm sorry, Ella. It's not for sale. At any price." His tone was gentle but firm. There was no room for negotiation on this issue for him.

A fine sheen of moisture glistened in her green eyes, and he suspected the tears she was valiantly holding back were out of sheer disappointment. "Are you doing this to spite me or because of some kind of grudge you're holding against me or my family from the past?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"What?" Her question momentarily took him aback. "Jesus, no."

He pushed his fingers through his hair, hating that she believed such a thing, that she believed, even a little bit, that he'd had malicious intentions. God, their past was so complicated, not to mention all the bitter, angry emotions still lingering between them. So many awful things said in the heat of the moment that had never been fixed or explained or apologized for, and had been kept alive for ten long years.

Driven purely by instinct, he pushed away from the desk and slowly approached Ella until he'd closed the distance between them. She tipped her head back slightly to look up at him, more than a little wary, though she didn't move away. Her eyes were wide and luminous and revealed just enough pain-the emotional kind that was equivalent to a knife twisting in his chest-and he wanted it gone. All of it. The hurt, the animosity, the resentment . . . everything.

He wanted a clean slate between them.

They'd never be what they once were-young and in love and hopeful about a future together-but he'd like to believe that they might be able to at least be friends going forward. But even that couldn't happen until he made amends for his past mistakes.

Without thinking through his actions, he lifted a hand and brushed a soft strand of hair away from the side of her face. His fingers skimmed along her cheek, and she sucked in a startled breath, not in fear or panic but in undeniable awareness of his touch. It wasn't wishful thinking, either. It was a fact, because her beautiful, expressive eyes truly were, and had always been, windows to her soul. Even after all this time, he recognized the subtle longing and undisguised desire before she realized what she'd revealed with that small sound and those irresistible green irises. Seconds later, she seemed to regain her presence of mind and moved her head back, severing the connection between them.

Kyle dropped his hand back to his side. "Ella . . . there is no spite as far as I'm concerned, and I've never held a grudge," he told her truthfully. He wasn't sure if this was the time or the place, but if he didn't finally say the words that he'd kept to himself for too long, he feared he'd lose the opportunity. "I know this is coming ten years too late, but I'm so sorry about what happened that night, for the things I said and how it all ended. For your sister . . ." a shocking miscarriage. "For your father . . . " a debilitating stroke. "For us . . . " accusations, outrage, and a bitter breakup that had cost him the best thing in his life. Her.

He exhaled a deep breath, and holding her gaze, he finished. "Walking away from you was the most difficult thing I've ever done, and the second most difficult thing was not going back to Woodmont to make things right. I never should have left despite you wanting me gone. I should have been there for you when you needed someone the most."