“All the Mavericks do.” Throughout the game, Susan had talked of her other foster sons and of her own children. “Susan and Bob have a lot of love to give.”
“So does Evan,” Theresa said in a soft voice, one that was filled with so much longing it nearly broke Paige’s heart.
She wished she had the right words to make it better. Something more than, “This trip is a good start.” One small step on what Paige hoped was the road to forgiveness.
Theresa clasped her hands, as if in prayer. “He seems to really be bonding with the twins. I’ll be patient. It can’t happen in one weekend.”
Paige felt a great kinship with Theresa in that moment.
Because patience where Evan’s heart was concerned was something Paige knew all too well.
* * *
After they’d eaten, Evan said, “It’s been a great day, but I’ve got a few things to take care of before bed. I’ve got a room at a local hotel so I won’t crowd anyone out. I’ll see everyone in the morning for breakfast.” He pulled Susan beneath his arm. “You haven’t eaten breakfast until you’ve had Susan’s eggs Benedict.”
“Paige,” Susan said suddenly, “it would probably be best if you stayed at the hotel too.”
Paige couldn’t hide her surprise at this suggestion. A beat later, however, she wondered if this was Susan’s way of not only saying she approved of what might be going on between her and Evan, but also giving them a helping hand in making it happen.
Still looking at Susan as if she’d just lost her mind, Evan said, “There’s always been plenty of room here for Paige before.”
She wanted to smack him, even if he was running scared after the three deliriously glorious kisses they’d shared. But she wanted to hug Susan.
Especially when she said, “The bathrooms will be crowded when we’re all trying to get ready in the morning. Not to mention the hot water with all those showers.”
With that, Evan didn’t have a single excuse left.
While everyone hugged Evan good-bye for the night—even Theresa, who, miracle of miracles, he didn’t push away—Susan gave Paige a hug.
In a low voice, she said, “He needs to decompress and talk through the day’s events. This has been a big step for him.”
“I know.” Paige nodded. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t hold it all in.”
“Thank you, honey. I can always trust you to take care of him. And I know he’ll always be there for you too.”
Susan could have simply been talking about their friendship. But Paige was certain that she heard something more in his foster mother’s words.Something that sounded a lot like love.
Chapter Twenty-One
Thank God the hotel had another room available. Because if they’d had to share a room…
Evan didn’t have one damn ounce of willpower left after sitting next to Paige all day, surrounded by her fragrance, her heat, her voice, her laughter. Just the five-minute drive to the hotel had been almost more than he could bear.
“Let’s have a drink in the bar,” she said after the young man at reception had given them their room keys.
It wasn’t a five-star hotel, but Evan had wanted to stay as close to Susan and Bob’s as possible. This place was well-maintained, with soft music playing and modern decor. It had a bellhop, and he’d already sent their suitcases up to their rooms. The bar next to the restaurant was fairly full, populated by tourists and business people.
Having a drink with Paige? Not a good idea. She was too much temptation, her lips too kissable, her scent too mind-altering.
But how the hell could he possibly resist her invitation when what he wanted above anything was to spend more time with her? Exquisite, torturous, amazing time with her. “Sounds good.”
Paige looped her arm through his. Her soft curves were tantalizing, making him recall his brief, accidental touch along her calf when he’d leaned down to find the fallen die.
Although he could have avoided touching her if he’d really wanted to. Evan Collins was a Maverick, after all. A master of control.
Except when it came to Paige.
Everything inside him ached with a desire he’d never known. It was like the warm waters of the bright blue Caribbean Sea, all-encompassing. It was more than want, more than desire. It was complete and total aching need. She was the only person who made him feel whole and good. The one person who made him feel like he had a prayer of figuring out his family, his failed marriage, his life, so that he could actually find true happiness one day.
And still, he knew he couldn’t have her. Couldn’t be with her. Knew it was impossible.
After they’d found a small table, he asked, “What would you like to drink?”
“Champagne.”
He cocked a brow. “Are we celebrating?”
She smiled up at him, her face so beautiful and hopeful in the flickering light from the table’s candle. She was one of the most direct people he’d ever known, which was why he wasn’t surprised when she said, “I hope so.”
He knew what she wanted to hear: that he’d forgiven Theresa and they would all live happily ever after. But he couldn’t give her that.
Not when happily ever after had let him down so badly.
The waitress was inundated by the other tables—and he was in dire need of some space to get his head, and heart, back in rational, working order—so he went to the bar himself, returning a few minutes later with champagne and a beer. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy champagne. But drinking it together seemed so romantic. Too romantic, if he wanted even half a hope of resisting her.