Hold On To Me

CHAPTER TWELVE

Simone awoke to the tantalizing scent of frying bacon.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten much yesterday. Blinking several times, she sat up and looked through the tall glass windows over the clear blue lake and the snowcapped mountains beyond. Awe rippled through her. It had been nearly dark when they’d arrived last night, so she hadn’t gotten a good view of Lake Tahoe, and now that she saw it for the first time she couldn’t help but be impressed. For years she’d been meaning to bring Shannon up here but kept putting it off. Like she kept putting off a lot of things.

She pushed that depressing thought aside and rose from the comfy bed in the smallest bedroom, which she’d purposely picked last night, the farthest from the master where Ford had left their bags. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, but it didn’t ease the chill in the room. Rubbing her arms, Simone crossed to the bag Kate had packed for her, drew out a Stanford sweatshirt and tugged it on over her T-shirt.

A thin layer of snow covered the ground, but the skies were blue, not a cloud to be seen, and she remembered what Ford had said last night—that they weren’t expected to get any major snow, at least not today.

That was probably a good thing, in case they needed to get out of here fast. Glancing at the clock, she realized it was almost ten a.m. She couldn’t remember what time she’d finally fallen asleep, but it had been late. Instead of sleeping, she’d rolled around everything that had happened with Mitch the last few days and couldn’t stop thinking about his comment last night about not being able to avoid him.

Her stomach tightened, but this time not with hunger pains. Avoiding him was all she wanted to do at this point. Not wanting to think about that too much, she moved into the adjoining bathroom, brushed her teeth and combed her hair, then stared at her reflection.

She looked like hell. Dark circles were clearly evident beneath her eyes, and her cheeks looked hollow, her skin pale. She needed to take better care of herself for Shannon’s sake. When she got out of here and she decided where she and Shannon were going next, she’d make a point to eat better. Or simply just eat.

The scent of frying bacon drifted through the air once more, intensifying those hunger pains. She needed to eat now. But eating meant facing Mitch. And at this point she didn’t know what to say to him.

Running her fingers through her hair, she decided enough was enough. She found socks in her bag, slid them on, then headed for the hall.

Some football game was playing on the flat-screen TV when she stepped into the great room. Bacon sizzled on the stove, and the aroma of fresh brewed coffee hit Simone for the first time, waking up her senses in a way they hadn’t been before.

Mitch looked up from the stove, a spatula in hand. His heated gaze slid over her, then quickly moved back to the pan. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

Okay, she had that coming. Steeling her nerves, Simone fingered the gold bracelet on her wrist and moved into the room. “I smelled coffee.”

Liar.

He stirred scrambled eggs in the pan. “Help yourself.”

He hadn’t looked at her since she’d first walked into the room, and though she told herself that was a good thing, a tiny space in her chest pinched. Lifting her chin, she moved around the island, drew a mug out of the cabinet, and poured a cup of the steaming brew. The bitter liquid went down like a bullet, but it gave her a strength she’d been missing, and just this one small normality felt like a slice of control she’d lost.

Turning, she leaned back against the counter and looked toward Mitch. He’d obviously been up for a while, had already showered and was wearing loose-fitting jeans and a Mariners sweatshirt. No matter how long he lived in the Bay area or how many Giants games he went to, he would always be a Pacific Northwest boy, and the Mariners would always be his team.

He was right. She couldn’t go on avoiding him. They were stuck here together for at least the next few days. Instead of fighting it, she needed to at least be civil. And try not to make both of them miserable in the meantime.

“I apologize if I came across as rude last night. I was tired, and it had been a long day, and…” I don’t know how to be around you anymore. She swallowed hard. “…and I was a little overwhelmed by everything. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Mitch’s hand stopped moving over the pan, but he didn’t turn to look at her. “Apology accepted.”

Simone waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. And she figured she had that coming too. She took another sip for courage, then lowered her cup and worked like hell for normal. “Have you seen Ford this morning?”

He moved the eggs to a plate and added the eight slices of bacon he’d cooked. “Nope.”

He took the plate and his coffee to the table and sat down. Simone looked from him to the pans on the stove, which were now empty, then back to the table, which was only set for one. Her stomach rumbled.

“Oh, did you want breakfast?” Mitch asked.

Simone stiffened. He hadn’t cooked extra for her. But then why would he? She’d told him last night she didn’t want to be around him. But still, a tiny place in her chest pinched again. “No. I’m fine.”

A slow smile spread across Mitch’s face, and that damn dimple in his cheek that she always loved winked at her. He pulled an empty plate from beneath his and set it on the table across from him. Then he tugged an extra fork and napkin from the pocket of his sweatshirt. “Your lips may lie, but your stomach tells another story.” He scooped half the eggs and bacon onto the second plate. “Sit and eat. You can be annoyed with me later.”

The relief coursing through Simone’s veins felt stupid, but she saw the olive branch he was dangling, and she took it.

She sat and dove into her meal. Mitch smiled and lifted his fork. After several bites, Simone nodded toward the TV. “Who’s playing?”

“No one. They’re replaying an old game. 1991 Rose Bowl. What should have been the championship game.”

She looked closer and realized it was Washington playing, their purple uniforms standing out against the green field. He was from the Seattle area, and he was married to the Mariners. Yet he’d ended up at school in California. They’d dated long enough for her to know he loosely followed Husky football, but she didn’t know why.

She lifted her coffee. “Do you know someone who went to the University of Washington?”

“My parents.” He lifted a bite of eggs. “They met there.”

How had she never known that? “You didn’t want to go there too?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to play baseball. Cal gave me a scholarship.”

That was where he and Ryan had met. At Berkeley, where they’d both played baseball. “And Kate followed you there.”

He shook his head and nodded at her sweatshirt. “She went to Stanford. As she explained it, Stanford had the better geology program.”

“Do they?”

Mitch shrugged again. “Both programs are ranked in the top ten nationally. But no, they don’t.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Simone’s lips. Not because they were making small talk, but because she remembered the dozens of times she’d heard Mitch and Kate bickering about geology. Kate loved to razz Mitch about the fact he wasn’t doing important work shackled to an oil-and-gas company. And he loved to point out the world’s economy would come to a screaming standstill if people like him weren’t doing their jobs.

Appetite satiated, Simone pushed her plate back and leaned her forearms on the table as she looked past Mitch toward the view of the lake. It was just as beautiful downstairs as it had been from her room. The house was situated in such a way that all you could see were the trees and beach and lake… Not another house or person unless you specifically looked.

“Have you heard anything from Ryan?” she asked.

“No. He said it would be a few days.”

Simone knew that, but part of her had been hoping for news already. She felt helpless sitting here, doing nothing.

“I talked to Shannon this morning.”

Simone’s gaze snapped to Mitch. “You did?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Does that bother you?”

“No.” Did it? Yeah, okay, it did. A little.

“She called my cell around eight. You didn’t answer yours.”

Simone closed her eyes briefly. No, at eight a.m. she’d been sound asleep because she’d been awake the whole night thinking about the man next to her. “Is she okay?”

Mitch reached for his coffee. “She’s fine. They were getting ready to head to the boat. Said she’d call later.”

Simone nodded. Ryan’s parents had taken the kids to Hawaii, and they’d rented a boat, which they were going to sail around the islands until it was time to come home or until Simone went to get her. Simone had been against the plan until she’d found out what a seasoned captain Ryan’s father was—he owned his own marina up in Puget Sound—but she still worried. It was her job as a mother to worry.

“So I have a proposal,” Mitch said, his strong, familiar voice cutting through her crazy thoughts.

Cautiously, she looked his way. She couldn’t read his expression. He didn’t look especially happy, but he didn’t look pissed either, as he had the night his house had been shot up. “What kind of proposal?”

Thoughts of Ford’s comment from last night flashed through her mind, warming her skin in a way she didn’t expect.

He set his mug down and leaned his forearms on the scuffed wood table. “We’re stuck here together for a few days. The way I see it, we have two options. We can go on ignoring each other and both be miserable the entire time, or we can make the best of it.”

She wasn’t sure where he was going with this. “What do you mean by ‘make the best of it’?”

“I mean…I think we should forget about everything that happened before this morning and start over.”

Start over? Was he serious? Simone’s brow dropped even lower. How could they possibly start over after everything that had happened between them? Why would he even want to? Conflicting thoughts flashed in her brain, followed by a warmth in her stomach she didn’t want to feel.

Mitch frowned. “I’ve obviously confused you. I meant start over as friends. And if not that…then at least not enemies. I don’t want to spend the next few days fighting with you or ignoring you. We got along once without the romantic stuff. I think we could do it again. At least for a couple of days, if we tried. What do you think?”

That warmth went ice cold, and her stomach rolled all over again, but this time not from hunger. This time the pain was from knowing everything between them was truly over for good.

Which was the best thing all around, she reminded herself. The sooner he got away from her, the better off he’d be.

She lifted her shoulders and straightened her spine, telling herself this was the only way it could be. Even if they could somehow fix things between them—and that was a big if, considering everything that had happened—honestly, she wasn’t sure her heart could take another blow like the last.

“Yeah,” she managed. “I think we could do that.”

His smile widened. Not a heated smile. Not a come-get-me smile like she’d seen on his lips so many times before. But a friendly, I’m-making-the-best-of-it smile. One that made her feel even worse than before.

He pushed his chair back and reached for the plates. “Good. Why don’t you go get dressed, and I’ll clean up the kitchen. Then we can decide what we’re going to do with the rest of the day.”

Simone nodded and rose from the table. But as she made her way for the stairs, she couldn’t help but feel as if something inside had died. Something that had come to life the day Mitch Mathews had barreled into her life. Something she was sure she’d never find again.

Mitch watched Simone head for the stairs and clenched his jaw to keep from calling her back.

When he heard her bedroom door open and close upstairs, he set the plates on the counter in the kitchen, braced his hands against the cool granite, and drew in two deep breaths.

This was going to be harder than he’d thought. Act like nothing had happened? Yeah, he could do that. Act like he didn’t still want her, mind, body, and soul? No way. He was already aching with the need to touch her, and they’d only been here one night.

God, he was fucking pathetic.

The new cell phone he’d picked up on the drive to Tahoe buzzed, and he grasped it from the counter, anxious for word from Ryan. But when he saw the number on the screen, everything inside him stilled.

Chris Murdoch. His boss. His Cypher contact within the company.

His pulse picked up speed, and sweat gathered against his palms. It could just be about work. Chris was probably wondering why he hadn’t shown at the job site in British Columbia. But something in Mitch’s gut said this call had nothing to do with work. It had to do with what had happened at his house. And why the hell Mitch wasn’t already dead.

Mitch hit Decline, then chewed on the inside of his lip and debated his options. At some point he had to call Chris, but he wasn’t ready yet. Not until he had more info and knew how to play it.

He cleaned up the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, and poured himself another cup of coffee. By the time he was done, Simone was just coming back down the stairs.

He looked up when she stepped into the room, then nearly swallowed his tongue. She was wearing slim-fitting jeans, a loose white sweater with a ballet collar that showcased her toned shoulders, hung to her hips, and covered all but the tips of her fingers. Her hair was loose around her face, hanging in a fall of chocolate to her shoulders, and her face was clean of makeup except for a little mascara.

He’d seen her dolled up in expensive gowns for several charity events. He’d seen her in her lawyerly business suit, the picture of confidence. And he’d seen her first thing in the morning, when she’d roll over, all rumpled hair and smelling like him and the night before. And each of those times he’d thought she’d been at her most beautiful. But he’d been wrong. Walking into the room with the sunlight streaming over her, wearing that simple white sweater that shouldn’t be sexy but made him ache to touch her, he was pretty sure she’d never been more beautiful than she was right now.

“I heard your phone ring,” she said. “Was it Ryan?”

“No.” He fought back the need to reach out for her and tossed the dishtowel on the counter. “Someone from work.”

“You didn’t answer it, did you?”

“No. And I don’t plan to.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Good.” She dropped onto the couch, rested her elbow on the armrest, and rubbed her forehead. “I don’t mean good. It’s not good that you’re having to interrupt your life for all this.” She dropped her hand. “What I meant is—”

Mitch moved into the living area. “What you meant was…not to say anything. We’re starting over, remember? This is what it is. We’re both dealing with it. So no more apologizing, okay?”

She sighed and dropped her hand in her lap. But her eyes softened when she looked up at him. Not in the way they had been before, when they’d been a couple, but in a way that told him she was relaxing, if only a little.

He’d take that for now. Because…the sad truth was, he didn’t know what he wanted. His head was still a mess, and he was trying to sort things through in his brain. And he didn’t know what she wanted or if there was even still a chance for them. But this was more than he’d had yesterday. And until they heard from Ryan, it would be enough.

Or so he hoped.

“I think we need to do something to take our minds off everything.” He swiped his sweaty palm against his thigh and moved for the cabinet in the entertainment center he’d discovered earlier.

“I don’t think I’m up for watching a movie. If it was baseball season, I’d totally watch a game with you, but football really isn’t my thing.”

No, football definitely wasn’t her thing, and that didn’t bother him in the least. He only watched it this time of year because there wasn’t much else on after the World Series wrapped up. Memories of the games he’d taken her to at AT&T Park ricocheted in his brain, especially when he’d surprised her with tickets to see her beloved Orioles. And the way she’d thanked him after when they’d celebrated the Birds’ win over the Giants back at his house.

“Um”—he swallowed the lump growing in his throat—“I wasn’t thinking of a movie.” He grabbed the box in the cupboard and turned. “I was thinking of something a little more involved.”

Simone’s brown eyes widened when she saw what he was holding. “You want to play Monopoly?”

“We’ve got hours to kill. What do you say?”

Simone eyed him like he had a second nose smack in the center of his forehead. And yeah, maybe it was a stupid idea, but if he didn’t do something with his hands soon, he was going to reach for her, then all his plans about keeping things platonic so she’d stop avoiding him would be shot to hell. And if that happened, she might run before he had his answers.

“Come on.” He tipped his head and shot her his most devastating smile. “Unless you’re scared I’ll win. In which case, we could just call me the champ right now and find something else to do.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he saw it then—that flash of challenge, of interest, of strength. And in that moment, it was like looking at the old her. Not the victim he’d seen the night his house had been attacked. Not the one who was afraid to hold on to what she wanted. And definitely not the one who was ready to give up her life and run. No, in that second, he saw a spark that told him the confident, take-charge woman he’d fallen in love with was still in there.

She leaned slightly forward and pinned him with a look. “You do not want to challenge me at Monopoly. Trust me.”

His smile widened, and he set the box on the coffee table in front of her. “Why not?”

“Because Shannon and I play this all the time, and I never lose.”

“You take advantage of a ten-year-old? I’m pretty sure I can hold my own.”

“That ten-year-old will probably end up with an MBA. When it comes to Monopoly, she’s got claws as sharp as Ryan’s. Regardless, though, if you insist on playing, I will destroy you. Be forewarned.”

Mitch’s heart squeezed tight, and his smile faded. Sweetheart, you already did that. He pushed the hurt down and flipped the box lid open, then sat in the chair across from her and worked to keep things light. “We’ll see. Here. You can be the dog. I know how much you like to bitch at me. I’ll be the car.”

She lifted her brows and took the piece he handed her. “Good thing it’s not a minivan.”

His hand hesitated over GO. Yeah, good thing it wasn’t. There was a time he thought he was minivan material, but that was slowly drifting away. And right now, he wasn’t sure how, or if, he ever wanted it back.