Romeo: A Payne Brothers Romance Read online

  My butt hit the chair. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “It is the creator’s greatest shame that this world would be filled with horny toads. And it is an even greater travesty that so many flies would be eager to associate with those toads.”

  “O—kay.”

  “Those horny toads have only one thing on their mind. Gorging themselves on those flies. As many as they can. As many as will fit down their gullet. They will hunt, they will beg, and they will plead. And once they have a fly buzzing around their head—Snap!” Grandma punctuated the word with a heel clapping against the floor. “They will feast on that morsel, and when that fly is consumed they will begin the hunt for another fluttering, ignorant bite of prey.”

  I couldn’t look at her, but I offered a polite nod. “Men are toads. I got it.”

  “It’s not just the toads. It is the flies who are the real problem. These flies are not the brightest. They’re not like you, my little Ladybug. They deliberately get themselves in trouble. They feast on garbage. They linger in dirty, filthy places. And they allow themselves to fall for whatever line those toads may croak. The flies think those horny toads love them. But all they want is a quick snack before they hop back into the pond.”

  “So, I’ve gotta be careful.” I did my best to agree. “And I will be. You can trust me.”

  “That is not what I am saying at all.” Her voice turned stern. “You hush up and listen.”

  A girl can only take so much. “I understand what you’re saying. But Grandma, I am…still a ladybug. One with no spots, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do not.”

  Only my grandmother would equate sex with insects and then refuse to scrutinize my metaphor.

  “This ant has never wandered far from the hill,” I said. “This bee has been focused solely on the hive. My spiderweb is pristine.”

  “If you won’t take this seriously—”

  “Grandma, I’m trying to tell you that everything’s okay. I am a butterfly who is quite comfortable in her cocoon. I am a cricket who has never jumped. A mantis who has completed all of her prayers. A dragonfly quite content within her little fairytale. And I am not a fly wasting my time with horny toads.”

  Her face pinched. She eyed me with a fierce stare. “Are you mocking me?”

  I groaned. “No, Grandma. I’m trying to tell you that I am a virgin. I haven’t had sex. I’ve had absolutely no contact with any horny toads, and I am not looking for that sort of experience when I go to Europe. My goal is to go on this trip and explore the world and learn more about myself. Believe me. I am doing this to get as far away from boys as possible. I am a virgin. I intend to stay that way for the foreseeable future.”

  Grandma quieted, sipping from her tea. “I don’t want you to throw this away.”

  “I know that my virginity is important. I’m not going to just give it up for anyone.”

  “I wasn’t talking about your virginity.” She quieted. “I’m talking about your youth.”

  That I didn’t expect.

  My cup clattered onto the saucer. I hunted for a towel to sop up the mess, but Grandma returned me to the table with a curl of her finger.

  “You’re listening to me, but you refuse to hear what I’m trying to tell you,” she said. “And I understand that. When my grandmother talked to me about these sorts of things, I was a little defiant as well. But, eventually, I listened. And I listened good. And because of her advice, my life turned out dramatically different and for the better.” Her eyebrow arched. “Just because I’m old doesn’t meant I don’t understand this world.”

  “I never said that.”

  “And just because I’m a widow, it doesn’t mean I am ignorant of men, love, and sexual relations.”

  There was that word again. I swallowed. “Of course not.”

  “You are so young, Lady. And yet you are planning out your entire life on papers and schedules and maps. And once you get to all these fabulous locations, I suspect your nose will be buried in that phone of yours, looking up tidbits of information and secrets, historical statistics of buildings that should’ve turned to dust eons ago. I know you, child. And if you are not careful, you will only see every landmark, city skyline, and feat of engineering as proof that you are no longer in Butterpond.”

  “That’s not true,” I said. “I’m really excited. I have it all mapped out. Paris and London, Prague and Edinburg.”

  Grandma waved a hand. “Yes, yes, yes. I know the locations. It was my itinerary, after all. The very path I had planned to see with your grandfather, rest his soul.”

  I frowned. “So, I thought you’d be excited for me. I’m going to take tons of pictures. Videos. It’ll feel like you’re there.”

  “And where will you be during this trip, Lady?” She lifted her teacup to her lips. She scowled, and the steam seemed to dissipate before she took a sip. “Tell me again why you are traveling to Europe on the trip of my dreams?”

  My stomach twisted. “Because they’re my dreams too.”

  “Are they?”

  I hated how her stare forced the words I was unwilling to say from my reluctant lips.

  “You and I are so alike,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to see the world. So did you. And since you won’t go with me—”

  “I am far too old for such things.”

  “—Then I’ve gotta go for the both of us. I thought you would be happy.”

  “I will be happy once you are happy, child.”

  “I am.”

  Her brows arched. “You told me that this would be your last summer in Butterpond. That you were searching for adventure, excitement, and the experience that only a large, busy city could offer.” She paused. “I hope that somewhere in those foreign lands, with all their mystery and romance, that you finally find what you are missing.”

  I shrugged. Grandma hated that. The lazy gesture offered no real contribution to a proper conversation. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure what else to do or say.

  “The only thing I’m missing is everything that’s out there,” I said. “I want to see what else there is in this world.”

  She nodded. “One might suggest that the entire world could not offer you the happiness could you can find within yourself.”

  “I’ll take a good look at myself once I’m in Paris, not Butterpond.”

  “Then go.” She gestured towards the door. “Maybe you should be in Paris then, not in my guest home, throwing yourself pity parties all night.”

  “It’s not pity.”

  “You sit there and lie to your dear grandmother. Is this what wanderlust does to a girl?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not lying.”

  “And you aren’t telling yourself the truth.” Grandma sighed. “I know something is wrong, child. You have not been acting like the Lady Barlow that I know. She’s someone vivacious and bright, too smart to let herself lose out on one of life’s greatest chases. She has a good head on her shoulders, and a bright future ahead of her…as long as she realizes that life is not either/or.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Life is not either finding yourself happiness in Paris…or trapping yourself within the small-town insanity of Butterpond. It is not about saving yourself for the right moment and the right man in the right city with the right words…or giving up your virtue and ruining your life.” She hesitated. “I don’t know why you are running, but until you admit the real reason, you will be no better off in Europe than you would be in Butterpond. And if you continue to deny yourself real happiness, you’re going to end up belly flopping into that pond, getting chased by horny toads.”

  “I—”

  “One summer will not make a good life. One mistake with a man does not make you less virtuous. And one lie you tell yourself will never make you happy. No grandchild of mine should ever be so intimidated by the prospect of failure that she’d run away from what she truly wants.”

  I stayed quiet, staring only at my tea.

  Grandm
a stood, casting a disapproving glance over the living room. “I can see you have some tidying up to do, so I will leave you to it.”

  “Okay.”

  “When is your departure date?”

  I hadn’t set one. “I’m not sure yet. Still deciding.”

  Grandma hummed. “Take all the time you wish, child. In time, I think you’ll realize that you won’t find what you want in Paris.”

  She offered me her arm, and I led her to the door, kissing her cheek before she stepped onto the porch.

  Grandma gestured towards the coat closet. “And if you do decide that this boy is the one you like—”

  My stomach hit the dirt and rolled like it was on fire. “There is no—”

  Her cane rattled. It was the greatest polygraph in all Butterpond.

  “When you decide that he is the one, bring him to me so that I may meet him. If this one has turned your head, then he must be a man worth my attention as well.”

  Grandma would forever deny that she’d smiled.

  She shuffled back to her house, and I closed the door behind me, pinching my eyes shut.

  The old woman was very astute. Unfortunately, she had yet to unravel the entire mystery. It wasn’t like I could just bring home my sworn enemy to meet my grandmother. Even a platonic friendship was grounds for getting disowned.

  Falling in love with the Payne was nothing but a disaster waiting to happen.

  But she was right. What good was it doing me, moping around, denying my feelings, hiding the truth from the man who deserved it the most?

  I’d given myself this summer to figure out exactly what I wanted for my life, and I thought that ridding myself of a persistent childhood crush would finally un-complicate my soul. I’d hoped I could see myself clearly for the first time.

  But that crush had grown into something more. Something terrifying and beautiful and thoroughly problematic. Ignoring it had only made me question myself more.

  Was it possible that my feelings were genuine? Real? Not just an invention of childhood fantasy, but the sort of whirlwind romance that fluttered hearts and promised lifetimes of joy and pain, hardship and heartache, and beautiful possibilities?

  Was it possible I actually loved Quint Payne?

  I was going to regret this. Probably immediately, but at least I could hop a plane and fly half a world away from this crazy mistake.

  I placed my full weight on the closet door, banged my forehead against the wood, and cleared my throat.

  “Quint, I’m going to let you out now. But there’s something you need to know first.”

  Sweat beaded on my forehead. Always a great look for a woman baring her soul.

  “Ever since I was little, I’ve had a crush on you.”

  The words tumbled out, but I didn’t give him a chance to respond.

  “I always thought you were an amazing, handsome, fun-loving guy. And now, the older I get, the more I realize that those are exactly the qualities that I want in a man.”

  I paused. Listened.

  I must’ve shocked him. Quint went silent. It would’ve been a miracle if it wasn’t so frightening.

  “I left Butterpond after high school for a reason. And it wasn’t because I wanted to go to college in Colorado so I could help my parents set up the new franchises. I left because of you. I thought I could find somebody else who could make me feel the way you do. Someone who wouldn’t be so much trouble for my family. But…it didn’t happen. I used you as the measure for every man I met. Even half a country away, you were all I could think about.”

  He said nothing.

  I expected that. This was all too sudden, so real, and utterly insane.

  “I know that you’ve only had hookups,” I said. “That you’re gone in the morning, and you don’t remember her name. But that’s not what I want. And I don’t think it’s what you want either. We both need something real. Something to trust. Someone to share this amazing life. Someone who understands our most intimate thoughts and desires.”

  I couldn’t breathe, but I welcomed that tightness. The panic squeezed my chest, pouring every last secret from my lips.

  “I don’t care who our families are. I don’t care what your family did or didn’t do. I’m not going to let Duke and Marquis take your farm, and I’m not going to fear telling them the truth.” I took a breath. “I don’t want to be friends. I don’t want to be just that cute girl in town that you know. And I don’t want to grow old and regret what might have been.”

  I seized a breath and silently prayed.

  “Quint, I’m in love with you.”

  Silence.

  A lot of silence.

  My heart thudded too fast, but I didn’t worry about the fluttering. At least it hadn’t stopped. Yet.

  “Quint?” I asked. “I know that’s a lot to process. But say something.”

  My stomach twisted in the uncertain quiet.

  Had I said too much? Had I not said enough?

  Shoot. Maybe I’d completely misread him. Maybe rebuking him all those times had convinced Quint that I wasn’t interested in him?

  Or maybe he had never felt the same for me.

  Maybe he’s just been flirting. Looking to score.

  Maybe this stupid little fly had just yanked open the horny toad’s mouth only to dive down his throat.

  Christ. I was an idiot.

  I ripped open the closet door, mumbling a thousand apologies.

  Quint dove over me, but I wasn’t ready to catch him. I stumbled backwards, collapsing onto the ground.

  It wasn’t exactly getting swept off my feet, but I didn’t mind the enthusiasm. The elbow to the gut, however, was not the most romantic gesture. I pushed him off me, sucking in a useless breath that refuse to stuff into my lungs.

  “Quint.” I gasped for air. “Yes, you’re very funny. Don’t pretend you’re swooning. I just bared my soul to you. Have a heart.”

  Hell. He already had mine.

  I poked his side.

  Nothing.

  I jabbed his arm.

  Still no movement. I pulled my hand away and rubbed his cold sweat from my fingers. My stomach dropped.

  “Quint?”

  I rolled him over. His face had turned ashen, and his breathing shallow.

  The diabetic was out cold.

  What good was confessing the secrets of my heart when the real trouble began in his pancreas?

  The best way for a woman to prove how much she loved a man?

  Taking him to the hospital.

  7

  Quint

  Hospitals fucking sucked.

  It wasn’t my first time waking up in a hospital. And, given my childhood diagnosis of Type I diabetes, it wouldn’t be the last. I had a lifetime of issues, complications, and potential illnesses that would eventually keep me familiar with this wing of Ironfield General.

  I prided myself on being a rather optimistic guy…until someone dragged my ass to the hospital.

  Every treatment was the same. A little glucose. A couple of blood tests. My ass would get poked and prodded, but never by the cute nurses. Same shit. Different day. Slap a Band-Aid over my arm once they pulled the IV out, and I’d be on my way with my packets of information about proper diets and the same bullshit I’d been told about my disease ever since I was a kid.

  But this time was different.

  Lady had never left my side.

  It wouldn’t be my proudest seduction, but a man could only work with what he had. In my case, I could flex the arm with the IV. Show a little leg in my hospital gown. Flash a panty-melting smile at the beautiful woman as she dragged the chair closer to the bed.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t get Lady hot and bothered. The whole situation had her worried.

  “I should’ve told you that they were sugar-free brownies.” Lady still sniffled. She hid the tears by buffing her glasses with her skirt. “I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

  It was sweet, but I’d counted on those carbs to keep my sugar u
p until I went home. Falling asleep didn’t help. Forgetting my insulin at the farm was worse.

  “I’ll never complain if someone bakes for me,” I said.

  “What if it nearly kills you?”

  I tugged on the wires attached at my wrist, finger, chest. Fortunately, I’d avoided the one they wanted to shove up my dick.

  I shrugged. “Unless I’m choking on a brownie, they won’t kill me.”

  Lady nervously tapped her fingernails on the cracking plastic padding of her chair. She frowned. Still looked beautiful, but this woman never deserved to be unhappy, especially when it was my doing.

  “This is all my fault,” Lady said. “We fell asleep on the couch. I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve known better.”

  “Relax,” I said. “You got to fall asleep next to a sexy beast like me. Most women would consider themselves lucky.”

  “It was awful.”

  “Kick a man while he’s down, why don’t you.”

  Lady sighed. “I did wake up in the middle the night. But I didn’t send you home. Instead…oh, it’s terrible.”

  We had different definitions of the word terrible.

  “What?” I asked. “Did you take some naked pictures of me or something? Because those are already on the internet.”

  She couldn’t bear to look at me. “No. It’s worse than that.”

  Now she had me worried. “Don’t tell me you did something kinky and I wasn’t awake for it.”

  “No. I wrapped the blanket around us.”

  Oh, Heavens to Betsy.

  My head and body still ached. I didn’t have the strength to decipher this bullshit yet.

  “Only you could make something sweet sound so bad,” I said.

  “I wasn’t thinking. I curled up beside to you. Under the blankets.” Lady could bear to admit it aloud. Her voice hushed, nearly trembling. “It wasn’t a very friendly thing to do.”

  “Sleeping beside each other?”

  “Yes.”

  “…Did we have clothes on?”

  “Thank God.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Quint, I think we were cuddling.”

  “Wouldn’t know. Never done it before.”