Page 48 of Come to Me

Micki's brow furrowed with concern. She stood, moving toward him. "You don't seem fine. What's bothering you? Did something happen today?" She reached out to touch his arm.

Patrick jerked his arm away as if scalded. "I don't need your pity, Michaela."

She flinched at his harsh tone. She held up her hands in a placating gesture. "Whoa. I'm not pitying you, I'm just?—"

"You're just trying to integrate me into this...this world that I don't belong in," Patrick interrupted. "Well, I'm not interested in being your latest project, okay? I came here to get myself together, not to be your boy toy or whatever the hell is going on here."

Micki's lips parted, but no words came. She watched, stunned, as Patrick's eyes bore down on her with resentment. She couldn't decide if she was more angry or hurt at his insinuations.

"I need to focus on my life. I can't afford any more...distractions." He waved his hand at her like she was a gnat he needed to flick away.

Micki's expected his typical reserved demeanor, not this angry dismissal. "Distractions?" she repeated, her voice small. "Is that really how you see me?"

"I didn't mean?—"

"No, I think you made it pretty clear." Micki crossed her arms defensively, as if that could protect her from the hurt Patrick was hurling at her. "I was just trying to make sure you were comfortable and enjoying your stay."

He leaned in. "It's more than that and you know it, unless you sleep with all your guests."

Shock reverberated through her. "Is this the real you?" Had she been wrong about him this whole time? Did Sydney know this side of him?

His jaw ticked. "What do you want from me? Do you see me as someone who can save you from your financial woes, is that why?—"

She wanted to slap him. Instead, she held up her hand to stop him. "Don't say another word, Dr. Andres. You've already called me a whore. Don't add gold digger to the list."

Patrick's expression softened slightly, a hint of regret flashing across his features. "Look, this isn't easy for me, okay? I've got a lot of...stuff I'm trying to work through, and I can't afford any...complications."

Micki arched a brow. "Complications? Wow. Here I thought we were having a good time. Enjoying each other’s company."

"I won't deny that it was nice?—"

"Nice. God. Are you trying to hurt me, or does it come naturally to you?"

He let out an explicative. "No, I don't want to hurt you. But I can't do this anymore."

"Turns out, I can't either." She shook her head, blinking back the sting of tears. "I get it. I'll leave you alone to...work on your stuff." She turned to leave, slipping out the door, closing it behind her.

Once outside, Micki leaned against the cabin, the weight of Patrick's words crashing down on her. Sure, she knew they weren't a forever after sort of couple, but she'd been certain they'd been friends at least. Okay, so maybe her feelings had dipped into something beyond that. More than a fling.

Micki swiped at the tears that threatened to spill over. She'd put herself out there, made herself vulnerable, and Patrick had stomped all over her heart. A part of her wanted to march right back in there and give him a piece of her mind. But another, more rational part, knew that would only make things worse.

The truth was, it was her fault for letting herself feel more than they'd agreed to. His harsh rejection, hurtful as it was, turned out to be a good thing to stop her from falling for the jerk.

With a resigned sigh, Micki pushed off the cabin and made her way back to the main house. As she got father away from him, she was nearly grateful to him for putting an end to things, although he could have been gentler about it. Her father was ailing, and the resort was struggling. She needed to stay focused on keeping it afloat, not indulging in…distractions.

She was nothing if not a good host. Despite his treatment of her, she'd ensure Patrick's stay was comfortable and uneventful. But that would be all.

CHAPTER 15

Patrick hated how he'd hurt Michaela. He hadn't wanted to be harsh, but the pull to take her in his arms and escape his inner turmoil was too much. He couldn't keep doing that and also figure out his life. So, he'd been cruel, and he hated himself for it.

He sank down on the edge of the bed, burying his head in his hands. When had he become so heartless? Michaela had been nothing but kind and understanding, offering him a refuge from the chaos of his life. And how had he repaid her? By pushing her away, lashing out when all she'd wanted was to help.

He cursed himself for his cowardice, for not having the strength to face his own demons. Michaela deserved so much better than his cold indifference. But he couldn't afford the distraction, not when he was teetering on the edge of a breakdown.

With a heavy sigh, Patrick lifted his head, his gaze drawn to the open window and the serene beauty of the lake beyond. He felt a pull there as well. To the tranquility. The peace. The raw beauty. For a moment, he had a glimpse of letting this place be his salvation. Fishing with Tate. Helping Mr. Kincaid with upkeep. Eating Mrs. Kincaid’s delicious meals. Losing himself in Michaela’s beautiful smile and sexy body. But as quickly as the thought came, he pushed it away. He doesn’t fit in here. That was made painfully clear today four-wheeling. His life was in New York. He’d felt capable. Successful. Accomplished. He had to get that back, hopefully on his own terms. Sure, his life in New York didn’t have the passion and adventure he found here, but it was comfortable.

Dr. Patrick Andres awoke this morning, as he had the last several mornings, with a start, the dreams of Michaela still vivid in his mind. Michaela smiling and laughing as they splashed in the lake. Michaela rising over him, taking him for the sweetest ride to pleasure. He didn’t deserve these dreams. Perhaps they were so sweet, so sexy as punishment for his heinous behavior. Behavior he knew he should apologize for but hadn’t found the courage to do so without also begging for more. More that he couldn’t ask for.

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