Page 86 of Love, Lies, and Celtic Knots

As I make my way upstairs to my old room, my thoughts drift to Candace. If only things had been different. If only we’d been together all these years. If only she were mine—my wife, my sub—I’d have the power to deal with her. I could take her over my knee, strip away that icy façade, and remind her of the fire underneath.

But that ship sailed long ago, and now the only thing left is the wreckage.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, the weight of the past and the present sitting heavily on my shoulders. It’s going to be a long night.

I linger for a moment, the house around me feeling both familiar and foreign. The past seems to watch from every corner, but I shake it off and head to my old room to drop my bags. After a quick glance around, I head to the kitchen, stomach growling.

The fridge is nearly empty—beer, ketchup, and some questionable takeout containers. Typical bachelor. I grab a bottle of water and decide to head into town to stock up and maybe grab something decent to eat.

Jumpin’ Jacks, the tavern in town, hasn’t changed much. The same dim lighting, the same worn wooden bar, and the same creaky stools. A few familiar faces nod at me as I settle into a corner booth. Small talk is exchanged—questions about where I’ve been, how long I’m staying—but nothing too deep.

The waitress drops a burger and fries in front of me, and I dig in, savoring the taste of something fresh. I’m halfway through when the bell above the door jingles, and I glance up.

Time stops.

Shewalks in, her silhouette framed by the warm glow of the tavern lights. She’s dressed to kill in a fitted blazer and pencil skirt, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders like liquid gold. Her eyes sweep the room, and when they lock onto mine, the air between us turns electric.

Candace.

For a moment, neither of us moves. Her cool, unreadable expression masks whatever storm might be brewing beneath. But those eyes—I know them too well—flash with something. Recognition? Anger? Something else?

She recovers first, of course. She always did know how to throw up walls in a second—part and parcel of her life as a foster kid. Her lips curl into a faint, almost amused smile, and she looks away, heading for a booth like I’m not even here.

But I see her shoulders stiffen. She knows I’m watching.

And just like that, years of distance collapse, and I’m right back to the moment I walked away from here. Right back to the mistake I’ve been running from ever since. It’s time to stop running.

Chapter 4

Candace

The door jingles as I step into Jumpin’ Jacks, the familiar sound ringing like a warning bell or perhaps the starting bell of a boxing match. I should have believed it. The scent of food and booze wraps around me, comforting and predictable. Or at least, it should be.

But then I see him.

Ryan.

I thought I had prepared myself for this—thought I would be able to see him and feel nothing. I was wrong.

He’s sitting in a corner booth, halfway through a burger, his broad shoulders slouched just enough to look relaxed, but I know better. His presence is like a swift kick to my chest, knocking the air clean out of my lungs. For a moment, all I can do is stand there, frozen, staring into those stormy dark eyes that lock onto mine the second I walk in. There was a time I could read everything in those eyes. Obviously I had been wrong, and in any event, those days were past.

My stomach twists, and every ounce of confidence I’ve spent years building feels like it’s teetering on the edge. He’s back. He wasn’t supposed to be back. I hadn’t planned for this. He was just supposed to send a check. I’ve been blackmailing severalpeople on the bank’s board to find reasons to reject the check. If he follows his previous pattern of thwarting me, he’ll have it delivered at the last possible moment, hoping to get under my skin.

That might have worked where that ski lodge in Christmas Valley, Vermont was concerned, but it wouldn’t work this time. Several members of the board have dirty laundry they don’t want aired, and I’ve made sure they know that if they don’t find a way to reject Ryan’s money, I’ll destroy them.

I look at him again. God, he’s still beautiful. Time has done nothing to diminish that.Run, my instincts scream, but I force my feet to stay planted. I didn’t claw my way to the top just to crumble the moment I’m faced with the past.

Taking a deep breath, I muster every ounce of composure I can manage and force myself forward, my heels clicking sharply against the scuffed wooden floor. My head is high, my shoulders back, my face a mask of serenity. If Ryan wants a reaction, he won’t get it from me.

I don’t glance at him again as I walk past, though I feel his eyes burning into me, hot and heavy. It’s like his gaze has weight, dragging over me, pinning me down. I keep my chin lifted and slide into the booth—my booth—the one directly beside his. Of course it is. Jumpin’ Jacks may be quaint and charming, but it’s also small, with limited seating, and tonight, the universe is determined to test me.

Fuck the universe.

I set my bag beside me, smoothing my skirt as I sit. The seat feels too warm, the space too close. I can practically feel the heat of his body from here, like a furnace radiating across the small gap between us. I will myself not to look at him.

The waitress appears almost immediately, her eyes flicking nervously between the two of us. The entire place feels too quiet, the usual hum of chatter and clinking dishes conspicuouslyabsent. I know what they’re all thinking—what they’re all hoping. They’re waiting for a scene.

“Scotch, neat,” I say coolly, ignoring the way my voice feels too tight in my throat. “The single malt I had sent in.”

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