Page 23 of Back in the Texan's Bed
“A bribe?” she bit out. “That’s your counteroffer? Your solution to the problem I represent? Throw money at me?”
“It’s not a bribe—”
“Right,” she drawled, her tone so sharp it sliced through the thick tension crowding the room. “It’s agift. Like the ones you used to leave in the guesthouse for me to find. Or the ones you undoubtedly give all the other women you sleep with and don’t bother to call. Same sentiment, different dollar amount. No, thanks. I don’t need your guilt gifts.”
Anger surged inside him, joined by a scalding hot retort to her unfair accusation. Hell, he’d been trying to give her what she wanted, and she was...damn, she wasright.Realization doused the flames. He blinked at her, and for the first time, he glimpsed himself in her eyes.
It was true. While they were together, he’d think nothing of having his secretary purchase the latest, most expensive purse or shoes. Or have his jeweler send over a glittering pair of earrings, ring or bracelet. The gifts had been an afterthought, nothing to him. And after her, he’d done the same with the parade of women who’d graced his arm, his bed. None of them had ever complained when he sent jewelry and a note of thanks for a wonderful night.
It wasn’t meant as a demeaning or dismissive gesture; it was...what he knew. He’d witnessed his father do it time and time again with his wives and girlfriends, and it’d appeased them, momentarily healing the rift between them and Rusty.
Even his mother had taken a hefty divorce settlement and left, happy to go about her way without her family in her daily life.
Yet the explanation lodged in his throat. At one time in their relationship, he might have been able to share this with Charlotte. Like after the scent of sex perfumed the air of her bedroom, the sheets tangled around their sweat-dampened bodies as she lay sprawled over him, her breath tickling his chest. Back then, in those quiet soul-baring moments when they’d shared their hopes and dreams, disillusionments and disappointments, he could’ve admitted this revelation of how he used money as emotional currency.
But not now.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his mind whirring to find the words to convey his sincerity while struggling to convince her not to abandon this plan. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Charlotte. I was only thinking that other than your job at Sheen, you would be rearranging your life for an entire year for me, the least I could do was help you achieve what you’ve always wanted. It’s only a gift. Whether you stay or you leave, the money is yours.”
She didn’t immediately reply but simply stared at him. Finally, she glanced away, murmuring something he couldn’t catch under her breath.
“And after a year, Ross?” she asked quietly, returning her scrutiny to him. “What then? Do we just walk away from the little experiment as if it didn’t happen? Do we pretend we haven’t let Ben become accustomed to a certain living arrangement where he has both parents every day in his life to separate houses again with biweekly visits?” She sighed, shaking her head, her gaze sad. “What about you? After being a father every day, how do you handle going to only seeing him a few times a week? Have you thought about how that will affect you?”
Again, she stunned him.
By broaching another aspect he hadn’t considered, but also because she was concerned...about him.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” he admitted gruffly. Narrowing his gaze on the neat stack of toys across the room, he swallowed past his suddenly constricted throat. “For me, I’d rather have that year where I wake up to Ben and have the privilege of putting him to bed. Where I can feed him breakfast, can experience his good and bad moods, his smiles and frowns...hear him call me Daddy. I’d rather have twelve months of that even knowing there’s a possibility that I might not have it in exactly that way afterward.”
She glanced away from him, and her slender throat worked before she returned her attention back to him. “And what about Ben?” she whispered.
Ross studied her for a long moment. “You’re a wonderful mother—I can tell that from being with him those ten minutes. Hopefully, you can teach me to be an equally great father. And between the two of us, I know we can help him navigate and adapt to any change. He needs to know me, Charlotte,” he said, voice lower, rawer, exposing the depths of his emotion. “And I need to know him.”
He didn’t voice it, but he assumed that at the end of the twelve months, she would want to leave. But what if shedidn’t? What if she discovered she enjoyed a more luxurious life at the ranch where she didn’t have to worry about bills, expenses or day care? They could go on indefinitely with the living arrangement. Hell, even a...marriage, maybe. Bottom line? They could essentially live separate lives but still be a family for Ben.
But he needed her to say yes first before bringing that option to the table.
“Jesus, I can’t believe I’m actually considering this,” she muttered, and the low grumble most likely not meant for his ears had a cautious joy and sweet satisfaction pulsing through his veins. “IfI agree to this, I have a couple of conditions.”
He risked a nod.
“One, I’m not moving to your family’s estate.” When he frowned, she shook her head. Hard. “No. I’m not compromising on that. I won’t be under your father’s roof. I’ve worked too hard to be independent, and I won’t give that up to be reliant on you or Rusty.”
“Where would we stay then?” he asked, glancing around her living room. What he’d seen of her home was nice, but the house was small. “How many bedrooms do you have?”
“Two.”
He shook his head. “I’m not saying no to this condition. But would you concede to us looking for another place together? I don’t want to confiscate Ben’s room, and then he’ll have to move into your room. That’s not fair to either of you.”
She studied him for a moment, then finally, she nodded. “Okay, I can concede to that.”
“And you’re renting, right?” When she dipped her head again, he said, “I’ll cover the rest of the rent that’s left on your lease. No, Charlotte, I’minsistingon that,” he growled as her lips parted, undoubtedly to object. “It’s because of me and what I’m asking you to do that you’re moving in the first place. It’s the least I could do.”
She sighed and grudgingly muttered, “Fine.”
“What’s your second condition?” he asked, anxious to get all her concerns out there so he could tackle them one by one.
“I’m not accepting your money orgift,” she added.
