“You deserve a break from me. I have my own shit to sort out anyway.” He scratched the back of his head. “Gotta heal a bit too.”
Now I was worried. “Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” he smiled, and it was a pure Bryan Drayer smile, one I hadn’t see since we were teenagers. “Take the phone, okay?”
I wrapped my fingers around it and slipped it in the back pocket of my jeans. “Of course. I’ll text.”
“I’m trying,” he said. “I’m trying to change the direction of my arrow. I just hope it’s not too late.”
“It’s not,” I said quickly. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed. “You can do anything, big brother.”
His laugh was husky. “Glad to know you still think so.” He pressed a kiss to my temple, and then gently shoved me away. “Now go. Go start your life.” He held out his hand to Lance, and after a brief hesitation, Lance clasped it and they shook. “Drive safe. If I need a coffee table, I’m calling you.”
Lance smiled. “Sure, man. Special order.”
Bryan flashed us another wave, then got into his truck and drove away. I watched until his truck was out of sight, biting my lip, worried about him, but also knowing Bryan was a grown man who could take care of himself. He’d been taking care of the two of us, maybe this would be a relief to only worry about himself for a while.
Lance draped his arm around my shoulders and we began to walk toward my car. “Are you a dog or cat person?”
“Huh?” I said, his question dragging me out of my thoughts of Bryan.
“Dog or cat person? I realized we didn’t do much of that getting to know you. And gotta tell you, babe. Your answer to this is a deal breaker.”
I laughed. “Oh yeah? So if I say the wrong answer, you’ll give me the car and start walking?”
“Guess I better get my hitchhiking finger ready.”
He opened the driver’s side door and slid in, while I settled in the passenger seat. He started the car and glanced at me expectantly. I buckled my seatbelt, then looked at him with a grin. “Dog person.”
His face beamed like the fucking sun. “A big breed. Friendly. Good with kids.”
I didn’t care, not at all. I’d take any dog he wanted. “Sure.”
“Speaking of kids… gotta get you a test soon.” He said it so casually as he backed out of the parking spot.”
“Yes,” I whispered, tears welling in my eyes. Was this really happening? Was this really going to be my life? Kids and a dog and a man who loved me?
He reached the edge of the parking lot and stopped the car before he pulled out onto the road. “All right, baby. Aim.”
I looked right, then left, then closed my eyes. The future was here, and it was amazing. “South,” I whispered.
“Fire,” Lance answered. Then he gunned the engine, and we were gone.
Epilogue
Three months later…
Tara
I walked in the front door and immediately heard the clicking of dog nails on our hardwood. Baxter rounded the corner on a lope, headed right for me.
“Hey buddy,” I cooed as the giant mastiff skidded to halt in front of me, tongue lolling, waiting for a head scratch. I dropped the bag of groceries I’d been carrying and bent down, kissing his muzzle as I dug my nails into his fur. Bax’s eyes half-closed as he enjoyed the pets he’d been dying for.
I peered around his shoulder, but didn’t see the fluffy fur of Beauty, our keeshond. Which meant she was in the garage with her daddy while he worked. That was her favorite spot, hands on her paws, curled up on the bed Lance had set up for her. She needed eyes on her daddy at all times, just like Bax watched over me like my own personal watch dog. I slipped off my flats and stretched my toes, thankful I didn’t have to wear heels all day. I worked at a small specialty soap shop in town. When we arrived in town, Margaret, the owner, had just accepted the resignation of her only sales associate because the woman was pregnant with her first baby. I saw the help wanted sign, walked in, and mustered all the Drayer charm I could. Margaret hired me on the spot. I loved the work, loved the heavenly smells and the pretty colors. And I was damn good at selling soap, apparently.
I picked up the groceries. “Come on, boy. Let me get this food put away and then we’ll go see what your sister is up to, okay?” He followed behind me into the kitchen, his tail wagging, pleased as punch that his mommy was home. I placed the milk in the fridge, as well as the rest of the cold groceries—eggs, orange juice, and the yogurt that Lance liked so much. Bax watched me, waiting, because he knew my next task would be feeding him.
Three months ago, I’d aimed, Lance fired, and the bullseye ended up being Saluda, North Carolina. We’d run out of gas—and I’d fallen in love with the small town. So here we stayed, renting a small house within walking distance of Sunrise Soaps. We rescued Baxter and Beauty from the shelter, and that was that. Our home. A place to settle, grow roots, all the things I’d wanted but didn’t think I’d ever have. I did have it now. Thanks to Bryan, and Lance and most of all—myself.
I nabbed the container of dog food out of the cabinet and scooped some into Bax’s bowl, then into Beauty’s. While Bax buried his head in his bowl, I opened the door to the garage. “Beauty, dinner!” Her little brown body went wiggling past me into the kitchen to eat with Bax.
I leaned against the doorframe and crossed my arms. Lance stood over a long plank of wood, clear plastic glasses nestled into his too-long hair, pencil behind his ear while he held another one and marked off a notch on the wood by his ruler. His ever-present radio played rock softly in the corner.
A cup of coffee I knew was probably cold sat on his workbench, near a can of beer with a lit cigarette smoldering on top. Coffee, cigarettes, and sawdust. The smell of Lance.
His gaze came to me immediately afterward, dipping from my head, down over my simple sheath dress, to my bare feet, then back up again. My skin heated just from his look like it always did. I smiled. “Hey.”
His eyes went soft, like they always did now. The lines around his eyes weren’t from stress anymore, but from laughter. From smiling. He didn’t say anything, just let his eyes go soft at the sight of me and his lips tilt up at the corners. Lance had a lot of looks I loved, but that was my favorite.
“Dogs are fed, so I’ll order the pizza,” I said. It was Friday. We always had pizza on Fridays. We didn’t eat out much—we didn’t have the money—but Fridays were our treat.
“Come ‘ere.” He motioned to me with a flick of his fingers.
I looked around for my slippers, the ones I kept by the door, so I didn’t have to walk into Lance’s garage barefoot. Then I remembered Bax had chewed them up earlier in the week. “Damn,” I muttered. I spotted Lance’s old boots on the steps leading into the garage. The ones he’d had when I met him, but he’d since replaced.
I slipped my feet into them and clomped down the stairs, then made my way over to him, the too-big boots thudding on the concrete. By the time I’d made it to his side, he was all-out grinning.
“Are you laughing at me?”
He laughed. “No.”
“Liar,” I muttered.
“How was work?” He took the pencil out of his ear and dropped it into his Champs mug where he kept odds and ends.
“Good. Margaret said she might be able to swing giving me a Christmas bonus.”
Lance’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”
“Yeah, she said sales have increased since I started designing the front window.”
“Saw your latest window, babe. Not really my thing, but even I wanted to go in there and buy soap.”
I grinned. “Well don’t buy anything without me. I get employee discount.”
He cupped my chin, his thumb rubbing the corner of my mouth. “Proud of you,” he said, his voice going husky.
I gripped his wrist. “Thanks. Proud of you too.” I gestured to the table he was working on. “How’s it coming?”
Hal had sent Lance his tools from
Waterstone, and we’d redesigned his website. I wasn’t sure there would ever be a greater test to our relationship than recoding a website together. But we’d managed to make it through with minimal swearing and only one real fight that began with him shouting, flowed into me screaming, and ended with fantastic make up sex.
Lance had managed to reconnect with old clients, and word of mouth was gaining him more. Plus, he’d built Margaret some furniture for her store for free, and with her standing in the community and spreading the word about him, Lance was busy. Money was tight, and I didn’t think we’d ever be rich, but we were living—really, truly living. Not just existing, or waiting, but enjoying the moments we had.
Lance didn’t look at the table. He kept his eyes on me. “Ahead of schedule.”
“Good.” I turned my head and pressed a kiss to his palm, then went to walk back into the house to order pizza, when Lance gripped my waist to halt my progress.
“Heard from him yet?”
I swallowed and looked away. He asked every Friday, and the last four weeks, the answer had been the same.
Lance’s squeezed my wrist. “Baby…”
“No,” I said quickly. “I haven’t.”
I texted Bryan every week. Every Friday morning. For the first two months, he texted back. His last text said he would be out of communication for a while, and he’d text me again when he could. He said to trust him, and that everything was okay. That was a month ago. I tried hard to trust Bryan, but I was worried sick. Was he okay? Had anyone gotten to him? Most of all, was he happy?
I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted him to tease me, to give Lance a hard time, to feel his hugs. I wanted my brother. And I hoped, one day, I’d have him back.
Lance pulled me against him, and I laid my head on his warm chest, breathing in his smell as his hand rubbed my back. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“A month isn’t that long.”
“No,” I whispered. “It’s not.”
“He’ll call. I’m starting to think your brother is immortal. If there was a zombie apocalypse, he’d be Rick Grimes from The Walking Dead.”
“I think he’d be Negan,” I muttered.
Lance laughed, the rumble in his chest vibrating my cheek, making me smile. “A crazy guy with a harem and a nail-studded bat? You’re probably right.”
“You’d be Rick Grimes.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, I think you’d wrestle with your ethics and morals.”
He didn’t laugh at that. I leaned back and met his gaze. He cupped my cheek, a soft smile on his face. “Glad you think that, baby.”
“Don’t you think?”
“I think if the zombie apocalypse happened six months ago, I’d wrestle with my morals and ethics. Now? I’m not sure I’d wrestle with them, since I figured them out.”
I smiled. “Lance—”
“Though, if anyone threatened you, Bax, or Beauty, I’d take a nail-studded baseball bat to them with zero qualms.”
I giggled. “You said qualms.”
“What? It’s a word.”
“Who uses qualms in real life?”
“I do!”
I thunked my forehead into his chest and dug my fingers into his sides, right where I knew he was ticklish. He didn’t let me get very far. His hands spanned my waist, then he hoisted me on top of his workbench. My feet, clad in his heavy boots, dangled on either side of his thighs as he slotted his body between my legs.
I rested my arms on his shoulders, and slipped my fingers into his hair. His hands gripped my thighs, and they slowly inched toward the hem of my dress. “I was going to order pizza, but I guess you’re not hungry,” I teased.
He bent into me and pressed a kiss below my ear. My skin broke out in goose bumps and I shivered.
“Oh, I’m hungry,” he murmured.
I sighed, closing my eyes briefly as I lowered my hand and closed my fingers around the thick ridge in his jeans. “Lance…”
“Haven’t seen you in my boots since…” his lips traced my jaw, then he kissed the corner of my mouth softly, so soft. My breath hitched in my chest. “…Since that first morning. Remember?”
I laughed, but it was choked because he’d slid my dress up to the top of my thighs and his thumbs were skimming my panty line. “Like I’d forget.”
His lips pressed into mine and I kissed him back, loving his taste, so familiar, so Lance. After all we’d been through, I’d never take for granted that I got to taste him every day. I opened my lips and he slipped his tongue inside. I clamped my thighs around his hips tighter on a moan. This was one thing we were always good at. When we fought over which cabinet to put the coffee mugs in and how to arrange the furniture, we could always come back to this. Touching, tasting, skin-on-skin. It was where we seemed to communicate best, where we healed. There’d been a lot of healing the last three months.
I was also on the pill. I had managed not to get pregnant in that hotel room, and we’d both decided Bax and Beauty were all we could handle now.
Lance pressed closer, and just the nudge of his hardness between my thighs was enough for me to squirm on the workbench, needy and ready. I slid my hands down his back and grabbed a hold of his ass. My hips churned into his, my nipples hard and sensitive against the cups of my bra.
He thrust against me, hard enough to knock some tools off the bench. We ignored the clatter as I reached between us to lower the fly of his jeans.
“Was gonna eat you,” he murmured below my ear.
“Dessert,” I breathed back. “Need you now.”
His fingers were swift between my legs, and he had the fabric of my underwear pulled to the side just as I freed his dick. With one thrust, he was inside of me.
“Oh fuck,” I moaned. My skin was hyper-sensitive everywhere, especially where the denim of Lance’s jeans rubbed my inner thighs.
“Brace, baby,” he muttered against my chest as he mouthed a nipple through my dress. With one hand behind me on the workbench and the other around his neck, I did just that as he began a steady rhythm. He knew just the angle, where to hit me, the right area to place his thumb to hit my clit, and the exact pressure to drive me out of my mind. Within minutes, I was close, my head thrown back while Lance sucked up a patch of skin on my neck.
I knew he was almost there when his breathing turned ragged, when his hips lost some finesse. His breath hitched, and that was it for me. I came on a cry, rocking into him mindlessly as he groaned into my neck and lost himself inside of me.
My arm behind me went out from under me but Lance’s arms were there, catching me, tugging me against him. I gripped his hair and panted into his neck while his hands caressed my back. I closed my eyes. “Thanks for catching me, but you know I’ve already fallen.”
He laughed, his breath ruffling my hair. “Corny.”
I smiled. “It was, but I don’t care.” I leaned back. “Now can I order pizza?”
He grinned. “If I get my dessert.”
“Like I’m going to say no to that.”
He helped me down off the workbench and slapped my ass. “Go get me my pizza, woman.”
I stomped into the house. “Just for that, I’m not ordering mushrooms.”
His laughed and followed me through the door.
I ordered pizza (I lied and did order Lance his mushrooms), and we ate. Lance had his dessert (like I was going to protest that), and two hours later we were lying on the couch (me on top, because Lance made a decent pillow). I only had a T-shirt on and Lance was in boxers. My body felt loose, and I was in no hurry to get up and do anything.
“Oh, I stopped by our P.O. Box,” I said. “Natalie sent us a thank you card.”
Lance’s hands paused as they caressed my skin. “That was nice of her.”
We’d sent her some of Trent’s pictures, as well as a gold chain that Trent always wore. I thought Lance would be reluctant to part with it, but he seemed happy to give it to someone else who would treasure i
t. He didn’t talk much about sending Trent’s possessions—there’d been no grand display of emotion. I figured he was processing it and he’d open up if he needed to.
“It was nice of you to send some of Trent’s things to her.”
Lance’s voice was husky. “Sure.” He cleared his throat. “Plans for tomorrow?”
I let him change the subject. I knew the loss of Trent was still a healing wound for him. I pressed a kiss to Lance’s chest. “Maybe some yard work? I have to look up what you do in the fall in the south. I’m not used to this weather.”
“We can go to the nursery down the street. Ask them some questions. Wanna do that tomorrow?”
I smiled and pressed a kiss to Lance’s chest. “That sounds great.”
He ran his fingers up my back, then down. Bax and Beauty were on the carpet in front of us and Lance was watching some true crime show that I was only half paying attention to. My eyes began to close, and I was half asleep when I heard my phone beep.
My eyes flew open. “Was that my phone?”
Lance’s body was tight beneath mine. “Tara, just don’t get your hopes up—”
I scrambled off him and spun in a circle. Bax jumped up and barked. “Where’s my phone?”
“Baby—”
I whirled around. “Where did I put my damn phone?”
Bax barked again as I took off into the kitchen. I spotted my phone on the counter where I’d been charging it. I grabbed it and turned on the home button to see a text. From Bryan.
“Lance!” I screeched.
He rounded the couch and walked into the kitchen. “Is it him?”
“He’s okay!” I yelled. My heart raced, and I nearly dropped the phone because my palms were sweating. “Okay, okay, he says, ‘Hey, sorry I didn’t text sooner. Hope you and Lance are doing well. I’m good. And there’s someone I want you to meet.’” I looked up at Lance. “There’s someone he wants me to meet!”
“Tara—"
“Bryan never dated. At least, not since high school. There were never girls he wanted me to meet.”
“He didn’t actually say it was a girl. Could just be a good friend.”
Hidden Truths (Boots Book 1) Page 16