Kensley sighed, accepting defeat. Nothing deterred Tori when she was on a mission. “Good luck with that.”
Tori smacked Kensley’s shoulder and snatched up her hair. “You have gorgeous hair, and I love the new color on you, but you don’t do anything with it.”
The reddish blonde did suit her more than her natural dark blonde. Last night, the color was an impulse buy her hairstylist was all too happy to comply with. “Because I like to sleep late rather than spend precious minutes in the bathroom mirror.”
In no time, Tori had Kensley’s hair piled on her head in artful disarray of reddish tresses framing her face and shoulders. Now, she had to deal with the smirk on Tori’s face.
“This proves you should move into my bathroom and be at my beck and call.”
Tori smushed their cheeks together and grinned at her in the mirror. “Not happening. Let’s get out of here. I’m ready to party.”
And Kensley was ready to drag on her favorite pair of worn-out long johns, plant herself on the sofa with Netflix, and chill all by herself. Instead, she snatched up her purse and followed Tori into the night.
Eleven
The Watering Hole was packed, unusual for a Sunday night, except for a Playoff Sunday. They found a parking spot near the back of the lot. It had snowed last night, but luckily the management had plowed and salted the property. Tori made Kensley change out of her boots and into a pair of heels. The stupidity wasn’t lost on both women as they risked frostbitten toes during their sprint to the front door.
A round of hellos echoed when they entered. Half of the occupants she knew as patients. There was John with the ingrown toenails. Amanda with the STD. Hemorrhoid Calvin. Rosey with psoriasis. Diabetic Michelle. They all waved at her. Theresa was here too with a scarf on her bald head. Chemo hadn’t stopped her from watching the game. As soon as Kensley’s coat was off and her ass planted at the bar, she asked for a Hot Toddy. Good time Perry—self-named because he claimed he knew how to show a woman a good time, even though no woman had ever admitted to spending time between the sheets with him—slid her drink in front of her a minute later. She tossed it back, enjoyed the fiery burn down her throat, and asked for another because damn it, she was cold.
The black and white dress had a deep vee and wrapped around her shoulders, leaving them bare when a turtleneck and a scarf would’ve been more suitable. She felt ridiculous, particularly when everyone else was winterized.
Scratch that. All the men were winterized while most of the females in attendance had on less than Kensley.
God. Why were we—meaning humans of her same gender—so damn desperate? Yet how could she get on her high horse and preach when her frigging nipples were popsicles.
Tori was next to her chatting with Will—guess they were on-again— boyfriend of two years. Perry delivered Kensley’s second drink. Disgusted with herself, she sipped and studied the crowd instead of the game. Perry had moved off to a corner of the bar, talking to a guy. A wad of money exchanged hands. Perry took the cash, opened the register, and slipped it beneath the drawer. He didn’t try to hide it. “Last call for bets. No more after half-time.”
She thought that was rather bold of him. Betting was illegal in the state; however, in a small town, everybody knew everybody, and no one on their small police force was in the bar. Plus, what was the harm of a few friendly wagers, especially during the lead up to Super Bowl Sunday?
She studied the room for any new faces. Make that any new male faces. Nope, not a one. Patrick, the pharmacist’s assistant, came over to flirt. He was a nice guy, and she had no attraction to him. Lee winked at her from the other side of the bar. Divorced three times, she gave him a hard pass. The problem wasn’t that there weren’t any single men in town. The problem was their mountain of baggage when she had her own luggage to carry. And after Noah, anything with a penis needed to stay far, far away.
The crowd roared loud enough to rattle the foundation. Guess the lure of a touchdown was higher than her sex appeal, which made her feel even more ridiculous, especially when her knowledge of football ended after her father up and left when she was five. She glanced at one of the many flat-screen TVs strategically placed around the bar.
One team wore blue, the other red.
“Who are you rooting for?” The guy next to her asked, a broad grin on his face as he eyed her cleavage.
“Blue team.”
His friendly smile vanished, and he turned back to his pal. Oh well. She rotated on the stool, her ass sliding over the Naugahyde seat to find Tori glaring at her. “What? I didn’t know I was supposed to know who’s playing.”
“Can you at least make an effort?” Tori yelled over the cheering crowd. Someone on the red team had scored.
Effort! “I’m half-naked in January, if that’s not effort, then effort can go screw itself.”
“All right. All right. Calm down. I’ll get the jerseys out of the car. That’ll keep you warm and let everyone know what team you’re rooting for.”
Kensley hopped off the stool. “I’ll go. You stay.” She planned on getting her boots too. Frostbite trumped fashion. She made it halfway to the exit when a body blocked her.
“Hello, Kensley,” Eric said.
Ice dumped into her veins, and her heart dropped to her toes. Damn, he looked the same, handsome with his curly black hair and the boyish set to his features. He’d lost weight, though. There was a gauntness to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. In fact, all of him was a bit leaner and not in a good way. He’d let himself go after his high school jock days was over, got a little soft around the middle. Not too much, she hadn’t minded, but the weight gain was enough for him to comment on cutting back. Both of them cutting back, not just her. That was before the engagement party.
The demise of his once hot bod had accelerated since their abrupt end. Instead of packing on the pounds, only six weeks later, his clothes hung on him. He nursed a beer when he should be nursing a burger. That wasn’t all. His eyes were beady with a red-rim, and he was pale. Pale and sickly, though she suspected it wasn’t from a lack of sun. She’d heard he headed to Mexico. Acapulco. He should have a tan not be the color of Elmer’s glue. There was a jitteriness to him that wasn’t normal, wasn’t something she’d rack up to nerves. She recognized the symptoms. He was on something.
He reached for her, a fine tremor in his hand. She jerked back from her ex-fiancé, furious he had the piss poor judgment to touch her. She never wanted his hands anywhere on her body ever again.
He pulled back, his blue eyes sad, almost apologetic, eyes she’d lost herself in, eyes she wanted their children to inherit. Damn, she’d dodged a bullet to the temple, yet tears pricked her eyes. She’d planned a life with this man: the house, the minivan, the two-point-five kids, one dog, one cat, the American dream. She wouldn’t cry. She’d done enough of that after the engagement party. In private. She wouldn’t cry now, in public.
He did one of those head to toe sweeps that made a woman feel inspected like a side of beef. The same sweep Noah did, yet had a different effect on her. When Noah gave her that look, she’d wanted to strip and bend over. Eric made her want to bathe in disinfectant.
“You look good,” he said when her response to his hello was a death glare. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
Thank you, Tori! She didn’t care what he thought, she really didn’t, but it felt good to see a spark of desire in his eyes and know, fucking know, the space in her heart he’d occupied was gone. “Is that shock I hear?”
Instantly, she regretted the question. Better to walk away with him feeling he didn’t deserve the pleasure of hearing her voice.
“Umm. You lost some weight.”
Thirty pounds of mortification all in six weeks. “You could use some.”
He winced, and his brow furrowed together in anger and surprise. She’d been nothing but complimentary about his manly physique even when it had turned soft, anything to keep his ego inflated. “Listen,” he restarted the conv
ersation. “We should—”
“We?” She cut him off, mainly because she couldn’t stand to hear another word out of his mouth. “We should what?” She paused for a second, hoping he would realize how idiotic ‘We’ sounded. That’s when she noticed the bar had gone quiet. To hell with football when the Eric and Kensley Show was live! Everyone had to get the story right for the gossip mill to churn out tomorrow. “Do me a favor, Eric. Stay. Away. From. Me.”
She grabbed her coat from the rack, and with the two halves fisted in her hand, Kensley pushed open the door and braced against the elements.
Twelve
Noah slowed his truck to five mph and crawled past Kensley’s dark house. He should’ve called, would’ve called, but his phone was dead. Lame excuse, but true. It hadn’t been dead for the week since he left her house. The truth: he was too busy dealing with Yvette to do much else.
She’d leaped off the wagon, not slipped, and ended up in a spiral. Her call was a cry for help from a person she trusted. He fit the bill, even if he was the last person she should ever put her faith in. He’d shifted between arguing and threatening Yvette. Jim would’ve done it for him. With the help of her mother and constant badgering, they got her into a program created especially for Vets. Noah even drove them to Maryland and helped Mrs. Waymon check Yvette in.
He shoved the sour thoughts away, along with how he spent the last week. He should’ve called right after he’d left Kensley, explained why he had to rush away, set up a time to see her again even though he said he wouldn’t. After a week, a week of regret and recriminations, the last thing he should want was to deal with Kensley.
That didn’t stop the need to see her. You selfish bastard, his conscience whispered. The sex… God damn. It had been hot, obsessive, off the freaking charts, and absolutely shouldn’t have happened.
He shouldn’t have kissed her. Shouldn’t have stuck his tongue down her throat, but he couldn’t stop. Maybe it was the freckles. So many freckles all over her skin, it’d be impossible to lick each one, though he damn well wanted to try.
Shit. Frustration chewed his gut at her dark house and an empty driveway. “She’s probably out. NFL party for the playoffs,” he mumbled and swallowed his regret. The lack of memorabilia on display in her house led him to believe she wasn’t sporty, but fans came in all types. She was the brainy type, a woman you could have a conversation with after fucking her senseless.
Blood rushed south. He had to adjust his dick or lose circulation. He wanted to see her. Needed it when he shouldn’t. Camping out on her lawn would get him a restraining order.
He put his car in drive and headed to Main Street. He’d have a beer, wait ‘til the game was over and head back, see if he could spend a few minutes with her, or a few hours.
He’d asked himself why during the drive back from Maryland. Why the attraction? No ready answer came, and he didn’t have the energy to cross-examine his motivation. He wanted her, the first woman he desired in a long time. The wrong damn woman. Right now, what he wanted didn’t matter. Even though he fell asleep thinking about her and woke rock hard with her on his mind.
It was pity. That’s all it had to be. All it could be. A straight-up guilt trip. To Kevin’s sister.
Except… Kensley made him feel—“What the hell?”
A woman walked on the shoulder of the opposite side of the road. A thin waist-length coat, stiletto boots, and a micro skirt. The chick would freeze before she got a mile. Plus, he hadn’t passed a disabled car, so where did she come from. He slowed down and shouted out of his driver’s side window, “You okay?”
She stopped and pulled the earbuds out of her ears. He’d seen her around town, a brunette with a killer figure. He’d seen her with a lot of guys too, not that it was any of his business.
She smiled, a wide grin that showed plenty of teeth. “I’d be better with a ride.”
“Get in.” He stretched across the passenger seat and opened the door as she crossed the road and climbed into the truck.
“Noah, right?” she said, crossing her legs and showing a mile of skin.
He nodded and focused on the road. “Where you headed?”
“The Watering Hole.” She buckled her seatbelt. “I’m Meghan.”
“That’s a long way to be walking at night and in the cold, Meghan.”
She shrugged. “My ride bailed, so I started walking. Where were you headed?”
He thought of Kensley. “Nowhere. Just needed a drink.”
“Come to the Watering Hole and buy me a beer, Noah.” She ran her hand down his thigh, let her hand dip into his crotch.
He captured her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. No need to be rude. He kissed her knuckles and returned her hand to her lap. “Sure. I can buy you a drink.” Then turn her attention to some other guy. He wasn’t looking for company, at least not from her.
“Wow. Such a gentleman.” She crossed her legs and sat straighter in the seat. “I’ve had every part of me kissed, never the hand. I kinda liked it.”
Noah gave an inward groan and focused on the road. He had no patience to deal with this tonight.
“I see you around all the time,” she said with a sultry tilt to her voice.
He nodded and kept his attention trained on the blacktop.
“You live on the lake, in the old Morretti house?”
She asked though she already knew the answer. “Yeah.”
“My grandmother used to talk about all the wild parties and going ons at that cabin.” Her voice lowered to a husky whisper. “Rumor is he buried some bodies up there.”
That got Noah’s attention, and he glanced at her. “Is that so?’
“Black town cars would drive through town at all hours of the night. Then you’d see a bunch of Robert De Niro types on Main Street going into shops, eating at the diner, whistling at the women. My granny called them Guidos.” She shrugged and laughed. “She was a little racist, bless her heart, but didn’t mean any harm.”
“Yeah, racists never do.”
She must not have expected that response because her spine stiffened, and her mouth opened and hung there until she gathered enough air to say, “My granny was a good person.”
He itched to pick a fight and didn’t know why. For whatever reason, his temper had thinned. It wasn’t Meghan’s fault. She was a random bystander who happened to be sitting inches away and not the one he wanted occupying the passenger seat. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
She relaxed and sank into the bucket seat. “She really wasn’t a racist. She thought De Niro was hot and loved Sinatra, played his music all the time.”
Noah kept driving.
“So, what do you like to do for fun?”
He hated small talk. Pointless conversation made to fill the silence when silence was better. “Hunting.”
“Oh.” She shifted to face him. “What game do you hunt?”
He almost said people, but he didn’t do that anymore.
“Once, a few years back, my ex went on a big game hunt in Africa. He smuggled a pair of tusks back.”
The pride in her voice sickened Noah.
“I reported him to customs when he broke up with me.” She smirked. “His father was pissed, not about the tusks, but the fine. Had to keep it hush-hush since his daddy was the richest man in this pissant town.” She cupped her hand around her mouth, and fake whispered.
At least she had done that. “I eat what I hunt.”
“Cool. What’s your weapon of choice? AK? AR?”
Noah pulled into the Watering Hole parking lot. “If you have to use a semi-automatic for hunting a fucking deer, then you need to park your ass on a sofa with a video game.” He drove to the back and reversed into a spot.
“Ain’t that the truth.” She unbuckled her seatbelt, and before he knew it, she’d crawled over the gear shift like a pro when he cut the engine.
“Whoa, what are you doing?”
“Saying thank you for the ride.” She yanked up his swe
ater and ran her cold hands over his lower abs. A shiver raced down his spine. She took it the wrong way and had his belt unbuckled, pants unbuttoned, and her hand inside his underwear gripping his cock. Damn, her fingers were nimble.
He grabbed her wrist. “A beer would’ve been fine.” In the tight confines of his jeans, she managed to stroke him. And hey, he was human.
“But this is funner. I’ll buy you a beer after.” She kissed him, tongue, teeth, and lips worked him over.
He pushed her away, gently, because yeah, she still had his cock in her hand, and that wasn’t the time to piss off a woman. “I appreciate the attention—” He extracted her hand from his junk. “But I’m not into this.”
She sat back, her brow quirked in confusion, a frown twisted her full lips. “Are you gay?”
He was so tempted to say yeah. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.” He picked her up and dumped her back into the passenger seat. Hoping to avoid a scene, he opened his door and hopped out of the truck. He took a moment to fix his junk, button, and buckle up. The passenger door opened, and he went around to help her out.
Hands on her waist, he set her on her feet and was surprised by the tears in her eyes reflected in the yellow parking lot lighting. Aw fuck!
“Um, no one has ever been so…um, nice. I mean, you could’ve, you know, had me, and it would’ve been great, but…” She sniffed and shrugged her shoulders. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” was his response, and he didn’t stop her when she went to her tip-toes and kissed him. He kept it platonic, mouth closed. No tongue action until she got the message and pulled away.
“Are you always this sweet?”
Only to dumb animals and people he owed. A cold wind wrapped around him. Noah pulled away and scanned the parking lot, his senses on alert, his hand wanting a weapon.
You’re not in the field, he reminded himself just as he spent a week reminding Yvette. How easy it was to slip back into old habits. He tucked Meghan close to his side, shielding her from the bracing wind. “We better get inside so you can buy me that beer.” Because he really needed one.
If I Love You Page 9