She was starting to think she should do something about it.
“Your ex-husband,” he said, and grabbed the gate, holding it open for her.
She blinked as she and Duke walked through, reckless thoughts scattering on the breeze. “What?”
“He’s your ex-husband. Kevin. Not your husband.”
“Oh, right. Yes. Well.” She cleared her throat. What were they talking about, again? “He doesn’t like dogs. He’s very focused. He has, this, you know.” She stabbed her hand through the air, straight ahead, eyes narrowed, because that was what she thought of when she thought of Kevin. Like the thrust of a blade. “He’s focused. And dogs are a responsibility that detracts from focus. I said I’d look after them, but he said when there’s a dependent in the household, it affects everyone. So I never had a dog.”
“How long were you together?”
“Twenty-two years. Then he, uh, knocked up his assistant.”
Zach choked, wheezed, spluttered. “What?”
Oops. She hadn’t meant to say that, but she was Ravenswood Rae, so maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Zach certainly wasn’t staring at her with horrified pity or anything like that. No; he looked outraged, actually, so outraged that she found herself grinning in response.
And so outraged that it felt easy to talk about. “Ridiculous, isn’t it? I mean, first—what a fucking cliché. Second—pregnant! He got her pregnant! And I wasn’t even allowed a dog! Hypocrisy, thy name is Kevin.” She wandered over to the park’s little roundabout and sank onto the wooden platform. “It’s okay, though. Now I have Duke. Do you want to know something sad?” Because she was beginning to think Zach could handle a little sadness, that it wouldn’t make him stiff and sympathetic.
He looked slightly dizzy, his eyebrows practically lost in his hairline, but he nodded slowly. “Hit me.”
“I like Duke so much more than I ever liked Kevin. I mean, I hate Kevin, because he’s a slimy, traitorous liar. But even before that—before I found out about the affair, I mean—I didn’t feel good around him the way I feel good around Duke.” Or the way I feel around you.
“Yeah,” Zach said softly. “That is sad.” But he didn’t sound sad; he sounded absolutely furious, and looked it, too. His mouth was a hard line and a muscle ticked at his jaw as he stared daggers at the ground. She imagined burning, ice-blue knives sinking into the floor. That wouldn’t do. The kids would arrive tomorrow to find their park a jagged mess of wounds that never bled, and she knew just how much trouble those were.
So she patted the roundabout she’d sat down on and said, “Duke. Play.”
Duke’s tongue rolled out of his mouth like a red carpet and he gave a little hop of excitement. He threw himself onto the platform with so much enthusiasm, she felt the structure shake beneath them.
Zach was clearly alarmed by the sight of a 200lb dog lounging on a children’s roundabout with all four legs in the air as if waiting for a belly rub from the heavens. “Uh… What’s he doing on there?”
“Just watch.” She’d ruined the adventure, babbling about Kevin, so now she’d make everything fun again. Holding on to the red-painted bars with one hand, and Duke with the other, Rae used her legs to push off. The roundabout started to spin, slow and heavy at first, then easier as they gained a little momentum. She didn’t go too fast, though. Duke didn’t like it too fast. When she got the speed just right, his tongue lolled some more, and he tipped his head back in an expression of doggy joy. She watched him and laughed, the sound snatched away by the wind as they spun.
That same wind brought Zach’s astonished chuckle to her ears. He was slightly blurry around the edges now, and he looked like night turned into a man: pale as moonlight with that silky, pitch-black hair and those hypnotic eyes. His smile was a gorgeous kind of danger. No wonder so many people got lost in him.
He was a bad boy fantasy with a dirty mouth and a bleeding heart: sweet, sexy, achingly gentle. He’d be gentle in bed, too, wouldn’t he? Not with her body, which craved something else, but with the tender, vulnerable part of her that had only ever been with Kevin. Zach was the rare sort of man who would care enough to make the first time easy. She should explore that fact, sometime.
The idea made something inside her leap like a flame.
“Duke likes this?” he asked, his smile disbelieving and delighted.
“He does,” she confirmed, already slowing the roundabout. The alcohol in her stomach sloshed ominously. The roundabout came to a stop, but Duke whined for more. He sounded like Chewbacca. She scratched between his ears and tried not to be sick. Maybe spinning around like a five-year-old hadn’t been her smartest idea of the night, or the week, or even the year. She needed to get off this wobbly platform.
She stood up and her world turned black.
“Woah, woah.” Zach grabbed her, his arm an iron bar around her waist. She heard Duke’s worried bark, felt the warmth and weight of him pressing against her legs. He was trying to prop her up because he was a good boy.
“I’m fine,” she said unconvincingly, except this time it was true. Her vision prickled back to life and the dizziness faded. She tried to push Zach away, but she might as well have pushed a brick wall. He was immoveable.
“Are you that drunk?” he asked, worry threaded through the words. “You only had—”
“I started early today.”
“What? Why?”
“But I’m not that drunk. I have POTS.”
Apparently convinced she was steady, he stepped back. She tried not to miss the feel of him, that reassuring solidness. “What the fuck is POTS?” he demanded.
“It’s a circulation thing. Mine is fairly mild. Sometimes, when I stand up, my heart beats too fast and I get dizzy.” She usually rose slowly, so she wouldn’t drop like a sack of potatoes. Except she was preoccupied and, let’s face it, wasted, so she hadn’t.
Zach shook his head, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Okay. Got it. But you know what? You and me, we’re going to sit right here. Just for a little while.” Clearly, POTS or not, he knew she was drunk as hell. His arm came around her waist again, pulling gently, and a moment later she was sprawled in a heap on the playground, Duke licking her shoulder happily. Zach sat beside her with his face tipped up to the stars and his thigh pressed against hers.
Well, pressed was an overstatement. There was some slight contact, perhaps. But she felt it so intensely, he might as well have slapped her in the face with his dick.
“You seem sad lately,” he said, which certainly distracted her from inappropriate horniness.
She sighed dramatically. “Maybe I’m always sad. Maybe I’m a nihilist. We’re all going to die, the earth is just a doomed chunk of rock, and my mother never loved me.” There. The best lies were always technically true.
Zach turned away from the stars to face her. If this conversation were a duel, the care in his eyes would be a canon. “Hey. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
She feigned reluctance. “I suppose.”
He snorted and bumped their shoulders together. “Talk to me, sunshine. Might help.”
It absolutely would not help. There were so many things she hadn’t told him, or anyone—things that didn’t fit the character she played in this town. The breezy, bitchy divorcée gleefully spending her husband’s money while simultaneously giving not one flying fuck about the man. She liked playing that person. The longer she inhabited the role, the more real it felt. In fact, she’d started to believe it was real.
And then the call had come—the award and the invitation—and she’d been forced to face facts. She might not love Kevin anymore, but he still had the power to affect her life and fuck up her choices, just like he always had.
Her voice was choked when she finally confessed, “I’m angry.”
Zach’s reply was careful. “About?”
She opened her mouth, closed it, and shook her head. “I don’t think I want to have this conversation.” And she couldn’t. She really couldn’t, b
ecause she’d promised, she’d sworn, and it was pointless anyway.
He must’ve heard something desperate in her voice, because he stopped pushing. “Alright. Fair enough. What do you want to do?”
Now that was a damned good question.
Rae had decided a while ago to always choose herself: to write whatever her heart desired; to move somewhere slow and pretty and get a big old dog; to make friends who were kind to each other, whose interests weren’t carefully curated to make them look smarter or more cultured than they actually were. Hadn’t she done those things? And hadn’t it gone pretty fucking well? Yes and yes. She was Ravenswood Rae and she chased whatever made her feel good—so what was one more reckless risk?
The alcohol in her blood whispered, Nothing. Its persuasive hum was low and languid, like rolling hips or limbs tangled together beneath warm sheets. She raised a hand toward Zach, tentative but determined, and traced a finger over his jaw. It was harshly defined, a sharp contrast to his smiling mouth which always curved like a fine, sickle moon. Only, he wasn’t smiling now. He’d gone utterly still, as if she’d frozen him in time. That wouldn’t do. She wanted his sarcasm and his laughter and his flirting, so she swung a leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. The action seemed to bring him back to life.
“Rae…” His hands settled at her hips, disappeared. Closed around her wrists, disappeared. Finally, he curled them into fists, as if he couldn’t figure out where to touch her. “What—uh, what are you doing?”
She shrugged. “Seducing you, maybe?”
He choked a little bit. Was that a good sign? She didn’t know, since she’d never seduced anyone before. She needed the practice and Zach was a close friend with boundless bedroom experience and a smile she could almost trust. He laughed like the first day of spring after a long, cold winter. He made her feel soft and pure and right inside. He’d be… he’d be her training wheels.
She tried to share that well-reasoned speech with him, but all that came out was, “Pretty sure you’re great in the sack.”
This was the part where he laughed, or teased, or offered to make her absolutely sure.
He didn’t.
How the hell had this happened?
Zach was caught between outright panic and sheer disbelief. He’d brought Rae to the park to interrogate her about emotional shit, yet somehow, she’d ended up in his lap. Did he produce I’m up for it pheromones or something?
She fidgeted impatiently, staring down at him while he quietly lost his mind. What was the polite thing to do in a situation like this? In the past, he’d solved these sorts of problems with his dick, but these days he was giving the poor guy a break. Which meant he’d actually have to be diplomatic or something. Shit.
Rae smoothed curious hands over his chest as the silence stretched between them. Her eyes widened as if a thought had just occurred to her. “Is it weird being so built? Are muscles heavy?”
Ah—he’d forgotten she was absolutely smashed. His panic faded a little. He laughed, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her off him. “You’re so fucking wasted.” That was the problem, right? She didn’t actually want to sleep with him. She was just drunk and horny, so her boundaries had dissolved.
Or maybe not, because she didn’t take the hint. She reached for him again, beautiful and breathless in the dimly-lit shadows. “Come home with me.”
He didn’t want to say yes, but he would hate to tell her no—to see her wince or shrink away from him, to watch as injured pride and hurt rose like a wall between them. Maybe he should just go along with it. One last time. He’d done it before, after all, and for people he liked a hell of a lot less. For a moment, he teetered on the precipice. Even raised a hand to touch her. But then, through the haze of old habits, purifying anger shone bright.
Zach stiffened. Scowled. Asked himself one question.
Why the fuck should he?
Rae was a grown woman; she wasn’t going to die if he turned her down. And Zach deserved better than forcing himself into sex just to save a friend’s ego. Jesus, what was he, a participation trophy? He didn’t want to do this, so he wouldn’t. The world would have to keep on turning without his fucking dick.
He scrambled to his feet, shaking his head. “No.” He should say more to soften the rejection, but anger still pulsed at the back of his mind. It wasn’t directed at Rae, or even at himself—it was directed at a world that had made him think saying Yes was a gentlemanly obligation. That performing hetero-masculine, always-available bullshit mattered more than he did. Because who ever heard of a man saying no?
Fuck that.
Rae stood too—slowly, and without any ominous wobbles. “Because I’m drunk?”
Please don’t make me explain this. His jaw tight, Zach strode to the park gate, opening it for her and Duke.
She walked through with a sunny smile. “Thanks. Anyway, I’m really not that drunk—but we could wait until tomorrow if you’re worried.”
He followed her out of the gate and onto the field, hands shoved in his pockets, the glittering night suddenly dark and oppressive. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to stop this train.
“I’m always free on Sundays,” she said, like they were discussing brunch. “I know you’re often busy, but I’m not asking for a marathon. I’d just need you to pop my cherry.” She snorted at her own words.
He paused, staring at her. “I don’t think that means what you think it means.”
“Oh, my God, Zach, I know what it means.” She laughed and kept walking, or rather, weaving. “I don’t think I’m explaining this very well. I meant my post-divorce… oh, never mind. I just need to get it over with, you know?”
No, he didn’t know. She wanted to have sex with him, but only to get it over with? What a bloody charmer. Zach took a breath and bit out, “I’m not fucking you, and it’s not because you’re drunk.”
She raised her eyebrows, all interested surprise, like she couldn’t quite grasp that the town bike would ever turn a woman down. Unsurprisingly, that pissed him off even more. He was over here twisting himself in knots about her feelings while she acted like he was a foregone conclusion—and not even a pleasurable one. His temper surged.
He stopped walking again and looked her in the eye, just to make sure she really got the message. “I’m saying no—now and tomorrow and next fucking week—because I don’t want to. Is that so hard to understand? Or do you think I sleep with anything breathing?”
“Oh.” She stepped back. It was the tiniest movement—barely even a real step—but it hit him hard. Then she lifted her chin and said tightly, “No. I don’t think that at all. For one thing, I consider myself better than just breathing.”
Oh, fuck. He inhaled sharply. “Rae, that’s not what I meant. I swear it isn’t.”
Her gaze skittered away from his. She looked like she was about to dig a hole in the grass with her bare hands and curl up inside it. Like his words had slapped her and the dizzy, drunken light in her chest had been snuffed out.
“I just—” He grappled helplessly for words. “I just meant… no.”
“It’s fine,” she said softly. “It’s my fault. I mean, I think I just harassed you.” Her hollow laugh was a good effort, but not quite good enough. “Gosh, I really am drunk. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
His heart sagged. He reached for her, but she jerked away.
“You don’t need to make me feel better.” This time, her smile was slightly more believable. “I messed up, and I know it. I’m a big girl.” An awkward silence hovered before she added, “I’m going to head home, okay?”
“I’ll walk you.”
“I have Duke, so—”
“I’ll walk you,” he repeated.
She set her jaw and nodded.
Their journey to the park had been tipsy and sparkling with laughter. The journey to Rae’s house was dark, tense, swollen with things left unsaid. Zach couldn’t keep his eyes off her, couldn’t make his mouth open, couldn’t figure out
a way to say, “You’re beautiful, you know,” without making it a consolation. He replayed his own words and cursed the angry panic that had made him harsh. He was never harsh. He hated harsh.
He wondered if, after tonight, Rae would become another friend he used to have.
When they reached her house, he blurted out, “I’m sorry,” a last-ditch effort to save the relationship he was certain had just crumbled.
She frowned at him, clearly confused, and asked, “For what?”
That was… unexpected. He didn’t quite know how to answer. For not being easier. Not being nicer. Not bending over backwards for you and hurting myself to do it.
But he didn’t want to apologise for any of those things. And she didn’t let him. After a pause, she said softly, “Goodnight, Zach.”
And then she went.
Chapter Four
By the time Monday morning rolled around, Zach still wasn’t sure how to fix the mess of Friday night. He couldn’t forget the stricken look on Rae’s face as she’d clipped out, I consider myself better than just breathing. Maybe he should’ve told her the truth: that he was off sex until he could be sure he was doing it for the right reasons. Or a deeper truth: that she was lovely, she just didn’t do it for him, but then, not many people did.
He could’ve told her about his first love, the one he’d known for a year before desire even occurred to him. Or the ex who’d barely been on his radar until one drunken night when they’d shared their deepest, darkest fears. He could’ve explained that there was a key in him, one that only turned when he knew someone down to the bone, down to their secret self.
But he’d been way too surprised to corral his thoughts, and then, all at once, he’d been angry. Now here he was, pounding away at the forge, wondering what it would take to keep all this temper locked up where it belonged. To stop it bleeding out into his relationships and ruining everything. So far, he hadn’t come up with a decent answer.
That Kind of Guy Page 4