Strummin' Up Love

by Erin Wright

  “Why you?” She quirked an eyebrow at him, confused. “Why should you have been able to put two and two together?” he clarified.

  “You met my dad at the Miller’s house at Carmelita’s birthday party.” It was a statement, not a question, but he nodded anyway. “Tall, big bear of a man. Quiet, but he’ll give you the shirt off his back if you need it. Good heart.” She sucked in a breath. Talk about childhood traumas. “But an alcoholic. I grew up worried my dad was going to beat one of us. Beat my mom. Destroy the dining room table. Drink away his paycheck that week so we had nothing to eat. I did my best to protect my younger siblings from him and his rages, but he didn’t stop until Alex was born. It was a terrible delivery, and it almost killed my mother. Scared him straight. So none of my brothers and sisters know how bad he really was, especially the twins and Alex. They were too young and missed it all. Lucky ducks.”

  She tried not to be bitter about how they were able to skate right past that one, unaffected by that trauma like she’d been. After all, she’d tried to protect them from it. She hadn’t wanted them to know just how terrible Dad could be when drunk.

  But still, a small part of her wished that someone had protected her too. Mom had tried, but…

  “Your family seemed so normal when I met them,” Zane said quietly. “I didn’t know that about your dad. I never would’ve guessed. He seemed like the nicest guy on the planet.”

  “Oh, and he is,” Louisa was quick to reassure him. “It’s only when he’s drunk that the devils come out to play. Alex is 13 years old, so my dad hasn’t touched alcohol in 13 years. It doesn’t mean he can never relapse, but it’s not like he just sobered up last week. Every time we go to a party as a family and I see beer being offered up, though, I hold my breath. I don’t know that I’ll ever fully trust him again. There’s always that chance he’ll fall back into it.”

  She wished her aunts would stop serving alcohol at family parties, but then, her mother had done an excellent job hiding the truth from her three sisters. To this day, she wasn’t sure if Carmelita, María, or Consuela knew how bad it had gotten at home, and she was sure none of them knew that her father was an alcoholic.

  Everyone had always told her mom how lucky she was to marry “such a handsome devil.”

  There was more truth in those words than anyone realized.

  “So you think I’m a situational drunk?” Zane asked, his mind clearly drifting back to his own impending alcoholism. “So if I go out touring again, I can drink then without worrying that I’m slipping down that slope?”

  “Yeesssss…?” she said doubtfully. “That’s my theory. Like I said, I’m not a specialist in that field. Plus, ask yourself this: Why is it such a big deal to you that you still be able to drink? Your first question out of the gate is to ask when it is that you can start drinking again. Does that make you nervous? It sure as hell makes me nervous.”

  “Oh.” He sat there, quiet, thoughtful. The minutes stretched on, and still, he was quiet. Then finally, he shot her a rueful grin. “I figured out how to get you alone for the weekend so I could woo you without my son right here, observing every minute of it, and have instead spent it discussing alcoholism. Not exactly the romantic weekend I’d envisioned.”

  She laughed and settled back into the couch a little more, picking up on his not-so-subtle request to leave the topic alone, and more than happy to agree. There was only so much muck-stirring a body could stand in one go, and she figured they’d just about reached that limit. “We’ve been discussing some pretty heavy stuff tonight,” she admitted. “I didn’t mean to turn our date into a therapy session. Do you want to watch that movie after all?”

  “On one condition,” he said, snagging the remote from off the end table and flipping through the menu to get to Hulu. “You let me rub your legs and feet while we watch it.”

  “Let you?” she repeated incredulously. She rather thought this was akin to him asking her if it was okay if he paid off all of her student loans. Really, not a hardship.

  “I’ve been fascinated with your calves since day one. I think it’s all of that walking that you did as a nurse, but you have the sexiest legs of any woman I’ve ever met. Oh, and the sexiest ass. Has anyone ever mentioned this to you?”

  She shook her head, mute. Matt wasn’t much for handing out compliments. If he was really feeling effusive one night, he might’ve told her, “Lookin’ good.” She’d told him one time not to strain himself too hard.

  The sarcasm had sailed right over his head.

  “Well, obviously you’ve only dated blind men.” He hit play on a thriller suspense movie and settled back against the couch, swinging her legs over onto his lap before pulling a small bucket filled to the brim with lotions out from the bottom shelf of the side table. He’d obviously come prepared. “You watch the movie and enjoy it, and I’ll rub your legs and enjoy that. We’ll both end the night happy people.”

  That, she thought as she snuggled deeper into the couch, letting her body conform to its contours, was a most excellent idea.

  Chapter 31

  Zane

  He hadn’t been blowing smoke up her ass when he’d said that she had the sexiest legs he’d ever seen. As eerie music played and Louisa’s body grew taut with expectation, Zane ignored the screen and instead kept his eyes focused on the delicate curves of her legs. She’d chosen to wear a short pair of khaki shorts and a faded t-shirt that had National Nurses and Health Professionals Conference of 2016 emblazoned across it that morning. Not exactly the stuff of wet dreams.

  It definitely wasn’t the window dressings that took his breath away. That was for tomorrow night, and no doubt she’d look spectacular in whatever Buttons got her into.

  No, it was just her. Everything about her, although he was starting to realize that he was particularly fascinated with her ankles. The way they curved into her calves just begged for him to kiss his way over them. Memorize their contours with his tongue.

  Louisa let out a little yelp of fear as the music rose to a crescendo, hugging one of the throw pillows to her chest, and Zane chuckled to himself. Next time, he’d have to make sure to offer up himself as the pillow to hug.

  Louisa settled back against the couch as the suspenseful moment faded, muttering to herself in Spanish, and he wished for the millionth time that he had more than a passing idea of the Spanish language. About the only words he’d retained all these years were the kind that Skyler had begged to learn. He hadn’t mentioned that he knew swear words in Spanish during that conversation, because he knew his son wouldn’t let up pestering him until he’d been taught them all. Louisa was much better at telling Skyler no, and him listening to her.

  Just another reason why she made a better parent than him. Ironic, really, considering she wasn’t a parent at all.

  At least, not yet.

  He tried to squash that possessive thought. He hadn’t even convinced her to move past the “I like you” stage. He surely couldn’t be planning his children with her.

  His hands drifted up and down her buttery soft legs, smoothing the lotion in, her dark skin a stark contrast against his white hands. Unbidden, he remembered his skepticism when Kylie had first told him that the niece of the Hispanic housekeeper was the nurse in one of the premiere spinal cord units in the country. God, he’d been such an ass. He wanted to bury his head with embarrassment at the memory. He was willing to share virtually anything about himself with Louisa, but he’d never share that thought.

  Never.

  She’d had to overcome so much – being Hispanic. Being a woman. Having English as her second language. Having an alcoholic as a father. And yet, she’d beaten every obstacle. She had a drive in her to succeed. She wasn’t like Tamara or him, though. It wasn’t a drive at any cost.

  He admired the hell out of her for that. Somehow, she retained that drive to succeed and her humanity.

  His hands began drifting higher and higher on her legs, the feel of her bare skin an aphrodisiac. His dick began
to harden against his will. How could he be in the company of this beautiful woman and not be turned on by her? He’d always liked brunettes but Louisa was more than just dark hair and tanned skin and a J.Lo ass. She was…

  Louisa.

  “Yes?” she said, looking over at him, and he realized then that he’d said her name out loud.

  “Come to bed with me,” he whispered, his voice husky.

  “Oh.” The word slipped out of her mouth, her perfect cupid’s bow mouth, and she stared at him for an endless moment and he was so damn afraid that he’d pushed too hard, too fast, and she was trying to find a way to tell him no, and then—

  “Yes.” It too was a whisper, but he felt the word deep in his soul. It was a yes to sex with him, but it was also a yes to a life with him. He knew that. Louisa was not one to jump into bed with someone she did not care about deeply.

  Somehow, he’d won her over, despite the fact that she could probably name every one of his flaws, and maybe even some he didn’t even know he had.

  He grabbed the remote and hit the power button, killing the power to the TV, his hands trembling slightly with need. He couldn’t make a fool out of himself by letting her know just how much he wanted her – she wanted to date a man, not an eager boy.

  But still, it had been months…

  He started at her toes, nibbling on the pads of them. How was it that the pads of her toes could be sexy? That’s when he knew he was desperate. He was just this side of completely addled with lust and desire if he was obsessed with her toes.

  She groaned, a guttural noise of lust that seemed to emanate from her toes, and sunk back into the couch, her eyes drifting closed. He swallowed hard as he kissed his way up her foot and over to her ankles. He’d wanted to make her look like that – that exact look of desire and lust and need – virtually from day one. Maybe even minute one. He hadn’t wanted to face up to it at the time – falling in love with your child’s nanny was such a cliché – but it’d happened anyway. He ran his tongue in circles over her delicate ankle bones and her breath started coming in pants as she dug her hands into the leather of the couch.

  “Zane,” she groaned as he pulled her more fully across his lap. She seemed almost boneless as she laid there, draped over him, her neck and face flushing pink with desire. Did her breasts flush pink too? Oh, the answers he was finally going to discover. He flipped the button open and unzipped her shorts, his fingers drifting underneath the khaki fabric even as his tongue continued to make swirls up her shin bone and then to her knee, but it was her thighs that fascinated him. They were so damn muscular, she looked like she could climb a mountain before breakfast without breaking into a sweat. He wondered what they’d feel like, wrapped around his head as he licked her pussy.

  Heaven, he guessed. Heaven on earth.

  “Zane, Zane, Zane,” Louisa panted, a chant of desire that rolled over him, his body reveling in the sound of his name on her lips. “Please, Zane, please…”

  “Please what?” he rasped as he pulled the khakis off her and tossed them to the ground. She had on a pair of plain cotton panties, as down-to-earth and practical as her bathing suit had been, and so he didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt at tearing them off her. He would take her shopping when they got back to civilization. Only silk and lace from here forward.

  “Please,” she whimpered as he turned between her legs and began to lick the curls of her womanhood. Here, finally, was curly hair – the only curly hair Louisa would ever have. “Yes. I…please…”

  Her words didn’t make sense, but he didn’t need them to. He knew what she wanted, because it was what he wanted too. He wasn’t going to last much longer – his self control was slipping fast, and he knew that he’d look like a randy teenage boy if he didn’t get himself wrapped up and inside of her soon.

  He rolled off her and snagged a condom out of the lotion basket he’d put together earlier – he was nothing if not an optimist – and rolled it into place before moving back over Louisa again. Her hair was in a cloud of black strands around her head, and he thought as he slipped inside of her that she looked like an angel.

  His angel.

  “Oh! Oh! Oh!” Louisa was panting, her back arching, her head tossing from side to side as he drove ever deeper into her, withdrawing and plunging forward again, the rhythm of it as old as time itself. She screamed with pleasure, her whole body tensing, rigid, and then he was spilling his seed too, the world going dark around the edges as he felt himself come, wave after wave of desire washing over him, whispered pleas for lust and love and desire wrapping and swirling around them.

  Time stopped then. They were floating on a plane of bliss, snuggled together, his nose buried in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. He realized belatedly that he hadn’t even gotten her shirt off, let alone her bra. He still didn’t know what color of pink her nipples were.

  Next time. I’ll look at them next time…

  And then the world faded away completely and Zane was lost to sleep.

  Chapter 32

  Louisa

  It was her arm that woke her up. It was doing that painful tingle that signaled that it was even more asleep than the rest of her body, and she sleepily tugged to free it from whatever it was stuck under…except it wouldn’t move.

  Her eyes fluttered open and then flew wide as she heard a snore that ended in a snort right next to her ear.

  What the hell?!

  She bolted upright, jerking her arm free in the process, and then stared down at the sleeping man next to her as pieces of the night before slowly reassembled in her mind. Zane. She’d had sex with her boss last night. And not just once. Several glorious, wondrous, amazing times.

  Oh Louisa, you’ve gone and stepped in it this time.

  Was she bound and determined to replay the same mistakes again and again? Was she destined to be stupid? What had she been thinking?

  “Whatever you’re thinking about,” came Zane’s groggy voice, “it’s much too early in the morning to be that serious.”

  How did he know if she was being serious or not? She looked down at his sleeping form, confused, his face mostly covered with wild strands of blond hair and pillows. “And don’t give me that look,” he mumbled into the pillows. “It’s too early for that look, too.”

  “How do you know what look I’m giving you?” she demanded tartly.

  “I know everything about you,” he said, his hands snaking out and snagging her, dragging her over as she began to laugh to lay on top of him. “For example,” he said, snuggling her underneath his stubbled chin, her ear pressed against his chest where she could feel as well as hear what he was saying. “I know that there’s that one spot on the back of your knee that when I suck on it, I make you cross-eyed with lust.”

  “Cross-eyed?” she protested. That made her sound like she was not completely with it upstairs.

  He ignored her outburst, intent on listing all of the things he knew about her.

  “I know that you love Skyler with all of your heart but that you also know that the best thing you can do for him is not spoil him rotten, something I’m only beginning to learn.”

  “Well, that was easy,” she said. “For me, anyway. I grew up with way too many sib—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips, stopping her from talking.

  “I know that you have absolutely no idea how to just shut up and take a compliment,” he said mildly. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or smack him, or maybe both. “Of course, I still have more to learn about you. Last night was just the beginning.”

  “I thought you said you knew everything about me,” she protested, except he still had his finger pressed to her lips so it came out sounding something like, “Ishawtusadunewederyshingoutme” instead. He pulled his finger away and she nipped at it playfully. “I thought you said you knew everything about me,” she repeated.

  “Everything important,” he clarified, stroking her hair as she laid on top of him, one long pillow of muscle
and bone and warmth. “I’m still trying to figure out the small stuff, like whether your eyes are a 90% cocoa brown or a 75% cocoa brown. Sometimes, I think it just depends on the lighting, but I need further study to know for sure.”

  Her shoulders were shaking with laughter. “I can see how this question keeps you up at night,” she said dryly.

  “It is one of life’s great mysteries,” he said mildly, his hands still stroking down her hair in long, even strokes. She realized why it was that animals loved being petted so much. She could just lay there all day, basking in his touch.

  “But, alas, we have to do something more today than just compare your eyes to chocolate bars,” he said with a heavy sigh, the rumble of his voice traveling through her body as he talked.

  “We do?” She searched through her mind for what they could possibly be scheduled for that weekend but came up blank. With Skyler gone, she had nothing at all to do, and that just seemed decadent to her. Luxurious.

  Lazy as hell.

  “One of my friends from the music industry, Buttons, is on her way here from Tennessee,” he said casually, as if talking about nothing more interesting than the menu at a restaurant. “Buttons did all of Tamara’s dresses for her for all of the big events. She’s going to do a fitting for you. Dress you up for a night on the town.”

  She jerked, her boneless body of just moments ago completely gone. She stared down at him in shock, only vaguely registering the “oof” of breath that blew out of him as she inadvertently dug her elbow into his stomach. “Night on the town?” she repeated.

  Muttering something she probably didn’t want to hear, he moved her elbow over, but she wasn’t paying much attention to him anyway as her mind replayed his words, trying to actually understand them. He was flying a friend called Buttons – who has a name like Buttons?! – to Idaho to do a fitting so they could have a night on the town. The two of them.