Losing Love (What Will Be Book Series)

by Laura Ashley Gallagher

  Alex steps aside, turning me around with him as he places a hand on my lower back.

  “No trouble needed. I’m Alex.” He nods, a smile gracing his gorgeous lips, and he reaches out his hand to Matt.

  Please don’t hit him.

  My body relaxes when Matt takes his hand, and they both grip each other a little too firmly.

  “It would have been better to see you when you weren’t feeling up my sister, but it’s still good to meet you.” Matt smiles back begrudgingly.

  I glare at him. He needs to stop eyeballing Alex.

  I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, rolling my eyes, and hope it will give Matt the message to stop with the protective brother nonsense. I’m not seventeen anymore.

  Matt dips his head. “Don’t worry about it. People have caught me in worse situations.”

  Both Alex and Matt laugh then, easing the tension between them. I let out the breath I don’t know I’m holding, and I relax against Alex’s side.

  “Come in. My parents will be happy you’re here.”

  And they are. My mother almost throws her back out, her mouth parted as she eyes him from his head to his toes. My father looks at her, blinking and amused by her lack of discretion when Alex enters the room.

  “You realize we’re married thirty years today,” he says, but she doesn’t answer him and merely shrugs. She’s too busy looking.

  Even in my family home, his presence fills the space. Tall and strong, his piercing blue eyes attentive to everyone and everywhere, including the hidden glances to my legs only I notice. His face gives nothing away, but the tightening of his jaw as he watches me walk around the kitchen, making coffees, tells me exactly what’s on his mind.

  The men quickly fall into chatting about the football game and Alex’s construction business. Never boasting, but he’s impressive all the same. He has that effect on people.

  My mother hints she wants to add a little extension to the back of the house.

  It’s the first anyone’s heard of it.

  They’re happy he’s in their home. They’re more impressed at how happy he makes me.

  When we leave, he is leaving, having been already welcomed by them. He shakes my father and Matt’s hand and when my mother puts out hers; he takes it but places a quick peck on her cheek, and her entire face burns.

  He also has that effect on people.

  “It was great to meet you all. I’ll see you later. And happy anniversary,” he says, before leaving. “I’ll wait in the car. We’ll take mine,” he tells me at the door.

  When my parents have gone back inside, Matt looks down at me, and a rueful smile plays across his mouth. “The driveway, Mandy? Really?”

  “Shut up.” I slap his arm. “When Suzie used to stay here, you were always sneaking into her room.”

  “That was different.”

  “How?” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “You’re my sister.”

  Will he ever see me as anything but a little girl needing his protection?

  “Just get your ass to the restaurant and make sure everything is going smoothly.”

  On our drive to the store, Alex reaches over and places his hand on the bare skin above my knee where my dress has shifted up. Neither of us said much when we got in the car. We didn’t need to. Meeting my parents went well, and I thanked him with the kiss I placed on his lips before we left.

  I relax because he’s by my side again. Alex always makes the gaping hole in my chest feel a little less vast.

  Every so often, his fingers graze my inner thigh, and my breath catches in my throat, but he always keeps his thumb respectively across my knee.

  Has he any idea what he is doing to me?

  I can’t tell from the even expression on his face. His attention is always on the road ahead. But then a smirk plays along the corner of his mouth. It disappears as fast as it appeared, and he purses his mouth to hide it.

  He knows exactly what he’s doing.

  Two can play that game.

  Without even glancing in his direction, I reach over to place my hand on his thigh, matching his movements. Then my fingers dance along the material of his trousers as a bare brush on his skin.

  No reaction.

  Nothing.

  His face is blank, but his grip tightens on my leg ever so slightly. Then my fingers edge higher and higher. With every inch, I press my palm harder against him.

  His eyes become wide, and he sucks in a breath.

  Bingo.

  He looks over at me, his eyes in a frenzy, all fire and amber dancing at the corner of his blue pools. I observe my hand working its way up his leg.

  “Eyes on the road, Mr. Hale.” My voice is breathy as I look up at him again before biting into the flesh of my lower lip.

  His hand leaves my knee to grip both hands on the steering wheel.

  My fingers tease higher, and something grumbles in his chest. My legs clench, tightening with every heavy breath crossing his lips.

  Roughly, he grabs my hand, immediately turning gentler as he brings my fingers to his lips. He glances from the road to my hand, his lips kissing the tip of each finger, branding the skin with his mouth.

  “Don’t threaten me, Mandy.” His voice is thick and drenched in something primal. “I won’t think twice about pulling this car over.” I can’t take my eyes off him as each of my fingers opens, and he smooths his lips to my palm. “And we don’t want that.”

  He gives me back my hand, placing it on my lap.

  I throw my head back against the seat, swallowing hard. I suddenly feel parched.

  “We don’t?” I question.

  I don’t think I’d protest if he pulled over.

  He shakes his head, blinking over the fire in his eyes, and releases a long breath.

  “You could be the woman who kills me, Mandy.”

  I open the window a crack, allowing the air to cool my clammy skin. I rest my head back again and close my eyes.

  “Not if you kill me first.”

  ***

  Later that night, as the music plays around us, everyone is a little merry from alcohol and comfortable in the family restaurant, me and Claire slip into our seats. Our feet ache, exhausted from dancing, and a gulp of wine does little to extinguish the burn in my lungs.

  Alex has company with Garry at the bar, but looking at him now, with the group of men from my family, he walked straight in and became one of them. They laugh and joke as if he’s always been there. It makes me happier than I ever knew I could be. He doesn’t have to pretend.

  Every so often, he came to my side, kissing me, asking if I needed another drink. He’s my designated driver tonight.

  Despite the company, his eyes wandered to me on the dance floor, and from the glances I threw his way, he hadn’t taken his eyes off me. He’s still watching me now as I take my seat.

  “Are you staring at him because of all the wine you have drunk or does the man intoxicate you?” Claire nudges me, bringing my attention back to her.

  She’s right. I’ve drunk more than I should have, and my head is spinning. But it’s Alex who makes me lightheaded. His eyes find mine one more time, and he smirks with a wink before getting back to the conversation he’s having with the other men.

  As I sit back and put the wineglass to my lips, I suddenly feel my mouth pool with saliva.

  No more wine tonight.

  I blink, trying to make the haze over my eyes go away, and it takes so much effort.

  Nope.

  This is how I see things now.

  I turn to Claire, feeling like the room is moving in slow motion.

  “I think I need to get home. I’m exhausted and I don’t want to puke.”

  She throws her head back and laughs. “Lightweight.”

  Standing, I grip the table to steady myself. I don’t have to look. I can already feel my mother’s eyes boring a hole through me from the opposite table.

  I point a finger at her. “Before you
say it. I know I’m drunk. I’m going home. I love you.” I blow her a kiss, but I think it comes from my nose, and everyone laughs at me.

  I don’t get drunk very often, so I’m sure they are looking at me like a zoo animal.

  I inhale a steadying breath, hoping my legs will work, and walk in a straight line. I get a few steps away from Alex and reach out for him. He notices me just as I sway.

  “Whoa.” He rushes to my side, putting a hand around my waist and planting me straight again.

  Why do I always stumble around him?

  I swallow again and fight hard not to get sick. He’s too beautiful to vomit on.

  “Need me to take you home?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say, putting my fingers to my head in a mock salute.

  “You didn’t look drunk when you were dancing.” He puts his lips closer to my ear. “You looked sexy as hell.”

  My eyes roll in my head, and I hold back a whimper as his breath sweeps across my neck.

  This man will be the death of me, I’m sure of it.

  “That’s because,” I look up at him, “everything stands still when I move my head.”

  “You’re so weird,” he chuckles, holding me tighter. “Come on. I’ll grab your things.”

  I follow him, taking his hand while waving to everyone on my way out and blowing more nose kisses in the air. The party is busy enough for people not to notice as I stumble.

  “I’m sorry,” I start as he helps me into the car and straps the safety belt across my chest. Even that simple touch causes my stomach to tighten. “I don’t drink often.”

  He kisses my nose. A real one this time. Not an air kiss.

  I laugh to myself.

  He moves the hair that has fallen onto my face. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Although, your headache in the morning might disagree.” He scrunches his nose up and places a chaste kiss on my forehead.

  I moan something inaudible, but I think I’m singing.

  I crack open the window on the drive home, thankful for the cool breeze as it smooths across my skin. It clears the fog and eases the waves crashing in my stomach. I look over at him. His eyes are going from the road to me and back again.

  “What are you thinking?” I turn around on the seat, putting my legs up and letting them fall to my side. I want to look at him. He’s beautiful.

  His lids crease over his eyes. He’s probably surprised I can put a coherent sentence together.

  “You don’t want to know,” he says, glancing at me from the corner of his eye while running his fingers over his hair. It has grown a little since I first met him, and it makes all his features darker. Not his eyes, though. They are brighter than the sun, and when I look at them for too long, they blind me.

  I giggle at myself.

  Again.

  He frowns, the indent of a line across his brow.

  I say something before he thinks I’m crazy. “I do want to know. That’s why I asked.”

  He inhales a deep breath, blowing out again harshly. The car comes to a stop at traffic lights, but he doesn’t look at me.

  “You take up everything.” His head falls between his shoulders briefly, like he has to gather himself before coming back up.

  I take up everything.

  What the hell does that mean?

  I feel my heart drop to the pit of my stomach. Am I a total embarrassment when I’m drunk?

  I close my eyes, bracing myself with an invisible barrier because I’m not sure what comes next.

  His fingers tap against the steering wheel. “You’re right next to me, and it’s you. You’re all I can think of. I’m thinking of how I’m going to hate leaving you tonight. I’m thinking about how your body moved when you danced and how I constantly have to stop myself from putting my hands all over you. I’m thinking of how it almost killed me to be so respectful all night when all I wanted to do was take you into a corner somewhere and be very disrespectful. I’m thinking, even when you’re drunk, you’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever set eyes on.” He laughs under his breath, and as if he has been fighting to keep those in all night, his posture relaxes. “I’m wondering what the hell I was doing when you weren’t in my life.”

  My eyes go wide, and the rush of blood causes my heart to pound behind my ears. My head stops spinning, and my tongue is like sandpaper against the roof of my mouth. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it wasn’t that.

  I don’t feel so drunk anymore. His words have sobered me. But he still hasn’t looked my way, even when the lights go green, and he drives again.

  Take them back, Alex.

  Take back every word.

  I still have so much to tell you.

  “Alex?” My voice breaks, getting wedged in my throat.

  His eyes are soft when he finally looks over at me, smiling. “I’m admitting this now because you won’t remember in the morning.”

  He doesn’t mean that. He’s protecting himself. I see it because I do it too.

  And is he crazy?

  I’ll never forget.

  The moment those words left his mouth, they burned through my ears and were branded into my memories.

  I moisten my lips with my tongue, my fingers beating rhythms against my thigh, and the overwhelming full feeling in my chest makes my body tingle.

  “Take me back to the hotel with you.” My voice hardly makes a sound, but in the car’s silence, I hear it like I’ve screamed the words.

  His jaw tightens painfully, grounding his teeth. A firm hand crosses my chest, bracing me as he brings the car to an abrupt stop.

  “Jesus Christ, Mandy. I didn’t say those things to get you into bed.”

  But I want to.

  “Is that what you think?”

  No. That’s not what I think. I know he’s serious because his thoughts reflect mine, but I don’t say that because I’m still catching my breath from the shock of the car stopping and the crazed look in his eyes.

  I’ve hurt him.

  Come back to me, Alex.

  I reach my hand over, placing it in his hair, and we both relax into each other.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, and his eyes warm again. “I know it’s not what you meant because I feel it too. But I meant it when I said I want to go back to the hotel with you.”

  My entire body aches for him.

  I need him to touch me.

  I need his strength around me.

  I need to know he is mine before I ruin everything.

  His lips curve ever so slightly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. And as he closes them, he leans over, pressing himself against me.

  “As much as I hate saying this, I can’t take you back with me. When I take you to bed, I don’t want you to wake up the next morning and regret it.”

  “Alex, I could never regret anything with you.”

  He shuts his eyes harder, causing his face to tighten.

  I’m making this more difficult for us, but I don’t care.

  “Then, I don’t want you doing something you might not be ready for. And I can’t stand wondering if you are. Not tonight.”

  I throw my head back, away from him, letting my temper get the better of me.

  He’s right. Of course he is. I’m drunk, and it’s not how I want it. But goddamn this man and his patience. And it doesn’t help when he makes fun of my frustration, chuckling as he starts the car again. I cross my arms, staring out into the blackness. I’m sulking like a petulant child, but I want something, and he won’t give it to me, and now I want to scream.

  “What are you thinking?” He takes my hand in his, forcing me to release the tension across my chest, and kisses the sensitive skin of my wrist.

  It’s not fair.

  But he doesn’t mean it in any other way than to soothe me. I just can’t cool my body from the uncomfortable heat.

  “I hate when you’re such a gentleman.”

  He sneers at me but laughs and his shoulders shake.

  Alex and I have a lot in
common. He’s grumpy when he’s hungry, and what I’ve learned within the last five minutes is I get grumpy when I’m turned on. They’re both a kind of hunger, and we can appease only one in this car.

  A painful knot ties in my stomach when we pull up outside my family home. I don’t want him to leave. But I need him to. We both do.

  I don’t understand how two people can need to be so close to each other, but need so much distance to cool off.

  He helps me out, walking by my side with his hand around my waist before taking my keys and unlocking the front door.

  I lean against the porch, and his seductive grin zings around my skin. But the fire in his eyes betrays the playfulness of his smile. With a simple kiss to my tender lips, he holds softly for a moment before pulling away again.

  I want more.

  I want it all.

  I know now, gentlemen are assholes, and chivalry is all smoke and mirrors.

  “Goodnight, gorgeous.”

  I veer my eyes to the ground, unable to find words that will keep him here.

  “Goodnight.”

  Reluctantly, I push off the wall and turn to walk inside.

  No. He’s not done.

  His touch scorches my skin, grabbing the inside of my elbow, and spinning me back around.

  He holds my face between his thumb and index finger, stroking the skin along my jawline. It’s soft enough not to hurt but rough enough to make my legs go lax.

  He comes closer. “And, Mandy,” he says, running his other hand between the dip of my cleavage, “When you come to my bed, I won’t be such a gentleman.”

  Okay, maybe they’re not all assholes.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I wake with mascara gluing my lashes together, knotted hair, a mouth that tastes like I haven’t brushed my teeth in three weeks, and an unmerciful banging at my temples.

  What have I done to myself?

  Before I can even stretch, a blinding light assaults my eyes, burning my retina to a crisp.

  “Rise and shine,” my mom chirps, in only a way she can. It’s the most annoying sound I’ve ever heard.

  I open one eye, afraid the other is still repairing itself.

  “Jesus Christ, Mom. Don’t do that. I think I might be dying.”

  I feel the side of the bed press down as she sits.