Promise Her

by Johnston, Andrea

  I have to get my shit together. I cannot think of Scarlett that way. It’s wrong on so many levels. Not only is she my best friend’s wife, but she’s carrying his child. And a fucking widow. Jesus, he’s only been gone two months, and I’m already lusting over her. But goddamn, she looked like a fucking siren standing there in the dark. Knowing she was naked under that towel is doing nothing to dampen my desire.

  “Gosh, what I wouldn’t give for a glass of wine. That’s wrong, isn’t it?” Her voice pulls me from my own thoughts. Turning, I see her standing next to the counter. Dressed in a tight-fitting tank top that is clearly not maternity and a pair of loose-fitting sweats resting on her hips, she may look more sinful than she did in the towel. Fuck, I need to get it together.

  “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Indulging may be a different story.”

  Sighing, she pulls out one of the chairs at the counter and settles in. With her chin resting in her palm, she smiles. I watch her, waiting for her to say something about what just happened in the hallway. Instead, she smiles and says, “Thanks for letting me stay. That tub is amazing. I may never leave.”

  “You are welcome to it anytime. I’m not much of a bath guy. It was more for resale value.”

  “Well done. It’s perfect.”

  I take another draw from my beer and wait. When she says nothing and only comments on the renovations I’ve made to the house, I breathe a sigh of relief at the realization she didn’t experience the same thing I did in the hallway. That’ll make it all a lot easier.

  “I haven’t done any work upstairs so while you’re here, I’ll take the couch. I’m just going to shower off the night. Want to watch a movie when I’m done?”

  Nodding, she smiles, and if I’m not mistaken, releases a long breath. Whether it’s relief or disappointment, I’m uncertain. For her and me. Maybe my assessment of earlier was wrong, and she felt it too only she’s much better at playing it off than I am.

  “Got any popcorn in this bachelor pad?”

  Laughing, I look to the takeout bag still sitting on the counter.

  “For dessert. I’m going to need a snack.”

  Opening the pantry door and motion toward the stocked shelves. “Every snack imaginable. I have a teenage nephew who requires all of the processed food essentials whenever he stays over.”

  I step away from the door as she stands, and I awkwardly walk the long way around the kitchen island before retreating to my bedroom and what is going to be a very cold shower.

  As the credits roll on the movie, Scarlett’s soft snores fill the quiet. I sit and watch her doze. With her feet in my lap, she’s curled on her side, head resting on the pillow I brought out for my makeshift bed. Shifting a little, her sweats have settled lower on her hips while her tank has risen slightly, exposing her baby bump. Her hair is once again piled on top of her head. While I miss seeing her wild mane spread across the pillow, with her hair off her face I’m able to see every freckle on her creamy skin.

  I thought watching an action movie would lessen the attraction I’ve felt for her all night. I was wrong. Nothing has diminished the ache I’m feeling. I hate myself for every second of it but can’t deny it’s there. Simmering below the surface of every word spoken and every movement, I itch to touch her. And now, I need to. I need to wake her and get her off this couch and into my bed for a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow is a new day, and I will not envision her naked.

  Slipping her feet from my lap, I rise from the couch and lightly brush my hand across her arm and up to her shoulder, trying not to startle her. Nothing. She doesn’t even twitch. I try again with a little more effort. Still nothing except a loud snort of a snore causing me to chuckle. I could leave her here on the couch to sleep but I’d feel horrible knowing she’s out here when I’m in the bed. Instead, I bend down and pull her hands so she’s in a sitting position. Her eyes flutter open, a small smile appearing on her lips.

  “Did I fall asleep?” she asks groggily.

  “Sure did. Let’s get you to bed, sweetheart.”

  Begrudgingly she stands and lets me guide her down the hall and into my bedroom. Pulling back the covers, I motion her to the bed and without another word, she slides under the covers and into the middle of the bed. When she turns to her side, facing me, eyes slightly open, she says, “You should sleep in here with me. It’s big enough for at least five people.”

  There could not be a worse idea, so I say, “Sleep well, Red.” As I exit the room, I hear her mumble a goodnight.

  Once I return to the living room, I clean up our bowls of popcorn and drinks before making up a bed on the couch. Grabbing the remote control, I flip through my recorded shows for something to watch. It’ll be hours before I’m able to sleep, not only because my mind is still on the woman fast asleep in my bed, but because it’s rare I manage more than a few hours of sleep a night.

  Choosing the latest episode of my favorite courtroom drama, I settle in for a long night of television watching and mindless games on my phone.

  Chapter 12

  Scarlett

  Rolling over, I burrow my face in the pillow. What the . . .

  This does not smell like my lavender scented sheets. Slowly, I rise up on my elbows and peel my eyes open. And, they are not yellow. Shit. This isn’t my bed. It’s . . . Taylor’s. How did I get here? I barely remember half the movie he put on last night, let alone how I ended up nestled into this amazing bed. Without a care, I sniff the sheets once more and smile. The scent is a cross between that sagey smell I encountered when I walked in the room and a fresh outdoor scent. Masculine. It smells masculine.

  Flopping over onto my back, I look up at the ceiling and try to gather a smidgen of a memory of last night but fall short. What I do recall is the way his hands held me while I was wearing only a towel. The way his fingers gripped my waist and sent a jolt of awareness straight between my legs.

  Listening to my audio book is off the table during this visit. There’s no way I can listen to Hawk Weaver say all of those sinful things over and over and sit next to Taylor while we share a bowl of popcorn and watch action movies. Only action movies. Nothing romantic or with a hint of sexual tension between the characters. Nope, not for this girl. If anything remotely sexy appears on the screen, I’m likely to climb him like a tree and beg him to reenact my book.

  I knew the moment I walked in the kitchen and he didn’t say anything, the feeling I had in the hallway was completely one-sided. Taylor Cain is too much of a standup guy to ever be attracted to his best friend’s wife. Besides, he’s hot as hell and can have any woman he wants. That much was evident when I was sitting at the bar watching women slide him their numbers and put their cleavage on display. There’s no way he’s looking at my pregnant body and thinking of anything except of how I’m going to birth this child. Which is something I should start thinking about too.

  Birthing classes, buying the necessities, and how I’m going to manage all of this on my own. At my last doctor’s appointment, the nurse mentioned how she had her entire family in the room with her while she gave birth to her daughter only a few months ago. I held it together until I was in my car and then cried at the realization I have nobody to lean on during my birth. There will be no husband or mother holding my legs while I curse expletives like it’s my job.

  Kicking off the covers, I refuse to wallow in my reality just yet. I have four and a half months to get my affairs in order. Thankfully, the payments on the life insurance and other benefits have started rolling in, and I won’t have to work until the baby is at least three months old. I made sure to set aside enough money to cover my basic bills to allow me time to recover and get into a routine with the baby until I figure out exactly what I’ll be doing for work and daycare once the time comes.

  Padding my way into the massive bathroom, I handle my early morning business before making my way out to the kitchen. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the sizzle of bacon greets me as I enter the main living spac
e. Taylor is standing in the kitchen with his back to me. With his phone to his ear, he flips the bacon in the pan and grumbles a few one-word responses to whomever.

  Once he tosses his phone on the counter, I clear my throat to announce my presence.

  “Morning,” I say with sleep still evident in my voice.

  “Hiya. How’d you sleep?”

  Looking at his phone and back at him I ask, “Everything okay?”

  “Yep. It was my sister. She and Landon are out of town for the weekend while Mason stays with Landon’s parents. I was thinking we could all cookout today, but since they’re gone, you’re stuck with only me.”

  “I think I can manage. I’m happy for Addy. From what she said, Landon is a great guy.”

  Opening the refrigerator, Taylor holds up a carton and I nod in confirmation. As he pours me a glass of juice he says, “Yeah, he is. We’ve been friends for a few years and while I never would have pegged those two for each other, it’s a natural fit. After her dickhead ex-husband, it’s great to see someone put her first for a change. And Mason. He’s great for both of them.”

  “What about you? Do you think you’ll ever get married?” I ask as I sip from my cup. The look on his face is a cross between horror and confusion. I can’t help but laugh. “Calm down, I wasn’t talking about today. I just mean in general, maybe in the future.”

  “I think that ship has sailed for me. Making room for another person isn’t something I’ve managed, and I don’t think I would even know where to start with that. Besides, I keep awful hours for anyone needing date nights.”

  Letting his response sit, I watch in silence as he goes about finishing a pan of bacon and whips up some scrambled eggs. Normally I’d ask if I can help, step in and make the eggs myself, but something tells me that offer would be shot down. Instead, I sit back in my chair, rest my hands on my belly, and watch. He’s methodical in his process, watching the butter in the pan as he whisks the eggs. Once he pours the eggs in the pan he steps away and pops a few slices of bread in the toaster before sipping from his coffee cup.

  I want to ask him if he does this routine often. Have a woman sitting in this seat as he makes her breakfast. I’d be surprised if the answer was anything except yes, but I honestly don’t want to know. I like the idea that this moment is special, just something for us.

  He must feel my gaze because he turns, and a slow smile appears on his face. That same emotion I felt in the hallway last night returns. My heart beats quickly and a heat rises across my skin like I’m standing outside on the hottest summer day. His gaze slowly takes inventory of me, settling on my chest before rising to my face. Opening his mouth to say something, he stops when the toast pops, and he looks at the pan.

  “Shit!” he shouts before flipping the burner to off and lifting the pan from the flame. The faintest scent of burnt egg appearing.

  I stifle a giggle at his frustration, and he shoots me a dirty look. His looks don’t intimidate me, and I let the laughter bellow out of me. It isn’t long before his own laughter fills the room. Once he’s plated our breakfasts, he assumes the seat next to me, bumping my elbow with his. “How would you feel about a drive? Show you a little of Lexington.”

  “I think that sounds perfect. Will there be snacks?”

  Seemingly amused by my question, he nods his head. “Yeah, Red. We’ll get snacks.”

  Smiling, I lift my toast to my mouth and chew while never taking my eyes off him.

  “Don’t you have to work? I just dropped in unannounced. Surely you don’t just happen to have time off to entertain me.”

  “I have it covered. What do you say, snacks and a drive?”

  “Count me in. But first, I’m eating all of this then treating myself to another bath.”

  I dig into my breakfast and contemplate bringing up the idea of him marrying again but settle on saying, “It’s a shame you won’t cook for a wife like this. Your eggs are delicious.”

  Taylor keeps his eyes on me, no words spoken, just a stare. It isn’t uncomfortable nor is it something I’ll allow myself to wonder about. Instead, I smile and bring another mouthful of deliciousness to my lips.

  When Taylor said we were going for a drive I thought he meant we’d meander around the town. Maybe he’d show me a few of the highlights, feed me, and then we’d be done. That is a big fat no. Yes, we drove through town, he showed me where I can get the “best damn breakfast burrito,” what Country Road looks like in the daylight, and where Addy lives. When he started out of town, I teased him he was driving me somewhere remote to bury my body. I laughed. He didn’t.

  Instead, he told me to trust him, sit back, and enjoy the scenery. So I did. And I don’t regret it. For the first time in months, I feel content. Relaxed and in the moment. I’m not worrying about how someone is looking at me, if they’re judging my laughter or smile as too soon, there’s no pity to be found and it turns out, Taylor and I have very similar music tastes.

  Turning off the main highway, we hit a bumpy road, which is not great for my pregnancy bladder. I grip the handle of the door and rest my head back on the seat. Maybe if I pretend my bladder isn’t in distress, I can will the need to relieve myself away. The moment the road smooths out and I’m no longer bouncing in my seat, I find a little reprieve, but the need still exists.

  “Is there a restroom or a plethora of bushes where you’re taking me?” I ask, dancing in my seat.

  “Huh?”

  Cocking my head, I point to my stomach and he cringes. “Oh shit. Sorry. I forgot. I mean, I didn’t . . . my buddy has a cabin out here. I’ll park there and you can use the bathroom.”

  “Are you sure? I’m not a delicate flower, ya know? I can make do like anyone else as long as you can find me a little privacy.”

  Ignoring me, he turns the truck down a small road and within minutes we’re in front of a tiny A-frame cabin. A small shed that matches the color scheme of the cabin sits off to the side and other than a picnic table, there is nothing but land as far as the eye can see. Putting the truck in park, Taylor kills the engine and jumps out before running around to open my door. Once I’m unbuckled, I take his offered hand and step onto the gravel. Tugging me toward the front of the cabin, Taylor feels around on the frame before pulling down a key and opening the door.

  Ushering me inside, he steps off to the side and I walk quickly inside the small place. I can see a door open to the left and assume it’s the bathroom. Finally relieved, I take the small hand towel hanging on the wall and look at the small bathroom. It’s little but decorated nicely with hints that a woman has added her personal touch to the space.

  Opening the door, I step into the living room, and Taylor is nowhere to be found so I allow myself a minute to take in the space. The furniture is sparse but there’s a couch, chair, and hutch against the wall. The kitchen is open with a few barstools at the counter.

  “Jameson and Ashton are planning to add on to this space and make it more family friendly now that they’re going to be parents.”

  Jumping, I turn to the voice behind me, hand on my chest.

  “Jesus. You cannot sneak up on a pregnant woman. I almost pissed myself.”

  Laughing, he motions for me to follow him outside. I do as instructed, and when I step outside, I take in all that beautiful land before us.

  “It’s great, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Beautiful. Do you come out here often?” Rolling my eyes at the cliché of a pick-up line, I turn to him as he replies.

  “Not as much as I should. Ashton has been my right hand at the bar, but now that she and Jameson are together and starting a family, she’s not around and it’s all falling to me.” We walk over to the truck, and he pulls two bottles of water from the small cooler we packed. “Let’s take a little stroll around the lake.”

  Walking side by side, I listen as he tells me about guy trips to this lake just a few years ago and how that has turned into couples and eventually will include children. We stop to skip rocks and just watch t
he beautiful scenery before us. I’m in awe of this place and how quiet and serene it is. I can imagine living somewhere like this, with the sounds of nature waking you each morning and singing you to sleep at night.

  Stepping up onto a rock, I turn to ask Taylor if it’s time for snacks when I begin to lose my balance. As I flail and begin to fall toward the ground, he swoops in and catches me. His arms cradling me to his chest, my hands landing on his shoulders.

  My heart flutters.

  My breath hitches.

  My pulse races.

  It’s that same feeling as last night all over again.

  Only, this time, Taylor doesn’t let go of me as he rights us. Standing toe to toe, I lightly glide my hands across his shoulders and around to the nape of his neck. Glancing to his lips, I watch as his tongue slowly peeks out and glides across the bottom lip.

  And then he steps back. Again.

  Clearing his throat, he runs his hand through his hair and whispers, “Scarlett.”

  Confliction and frustration are evident in his movements. My heart drops at the realization he has no intention of pursuing whatever attraction this is between us. Disappointment replaces the lust I was feeling, but I won’t let him see it. I’ll plaster on a smile and pretend like nothing is wrong. That’s the right thing to do.

  “Snacks. I’m hungry. Let’s go get some of those snacks,” I say enthusiastically. Fake enthusiasm but still, it’s there.

  Stepping around Taylor, I begin walking toward the truck and my snacks because when in doubt—eat cheese and crackers.

  Chapter 13

  Taylor

  All day she walked around in those goddamn shorts and that too tight tank top. Complaining about her “huge ass” did nothing but draw my eyes to her backside like a fucking neon sign. And then there was the thirty minutes or so of her stretching and lying in the sun. I’m not too proud to say I excused myself to the cabin for the restroom when in reality, I was reciting the alphabet backwards. In Spanish. All in an effort to diminish the growing hard-on in my shorts.