Since I still have her wrists in my hands, I tug her toward me, causing her to spill into my arms. Perfect. Capturing her lips with mine, I relish in the way her body conforms to my embrace. Her mouth is sweet heaven. Slowing the kiss, she pulls back, a huge smile on her face.
“Do not think you are distracting me with your sexy kisses and rock-hard abs. I am starving and my boobs have at least two hours before I start complaining.”
“Baby, you cannot use the words ‘sexy’ and ‘boobs’ in the same sentence. I’m only a man.”
Laughing, she pushes at my shoulder and I mock stumble. Taking her hand in mine, I walk us out the door and to my truck. Everything about this feels right. And yet, guilt is knocking at my heart’s door. She’s still my best friend’s wife. What am I doing to us?
Our drive through town is quiet. The soft sounds of Tim McGraw fill the cab as the sun continues to shine brightly. Reaching across the seat, I steal Scarlett’s hand from her lap and lift it to my lips. Placing a quick kiss to her knuckles, I glance her way and watch as her body visibly relaxes and she rests her head back on the seat, staring out the passenger window. I guess I’m not the only one with a lot on my mind.
As I flip my blinker to turn into the parking lot of the small Italian bistro in town, Scarlett sits up straight in her seat and hums. Turning to me she says, “I love Italian.”
“I know.”
“You really do lo . . . I mean, thanks for bringing me here.”
Shifting the truck in to park, I tug on her hand to get her attention. With her bottom lip tugged between her teeth, eyes wide, she looks at me. “You’re welcome.”
She releases a short breath and smiles. Her shoulders drop, and I know she’s grateful I didn’t ask her what she was about to say. We both know, but I don’t think that’s a conversation either of us want to have tonight.
I jump out of the truck, round the front, and open the passenger door. “Muh lady,” I say holding my hand out. Giggling she takes my hand, and when she hops from the seat and her feet land on the ground, she drops into an over exaggerated curtsy.
Chuckling, I lead us into the restaurant. Since I made reservations, we don’t have to wait to be seated. The hostess walks us to a small table for two in the back corner of the restaurant. Like the other tables in the restaurant, candles are lit in the middle of the table and a bottle of chianti nestles in a straw basket to the side with two small glasses.
I move around the hostess to pull Scarlett’s chair out as she sits down. Looking up at me, she smirks. Returning the look, I wink before walking back to the other side of the table and taking my own seat. The hostess rattles off the specials and motions to the wine list before excusing herself.
We both open our menus, neither of us speaking. On occasion, we both look up at the same time and smile at each other but never speak. I have no idea why I’m looking at this menu, I’m going to get the same thing I do anytime I order from here. Although, I’m usually picking up takeout instead of sitting at one of the tables.
“Do you already know what you’re having?”
“Yep.”
“There are so many options, and everything sounds so decadent. I should get a salad. I won’t lose this baby weight if I give in to my love of carbs.”
“Hey,” I implore. She looks up at me “You are beautiful always and less than two months ago you birthed a human. Be kind to yourself.”
Nodding, she sniffles, but before I can ask if she’s okay, the server approaches our table. I order a beer and Scarlett sticks to a Shirley Temple since she’ll be nursing when we get home. We talk for a few minutes about the menu, and I finally convince her to order the carbonera she’s mentioned three times in as many minutes. When the server returns with our drinks, we place our order and settle back into our seats.
“Does this feel awkward?” she asks.
“A little. Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know. I think I feel guilty.”
“Because of—”
Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. “No. I don’t feel guilty about what’s happened with us. I feel guilty for not feeling guilty about that. Is that weird? It’s weird, right?”
I suppose for some people it would be strange to feel guilt about not feeling guilty but in this circumstance, it makes sense. To me anyway, because I feel the same way. I’ve kept the boundaries defined with Scarlett, because I assumed if we crossed that line, it would make things difficult. Our friendship would be cast aside, and guilt would take its place. That hasn’t happened. Here in Lexington, the only people who really know about Scarlett are my sister and Ashton. Outside of that, we can be two people out on a date. Nobody is looking at us like I’m a bastard moving in on his best friend’s widow or at her like she’s betraying a man she let go of long ago.
“I don’t think so but then again, I’m kind of living it with you. At the end of the day, it’s nobody’s business but our own. I care about you, Red. I always have; that won’t change. We’ve shifted things around a little but at the end of the day, we’re just two single people who like each other. At least I think we do.”
“We do,” she says as she sips from her straw, a small smile playing on her lips. “Maybe too much.” Her last words are a mumble, but I hear them.
Quirking a brow, I only smile in response and pull my beer bottle to my mouth. Instead of continuing our conversation, we table it as our salads are set in front of us. We spend the next hour getting to know one another as just Taylor and Scarlett; no ghosts to be found.
Chapter 29
Scarlett
Someone should give me a gold star for my behavior tonight. Not only have I allowed myself to enjoy the evening, I did not, in any fashion, throw myself at Taylor. I thought about it while we were in the truck but abstained. The moment I walked into the living room and saw him standing in the kitchen, my heart took flight and I don’t know that it safely landed.
He’s dressed in a dark gray button-up shirt with the sleeves cuffed to his strong forearms with a black matte watch on his wrist. It was the first thing I noticed and when I realized real-life watch-porn is an actual thing. I wanted to run my hand up his arm and back down to touch that watch. His dark wash jeans make his strong legs look long and lean. Since I know what lies beneath all the sexiness of his clothes, I had a hard time composing myself when he told me I looked beautiful. He’s the perfect package of bad boy on the outside and southern gentleman on the inside. And, this girl has it bad for the bad boy and just may want it all from the southern gentleman.
I didn’t mean to withdraw as we drove through town. When we left the house, I was excited and happy, but then “Live Like You Were Dying” by Tim McGraw started playing, and my thoughts drifted to Henry. He was a huge Tim McGraw fan and that was his favorite song. When we were dating, he would tell me that’s how he wanted to live life. Live for every moment like it was his last. That was before he came back different. Before he was hurt and angry. Before he couldn’t sleep and before our love wasn’t enough.
Then I listened. I listened to the lyrics, and I knew that’s what I needed to do. If I’ve learned anything since Henry’s death, it’s that there are no guarantees in life or love. I married Henry Gilbert with every intention of being with him for the rest of my life. Our love story ended early, the cards stacked against us, but it doesn’t mean my story has to end.
I’m looking at my second chance now. As I watch Taylor sign his name on the credit card slip, I know this is what love the second time around is all about. Stolen glances, conversations about everything and nothing. Earth shattering sex and sweet kisses in the morning. A man who loves your child as if he’s his own, not out obligation but because of who he is.
When I almost said the word “love” to him earlier, I stopped myself. It was in jest, but somehow, even saying it to him in a teasing fashion seemed disrespectful to how I feel. I know it’s coming. I’m going to slip, and it will change things. How can I not? I have months of em
otions and feelings bubbling inside me like a volcano and then he does something sweet like hold my hand and kiss my knuckles, and I want to word-vomit all of those emotions at his feet.
The twinges in my boobs tell me we need to head home to Nicholas. I’ve been gone from him for less than two hours and my soul aches. I miss his little face and funny moans as he squirms and . . . shit I can’t think of him or I’m going to start leaking. Thank goodness for nursing pads.
“Are you ready to go?” His voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“Yeah. I think it’s about time for—” I’m cut short when his phone dings an incoming text message. “I’m sure that’s Addy begging us to hurry home to a screaming baby.”
He winks at me and smiles as he picks up the phone. His expression changes from one of happiness to . . . well, something I can’t quite decipher. Anger? Frustration? It definitely isn’t the happiness I’ve seen from him tonight. “It’s Grant.”
Grant. My heart races at the mention of his name. I know Grant cares about me like an older brother, but he loved Henry. I haven’t told him about the status of our marriage. What will he say about this? My growing feelings for Taylor and about us being together. Are we even together?
“Is everything okay?” I ask as he taps the phone and stands.
“I’m sure it is. He wants me to call him. Let’s get out of here, and I’ll call once we’re in the truck.”
He slips the phone into his pocket and extends his hand to me as I rise. Smoothing my dress, I don’t immediately take his hand. I know there’s something about that text that has upset him. When I take his hand, he gives it a quick squeeze before interlinking our fingers and swooping in for a quick peck on the lips. Leading me from the restaurant, he doesn’t say anything and only nods to the hostess as she wishes us a good night.
Once we’ve both settled into the cab of this truck and our seatbelts are buckled, he turns the ignition and the engine roars to life. He’s tense, his shoulders high and posture stiff. I slowly move my hand toward him but think better of it when he throws the gear shift into reverse with a little more force than I’ve seen from him. The screen on the radio alerts the Bluetooth connection so he taps on his phone, the ringing of the call filling the cab. As we pull out of the parking lot onto the road, Grant’s voice booms through the speakers.
“Sugar.”
“Hey, Cap. Red and I just finished dinner and are headed back to the house. What’s up?”
Snapping my head his direction, I look at him wide-eyed, but he’s not paying attention. His focus is on the road in front of him. Was that his way of “outing” us to Grant or a warning to Grant that I can hear him?
“Hi, Grant,” I say, never taking my eyes off Taylor. His attention never veers from the road in front of him.
“Ah Red, it’s great to hear your voice. How’re you feeling? How’s the little man?”
Smiling at his sincerity, I smile as I respond. “We’re both good. He’s growing like a weed. I’ll send you a new picture tomorrow.”
“Looking forward to it. Sug, I’m following up to our conversation earlier. I have that stuff. Give me a call when you can.”
“Ten four. Give me thirty.”
Without a goodbye or another word, the line disconnects. Turning in my seat, I look at Taylor. When he doesn’t look my way, I clear my throat. Still, nothing.
“What was that about? You two sounded very cryptic.”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“Don’t ‘it’s nothing’ me, Taylor Cain. Is something wrong?”
Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair, and I realize he’s gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. His profile is as handsome as always, but his jaw is tight, and I itch to touch him. For him to touch me. Touch is something important to Taylor and how he expresses his feelings. He’s affectionate in even the smallest ways but now, it feels like there’s a valley of distance between us. He’s shut down and quiet, his gaze anywhere but toward me.
“You know what? Never . . .” I let out a groan of frustration, my hands fisted in my lap. My reaction is to let it go. To not stir the beast.
Then, I look at him. His handsome profile, the tense jaw, and death grip on the wheel sure indicators he’s upset. He isn’t Henry. I don’t have to watch what I say. No need to tread lightly to not set him off. He isn’t a live wire ready to explode at any moment. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and count to three.
Once I’ve calmed myself a little I say, “Not never mind. I know that conversation was about me. About the break-in. I will not sit here while you talk about my life like I’m not to be included.” Looking out the window, I take in the beauty that surrounds us. Gorgeous shades of red and yellow swirl in the sky as the sun slowly makes its descent behind the hills.
“Scar—”
“I don’t want excuses, Taylor. I want respect. I spent years tiptoeing around a man who would shut me out or would explode at the drop of a hat. Please don’t send me back to that place. I’m finally finding myself again and I won’t go back.”
He doesn’t try to explain further, he simply turns his attention back to driving. This time, I welcome the silence. Each of us are working through this. When he pulls into the garage and puts the truck in park, I don’t wait for him to open the door. Instead, I let myself out and walk into the house. Addy is sitting on the couch watching television, her feet propped up on the table in front of her, with Nicholas nestled onto her chest. Taking a deep breath, I dampen down my frustrations and hurt and set my purse down before walking to Addy.
“How was dinner?”
“Decadent. I’m stuffed but also bursting here.” Motioning to my chest, I can’t help but smile at the look on her face.
“Oh, well he hasn’t stirred once since you’ve been gone.”
“Is that because you’ve held him the entire time?” She smiles sheepishly and I snort out a laugh. “I’m going to change really quick then I’ll take him.”
I hustle down the hall to our bedroom . . . his bedroom . . . to change my clothes. Stepping into the bathroom, I quickly throw my hair into a messy bun with a large claw clip and go about washing the makeup off my face before slipping into a pair of sleep shorts and nursing tank top.
I pad back to the living room. Addy has, surprisingly, placed Nicholas in the portable crib and is standing with her purse in her hand.
“Who’s Tay talking to? He’s going to wear a hole in the ground with the circle he’s walking out there.”
I look to where she’s motioning and see Taylor in the backyard. The hand not holding his phone appears to be permanently attached to the back of his neck as he walks in a large circle in the yard. Obviously whatever Grant is telling him is upsetting.
“I think it’s Grant,” I reply, turning my attention back to my friend. “Thank you for watching Nick. It was nice to get out for a bit.”
“Are you okay? You seem a little off.”
Shaking my head, I try desperately to act casual, but part of me is so angry while the other is sad that I had to have that conversation in the truck. “I’m just tired. I need to go straight to bed after I feed him. Hopefully he’ll give me a three hour stretch. That sounds heavenly.”
“If you’re sure.”
Nodding, I walk with her to the door and give her a big hug before she steps onto the porch. Watching as she walks to her car, I wait until her headlights are on and she’s moving from the driveway before I close the door and return to the living room.
Nicholas begins to stir so I grab myself a glass of water and pick him up before settling on a little one- on-one time with my number one guy. Trying to relax myself, I close my eyes and let my head fall back on the couch. I need to find my Zen. It’s not good for the baby or me to be stressed and upset. I’m so damn annoyed.
I hate being dismissed or not included in what’s happening around me. These men say they’re trying to protect me, but what they don’t understand is every time they talk
around me and treat me like I wouldn’t understand, it takes me back to the girl I used to be. The one who wished for attention from my parents only to be told I wouldn’t understand. That conversation in the truck, the one they obviously didn’t want to have in front of me, was one thing, but to ask what it was about to only be dismissed. That’s too much.
As I close my eyes and embrace my little boy, I hear the clicking of the French doors and my eyes open. Lifting my head, I look at the man who has stolen my heart, and all the hurt I felt a few minutes ago disappears. He looks broken and sad. Furious and ready to maim someone. It’s a plethora of emotions but they’re all there, on his sleeve and in his eyes.
Chapter 30
Taylor
I’m so fucking pissed I can hardly see straight. I made myself stay outside a few minutes after my call with Grant ended, not wanting to take my frustrations out on Scarlett. My attitude in the truck sucked; I owe her an apology. The minute I saw his name on my phone, I knew Grant had pulled the pictures from the trail cam. I knew there was going to be a face of the person who scared all of us just weeks ago. The person who is responsible for sending her into labor early.
I just didn’t expect it to be a blast from my past. Really, it shouldn’t surprise me anymore. I’m just pissed I failed to connect the dots before now. I’ve been so consumed with this little bubble of a life we’ve been living in, I didn’t want to think of how we got here. The reality is, we’ve locked ourselves away from the world, not facing the truths that are surrounding us. Now that I’ve seen the picture, it all makes sense. Birds of a feather and all that. There have been rumors, random messages on social media from high school friends, commenting on our old high school buddy and his life choices along with those of my best friend’s parents.
It all comes back to money, but what I don’t understand is why they didn’t just ask for it. I’d die before I let Scarlett give them a damn penny, but this shit, the calls and the break-ins, that’s a little more involved than I would have expected from them.
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