Live Without Regret (A Touch of Fate)

by Grayson, K. L.

  “Yes,” he says chuckling as he pulls his pants up. He leaves them unbuttoned, which I assume is an invitation to get back into them later. “And don’t you laugh at me. It’s connected to my shop phone so I can take calls and appointments when I’m home.” I stare blankly at him. “People still have house phones,” he states firmly.

  I shake my head. “Most people don’t have house phones.”

  Connor takes a step forward, nudging me back. “Are you making fun of me?” he asks with a sly look on his face.

  The phone rings one last time before the answering machine picks up. Connor’s voice filters through the air, but the caller hangs up. And that’s when I start giggling. I can’t help it. Slapping a hand over my mouth, I fail at trying to hold in my amusement, and the look on Connor’s face does nothing but make me laugh harder.

  “I can’t believe you’re making fun of me.”

  Maybe it’s the low level of alcohol still sifting through my body, or perhaps it’s all of the pent-up emotion I’ve been holding in lately. Or maybe it’s Connor and the way his eyes are softening as he watches me, but I tip my head back and let out the most unladylike snort known to mankind.

  “Did you just snort?” Connor asks, making me snort again.

  “I did.” I gasp, nodding like a damn bobblehead. “I totally snorted.” I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. Wiping the tears of laughter from my face, I glance at Connor. Something in his expression has changed. He’s no longer looking at me like he wants to ravage me, and his face is void of any amusement. Instead, his eyes are warm and inviting.

  The phone starts ringing again, and I point toward the other room. “Do you need to answer that?”

  Connor shakes his head. “I don’t care who it is,” he says, taking another step toward me.

  “All I care about right now is this beautiful woman standing in front of me.”

  Oh.

  Oh my.

  That was good.

  Connor’s eyes rake down my body and then back up again. He looks like a man who is in desperate need of food, and I’m his next meal. I don’t remember the last time a man looked at me like this, but I want him to look at me like this all the time.

  But he can’t if you don’t give him a chance.

  And just like that, my resolve crumbles. Because as much as I hate to break my own rules, I hate the thought of never seeing Connor again even more. The thought of letting my own fears keep me from what could potentially be something great makes my stomach roll. Plus, if any man is worth taking that chance on, it has to be this man. The one I can’t stop thinking about, and the one who makes me wish for things I’d long ago given up on.

  And let’s not forget the butterflies.

  A big, huge swarm of them that take flight every single time he looks at me.

  I haven’t felt that … ever.

  Two years is long enough, so I decide to go with my gut—or maybe it’s my heart. Right now I think they’re working together, plotting against me. Damn conspirators.

  Swallowing hard past the lump in my throat, I say the words before I chicken out. “I change my mind,” I whisper.

  Connor’s eyes widen, and in a flash I’m scooped up in his arms. But instead of walking down the hall toward where I imagine the bedroom would be, he walks into the living room. Sitting down on the couch, Connor settles me on his lap. I straddle his hips and bring my hands to the front of his shirt.

  “This isn’t the bedroom,” I state, leaning forward to place a kiss on his plump lips.

  Connor allows me to have my way with his mouth, and when I finally pull back to take a breath, he chuckles. “If I would’ve known it’d only take a blow job to get you to change your mind, then I would’ve obliged at the tattoo shop.”

  I slap playfully at his arm. “The blow job had nothing to do with it.” The answering machine kicks on for the second time and I smile before continuing. “It was all you and that damn smile,” I say, kissing him again because, well…I can.

  “Connor, the tattoo artist…” Gasping, I slap a hand over my mouth as my sister’s voice fills the room. “Brittany isn’t answering her phone, or her texts, and I am not happy about it. Did you know your buddy Todd is an asshole? Because he is. He wouldn’t give me your damn number. Do you know what I had to do to get him to give me your number?” she asks.

  “Who’s Todd?” I whisper, lowering my hand.

  “He owns the bar we were at earlier,” Connor answers as Casey continues with her tirade.

  “I had to flash him,” Casey scoffs. “Can you believe that? The little shit wouldn’t give me your damn number until I agreed to flash him. Unbelievable. Anyway,” she says with a yawn, as if flashing Todd was no big deal. “Brit, if you’re there, I really need you to come home. I locked myself out of the house—” The answering machine beeps, cutting Casey off mid-sentence. Scooting off Connor’s lap, I grab my phone from the entryway table and shoot her a quick text.

  Me: Be there in one minute.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, straightening my clothes. “But I’ve gotta go.”

  Connor stands up, buttons his pants, and smooths out his rumpled shirt. “I’ll take you home,” he says, grabbing his keys from the hook next to the door.

  As much as I hate to leave, this next part should be fun. “You don’t have to take me home, I can walk. It’s not far.”

  “Hell no,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s after midnight. No way am I letting you walk home.”

  “It’s really not necess—”

  Connor’s big blue eyes fill with uncertainty. “Did you change your mind?” he asks, cutting me off.

  “No,” I breathe, shaking my head. “Did you change your mind?” I’m hoping he’ll say no, because I wouldn’t bend my rules for just anyone and I really, really like him.

  Connor takes a step toward me, wraps me in his arms, and pulls me in close until we’re nose to nose. “Not even close. Tonight was…”

  “Tonight was what?” I ask.

  Connor kisses me softly once…twice…and then a third time before pulling back. He licks his lips and runs the back of his fingers along my cheek. “You taste amazing.”

  “Tonight was what?” I ask again. I want to know what he’s thinking, and I need to hear the words.

  “It was fucking incredible.” Warm hands cup my cheeks. “I want to do it again. A lot.”

  I bust up laughing. “You want a lot more blow jobs?”

  “No…well, yes.” He starts laughing, too. “I want more of you. I want to get to know you. Let me take you out on a real date.”

  “An official first date, huh? Where would you take me?”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes,” I answer. Just knowing I’m going to get to spend more time with Connor causes my chest to fill with warmth.

  “I was thinking maybe—”

  My phone beeps with an incoming text, cutting Connor off. “Shit,” I hiss. “I bet that’s Casey.”

  Connor releases his hold and I shiver at the loss of his touch.

  Casey: It’s been three minutes. Where the hell are you? I have to pee.

  “I’ve gotta go.” Bolting for the front door, I yank it open. Connor yells my name as I slip out the door, down his steps, and jog across the tiny patch of grass before stopping in front of my side of the duplex. Casey is sitting cross-legged on our porch, her back propped against the door.

  “Where the hell did you come fr—?” She stops abruptly, her eyes cutting over my shoulder. Connor must have followed me. “No fucking way.”

  “Way.” I walk up the stairs and nudge Casey with my knee. She pushes up off the concrete, giving me room to unlock the door. Shoving my key in the lock, I twist it and push the door open. I turn to Casey before glancing at Connor. She’s standing off to the side, her eyes bouncing between me and the sexy Adonis, who looks like he’s still trying to figure out what’s going on. She dances in place, squeezing her legs together.

  “We’re
gonna talk about this after I go pee.” She rushes into the house, our front door slamming loudly behind her.

  “So,” I say, walking toward Connor. “It turns out I have this really hot neighbor. You should probably be jealous.”

  “Do you walk around naked?” he asks with a cat-ate-the-canary grin. Warm fingers wrap around mine. He tugs on my hand and I fall forward against his big, hard chest.

  “Only when my sister isn’t home.”

  “Good to know. Don’t tell your neighbor that or he’ll be dropping by for unexpected visits. You know”—he shrugs—“to borrow sugar…and stuff.”

  “Sugar?” I scrunch up my nose. “He doesn’t look like the baking type.”

  Connor tilts his head to the side and brings his mouth to mine. He kisses me long and slow, only pulling away when we’re both breathless and fighting for air.

  “He is now.” Connor winks and slaps my ass playfully before heading in the direction of his door. “He’s gonna be baking all the damn time,” he says, laughing, as he disappears into his house.

  Well played, Connor. Well played.

  It’s been three days since I left Brittany standing on her front porch. I knew the duplex next to mine had sold, but I’ve been working so much lately I never paid attention to whether or not someone had actually moved in. There’s been an old Grand Prix sitting out front a couple of times and a sleek black Audi, but I didn’t think much of it. Today, the Grand Prix is gone, but the Audi isn’t, and I’m about to find out if the sexy little car belongs to my sexy little neighbor.

  Running a finger over my smartphone, it comes to life, and I shoot her a quick text.

  Me: Who drives the black Audi?

  Her reply is almost instant.

  Brittany: Who is this?

  Me: It’s your really hot neighbor.

  Brittany: How did you get my number?

  Me: Changed your mind already, huh?

  Brittany: Not at all. I was actually wondering when you were going to make your move. Is this you making your move?

  And that right there is exactly why I’m so insanely attracted to Brittany. There aren’t many women who are willing to speak their minds, but she has no problem with it. Smiling to myself, I type out a quick response.

  Me: I actually tried to make my move yesterday. Went over to your place to borrow a cup of sugar, but Casey said you were working. She gave me your number.

  Staring at my phone, I wait for her to reply. A couple of minutes pass and then I internally berate myself for waiting on a text. “Fuck no,” I mumble to myself.

  Flipping on the TV, I find the sports channel and settle in to watch a recap of last night’s major league baseball games. The announcers are talking excitedly about the Cardinals win over the Cubs, and as they debate whether or not the Cards will sweep the series in tonight’s game, I pull out my wallet to check—for the fifth time—that the tickets are still there.

  I’m tucking them away just as a soft tap on the front door catches my attention. I shove my wallet back in my pocket, walk to the front door, and pull it open. Brittany smiles, revealing two of the cutest damn dimples I’ve ever seen. How in the world did I miss those before?

  “Borrowing sugar from another woman, huh?” she says, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

  I prop my hip against the doorframe. “Nah, I don’t want another woman’s sugar.”

  Brittany’s face lights up. “Good answer, Mr. Jackson. You just earned yourself something swee—”

  She doesn’t get the chance to finish her sentence because I yank her into my house and swallow her words with my mouth.

  “Well”—she pulls back and runs a thumb along her bottom lip—“that was more spicy than sweet, but I like spicy.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Mmm hmmm.” She nods as I lower my mouth to the side of her neck. “I like it a whole lot.”

  “Go out with me tonight,” I whisper.

  “Okay,” she says, tilting her head to the side. She brings her hands to my arms and steadies herself. She tastes so damn good; I can’t help but nip at her shoulder. “If you keep doing that, I’d probably agree to just about anything.”

  “Then maybe I’ll have to do it again tonight after the baseball game.”

  “Baseball game?” Brittany squirms and I look up. “Who’s going to a baseball game?”

  “We are,” I say, pulling my wallet out once again. “You did agree to go out with me, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” I hand her the tickets and her eyes widen. “Connor,” she breathes out, looking between me and the two tickets that cost me a small fortune. “These are front row seats.”

  “I know.”

  She shakes her head. “Not just any front row seats. They’re right behind home plate.”

  “We should be able to see everything.”

  Brittany’s eyes glisten under the soft light and my gut twists. Is she crying? Did I do something wrong?

  “I can’t believe you did this. How did you…” She snaps her mouth shut, swallows hard, and blinks several times.

  I snatch the tickets from her hands. “We don’t have to go,” I say, desperate to fix whatever the hell I did to make her cry. “We can do something else, like go catch a movie or have dinner or something.”

  “No.” She steals the tickets back. “The game is perfect. It’s exactly what I would’ve picked. It’s just that…well… no one has ever done something like this for me before.”

  I have the intense urge to punch her ex in the nose. What man in his right mind wouldn’t want to spoil this woman? I sure as hell do. Especially when she looks at me with those big, expressive doe eyes—like she is right now. “Well, I’m not your normal guy.”

  “No,” she whispers. “You’re not.”

  “So,” I say, sliding my hand to her waist. “How fast can you get decked out in your Cardinals gear? I’d like to take you out for lunch before the game.”

  “No ballpark food?” She pushes her plump bottom lip out and it’s too damn enticing. Leaning forward, I suck the offending piece of flesh into my mouth.

  “Definitely ballpark food,” I say, biting gently on her lower lip. “But a light lunch first.”

  Brittany pats my chest and steps away. “I’ll be back in ten minutes!”

  Spinning on her heel, she runs out of my house. And, if I’m not mistaken, she just took a tiny little piece of my heart with her.

  “Connor,” she says, nudging my arm. “This is amazing. I’ve never been this close.” The look on her face is priceless and tugs at something deep in my chest. Brittany’s lips part, a wide smile stretching across her face.

  Casey told me her sister has an addiction to the St. Louis Cardinals, but I don’t think Casey even knows just how deep that addiction runs. When Brittany showed back up to my house earlier today, she was wearing a red Cardinals shirt with a matching hat and even dangling Cardinals earrings. But the kicker was her shoes. Yes, the girl has Cardinals shoes.

  Her blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail and tucked into her Cardinals hat—an incredibly sexy look on her—and she had her face painted with a red number four proudly displayed across her left cheek.

  “Oh my gosh, there’s Yadi!”

  Who the fuck is Yadi?

  My eyes follow her gaze. Sure enough, there he is—number four. Apparently, Yadi is the object of my date’s affection.

  “Have you always been a Cardinals fan?” I ask, genuinely interested.

  Dragging her eyes back to mine, she nods. “Yep. My dad is a huge baseball fan. He used to bring me to games all the time, but we sure as hell couldn’t afford seats like these. We were usually in the nosebleeds. Way up there,” she says, pointing to the top of the stadium. “But that didn’t matter. It was our thing.”

  I wish I had memories like that. Hell, I wish I had a dad. I take that back. I’ve got a dad—somewhere—but the piece of shit decided drugs were more important than his own kid.

  “How about you?”
Brittany asks. “How long have you been a fan?”

  I tilt my head to the side. “About three days.”

  “What?” she asks, crinkling her nose.

  “I’ve never been much of a sports fan.” I shrug, leaving out the fact that I didn’t even have a TV to watch sports until I was put into foster care at the age of fifteen. And even then I wasn’t allowed to actually watch the TV. “When your sister told me how much of a Cardinals fan you were, I decided I should rectify that.”

  Brittany watches me for what feels like hours, her blue eyes churning with emotion. Warm fingers tangle with mine, and I look down at our joined hands and then back up at her. “I’m not really sure what to say.”

  Leaning over the arm rail, she kisses me gently on the lips. I don’t know what it is, but I’m starting to think she has a magic mouth. Every time we kiss, it’s as if nothing else in the world matters but that kiss. At first I thought it was just a fluke, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t happen every single time.

  Brittany pulls back and my mouth follows hers, begging for more. “You’re getting major points for this,” she says softly.

  “Hmm, I like the sound of that.”

  Brittany glances over my shoulder and her eyes light up. “Cotton candy!”

  “What?” I ask, caught off guard by the sudden change of subject.

  Standing up, Brittany waves down a vendor loaded down with bags of sugar on a stick. When the young girl reaches our row, Brittany says, “Two bags, please.”

  “Why two bags?” I ask, pulling out my wallet. No way am I letting her pay for a thing today. Brittany swats at my hand, but I’m taller and my arms are longer. I hand the girl a twenty-dollar bill and she gives me change, along with two bags of cotton candy.

  “Because,” Brittany says, grabbing the pink one from my hand, leaving me with the blue. “I don’t share well and you’ll undoubtedly want a bite of mine. This eliminates that problem.”

  Chuckling, I open up my bag and pull off a chunk. “Well, aren’t you a smart cookie?” I say, popping the bite in my mouth.

  “I am a doctor, you know.” She gives me a smug smile then tosses a bite into her mouth.