Sweetheart

by Sarah Mayberry

  “We’ve got a bunch of work stuff to go over. But thanks for the offer. Maybe next time.” Beck was polite enough that his excuse sounded plausible, but I knew it was exactly that—an excuse.

  If I hadn’t been there, he’d have joined the Bean crew in a heartbeat.

  Beck made a couple more jokes before heading to a table occupied by a lone guy who looked like a younger, leaner version of him.

  Talk turned to the folk band that was playing at Speakeasy next month, but all I could think about was the moment when Beck had bailed on joining us after seeing me. Even though we would have been separated by several people, even though there would have been more than enough conversational cover for us to avoid having to directly engage with each other, his instinctive, gut-level reaction had been to escape my presence. Again.

  I told myself it was a him-problem, not a me-problem, but that didn’t stop my stomach from tying itself in knots as I sat there listening to my friends talk and laugh. I tried to ease it by downing a third glass of wine, but it only seemed to enlarge the problem in my mind.

  Like I said, it’s really hard being the stinky kid. Really hard.

  The final straw was when Zara went to buy a fourth round of drinks and stopped by Beck’s table to chat with him and his brother. I heard Beck’s laugh ring out and saw the appreciation in his face as he looked up at Zara.

  He was never going to look at me like that. He was never going to see me as a person in my own right and not an extension of my sister and whatever she’d put him through.

  A hot pressure formed behind my eyes, and I knew I was in serious danger of crying in front of my work colleagues.

  Wouldn’t that be awesome?

  I tried gulping down the last of my wine, but the hot feeling was still there. I gave Roddy’s shoulder a push.

  “Sorry, but I need the ladies’ room,” I told him, glad that my voice came out sounding normal.

  Roddy and Kieran obligingly slid out of the booth, and I made a beeline for the bathrooms, blinking rapidly to prevent the rising tide of tears from falling.

  “Don’t be such a pussy,” I muttered to myself as I pushed through the swing door into the ladies’ room.

  There was a woman checking her makeup at the sinks, so I ducked into a cubicle and shut the door. Then I leaned against the door and tilted my face toward the ceiling, willing the tears to subside.

  What the hell was wrong with me? Usually, I am a master at sucking it up. In fact, if sucking it up was an Olympic event, I would be both the world-record holder and the gold-medal winner because my whole childhood had been a training exercise in the gentle art of acceptance and compromise. As a result, I have mad skills in the area of reconciling myself to unpleasant realities—mad, battle-hardened skills—but try as I might, I could not find a way to reconcile myself to the Beck situation.

  It was shitty, pure and simple, and I couldn’t seem to find a way to stop myself from caring.

  It took a couple of minutes for the about-to-cry feeling to subside. I figured I might as well use the facilities, so I took care of business then washed my hands at the sink, studying my reflection critically to make sure I didn’t look as though I’d been on the verge of losing it. Mostly I just looked tired. Also, I needed a haircut. At least I could do something about both of those things.

  I’d already made the decision to call it a night as I exited the bathroom. I was rehearsing what I’d say when I got back to the table as I made my way down the corridor. Ahead of me, the door to the men’s room opened and Beck stepped out. There was the slightest of hesitations as he registered me, then he gave me a wordless nod and hung back to let me pass, even though the corridor was easily wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

  I walked past him, my neck and shoulders tense, all the embarrassment-anger-hurt-confusion I’d felt earlier crashing back over me again. I burned with all the emotions churning through me, probably not surprising since I’d had three wines, not a lot of food, a grueling day, and no sleep. All those things, combined with weeks of being treated like a pariah, brought me to an abrupt halt, and I pivoted to face Beck.

  He looked startled, pulling up sharply to avoid plowing into me.

  “I don’t know what happened between you and my sister,” I said, “but I’m a separate person. You could look me in the eye occasionally, and, you know, treat me like a human being and not some kind of fungus you found growing in your shower. I’m actually a nice person and a good friend, if you were prepared to give me a chance.”

  My voice quavered at the end, and I knew I was going to shed all the tears I’d just sucked back in the bathroom if I didn’t get out of there. I spun away from him and started walking, my gaze fixed on the front entrance. I dodged a couple who were heading for the bar, circled a table, excused my way through a group who’d just arrived, and then I was outside. All the bewilderment and anxiety of the last few weeks hit me like a freight train, and I burst into tears.

  12

  Beck

  I stood outside the restrooms watching Haley Elliott rush for the door, paralyzed by the truth bomb she’d just dropped.

  You could look me in the eye occasionally and, you know, treat me like a human being.

  Her voice had gotten tight, and her chin had wobbled. She’d spun away, but there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she was on the verge of tears as she wove her way toward the exit.

  I’d done that to her. I’d made her feel so bad, so demoralized, she’d been reduced to tears. All this time I’d thought I’d been doing a decent job trying to cover my unease around her, and apparently I’d failed. Dismally.

  And now I was standing like a big dumb-dumb watching her run off into the night because of something I’d done.

  “Jesus.” Shaking my head at myself, I took off after her, ducking past tables, easing past people.

  I had to wait for the group blocking the door to move away before I had a clear run at the exit, then I was outside in the warm twilight, the smell of the river sharp and fresh in the air. I scanned the parking lot, but all I could see were empty cars. Surely she couldn’t have left already?

  Then movement caught my peripheral vision, and I saw she’d gone down to the riverbank. She had her back to the Mill, and my heart sank as I watched her lift her hand to dash away tears.

  I was such an asshole.

  I strode toward her, unsure what to say or do to make things better. She must have heard me approach because her head whipped around. Something tightened in my chest at the sight of her wet cheeks.

  “Haley...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. I’m just tired. Or something. Either way, I shouldn’t have said any of that to you. Ignore me and go back to your brother.”

  Making her declaration even less convincing, a couple of fat tears rolled down her cheek, and her chin dimpled as she worked hard to hold back a sob.

  She looked so sad and vulnerable, I didn’t know what to say, so I simply obeyed my instincts and wrapped her in my arms. She was so short her face landed between my pecs, and I ran my hand down her back, feeling the emotion vibrating through her small body, trying to find the right words to fix the hurt I’d caused.

  “Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to blow you off. You were right. I have some issues with your sister. But that’s not on you.”

  “I know what she can be like,” Haley said, her voice muffled by my shirt. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for whatever happened between you.”

  “You don’t need to apologize for your sister.”

  “But I know her. I know what she can do. How she can be.”

  She shifted against me, and suddenly I was aware of several things all at once—the warm, heavy weight of her breasts pressed against my chest; the way her hands were splayed across my back; the scent of her perfume; the softness of her body beneath my hands.

  It hit me that we’d been hugging for a very long ti
me now. Which begged the question: when did a hug become an embrace?

  She went very still, and I knew she’d felt the shift, too. And yet neither of us moved, suspended in the moment of potential.

  What the fuck is going on?

  I forced myself to loosen my arms and step backward. She did the same, and I found myself staring down into her soulful brown eyes, her lashes still spiky from her tears. She looked surprised and confused. I guessed I probably looked the same. Because WTF?

  I don’t know who moved first. Maybe she stood on her toes and lifted her face. Maybe I leaned down and reached for her.

  The logistics didn’t matter. The only thing that did was the soft press of her mouth against mine, the smooth warmth of the nape of her neck beneath my hand, the thud of pure recognition that ran through my body as she opened her mouth and I tasted her for the first time.

  Because this woman felt right in my arms. She tasted like everything I had ever craved, and when I stroked her tongue with mine, she made a small, inarticulate needy sound that went straight to my cock. Her hands fisted in my shirt as I deepened the kiss, desperate for more. She made the needy sound again, and I abandoned the delicate smoothness of her nape to grab her ass and pull her closer.

  It was my turn to make an animal sound then, because she was soft yet firm and fucking perfect in my hands, and all I could think about was touching more of her. Breasts, belly, thighs. All of it. I wanted her naked. I wanted to be inside her. I wanted to make her pant and scream my name with pleasure while I fucked her until we were both mindless and useless for anything else.

  She loosened her grip on my shirt, and a full-body shudder rolled through me as she slid her hands under my shirt and onto my bare skin. Holy fuck, when had a woman’s touch ever felt this good? She dug her fingers into my pecs before smoothing a hand down my belly and over my jeans, gripping me through the denim.

  My thoughts became both fragmented and frenzied. My van was just steps away. It wasn’t the Hilton, but at least we wouldn’t get arrested for public indecency, a state we were approaching at warp speed.

  Then a car started up and headlights washed over us, bright and relentless. The glare was the visual equivalent of being hit with a bucket of cold water, and we broke apart, both of us taking a few steps backward. The car drove away, and for a moment I was blind. Then I blinked a few times and my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I could see how flushed and flustered Haley was. Her hair was disheveled, her mouth swollen and wet, and her chest rose and fell rapidly as though she’d just sprinted a mile. I was no better—my heart was pounding, and I was so hard it was a wonder my dick hadn’t exploded off my body like an over-filled zeppelin.

  My brain was foggy with lust, but I could still think well enough to understand that something crazy and completely unexpected had just happened between us.

  “I have to go,” she said.

  I nodded. “Me, too.”

  Then she turned on her heel and walked rapidly toward the Mill.

  13

  Haley

  My heart thrummed as I re-entered the bar. My friends must have thought I’d been abducted by aliens, I’d been gone so long, yet I still took the time to make a pitstop in the bathroom before returning to our table. As I suspected, I looked like I’d just had the single most intense sexual encounter of my life, and I fanned my flushed face with my hand before finger-combing my hair back into place. My lipstick was smeared, and I cleaned it up with a tissue before reapplying it neatly.

  The woman in the mirror still looked like she’d been having a good time, but at least her hair was neat. But what else could I do? The Bean crew were going to send out a search party if I didn’t get back soon.

  I very carefully didn’t allow my brain to review what had just happened between me and Beck as I headed back into the fray, weaving my way through the crowded bar.

  It had been too big, too wild, too fucking freaky.

  I mean, the man could barely look at me, and I’d been seconds away from tearing his jeans off in a parking lot. And he’d been just as out of control.

  It was nuts, and I didn’t know what to do with it, so I decided to ignore it until I had the luxury of time and privacy to fully appreciate the craziness of the last fifteen minutes of my life.

  Our booth had gained another occupant during my absence. Griff Shipley was talking animatedly with his cousin, Kieran, the two of them studying something on Kieran’s phone. Audrey and Zara both looked relieved to see me and waved me into their side of the booth.

  “There you are. Come sit with us, so we can talk about something other than packaging and branding,” Audrey encouraged.

  “Actually, I think I’m going to bail,” I said. “I’m pretty beat, and my bed is calling to me.”

  Zara pouted. “But we were having fun.”

  “Sorry. I’m going to do a face-plant into a bowl of pretzels if I don’t go soon.”

  “All right, gorgeous girl,” Audrey said. “We’ll see you next week. Thank you again for covering for me this week.”

  “I was happy to help out. Thanks for the drinks.”

  They both blew air kisses at me, and I waved goodbye to the men before making my escape.

  The night air was a relief after the warmth and noise of the bar, and I headed out of the lot and up the hill, trying to get my head around the fact that Daniel Beck had just kissed me as though his life depended on it.

  Not just kissed me—he’d grabbed my ass in both hands and held me close and shuddered when I touched him. The five minutes we’d spent lip-locked had been the very definition of intense.

  My brain was so scrambled, it wasn’t until I was unlocking my front door that I remembered the things he’d said to me before the kiss. He’d apologized for freezing me out, and admitted he had issues with Jess. Then he’d told me I didn’t need to apologize for my sister.

  Then he’d kissed me. Or I’d kissed him. We’d kissed each other, I guess.

  And it had been so good. It had been...everything.

  I tossed my bag into the corner of my bedroom and flopped back onto my mattress to stare at the ceiling. I still felt hot all over from being in Beck’s arms. In one particular place, I was both hot and wet.

  I couldn’t help wondering what might have happened if that car hadn’t come along and brought us to our senses. I flexed my hand, remembering the hardness of Beck’s erection beneath my greedy fingers. He’d wanted me as much as I’d wanted him. It had been mutual lust, mutual craziness.

  But it was over. The car had come along, and I had retreated in a panic, overwhelmed and confused by what had just happened. And now I was lying on my bed enjoying the empty ache of unfulfilled desire.

  I wondered where Beck was, and if he was feeling as horny and frustrated and confused as me. I hoped so, because it would be deeply unfair if I was the only one freaking out like this.

  I spent another twenty minutes parsing every moment of our encounter, examining it from all angles, but no amazing insights came to me. It was inexplicable. Unexplainable.

  Undeniable.

  My rumbling stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten real food since lunch time and I went to rummage in the fridge for something quick and easy. I wound up making a grilled cheese, eating it standing at the kitchen sink. Then I went to bed, because somewhere between the first bite of my sandwich and the second, my adrenaline high deserted me, and suddenly I was more tired than I could remember being in a long time.

  I stopped by the bathroom to brush my teeth and kicked my clothes off when I reached the bedroom. Then I crawled beneath the covers and let my head sink into my soft, lavender-scented pillow.

  The last thought I had before I fell asleep was, Please let it still be real in the morning.

  14

  Beck

  I drove home with my head full of white noise after ditching my brother at the bar. Sam barely glanced at me when I told him I was heading home, too busy talking to a leggy redhead to care that I was abandoning hi
m. Which was just fine with me, because I was too busy freaking out to be capable of extended rational conversation.

  I parked the van and let myself into my apartment, waiting for the familiar click-click of Larry’s feet as she roused herself from wherever she was sleeping to come greet me. When she didn’t appear, the bottom dropped out of my stomach, even though I knew she was probably just too comfortable drooling on my pillow to get up.

  Nothing was wrong. She was fine.

  “Larry girl? You all good?” I called out, just to prove it to myself.

  I heard the thud of her leaping off my bed, and she padded into view, her eyes sleepy but curious. I felt like an idiot for the small moment of panic—of course she was fine, what could possibly happen to her in my apartment—but it was damned hard to reprogram my brain when it had learned lessons the hard way.

  Larry moved closer, resting her head against my thigh, and I scratched behind her silky ears. I looked down into her trusting brown eyes and felt the same bittersweet mix of gratitude and guilt that had haunted me ever since I broke up with Jess.

  It just made tonight’s near-miss with Haley even more inexplicable.

  What had I been thinking, getting up close and personal with Jess Elliot’s little sister?

  I shouldn’t have given in to the urge to hug her. She’d looked so forlorn, so pretty and sad, and I’d felt so guilty—but I shouldn’t have let instinct override hard-won caution, because that was where the trouble had started.

  Then, when she’d shifted closer to me and things had heated up, I’d had another chance to keep from diving off a cliff. I should have let her go immediately.

  But I hadn’t. I’d lingered in the moment, relishing the feel of her in my arms, savoring the rightness of it.

  Jesus Christ. The rightness of it? Are you on crack right now?