by Cherrie Lynn
He was silent for a long time. “It really seems like the right thing to do sometimes. Just to see their eyes light up when they have Mom and Dad in the same room together. And it would probably be worth whatever Shelly and I would have to go through, at least for a while. But I don’t want them to wake up some morning and realize that we’re all living the perfect-family lie. I don’t want them to think that’s what they have to do too. I don’t want Shelly to throw away her chance to find someone who loves her the way she deserves. He’d just better love my girls too.”
“Hard not to,” she said, thinking of those bright eyes and excited snaggle-toothed smiles.
Jared’s own white teeth flashed in the darkness as he grinned. “They’re pretty lovable, aren’t they?”
“And you,” she said, tentative. “You deserve to find someone too.”
“It’s never been too high on my list of priorities, you know? I’ve sort of walled myself off.” His voice took an odd turn at the end, sounding almost puzzled, or as if he’d suddenly just worked something out for himself. Maybe he hadn’t even realized he’d been living that way. It was second nature for her.
As she turned that revelation over in her mind, though, a crazy thought occurred to her. Something she had no business asking him about, but suddenly she was insanely curious, and curiosity with alcohol was a dangerous combination. “So you were with Macy for, like, years, right?”
“Since middle school.”
“How old were you when you broke up?”
“I was nineteen. She was eighteen.”
“Did you get with Shelly right away?”
“Pretty much. Maybe a month in between there.”
Was her theory correct? Had this gorgeous man really only been with two women? Assuming he had been completely faithful to both, and she had no doubts he had been, at least physically… Surely not, though. Someone, somewhere had gotten into his pants at some point. A rebound in between, or after his divorce, or something. It was simply too hard to believe he hadn’t nailed a rodeo babe here and there.
From the driver’s seat, he chuckled. “I can sense you’re going somewhere with this.”
“No,” she said too quickly. “Just wondering.”
“The list isn’t extensive,” he said mildly, “but the damage is.”
Starla almost blurted out that she was the exact opposite. Her list was extensive. But the damage was minimal. She’d never been with anyone who could leave such a deep scar on her heart. Brian didn’t count; she’d never been with him.
Jared didn’t want to hear about that, though. Wouldn’t a man like him, who guarded his body as well as his heart, be put off by promiscuity? She’d never, not once, felt shame over her many sexual conquests. She didn’t now, really, it was just weird. As wanton as she was, she didn’t think she’d ever been with a man who’d had fewer partners than her, or at least not enough to make much difference. It had always been a pretty level playing field as far as she knew.
But this… Hell, it would practically be like deflowering a virgin. She had to giggle.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, chuckling with her. And she couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Only, um…those two? I’m sorry. You have to admit it’s uncommon.”
“Well,” he said, fidgeting a bit, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while the other gripped the wheel, “like I said, Macy and I were together from the time we were kids. I thought we’d stay together, get married, have a family, but she ended that. The one and only time I intended to have a one-night stand to forget Macy, I ended up married with twins on the way.”
“Oh,” she said, shamed into silence. She hadn’t looked at it like that.
“Not that Shelly was— She wasn’t a stranger. She was a friend. I liked her, and we got along well back then. But I don’t think I would’ve pursued anything further with her if not for Ash and Mia coming along. It’s sad, but there it is.”
“You gave it a chance,” she said. “It’s more than a lot of guys would do.”
“I never much worried about what other guys would do. Just what I should do.”
“Yeah, well, having sampled my fair share of ‘other guys,’ I’m somewhat of an expert on what most of them would do.” Oh shit, should she have said that, given he was two vaginas removed from virginity? Damn tequila. “I probably shouldn’t admit that, but…” She chuckled and gave his previous words back to him. “There it is.”
He laughed as he flipped the blinker to turn down his road. “You’re all right.”
Was he for fucking real? Kind, crazy about his kids, gorgeous, and nonjudgmental. There had to be some fatal flaw in this system. Had to be. Some switch somewhere that, once thrown, would bring everything crashing down around her.
Maybe it would be sex, but she hoped not. Maybe it wouldn’t be him, it would be her. She’d always been so confident in the bedroom, but he had her mind all messed up. She’d never been here before. She’d never felt this way with anyone before. When she wanted it, she went for it—except, of course, with Brian, whom she’d set upon some unattainable pedestal long ago. So, so close, but so far away. Would the same thing happen here?
She and Jared had kissed, and there had been a promise in that kiss, there’d been words spoken in the heady heat of desire, but did any of it really mean anything? When she had feelings for someone, when she respected someone—a rarity for her—was she doomed to sabotage herself before she could even get started?
The whole stormy night was ahead of them. Just the two of them. She could take this opportunity, or she could watch it slip through her fingers out of stubbornness or fear. All at once, she realized her hands were trembling. The first fat splats of rain hit the windshield. Scooting across the seat to be by his side, she put one of those trembling hands lightly on his denim-clad thigh. Feeling the muscle strong and firm under her fingers, imagining touching the skin underneath the fabric. He looked at her, his eyes piercing and intense even in the darkness. Those eyes caught her, pulled her in, drowned her.
“I want you,” she said softly.
His breath caught. He had to look back at the road in front of him, but he slid an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close to his side. The entire world held its breath while she waited for him to say something, to do something, to stop the truck and take her right here on this lonely road if he had to. She could crawl on top of him. It would be so easy.
“You’ve had a lot to drink,” he said.
Her heart dropped to her stomach. “Don’t tell me that,” she said. “Don’t tell me I’ve ruined this, that something else is my fault—”
He put the brakes on. Stopped the truck right in the middle of the dirt road and threw it into Park. Looked at her so intensely, she wondered how her soul would survive being pierced so deeply. “You haven’t ruined anything. When it happens for us, Starla, you’re going to remember it for the rest of your life.”
Oh. Oh God.
The lightning slicing overhead had nothing on that which flickered through her body at his words. The thunder had nothing on her beating heart. “When it happens for us…”
When. Not if.
He kissed her, not the teasing exploration from last night, not a promise—promises could be broken. It was an assurance as definite as the sun rising tomorrow that he would make good on his words. Deep, thorough, his tongue meeting hers, sliding, causing her to whimper in her throat as his hands framed her face, his fingers sinking into her hair. No one to interrupt them now. Everything about him invaded her—the spice of his mouth, the rasp of his beard against her tender flesh, the sound of his shuddering breath. He smelled like heaven. She couldn’t describe the scent, but already she craved it like air. Her nipples hardened, tightening around her piercings, the tiny weights only accentuating their sensitivity. She throbbed. All over.
But his hands never strayed from her face. They didn’t stroke and soothe all the inflamed areas craving his touch. His mouth broke from hers, both
of them panting raggedly, inhaling each other’s breath as they tried to get a grip and thunder growled overhead. His hands hadn’t strayed, no, but somehow she felt the effort it was costing him to leave them where they were, cradling her face as if it was precious to him.
It didn’t seem right. Less than twenty minutes ago, she’d broken down in front of him over another man. And he wanted her anyway. He’d admitted to the ruination of his marriage because of another woman. She wanted him anyway. Maybe they weren’t right for each other. Maybe they would tear each other to pieces before it was over. Having him just once, feeling this all the way to completion, would be worth the danger to her heart. She knew it somehow.
“Know what I like to do when it’s dark and stormy and I’m by myself?” she asked in the silence following that apocalyptic kiss, their noses and lips still only a breath apart.
“What?” His voice was lower and huskier than usual, dark and thrilling. She could imagine it saying all sorts of wicked things; she could imagine he was waiting for her to confess all sorts of wicked things.
“Huddle on the couch under a blanket with popcorn or ice cream and Netflix old black-and-white Twilight Zone episodes.”
He grinned, then chuckled, and finally gave an outright laugh, stroking her hair. “I have to say that wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“Didn’t think so. I just always thought it would be fun with a friend.”
Within the frame of that luscious beard, his lips curled. “That sounds like it would be amazing with a friend.”
Minutes later, though, after he’d turned on the windshield wipers and nudged his truck forward again, she feared it wasn’t to be. A sudden deluge made it hard to see beyond the initial glow of the headlights, but it was impossible to miss the sudden appearance of a large brown-and-white cow standing in the middle of the road, and a couple of others up ahead.
“Shit!” he cursed, slamming the truck back in Park. “My cows are loose.”
She almost wanted to laugh, but given his tone and the storm now raging outside, she knew it was no laughing matter. “What the hell do you do?”
Jared was already grabbing for his phone. “Round them up and repair the fence.”
“In this?”
“Can’t leave them out so that they get in other people’s yards.”
“But…” Her voice trailed off as he selected a contact and put the phone to his ear. She didn’t want to interrupt.
“It happens,” he told her as he waited for the other person to pick up. “The storm might have spooked them. If they get it in their heads to bust out, it’s hard for a fence to stop them.”
Starla jumped as lightning skittered through the clouds above, branching out like white veins at the same time a boom of thunder rattled the windows. Wind lashed the rain in sheets across the windshield, where the wipers worked furiously to clear it. The cows ahead bolted away up the road and Jared inched his truck along behind them. When the other party to his call apparently didn’t answer, he cursed and selected another. The road was quickly turning to mud in front of them.
She hoped there was some point to keeping these animals, because it all seemed like too much trouble to her. Finally, he got ahold of someone—his brother, he explained—to come and help him. Once the cows cleared the road in front of them, he drove up the long driveway to his house. The trees scattered around his property were practically bowing to the wind’s fury, but she could only see that as every flash of lightning cast them in a nightmarish silhouette. “This is crazy,” she yelled at him as they raced for his front porch and the shelter it provided. Even so, they were soaked by the time they reached it. He unlocked the door, preceded her inside, and hurriedly flipped on lights.
“Stay in,” he told her, rushing through the living room toward the hallway and presumably his bedroom.
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” she muttered, rubbing the water beaded on her arms. Gooseflesh prickled her skin. When Jared emerged from the hallway a minute later, he had on dark green mud boots, camo rain gear, and a very pissed-off expression. She stayed silent and out of his way as he headed toward the back door, listening as it banged closed behind him.
And she was alone in his house.
The desire to snoop was strong, and the need to crash on his couch and be useless stronger, as her head still swam from all the tequila she’d imbibed. But the man was braving savage elements for the sake of big dumb animals and the good of his neighbors, and while she felt utterly useless, surely there was something she could do to make him glad she was here.
She flipped on the TV to make sure he hadn’t just dashed out into an approaching tornado. No, so far there was only a severe thunderstorm warning. Lighting, straight-line winds sixty miles per hour and over. Possible hail. Jesus, that was bad enough. She felt chilled to the bone, and she was inside. She couldn’t imagine how he felt out there with that wind and rain whipping into his face.
But if she were out there, the first thing she would want upon returning was towels. And then coffee. So she found the bathroom off the hallway—presumably the one his twins used since it was stocked with every little-girl product imaginable—and raided a cabinet for a couple of towels to be waiting inside the mud room when he returned. Then she set coffee brewing in the kitchen, pausing as the lights flickered ominously…oh, no. If the storm knocked out the power, then her attempts at helpfulness would wink out with it. She had no idea where she would find candles. But even though the wind still raged and the lightning struck and the thunder crashed, the lights managed to stay on.
It seemed forever before the back door opened and multiple, laughing male voices boomed through the house. Starla, who’d been curled up on the couch watching TV and nearly dozing, bolted upright. Shit! She wasn’t ready to meet his people yet, half-drunk and still more than half-drenched. Her hair must look like a rat’s nest. Smoothing it down, she leapt to her feet and considered bolting for the girls’ bathroom to hide out. Too late—she heard one of the men comment that he smelled coffee, heard her name mentioned affectionately in Jared’s warm, welcome voice, and almost immediately she relaxed.
A trio of damp dark heads appeared in the kitchen, and she inched cautiously forward. Jared spied her right away and held his hand out, his smile and his eyes lighting something up inside her. As if pulled by a magnet, she moved to his side, feeling his light touch at the small of her back. “Dad, Jackson, this is Starla.”
“An angel of mercy,” the older man said with a grin identical to his son’s. He had made a beeline to the coffeemaker. His eyes weren’t the piercing blue of Jared’s and his dark hair was shot through with gray, but she could definitely see where these two—she assumed Jackson was Jared’s brother—got their good looks from.
“Oh,” she stammered with a small laugh—fuck, could she be any further from that description? “Nah, just the maker of coffee.”
“Same difference, m’dear.” He pulled several mugs down from the overhead cabinet, seeming to know exactly where everything was.
“Nice to meet you,” Jackson said cordially, but then he retreated to the counter opposite them and fell silent. Maybe her imagination was running wild with this awkward encounter, but she didn’t get the feeling the guy thought meeting her was as nice as he said. Hell. She shouldn’t be here. She and Jared had been broadcasting wrong impressions all night.
Beside her, he scrubbed his face and head with one of the towels she’d left, which had been hanging around his neck. “Thanks so much for doing this,” he said to her.
“No problem. Did you find them all?”
“Yeah. Even patched the fence up. It should hold until I can work on it more tomorrow.”
“Crazy out there,” Mr. Stanton remarked, leaning over to watch the show of lightning still going on outside. “If they get out again, boy, you’re on your own.” His tone said he was joking, but she still couldn’t imagine being out there in that storm.
“I guess I’ll have to manage,” Jared said with
a laugh.
The four of them gathered around the kitchen island and sipped from steaming mugs, small talk ensuing. She’d never been good at that. Fast talking, shit talking, dirty talking, sure, but not small talking. It was torture to smile and engage and act civil. And it occurred to her that she would probably find herself in this situation if she ever left her job and found a new one. She was comfortable where she was, everyone knew her and knew not to take her shit too seriously most of the time. She was used to that. What if she found herself settling for some quiet office with a bunch of stuck-up bitches? Jesus, she hated stuck-up bitches.
Not that Jared’s family seemed to be that. His dad was definitely a character, and even Jackson warmed up a bit—maybe the coffee had replenished his good humor. They asked about her life and seemed to listen to her answers. They didn’t make any nudge-nudge-wink-wink insinuations as to why she was here. She couldn’t ask for more than that, right? And as soon as the coffeepot was empty and the storm seemed to lull a bit, they said their good-byes and were gone.
“Damn,” Jared said after closing the door on their departure and wandering back into the kitchen where she stood. “What a night.”
“Insane,” she agreed, then drained her cup and carried it to the sink to rinse it out.
“If you don’t mind,” he said into the ensuing silence, “I’m going to take a quick shower. It was muddy out there.”
“Oh, sure.” She wanted nothing more than to help him wash off some of that mud. Unfortunately, time and caffeine had cleared most of the tequila-induced fog from her head, and she couldn’t push the words out. Then again…if she had a clear head, then maybe the night held promise once again. Shivers skittered through her belly at the thought. “Be right back,” Jared said, and she turned to watch him retreat down the hall. The rear view was just as yummy as the front, all broad shoulders and narrow hips and grab-worthy ass.
All four mugs washed and dried and replaced, Starla sighed and looked around for something else to kill time yet again. She played on her phone, she watched TV…and finally thought, Fuck it, I give up. She flopped back on the couch and gave in to her full-blown fantasies of Jared naked in his shower, the water streaming down that powerful body, his hands moving over it as he washed. Wet and soapy slick. Strong fingers wrapping around a thick cock, giving it a long, slow stroke as he thought about sinking into her. Her own body clenched in response; her own fingers ached to creep down into her jeans. If he found her masturbating on his couch, though, how would he react? Hot as it sounded, she couldn’t imagine. It certainly might move things along.