HeartStrings

by Savannah Kade

  "Sweet." She looked to the server who talked her through flavors and textures and helped her arrive at fruity, peachy, and fizzy. Craig was not going to touch that, but she seemed happy. And he wasn't going to tell her he'd learned that you could ask for recommendations by picking up women in bars. Not everything needed to be told.

  "I don't know what I'm getting." She seemed puzzled, but glad.

  Before the server came back with the drinks, Craig got Shay's attention. "Only one. I'm not trying to get you drunk."

  "And you?"

  "Only one. Unless you're trying to get me drunk?"

  She laughed at him. "I'm sure I'm not insured on your nice Mercedes."

  "It's a rental. I didn't want to show up in my old truck." It had been a bad call; he could see that now. "Okay, dinner. Steak? Fish?"

  "Is the salmon good?" She shook her head.

  "Do you like salmon?"

  "Not really, I've mostly had it from a can. So I can't say what a good fillet will be like."

  "Then don't get it. I made that mistake once. Had to drive through Hardees at midnight to get a burger after that. Most expensive food I ever had that I didn't eat."

  She laughed at him again. "Is it wrong to just want a really good burger?"

  "Not at all. This will ruin you for all other burgers though."

  "Bring it on."

  They ate fat burgers on parmesan buns, with sliced roasted mushrooms and three kinds of cheese.

  "Oh my god. Why is it so good?" She moaned and made it halfway through a burger that was almost as big as she was.

  "Quit. Save room for dessert. Take the rest home."

  She looked at him funny. As if she knew he was pushing extra food on her. She would have enough to eat for the rest of the week. Craig didn't let her dwell on it. "Why are you so timid now? You weren't in Miami."

  The way she looked at him, he was pretty sure the peach fizzy thing had made her tongue a little looser. "Because in Miami, you didn't pick me up at my house. I was in a princess dress, had no kids. And it was beachfront. Barefoot. It was pasta and things I could pronounce."

  "True. But tell me that wasn't the best burger you ever ate."

  "It was." She conceded. "I can't eat dessert. I'm too full."

  Forcing a smile, Craig conceded the evening. The check would come soon. He'd take her home. There was nothing else holding him here. Certainly not her.

  Then she was. "Order a dessert to go? I'll clear off my table if you can handle a plastic tablecloth after all this."

  He ordered three.

  Chapter 10

  Shay was sugar drunk. They'd driven the winding road to her neighborhood on the outskirts of Bristol, the bag of take home food heavy between her feet.

  After that burger, she'd thought she couldn't eat again, but after sitting on the couch and chatting for a little while, they'd dug in.

  "You were right." A grin tugged at her lips. "That drink helped relax me."

  "That was several hours ago. You're not drunk."

  She shook her head no, and he leaned back in the cushy chair. They'd pulled two of them up to one end of the table, pushing her work safely out of the way of peach cobbler and chocolate mousse and raspberry cream cake.

  They talked of nothing, something that seemed more comfortable than the rest of it.

  "Where do you keep your patterns?" He was looking over the bookshelf crammed with all her supplies. Games loaded the lower shelves where Aaron could reach. "I had a . . . someone once told me you can keep them in a big book, or a file."

  The hesitation seemed odd, but she didn't want to ruin the ease they'd finally achieved. She didn't ask. Besides, it didn't seem odd to be telling him these little things, but she wasn't sure about digging into the big ones. "I don't have any."

  "So you just do all that from your head? And you think your sister is the brainy one?"

  "She's getting a masters in chemical engineering at UCLA." Shay shrugged. She'd finished high school just fine, but with no college plans had wound up waiting tables and falling right into Jason's arms. Zoe was definitely smarter.

  "So?" He shook his head and looked up into the corner. "I have a GED. I ran off at sixteen. It's not for everyone."

  The laugh bubbled out of her. That was one of the things she'd so loved about their long weekend. He made her laugh, smile, relax. And here he was, doing it again. "But you're a big star now. Rich, renting Mercedes. Sometimes I've even seen you in the tabloids."

  He flinched. "Renting the Mercedes was because I didn't want my old beater truck here. I wasn’t even sure it would make the trip."

  She gave him a look that said she didn't quite buy that. He'd probably been trying to impress her, and she was flattered. "Are you even allowed to park your old beater truck in your rock star neighborhood?"

  "I'm not as rich as you think I am. Wilder is flush for the first time, but not rich. I had nothing when we started. My house has three bedrooms and it's in a decent neighborhood, where the home values are going up." He sounded like he was reciting a real estate agent. Then he turned serious. "I sock away a lot of my money, too. I'm saving up."

  "For what?"

  "My house. I want to own it. No more bank." He took a small sip of the water she'd served them in plain glasses that looked out of place on the plastic tablecloth. "It's a very good house. It has two bathrooms."

  Shay put her hands over her heart and pattered them. "Oh, I'm so jealous. And you don't have to share them with anyone? Two bathrooms?"

  "Sometimes I share them."

  The comfort fled. She really didn't want to hear this. Why would he come all this way and then tell her about other women in this house he was proud of?

  Seeming to catch on, he leaned in. "Olivia is a bathroom hog."

  Who was Olivia? Shay's face went blank.

  "Olivia is three and just got potty trained."

  That made her head snap back. "You have a daughter?"

  "Oh god, no. No." His hands flew up like he was warding off a bad presence. No kids, she was reminded. Probably a good reminder. She had kids. It was already a given. He explained. "Olivia is Alex and Bridget's little girl. Her mom is overbearing and . . . One of those moms whose kid is the best at everything. Olivia learned three new words. Olivia potty trained in a weekend. Olivia can recite the entire Declaration of Independence."

  "At three?" Shay leaned in.

  "Okay I made the last one up. But maybe by the time I get home. Bridget's all over her. But when you get the kid alone, she's really funny." He grinned, and Shay just didn't know what to make of it. How was she supposed to contribute? It turned out, she didn't really have to.

  Craig lit up. "I remember when Allie was that age—Allie is Kelsey's. Kelsey is married to JD. When we first met Kelsey, Allie was three, and she was like this little whirlwind. A ton of energy, always wanted to play and interact. It was like she didn't have an 'off' button. If I hadn't actually seen her sleep a few times, I wouldn't have believed she did. But Olivia isn't like that. She's more reserved, more cerebral. The kid's three, and she made a joke the other day. Not a joke she memorized or anything, just off the cuff."

  "Oh. I know those kinds." She almost said Owen was like that. Almost confessed to him that it was the worst possible combination, that Jason had a son who was brainy and introverted. And, of course, Brian had a son who was active and couldn't give two shits about sitting still or listening to music. But she didn't say it.

  Though she was sitting in her house and Craig had intruded into her real world, it still wasn't real. She'd sworn early on that she wouldn't parade a string of boyfriends through her home, not in front of her boys. It seemed she wasn't quite ready to parade the boys in front of anyone either—even if it was just in stories. And Craig wasn't her boyfriend.

  He was just another stitch out of time.

  She wasn't still drunk. The one drink they'd each had was long gone. The sugar was wonderful, but she'd never done anything she regretted because of sugar—well, ex
cept the sugar itself.

  "Why are you looking at me that way?" He asked softly, no longer leaning back. Now he was forward, his elbows on the table, something leonine about the sway of his shoulders.

  "You could stay." Her words were soft, even to her own ears, and she wondered if he'd heard them.

  He heard them. "That's not why I came out here."

  "Then why did you?"

  The ease climbed out of him almost visibly. His back stiffened. He didn't look at her. "I really don't know."

  "You got in the car and drove—what?—five, almost six, hours, and you don't know why?" This time she was skeptical. The distance sure didn't make it a reasonable booty call. She believed him about that, but she wasn't so sure he didn't know. And she sure would like to.

  This time it was his voice that was soft. "I missed you."

  To ease his nerves, she responded in kind. "I missed you, too." It was the truth. "You were a great memory that I would think of when I was alone. But now you're here and we only have until tomorrow afternoon at three."

  She took his hands even as he asked, "What happens then?"

  "Reality." She tugged. "I turn back into a pumpkin."

  Though he laughed at her, he let her lead him into her tiny bedroom. The bed was a full, not the huge, lush, plush thing in Miami. But he wasn't looking at the bed.

  Craig didn't have to be asked twice. The soft tickle of his fingers slid around her waist as he pulled her closer, his mouth making hot contact with hers even before she made it fully flush against him. On tiptoes, Shay tried to even the playing field, but he was simply bigger and stronger than she was. She was on the bed before she knew it, gentle hands and rough fingertips pulling off her high heels and tossing them.

  The bed creaked and gave a little as he climbed over her, not bothering with pulling back the covers. Grabbing her hands, he laced their fingers together and pinned her arms to the bed by her head.

  The first zing was heady, and she sucked in air heated with the scent of him.

  The second zing was in her brain. Don't let him pin you down.

  But in her experience, men turned into assholes by degrees. Never all at once. All at once and you would leave. You wouldn't stay and hope for better; you wouldn't believe things would change. Zoe had been right: Shay should enjoy Craig until he changed. Besides, if Shay's a-hole meter wasn't top notch these days, then whose was? The moment things were less than wonderful; she'd cut him loose.

  "Where did you go?" He was looking at her, clearly wondering what she'd been thinking. His eyes were soft, curious. He probably blamed himself.

  "Nowhere." That was a lie. "I'm back." Arching up, she fused her mouth to his and took the ride.

  He kissed her exposed skin until he became frustrated with her clothing, and only then did he let go of her hands. Shay reached for his shirt, their arms tangling as each worked on the other's buttons. She figured she had reason for her hands to shake. Craig was good. She hadn't gotten any in three months, and this time she'd missed it.

  But why were his hands shaking? Surely, he'd taken advantage of the women who threw themselves at him. Though she put her hands everywhere on him, she couldn't put her finger on what it was that told her he hadn't. For some reason, Craig Hibbets wasn't sleeping around.

  Maybe it was because he touched her reverently, as though she was something amazing. Maybe it was because he was the only man who'd ever suggested that she had a purpose beyond his pleasure. He called her smart and together. He used his mouth until she moaned his name.

  Helping him, she peeled the last of her own clothing while he searched his wallet for a condom. There was something comforting about the fact that he wasn't slick with it. He hadn't been ready for this.

  But now she was.

  When he entered her, she felt it from her head to her toes. Her fingertips curled into the sheets, her legs wrapped around him as her head fell back. She heard her name through the fog that enveloped them. She heard a plea to God, and she heard a 'please' or two. Then she didn't hear much beyond the sound of her own voice screaming his name as she came undone.

  Together they collapsed into a tangle. Heavy breath mingling. The scent of sex in the air.

  For a long time neither spoke.

  Shay was screwed, in the metaphorical sense, she knew. Even as she cooled down, the thought lingered that this was the best sex she'd ever had. That wasn't a heat of the moment assessment. It was really the best.

  His showing up like this, her being bold enough and maybe stupid enough to bring him into her bedroom, broke the fantasy. He was no longer there. He was here. He was no longer a memory, he was better. He was flesh.

  How was she going to hold him at bay now?

  Rolling slightly to his side, Craig relieved her of his weight, but she missed it. Reaching out, he curled her into him. Her eyes squeezed shut. What was she going to do?

  "Tell me I can stay."

  Chapter 11

  The pounding on her door transported Shay from a comfortable slumber to a cold sweat.

  Up on one arm, she looked down at the naked man in her bed. Somehow he was sleeping through what might be her worst nightmare. Then again, maybe he'd just sent more flowers.

  Either way, more people had knocked on her door in the past two days than in the past two months. Standing rapidly, and leaving the warm cocoon of the bed, she hauled on a sweatshirt and some handy yoga pants.

  As Craig was still out cold, she waited until she was out in the main room to yell. "Coming."

  No makeup, hair not even brushed, and her yoga pants were red beneath a candy pink sweatshirt. She hoped it wasn't anyone important. Shay threw the door open.

  "Brian."

  Her second ex stood on the doorstep, holding their son's hand. Aaron looked a bit sleepy and confused and Shay worked to fix that. "Hey, sweetie! You're early."

  Why were they early? But she didn't get to ask that.

  "Why is there a Mercedes in the driveway?"

  She stared at him. Shay owed him nothing but a weekend of her son's time once in a while. In fact, he owed her five more hours of care for her son. Brian repeated himself, getting angrier. "Who owns the Mercedes?"

  "A friend." She kept her expression as flat as she could, despite the fact that she was getting angrier herself by the second. Shay was opening her mouth to redirect him when Brian looked her up and down.

  "An overnight friend?"

  It was pretty obvious to her mind, but she stayed as calm as she could. "I don't legally owe you any explanation."

  "You do when my son is in the house with you." He was getting more and more upset.

  The problem wasn't that he was concerned, it was that Shay hadn't asked his approval. And it was because the mystery man owned a car Brian couldn't afford. Brian still seemed to think she deserved no happiness, even though he firmly believed he deserved a girlfriend for every day of the week. Brian had been the opposite of Jason—Brian encouraged her to work. So he could pursue his music.

  God, if she wasn't falling for one load of crap, it was another.

  She ignored Brian and turned to Aaron. "Why don't you run inside and grab whatever you need?" As he meandered past, she reached down and grabbed her baby boy for a big hug. His small arms slowly hugging her back the best feeling in the world.

  When she let his small shoes hit the floor, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. The bedroom door opened softly. Craig stood silently in the doorway, pants on over bare feet, his hands pulling his t-shirt over his head. He looked at her, quietly asking if she needed him. For a flash of a moment, she wondered if he knew he could make things worse for her if he barged out, or maybe worse if he didn't. He knew to ask. Where had he learned that?

  Then again, maybe he was just protecting his famous face from becoming tabloid fodder. Maybe he was protecting her from the tabloids that might follow his famous face around. Whatever it was, she waved her hand at him behind Aaron's back to go back into the bedroom. Craig didn't, but h
e crossed his arms and stayed in the doorway. There was no line of sight from the front door to the bedroom door. It was something she'd liked about the house when she rented it. A disturbing thing to like, but she didn't want her exes to see into her room.

  Turning again to Brian, who'd decided to let himself into the entryway and was coming farther inside, Shay stepped forward, blocking him. "You were not invited in."

  "I need to see who's in the house with my son."

  "Since your son wasn't supposed to be here now—he's supposed to be with you—you have no such right. Please step back outside." She hated this. Hated that she had to fight so hard for her own personal space. She shouldn't have to. But she'd picked Brian and inadvertently picked this for herself somewhere along the way. It was worse that Craig was watching.

  Brian didn't leave, but at least she stopped him from coming farther forward. Was it worth the battle to make him do what he should have done in the first place? Shay stood her ground, and it took all of zero seconds for Brian to bitch about something else.

  "If you answered your damn phone you'd know that I was dropping him off early."

  "Actually, I'm not obligated to answer, and you are required to ask me before you return him early." Her chest squeezed, and her heart beat against her ribcage. She hoped with all her heart Aaron didn’t hear her say that. As though she didn’t want him back.

  "I have a gig in North Carolina. Debbie and I have to leave now or we won't make it."

  "Okay." Shay said. "You leave now and I'll take Aaron and not report you to CPS."

  "You can't report me." He tipped his head at her, as though he knew her.

  He hadn't known her for a long time. "Watch me."

  Desperately, she longed to throw the exact amount of back child support he owed. But she couldn't. If she threatened him with it, then he'd know that she knew and that she was keeping track. He could get prepared.

  "I don't like that you have someone staying over." He glared at her.

  "I don't like you. Don't be late to your gig." She walked forward, all but putting a hand on his chest and shoving him onto the step.