One Click Love

by T Gephart

  “Why would you say that?” The notion made heat crawl up my neck. “I didn’t say so at the restaurant because I couldn’t trust the words to come out right, but you’re beautiful, Hayden. Why the hell wouldn’t I want to be with you?”

  “Wow, you are really trying. I guess I should be thankful, but you don’t need to pretend,” she grimaced, shaking her head.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not pretending anything.” I was confused, wondering what I’d said to make her question my motives.

  She huffed out a breath. “Look, you seem like a nice guy. Probably too nice for what I need right now so I’m going to cut you some slack. But I haven’t done this,” she gestured between us, “in a really long time. I haven’t had compliments and flirty conversation, and I can’t even remember what it feels like for a man to want me like that. I know you probably were looking for a nice night without the drama and unfortunately you got stuck with me.”

  Didn’t need to be told she had baggage, managed to work that out all on my own. But hearing her say I was too nice for her made me irrationally angry.

  “Since you’ve been honest with me, I’m going to pay you the same courtesy.” I looked her in the eyes, making it clear I was serious. “But I’m not stuck here with you. I invited you, and I’m not in the habit of doing things I don’t want. Now, I can’t change what’s going on in your head, or what kind of things happened to put those ideas there in the first place. But if you can leave them at the door for a few hours and just enjoy dinner, I promise you won’t regret it. Either way, I think you should eat before you leave. Pretend it’s for my ego if that makes you feel better. But sending you out in the cold after working a long day when we have a perfectly good meal in front of us doesn’t sit well with me. You think you can give me that?”

  North had always accused me of being too intense, warning me to dial it back. And I wasn’t sure if it was that or something else that had shocked her into silence. Last thing I wanted to do was scare her, but I didn’t know another way to get my point across. Not in a way where I thought she’d believe.

  “Sound good?” I asked, handing her a fork before taking one for myself. “Mmm, this lasagna smells delicious and I’m starving.”

  Deciding to sideline the conversation for a bit, I forked some of the noodles and started to eat. It was probably better I didn’t say anything else, worried my little outburst had scared her and she’d be tempted to stab me in the neck with a nail file or something. Still while my delivery wasn’t great, I didn’t regret it.

  And thankfully after a few minutes watching me eat, she decided to get in on the action too. Taking small bites of her cannelloni, she made a start on her meal. Still wasn’t sure the minute she was done she wouldn’t head to the door. But as long as there was still food to be consumed, I had time to convince her to stay. Not even sure what I was hoping to achieve. Maybe get her to see she deserved to be treated well, and that those compliments I’d paid her weren’t even close to what she was due.

  “It is really good.” She was the first one to speak, her lips wrapping around the fork and savoring the mouthful. “How’s yours?”

  An opening.

  And I sure as hell was gonna take it.

  “Amazing, you want to try?” I angled my plate, encouraging her to take some. “Gino’s red sauce is legendary. I know the place isn’t going to win any gourmet food awards, but I would eat there every day of the week and not complain.”

  Her forked pierced my lasagna, a small—but encouraging—smile on her face. “Sounds like you already do if the staff’s reaction is anything to go by.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, not everyone is as good a cook as I’d like. The rookies are brutal. Unless it’s something you can toss into the oven and reheat, they’re clueless.”

  “And you? How good a cook are you?” she asked, taking a little more of my lasagna before going back to her pasta.

  “Well, considering it’s been a really long time since I’ve been a rookie, my skills have vastly improved. I also like to eat—nothing like a good motivator.” I smirked, picking up my beer and taking a swig.

  I was underselling my skills in the kitchen by a long shot. Able to cook most men under the table. But since she was having trouble accepting I wasn’t too good to be true, I figured it was the better option.

  She also grabbed her beer and took a mouthful, pointing the bottle at me. “So what exactly do you do at the fire station? You drive the truck? Handle the hose? Do both?”

  “I’m the Battalion Chief, but I did my time on the front line.”

  Her eyes widened, her hand slowly lowering the beer. “Does that mean you’re the boss?”

  I chuckled, probably liking it a bit too much that she was impressed. “One of . . . I have subordinates, but I answer to people above me too. Lots of paperwork, but highly rewarding. What about you?”

  There was some hesitation, her guard still up. “I work at Target. I’m a sales associate. But I also do some medical transcription from home; I get to put my fast typing skills to good use.” She gave me a tight smile.

  “Sounds to me like you work harder than I do. Bet that discount is pretty sweet.” My shoulder nudged hers, shooting her a wink.

  Her body seemed to relax as her grin brightened. “Sure is. Hey, can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot.” I waved my hand, not having anything to hide. “What is it you want to know?”

  “Why the dating site? I would think a good-looking guy with a great job wouldn’t need the help.”

  “You think I’m good looking?” My lips twisted into a grin, unable to focus on the rest of her question.

  “Come on, you must know it.” She gave me a playful shove. “Surely you’ve looked in a mirror. I’m surprised people aren’t pulling fire alarms just hoping you turn up.”

  I laughed, not so secretly pleased she liked what she saw. “Yeah, that doesn’t happen. Maybe for some of the younger guys, but it’s been a while for this,” I reproduced her earlier gesture between us, “for me too. Apparently, too long. I was gifted the profile as a birthday present.”

  “Oh really?” She leaned forward, interested. “Who set yours up?”

  “My . . . urm . . . Quinn.”

  Yeah, hadn’t really thought that one through, had I?

  “Your Quinn?” Her question one hundred percent anticipated. Figuring it was easier to just tell her the whole story, I settled back into my seat. Besides, maybe if I volunteered a little more information, she’d do the same.

  “Quinn is . . . well complicated would be an understatement. She’s my daughter-in-law. I took in a kid when he was eighteen. He didn’t have a family, so I made him part of mine. No formalities or anything on account he was already of age, but trust me, that kid needed a lot of work. We don’t share the same last name, and most of the gray hair on my head is because of him, but I couldn’t have loved him anymore if he was mine. Riley. Quinn is his wife.”

  She swallowed slowly, an emotion I couldn’t read clouding her eyes. “He was eighteen?”

  “Yeah, he’s almost twenty-nine now, works at the station with me. Has a kid on the way. A lot has changed since we first met,” I chuckled, the time having disappeared quicker than I’d ever imagined.

  “Wow, you really are a nice guy.”

  There was that word again.

  Nice.

  Didn’t usually have a problem with it except its current usage was bugging me.

  And another thing, if she kept looking at me like she was, I was probably going to have to kiss her.

  “You should finish your pasta, we’ve still got dessert.” I coughed into my hand, turning my attention back to my plate.

  Yeah, kissing her was so on the agenda.

  Hayden

  HEARING MACK HAD taken in Riley over ten years ago was startling. Sure, being a parent in your thirties wasn’t strange, but it hadn’t occurred to me someone would help raise what essentially was an adult. He didn’t elabor
ate on the details but I could read between the lines, assuming Riley’s circumstances had been less than ideal.

  Wow.

  Because being a heroic firefighter wasn’t enough, he had to add adopting troubled youths as well. It was both heartwarming and overwhelming. Somehow, instead of securing a hot and insignificant one-night stand, I’d stumbled headfirst into an afterschool special. It was hard to relax, knowing I was making a big mistake. I should have gone with that guy from Staten Island. Sure, probably an asshole with a middle-age paunch, but at least I wouldn’t be blinded with the shine of his freaking halo.

  What would Mack think of me? Only charitable thing I ever did was throw in some loose change in the Salvation Army’s red Christmas bucket.

  Not on the same level.

  Not even close.

  God, I was disappointed.

  Wishing he’d been a little less . . . magnificent. He was already too good looking, too sexy and too charming for anyone’s good, and he’d also been incredibly sweet. It was either throw myself at him and disregard my conscience or walk away and let him be with a woman he deserved. And given my track record for not being overly charitable, I’d say my chances of doing the right thing weren’t great.

  And yes, I knew I was being hard on myself. Knew that if Gayle, or anyone else who cared about me heard those internal thoughts, they’d probably kick my ass. But valid or not, those shadows of self-doubt crept in all the same.

  I didn’t ask any more questions. Honestly, I was a little worried about what else he might say. He’d already called me beautiful and said so many amazing things, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to recover. It was hard enough being beside him, feeling my skin tingle just by the way he looked at me. God, not sure what would happen if he did anything more.

  Worried about the silence that had crept up between us, I did my best to make small talk. Nothing too personal, keeping things light and non-intrusive. We made it all the way through dinner and halfway through dessert before it all fell apart. Asking me what I’d asked him, why was I on a dating site.

  Shit.

  “My divorce was finalized,” I volunteered, hoping it would be enough. “Figured it was time to get back on the horse.”

  I hoped he took it for the literal meaning I’d intended, and not think I was screening prospective candidates for a replacement.

  Sadly, my meager explanation invited more questions.

  “How long were you married?” Mack took another spoonful of the tiramisu, licking remnant mascarpone off his lips like it was no big deal.

  Yum.

  And the dessert wasn’t bad either.

  I tried to concentrate, thinking about how much I hated Cooper in the hope it would stop me from getting aroused. “Ten years, but we were together for twenty. Probably would have gotten less for murder,” I joked, realizing too late it was the second murder wisecrack I’d made through the night. Because it wasn’t enough I didn’t have angel wings like he probably deserved, I had to cast doubts on whether he’d end up with a toe tag by the end of the night. My dating game needed some serious work. “I mean, it probably went on longer than it should have. The marriage was dead.” Shit, could I just stop? “I mean, over a long time before we split up.”

  Great, because sounding pathetic was only slightly better than sounding psychotic. “How about you?” I asked, again realizing too late that I didn’t want to know. It would just make things harder. Personal information shared wasn’t conducive to a one-night stand and was none of my business.

  “Been divorced for two years. We were separated for another two before we finally got around to the paperwork, and we’d been married for six. Had been too preoccupied with my career before then to settle down. It’s not exactly easy keeping a relationship when you’re a first responder.”

  Was he kidding? No relationship was easy, and it was hard to imagine what kind of woman would toss a man like Mack aside. Between Cooper getting his MBA—which I paid for—me working two jobs, and him then finding a job, we’d barely seen each other. And had he given me just a shred of appreciation—or even affection—I’d have stayed. Because it takes work, and that passionate spark of first love doesn’t last forever.

  Yet, Mack was—if I had to list his virtues again I was probably going to dry heave—amazing, and his ex just what? Just walked away? He didn’t seem like the kind of man to screw around—I didn’t have to know the guy to see how honorable he was—and I doubted he’d be the kind to beat a woman. And he’d been so friendly and attentive with me, and I was a relative stranger. I could only imagine what he was like when he was in love.

  Lord.

  I bet he was intense.

  Old Testament kind of intense, where he laid down and volunteered to carve out his own heart to prove he was worthy.

  “Uh-hmm.” I cleared my throat, my efforts to keep my thoughts and my underwear clean struggled with the visual.

  Mack turned, his face full of concern—because he was soooo fucking nice—as his fingers reached out and gently caressed my arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, fine,” I lied, my skin flushing warmer because of the attention and the contact. “Just fine.”

  “Yeah, you are.” He grinned, his hand moving from my arm and pushing my hair out of the way. “And I know that was a cheesy one-liner, but I couldn’t help myself.”

  Hell.

  I didn’t even try to argue, accepting his compliment while thoughts raced through my mind. Either I do what I’d set out to do or walk out the door. And my feet, like the rest of me, hadn’t moved an inch. Guess that was decided then, my need to take it further greater than any of my other hesitations. “What else do you say when you can’t help yourself?” I asked, both excited and terrified of finding out. Still, I wasn’t backing down, finding bravery in that I’d probably never see him again so I could just say what I wanted.

  “Why don’t I just show you instead.” He moved his mouth closer, his lips barely making contact.

  Oh.

  His lips demanded more, the brief whisper of a kiss deepening as his hand cradled my jaw. Without even thinking, I opened my mouth, allowing his tongue to slide in. My lips started to move, an action I was positive I’d forgotten, returning like it had been automatic. Me, an active participant, kissing him back.

  “Mack,” I moaned shamelessly, running my fingers through his closely cropped hair and arching into him.

  Like something inside of me had awakened, I bloomed for him, kissing him, touching him, and letting him do both to me.

  My brain kicked out of gear for a second, those pesky extra pounds and the feelings that came with them crept back in, my eyes opening wide when his hand slid up my belly.

  He was looking right at me, his eyes filled with heat and desire and who knew what else as he continued to touch me, slipping under my knitted top and touching my skin.

  For whatever reason he wanted me.

  Wanted this.

  Pushing the thoughts back, I gave into his touch, arching as his hand traveled up my body, his fingers cupping my breast.

  “Hayden,” he growled against my lips, no longer sweet and gentle as he pulled me closer.

  “Please touch me,” I begged, feeling like a million pin pricks were assaulting my skin. “Touch me.”

  I’d been starved.

  So emaciated of affection that I needed his hands everywhere.

  “I should stop.” His hands hesitated, his mouth continuing to kiss me.

  I shook my head, sucking in a breath and demanding, “Please. I need this. Don’t stop. Don’t you dare.”

  “Fuck me.” His voice was raw, pulling down the cup of my bra, his fingers touching my soft skin. My nipples hardened on contact, stiffening under his palm as he kneaded my breast.

  I wasn’t sure if it was a curse or an invitation, my body writhing as my hands clawed at his muscular back. I loved the way it felt but wanted more, pulling the shirt from his pants and splaying my fingers across his firm abs.


  Oh.

  Oh.

  Oh.

  My breath came out in short, sharp bursts as he continued to kiss me. His hand had moved to my other breast, giving it equal attention while his mouth made me lose what was left of my mind.

  “Take it off,” he hissed, yanking at my top. And had I assumed he had wanted my help, I was mistaken, managing to whip the knitwear over my head. “My shirt, Hayden. Take it off.”

  Ooooooohhhhhhhhh.

  Following his directions—because I very much wanted to as well—I fumbled with his buttons blindly, furiously working each of those frustrating things through the buttonholes until I could part it down the middle. My reward was a wall of toned, taut flesh that rippled under my fingertips.

  While I’d been distracted, he also unclasped my bra, the pretty lace falling to my lap as I sat in front of him topless. I didn’t even have time to be self-conscious, his mouth dropping to my neck and then lower, sweeping his tongue against each nipple.

  “Mack, please.” I wasn’t even sure what I was asking for, needing more but not wanting him to stop what he was doing.

  “I love the way you say my name.” His words vibrated against my throat, my body tipping backward as he leaned me back. I was no longer vertical, the cushions of his sofa cradling me as I waited for what was coming next.

  His hand swept down my stomach again, playing with the top button of my jeans while his eyes asked for permission. He hesitated, waiting until I nodded my consent before undoing them and then sliding down the zipper.

  I had no idea what he thought about what he saw, if he was comparing me to other women he’d slept with or if he wasn’t expecting me to be so soft and rounded. But I didn’t have time to contemplate, his mouth coming back to mine as his hands roughly shoved down my jeans.

  “If I touch you, are you going to be wet?” His words were rough against my mouth while his fingers edged at the seams of my underwear.

  I nodded, feeling so hot between my legs I was positive I was dripping. “Yes. Very.”