“What’s wrong?” I asked in a rush, brushing past her and searching the hall, but I found nothing but emptiness. No Carter waiting in the corner to have the living shit beaten out of him. Maybe she was still upset about last night, which was understandable. As a man, I couldn’t truly understand the implications of feeling unsafe and brutalized.
“So, you didn’t see it then,” Julia whispered as her elegant fingers worried the cotton of her shirt.
I reached out to clasp my hands over hers, unable to keep from touching her one second longer. Her expressive eyes searched mine. God, how I wanted to pull her close and hold her.
“See what?” I asked as I rubbed the pads of my thumbs on her palms. She trembled under my touch.
Trembled.
If this had anything to do with that criminal prick, Carter Jenkins, he was dead. Six motherfucking feet under.
“The new billboard up on Elm Boulevard.” Julia shut the door and locked it, then pressed her back to it and stared up at me, her rosy lips parted. Even though I knew it was inappropriate considering the emotional circumstances, I couldn’t help but notice the magnificent rise and fall of her perfect breasts underneath her labored breaths. I wanted to trail a fingertip from her silky jawline to the vee of her t-shirt.
“No, I didn’t. But what’s that –”
“Someone snapped a photo of Carter and me at the bar. Smiling and laughing. They captioned it and made it seem like the whole Carter thing, that everything that happened was a lie.” Julia tugged at the cardigan she wore over her t-shirt, a cream colored one which offset the smooth pallor of her skin.
Anger flooded me from head to toe, threatening to storm into a whirling tornado of rage. I seethed as I saw red. “I can’t believe – it can’t –”
“There’s nothing I can do. The ad company says they can’t take it down unless I pay them more than the current offer and apparently it doesn’t fall under ‘slander’ so, yeah.” Julia flopped her hands in the air. She sucked in a breath and I could tell she tried valiantly not to fall in to a sobbing, heaving puddle at my feet. “I’m screwed. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m unloading on you.”
“No, Julia, you can unload on me any time. I mean, shit, I was there. I know what happened. We’ll get this straightened out.” I pressed my lips together and nodded, then clasped both my hands with hers and laced our fingers together.
You don’t know this, Julia, but I already think of you as mine. Maybe I’ve thought of you as mine ever since I met you, because you touched my heart. I’ll fix this. I’ll protect you and I’ll pay anything to get Carter’s bullshit off of public display. He’s not going to hurt you ever again.
She accepted gingerly and I brought her closer to me, gazing into her open face. So honest. I wanted to trust her, fuck it, I wanted to give her everything and I barely knew her outside of high school. Blake’s little sister.
I blinked and gave my head a little shake. “I’ll help you.”
“How?” Julia asked, letting go of me, taking the heat of her smooth palm from me, and I immediately felt the loss. Of her womanly heat. Of her vulnerable fragility. She flopped her arms into the air, then back down at her sides again. “It’s not like you can go around to everyone in Duluth and tell them what happened? It won’t help. A picture’s worth a thousand words.” Julia shut her eyes and squeezed them tight, wrinkling her make-up free eyelids. “Just like Heather said.”
“Heather? What in the hell was she doing there?” But I already knew. Wherever trouble landed, Heather wasn’t far behind. I resisted the urge to reach out again and stroke Julia’s perfect cheek. “I have to help.”
She opened those pain-filled eyes wide. “You’ve done enough already, Adam. Seriously, without you there last night…” she shuddered. “God, I don’t even want to think about what might’ve happened.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” I assured her, placing my hands on her shoulders and running them down her arms, encircling her wrists with my fingers. Too soon for my comfort, I let go and stepped back, scratching the back of my neck. I didn’t want to freak her out or anything by being too forward outside of comforting her. It was still way too soon for anything developing between us. Throw in the events of last night and tortoise speed would be moving too fast in this situation.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t look. And fantasize. Brush her hair back with an innocent touch and inhale her special baby soft scent.
Tonight, I’d ask my right hand out on a proper date to ease the ache.
“I’m sure you want some time to yourself,” I said as my fingers twitched with the desire to stroke that fuzzy sweater. I wondered if her skin was just as soft.
“No, please. Sue Ann’s at work and I’ve had more than enough time to think about this crappy situation on my own.” Julia bit the side of her full bottom lip. “I could do with some company.”
I had to forcibly remove my gaze from her mouth, and focus on what she said. My cock twitched inside my jeans and I had to shift my posture. “Then I’m your guy.” Jerking both my thumbs toward my chest, I flaunted a cheesy grin. I wanted to draw my eyes upward before I embarrassed myself.
“Great,” she said as she swept her hand to usher me to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Beer?”
“What, you don’t have Earl Grey?” I quipped.
Julia chuckled. “I’ve got Ceylon, actually, but feel free to call the Queen from the landline. I’m sure she takes collect calls.” She turned and walked up the passage, hung her sweater on the coat rack, giving me another chance to admire the curve of her waist and the way her thick ponytail fell down her back.
And her rounded behind.
It was a damn masterpiece.
I hurried to close the gap between us, until I could feel the heat radiating off her body in waves, mingling with my own. I’d never felt this way before. Like some crazy electromagnetic force propelled me forward toward her. She glanced back at me over her shoulder, a small smile twisting the corners of her mouth.
Perfect. Jesus Christ. Absolutely perfect.
This wasn’t how I was supposed to feel. Not so soon after Heather and Mark’s betrayal. But it was. And I did. I felt protective and possessive and attracted to her in every way. And not just the physical ones.
Julia stopped in front of the coffeemaker and looked back at me, wiggling her arched eyebrows. “What can I get for you, sir?” she asked in a thick southern accent.
I chuckled and bantered back in the same vein. “Just a coffee will do me right good, thank you, ma’am.”
Julia giggled and busied herself with the coffee pot. I noted her eyes had become less watery since my arrival, so I puffed out my chest with pride.
“So how are you really doing?” I asked.
“I have to tell you, it’s nice having someone around after today. My head this morning was what you’d describe as a woodpecker pecking at a tree that’s surrounded by concrete being excavated by one of those machines.” Julia paused and mimed a jarring pogo hop, her breasts jiggling so much I had to avert my eyes. Her nipples hardened under the effort and I imagined nipping at them right through the fabric of her t-shirt and bra, then I wondered how they’d taste as I bit them into erect nubs. “You know what I mean, right?”
“A jackhammer,” I croaked, glad the bar stool I’d just perched myself on was underneath her kitchen island.
“That’s it,” she said, snapping her fingers, “a jackhammer. That was the image in my head.”
“Shit, I’m sorry about your negative mental images of late,” I said, rubbing my sore knuckles. “I clocked him one, if that makes you feel any better.”
Julia paused and stared at me. Then she walked a few steps and reached her hand toward me. Ever closer. So close I could feel it all over again, except stronger this time. That damn magnetism. I inhaled and waited, hypnotized by what she might do. I watched her hand travel as if in slow motion until those delicate fingers clasped my hand and held it to her glorious chest fo
r inspection.
I exhaled.
I shut my eyes.
Not a wise move. The movie playing behind my smashed eyelids was one of Julia splayed out on the granite countertop. Naked. Lush and soft at my whim. I’d kiss the side of her neck where her pulse throbbed. The smell of her wetness would overpower me. Then, I’d work my way down her shoulder and across to her erect nipple and –
“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” She dropped my hand and hurried to the coffee pot to check the percolation. “I’m so selfish, prattling on about my problems and you’re –”
You’re so fucking perfect. Caring about me at a time like this.
“Hey,” I said, tapping my fingers on the countertop to get her attention. Her eyes met mine, and something deep inside me melted. “You’re anything but selfish.”
Julia straightened, inhaling sharply. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“I didn’t want you to get hurt either.” I quirked the corner of my lip upwards. No man ever starts a fight looking to get injured. But testosterone and bravado create a wicked cocktail.
We stared at each other and I drank in her features, the soft curve of her cheek, the line of her nose down to those full lips. Every time I looked at her, it was like the first time all over again.
“So, coffee,” she said at last.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah, uh, coffee. Great.”
I sounded like a high school jock with a crush on the head cheerleader.
Julia hurried to collect cups, cream and sugar, but she wasn’t quick enough to hide the blush that crept up her neck and to kiss her cheeks. She probably knew I felt it, too. And that knowledge made it even harder to stay away. Not touch her. I wondered if I unbuttoned her jeans and slid my palm down the curve of her stomach to land inside her panties, what I’d find there. Lace? Thong?
Glorious wetness and heat?
She fiddled with the pot and poured the coffee into two mugs, then carried it back to me and handed it over. “Sugar?”
“Black,” I said, then cast my eyes down into the murky depths of my beverage. I couldn’t seem to stop with the cheesy lines. “I’m a man who knows what he wants and it’s pretty simple to please me.”
Fuck, did I just say that? Out loud?
Julia pretended I hadn’t spoken and sipped her coffee, grimacing at the bitterness, then spooned some sugar into it from a pot on the table. “So, what about you, Adam? I know you’ve been in a car accident and you had that injury, but when will you be back on the ice? The Caribou miss you.”
“Yeah, about that,” I admitted. Feeling like I could be honest with her. Expose my true self, warts and all. Even though we’d just re-connected, what we’d been through in such a short time had forged an unlikely bond. Unlikely but tight. Unbreakable. “After all that’s happened, I think it’ll be a while before I play again.”
It would be a while before I did a lot of things again. One of them was supposed to be trusting women. Except, not this one. This one I’d trusted since the moment I’d seen her curled up in a ball in my hospital room with her silky hair fanning the sterile floor.
That incredible image had been burned into my memory. A precious, stolen moment.
Julia hummed a Tim McGraw song from Shooters last night, then grabbed a stool and scraped it toward me, lowering herself onto it with a sigh. “You shouldn’t let anything stop you from living your dream. Or going after what you want. That’s the lesson I’ve learned so far.”
I bobbed my chin once in agreement. “I guess you’re right.” I didn’t want to talk about my days on the ice. I didn’t want to talk about Heather. I wanted to get to know Julia. Soul deep. To peel back all her layers until I found her molten hot core.
“I’m right,” she replied with a nod of her head, causing that ponytail to bob up and down. I had to shut my eyes again because I itched to grab it and pull it. Her next words jolted me back to center again. “I, uh, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, shoot,” I said.
“Uh, oh God, this might seem intrusive, but uh, what exactly happened between you and Heather? You guys appeared to be a happy couple.”
My blood turned to ice in my veins when just a few seconds ago, it had been pulsing rivers of heat. Flashes of Mark ramming his dick into Heather overwhelmed me for a second, taking over every emotion. I gritted my teeth hard, waiting for them to clear. But the anger didn’t disappear with the visions. Thinking about Heather and Mark made me feel like a fool, and I didn’t like it.
“Shit happens,” I said, not quite a snarl. I pushed the cup away and backed off toward the door. Even though I knew I was being an asshole, I just couldn’t go there right now. I’d failed with Heather. I’d failed to protect Julia last night and this morning. I’d failed the Caribou. All of a sudden, I felt like a big, fat, fucking failure, and I just wanted to be willful and petulant about it. It felt like I should just slink off somewhere and lick my wounds for a while. “I just remembered I’ve got an appointment and I lost track of the time. I’ll call you, okay?”
She stared at me, mouth open, and immediately a stab of regret pierced me. “I didn’t mean to pry,” she said. Damn it. The watery eyes again. I’d hurt her. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do.
“You didn’t.” I strode down the hall, leaving the gorgeous woman I’d lusted after since high school alone in her kitchen.
I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, especially not with Julia. What was I supposed to say, “You’re everything she’s not.” Somehow, involving her in what’d transpired with my ex-fiancée seemed wrong. I didn’t want my life complicated by Heather, because I wanted to protect Julia from the waspish shrew. I might even want to protect Julia from myself until I had my shit firmly together. Julia needed to heal from recent events and that had to be my priority. Not my underactive former fiancée and my overactive cock.
I fled down the front stairs and walked to the rental I’d parked across the road. Maybe I’d drive over to Smithson’s Ford and see if I could find a new truck I liked, since I had enough cash to cover it until the insurance money came through.
I whipped out the baseball cap and jammed it on my head, pulling the bill down over my eyes, as if doing so could keep me from seeing things I didn’t want to face. The tortured old memories of Heather with Mark and the new ones of Julia and how I’d failed her.
Chapter 13
Julia
“This space would be perfect for your anniversary party,” I said, gesturing to the barn. It was just outside of Duluth, situated on a small property surrounded by red pines. The red and white painted construction could’ve been plucked off a card.
The clients, George and Levetta Wilkes, stood beside their Audi, wrinkling their noses at the barely obvious scent of cow dung.
“What is that?” George asked, rubbing the back of his hand beneath his crooked nose.
“Gosh, it’s just awful.” Levetta seconded her husband’s action with an identical one of her own. She pinched her pert nostrils and exhaled through her mouth.
You just couldn’t please some people. All I noticed was the spectacular and unique setting, perfection for their event.
“It’s a dairy farm,” I said, plastering a great big smile on my face. “The smell is easy to remedy, and you wouldn’t catch a whiff of it inside. Let me show you around. You’ll adore the place.”
George and Levetta weren’t ancient, but they wanted to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary in style.
I wasn’t technically an event planner, but news of my skill at decorating for events like this had done a wildfire spread through the local community. The Wilkes couple wanted me to handle everything. From the decorating to the selection of the venue.
I wasn’t one to turn down work. My calls had screeched to a halt after the billboard debacle. It had mysteriously disappeared from view around the same time Adam disappeared from my house. Even though I knew he was well off since he was a professional athlete, I didn’t like
being beholden to men. Especially, those I really had no claim to.
Planning this anniversary party was the perfect distraction from whatever happened between me and Adam a couple nights back. I hadn’t heard from him since then and I still felt sick to my stomach. What had I done wrong? God. I never should have mentioned Heather’s name. I’d been nervous and off kilter because of our raging sexual chemistry.
Open mouth. Insert foot.
That alone made me nibble my nails, a terrible habit I’d picked up in high school after the whole What Not To Wear fiasco courtesy of blonde bimbo Heather. Now, it seemed Heather had swept in to ruin my life yet again like Typhoid Mary.
Thoughts of her, of Adam, all of it, brought me back to the billboard and sent nausea burbling up my esophagus. I had to put it in the past and focus. George and Levetta needed my ‘A’ game today, which was what I was known for providing to my clients.
I beckoned for the couple to follow and led them into the interior of the barn. The back wall was clustered with bales of hay and a random collection of dirtied tools and implements. The space, however, was enviable. Rays of golden sun filtered through the hay loft and below, casting heavenly shadows and sparkles of light across the entire floor.
Even snooty Levetta in her Jimmy Choo’s seemed impressed.
“Since it’s your Ruby Anniversary, I thought the color of the barn was perfect. And I’ll decorate the interior accordingly. White table cloths, ornamental vases, brilliant red Wood Lilies. The lighting could be –” I trailed off at the looks on their faces.
The married couple shared a glance.
“Is there a problem?” I asked, crossing my arms behind my back, keeping that hospitality smile in place. I didn’t want to force it, but suddenly my stomach brimmed with nerves. It felt like my insides were in the process of worming their way outside.
“It’s nice,” George said, a quiet rumble that barely travelled to my ears.
Benched Page 8