by Cara McKenna
“Yeah,” he said through a sigh. “You’re right. We should stick to what we’re good at. For however long it’s meant to last. And maybe I have gotten ahead of myself. It’s hard not to, when you feel this much.”
She nodded. “I know.”
Still, he hated how transparent he felt in her eyes. That she’d known he’d wandered off script before he’d even realized there was one.
I always wanted to be known by a woman. For just about forever. Wanted a partner, a mate, a second half. Wanted to be read and understood in a single scan of a woman’s eyes, and wanted to understand that woman right back. But he wanted things from Raina that he’d never even expected to feel—all that passion and history, and yeah, maybe even the challenge of her. He wanted this, same as her, for as long as he could get it.
But he didn’t have forever to wait, did he?
I’m thirty-two. There’s plenty of time.
Plenty of time to enjoy this affair, perhaps . . . but how much longer to get over it?
He hit pause on the thought, pulled himself up short. What had he just said to her, not a minute ago? For however long it’s meant to last. He could be so lousy at the short term—hazard of the job. But not everything was an investment in the future. Some things were just for pleasure, just for now. Just for however-long, and afterward, for the memories. Plenty of wonderful things ended—meals, parties, vacations. Nobody would ever suggest that you not bother experiencing them just because they were going to come to an end one day.
Needing to lighten the mood, he took Raina’s hand in earnest. “I’ve got an important question for you.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Okay.”
“Would you do me the honor,” he asked gravely, “of coming to the end-of-summer cookout at the ranch next Sunday?”
She tipped forward with a silent laugh, then mimed wiping anxious sweat from her brow. “Jesus. Scare a girl, why don’t you?”
“It kicks off at noon. My mother will corner you. But you can run off and claim that you need to open the bar anytime you want. Just show up for a burger, that’s all I ask. What do you say?”
She made a great show of deliberating, then nodded, smiling. “Yeah, sure. Of course.”
“That’s great.”
“Your folks . . . How serious do they think we are?”
“They know we’re exclusive, but that’s about it. I’ve been policing her expectations, I promise.”
“Okay good. I couldn’t stand to break a good woman’s heart.”
Miah swallowed and worked to keep the smile on his face.
What the fuck’s happened here tonight? he wondered.
Reality had happened, that was what. This was going to end, maybe tomorrow or maybe in two years. It was up to him, it seemed.
Two years, though . . . Two years was a lot of time. Two years was enough to change a person. But was it enough to change Raina? Was he worth changing for?
He supposed he’d find out sooner or later. But not tonight. Tonight was about something else entirely, and he forced his body to take the wheel while his heart and his head recovered from the blow. Keep it simple.
He gave Raina’s hand a squeeze. “It’s been an hour since you and I fucked, honey.”
“I believe that’s true.”
“Think maybe we better do something about that, don’t you?”
Chapter Twelve
Three nights later, Raina hurried through her apartment at the sound of the buzzer, jogged down the stairs. She’d just changed into pajama shorts after closing up the bar, and her bare feet reminded her she really was overdue to sweep this place.
As she reached the back landing, she tried to hold in her smile. It overtook her lips the second she swung the door in.
“Why, if it isn’t Jeremiah Church.”
He dipped an invisible hat. “Ma’am.”
He’d called that afternoon to tell her to wait up after closing. Things had been different these past three days. While their serious talk had put an end to the short-lived giddiness, it had also charged up other aspects of the affair.
The sex had intensified, and it had to be because the both of them now knew they wouldn’t get to enjoy each other that way forever. Neither had told the other “I love you,” but their bodies spoke more deeply than ever. It was a change Raina welcomed. Red-hot sex, rooted in the truth. No more misgiving, just two people burning for each other in the present, eyes wide open.
She took him in—her lover, her man, looking tall and handsome as always in jeans and a cream-colored thermal that set off his tan. He had flowers in his hand, three pink roses wrapped in cellophane with some baby’s breath—no doubt purchased at Wasco Drug or maybe the Sinclair station, the only places in Fortuity that might carry such a thing.
“And you brought flowers! You shouldn’t have. Would you like to come up?” she asked sweetly.
His gaze dropped for a moment to her mostly bare legs, hunger brightening his eyes when they met hers once more. “I think I might.”
“Up to my apartment,” she added pointedly as he passed and she locked the door. “Up to my room, with all those horrible walls and that oppressive ceiling . . .”
“I’m here, honey. Don’t scare me off now.” He handed her the roses and kissed her cheek. “Missed you, by the way.”
“Same.” She led them up the steps and into the kitchen. “You want a beer?”
“No, thanks. It’s so late already, I’d probably just pass out on top of you.”
“Well, we can’t have that. How long have we got, exactly?”
“Only ’til five thirty.”
“Damn. Well, let’s not waste a second of it.” She found a highball glass in the cupboard and gave the flowers some water. They looked silly, fanned out in all directions, but she’d trim them tomorrow. The clock was ticking, and she’d be focusing every last moment on the miracle that was Miah Church in her bedroom. In fact, she rather hoped that she just might rewrite his assumptions about his own dick, and prove to him he could fuck just fine indoors when adequately motivated.
When she’d come up after closing she’d opened her bedroom windows wide, though the heat was really lingering today, the breeze nonexistent. She might need to haul in the box fan from the den—whatever it took to get Miah comfortable enough to be taken advantage of.
“You’ve never even seen my room, I bet.” She led him through the den. He’d been in this room and the kitchen at least, if ages ago, back when they’d been in high school—her dad had been the parent least likely to notice if a few beers went missing from the fridge. She’d changed almost nothing since her dad had passed. Home décor wasn’t really her scene.
Miah waited at her bedroom threshold as she flipped on the light.
It was a big room, with two tall windows that looked out over the front lot and let the neon in when the sign was lit. The best feature was the bed, Raina thought—nice big queen-size mattress and a heavy old oak headboard, perfect for rattling the wall when you were really having yourself some fun.
And, man, if Miah didn’t look like six feet of fun. She came close, stroking her palms down his sides, admiring. It was no small relief that things felt this easy and primal again after that fight on Monday evening. She’d wondered if they’d be able to swing back from it or if the heaviness would follow them forward like a dark cloud. Seemed it might be the former.
And thank goodness, she thought, welcoming his kiss when he leaned in. Nothing in the world felt as good as these rough hands, nothing smelled as good as a working man’s skin. No manicured man in fine cologne could ever touch this, not a fucking chance.
She tugged him by the arms toward her bed, and their bodies tangled the moment they hit the covers.
“You feel good,” she whispered, the words all but lost between their hungry mouths.
He rolled her onto her back, knees spreading her own wide. It was hard to say which was hotter—the bite of his belt buckle or the stiff length of his cock. Both felt so eleme
ntally like this man. She tugged his shirt up his back until he stripped it away for her. Her hands feasted, and it was intoxicating, knowing he was hers, all hers.
He paused for a second, just long enough to toss his wallet on the bedside table, and then his hips were pumping between her legs, rough and quick. His breath sounded much the same, bordering on moans between increasingly graceless kisses. Everything about it lit her up. Nice as it had been, taking their time on that blessed, lazy afternoon, no rush to get anyplace . . . this felt like them, somehow. Frantic and needy, so perfectly tapped into the moment, the now. It was all they had, after all.
She wrestled her arms between their bodies, jerking her shirt up and off, reaching behind to undo her bra. Miah just about tore the latter off of her, his warm palm now cupping her bare flesh.
“I can’t believe I finally get you in my bed,” she told him, close to laughing she felt so high. “These sheets’ll never be quite the same.”
His body slowed, savoring now. Raina held his head, clutched his long hair. He felt different all of a sudden. More frantic, more . . . agitated? His breathing had changed, still rushing fast, but reedy now. She loosened her grip.
When his motions had slowed nearly to a halt, she whispered, “You all right?”
He pushed up on straight arms, pink in the face. “Hang on a sec.”
“Sure.” She laughed as she traced his eyebrow, studying his expression. “Jeez, you really are claustrophobic. I can get the fan if it would help.”
“It’s not that.” He sat up, settling beside her, leaning back on his arms. He drew in a long, slow breath, and shut his eyes.
“Isn’t it?” Sure looked like anxiety to her. “What, then?”
“I can’t help . . . Fuck. I can’t help thinking, this feels so good, so perfect.”
“Okay . . .”
“Except the way you see this all going, sometime, eventually, you’re going to be doing this with someone, and it’s not going to be me.”
Her heart dropped.
“Eventually you’re going to be this way with another man,” he said. “Because this can only be temporary. And I can’t lie—that fucks me up inside. Because I can’t imagine the opposite, being with anyone but you.” He was talking fast, and she could see his pulse ticking at his throat.
She sat up, put her hand to his shoulder and rubbed. “Don’t imagine that stuff, then. We’re only a couple months into this. We should be so stupid for each other we’re immune to that crap.”
“I wish I was. But it’s impossible for me not to think about it since we had that talk.” He moved, sitting cross-legged to face her. Even to her, the room was hot and close, surely compounding whatever persuasion of flustered he was feeling. His cheeks and ears were flushed dark.
Feeling too naked, Raina slipped on her bra, fumbling at her back with the clasp. “Are you sure this isn’t your phobia,” she asked, “feeding you a load of anxious bull?”
He shook his head. “All I can hear in the back of my mind is, ‘This isn’t for keeps.’ You told me so yourself. You don’t think this is going to work. And it’s hard for me to accept that, because I want to tell you, I think it can work. I think we can work if we just give it time, and let everything evolve. We’re just two people, right? People change their minds.”
“Not always. Not about everything.”
He laughed softly, clearly riled, but his words came more slowly now. “You want this to continue, for as long as it’s supposed to, right?”
She nodded.
“Then lie to me, honey. Please. Act like this is it, like maybe this can last. Let me believe it, and who fucking knows, maybe it’s true. Maybe this can be something for the long haul—but not if you won’t even tell yourself it’s a possibility. I can’t go on like that.”
“Miah—”
“I think that’s what got me. I came over here tonight—I suggested it in the first place—because I wanted to prove to you I’m willing to compromise, to get uncomfortable. To face what freaks me out. But it doesn’t feel like you’re willing to do the same, to face whatever’s got this road block up between us, and just entertain even the possibility that maybe there could be more here than you’re willing to admit.”
“I’m being realistic. And in the long run, kind, I hope. We can enjoy this with our eyes open, can’t we? For what it is, even if we know it’s got to end sooner or later.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
She sighed, shaking her head. Frustration was rising inside her, not lost on Miah.
“What?” he asked.
“This is going to keep happening, isn’t it? These talks. And if we’re only meant to stay together for a while this ought to be fun. Thoughtless fun, no worrying about the future, no heavy discussions every time we get together.” She couldn’t look at him anymore, her gaze flitting around the room. He didn’t speak, so she went on.
“We’re talking like a married couple on the brink of a divorce, and this is exactly what I never wanted for us. We have the potential to be the hottest flings of each other’s lives, to look back on this and feel a little warm and a little sad, and nostalgic and fond. Not all this heavy shit.” She took a deep breath, staring at the bedspread, then meeting his eyes once more. Jesus, why did he have to look so goddamn good?
“I told you exactly what all of this was,” she said. “Why are you trying to force it to be the one thing I swore it couldn’t be?”
“It feels too right to be just . . .”
“Just what?”
“Just sex. Just fun. Everything about this feels so right. Why can’t that be enough for us to at least try to make this real, find some compromise when the time comes?”
This is real to me. She wasn’t enough for Miah. He needed more than she could give. It hurt like hell to hear him talk as though she wasn’t fucking trying hard enough.
“Why can’t it be enough?” she asked. “Because there are exactly two compromises available, and either one is going to wind up leaving one of us miserable. You choose to not have a family because of me, you’re going to regret it. I give in and agree to have a child to stay with you, I’m going to hate it. I’ll feel trapped and angry and—”
“You don’t know that.” His tone was soft, but it did nothing to cool her temper.
“Oh I don’t? And you do?”
“It can change a person, parenthood. You don’t know what you’re capable of until it happens to you. It might be the most fulfilling thing you ever did if you gave it a shot.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” It was an accusation, not a question, and she let her tone tell him so.
“I’m open to changing my mind about what I think I want. I just want to hear you say something, anything, that tells me maybe you could, too.”
“You won’t.”
His eyes flashed, all his affected calm burned up in a blink. “How the fuck do you know? You’re thirty. How do you know what you’ll want in five years? Ten years? How can you possibly be feeling what I am and not be willing to sacrifice something to keep on feeling it?”
She could only shake her head, this entire night like a bad dream. She should have seen this coming. Monday evening should have been lesson enough.
“You know for a fact that you don’t ever want to be a mother,” Miah said. “Fine. But I know for a fact that I’m never going to feel this way for a woman again. I’ve been in love before—real love—and it still never felt close to this. It feels so good I’m willing to maybe picture a different future for myself. Is that not what you feel for me? Am I fucking crazy or something?”
“I love you. More than I’ve felt it for anybody. And this is real. Sex is real to me. What’s it to you?”
“Sex is important. But it’s not enough.”
“What is?”
He shook his head, looking rattled, like he didn’t even know anymore.
“It’s all or nothing with you, isn’t it?” she demanded. “Wedding bells
or why even fucking bother?”
“I want to belong to somebody, and to know they belong to me. Maybe I can’t do temporary. I’m trying, here, but maybe I can’t. Not if I know there’s no chance that it’s gonna be something.”
“Funny. This sure felt like something to me.”
“Felt like? You already past-tensing us, just like that? You ready to shoot this thing between the eyes?” he spat. “The second I’m the one laying out what it is I want? I listened to your demands—I listened to you tell me that I get no say in what happens if I got you pregnant. You know how goddamn much that hurts, Raina? Any goddamn clue?”
She stared, feeling slapped. Feeling ashamed. “No. I don’t. But I wasn’t about to wait until a condom broke to let you know what I—”
“Would you quit trying to fucking protect me for one goddamn minute?”
Would you quit trying to fucking change me? She held her tongue. She’d never seen him so angry, never guessed he was capable of it. He wouldn’t hurt her, she knew that much, but she’d be lying if she said he didn’t frighten her a little.
When he didn’t speak, she said, “I want us to stay friends, and the way this conversation is going, I think maybe we better call it quits before things get ugly.”
“You’re just giving up?”
“I’m facing reality, Miah. It ends now or it ends when you come to your senses and realize I’m never changing my mind, but either way, it’s going to end.”
“How has this gone from the best week of my life to one of the worst?”
She sighed, drawing her hair back, twisting it into a coil. “I don’t know.”
“This is fucked. This is so utterly . . . This isn’t right. This makes no sense.”
“Miah—”
“You know what makes sense? Us. You and me. I can make you happy. I know I can. Why won’t you just let me? I mean, tell me you’ve ever been with anyone before me and felt this.”