by Amy Knupp
He had to be totally aware of what he did to her, what she felt for him, after Saturday night. Had to know that agreeing to one-time-only sex wasn’t typical behavior for her, whereas she was pretty certain it wasn’t out of the ordinary for a man like Alex.
Why was he here, really? Did it amuse him that she’d let her lifelong crush take over on Saturday night and eagerly done what was unheard of for her? What had gone through his head this morning as he’d sat on her bed and seen her so flustered she could hardly breathe?
Enough of that. She couldn’t change what had happened over the weekend, but she didn’t have to yearn for a man who only hung around, only checked on her because he felt he owed it to her brother to make sure she was okay.
She was okay.
Taylor stood straighter in the shower, determined not to be insecure Scarlet anymore. At least not in Alex’s presence.
He was not at all suitable for her, she reminded herself. An army guy steeping in self-recrimination was so far off from the clean-cut go-getter type she envisioned spending her life with. Saturday night had been fun and, well, naughty, but that wasn’t who she was.
After a speedy shower, she took her clothes for the day, which she’d hung on the back of the bathroom door last night, and pulled them on. Hair combed but still damp, she reminded herself with every step toward the kitchen that Alex was not the man for her. He’d sneaked out before the sun had come out yesterday, obviously unable to own up to what he’d let himself do.
She smelled coffee before she reached the kitchen but she refused to acknowledge any softening toward him. She couldn’t afford to. Biting the inside of her mouth, she blustered into the room, straight to the coffeemaker, without sparing him a glance.
“Taylor,” he said from the table behind her. “About Saturday…”
Her back stiffened. She was not going to stand here while he gave her the I’m-sorry-about-what-happened speech and reminded her it wouldn’t happen again.
“Yeah,” she said, filling a travel mug with steaming coffee. “I’m sorry about that, Alex. I hope we can just call it my getting-over-Joel adventure and let it go at that. It didn’t mean anything to either one of us. It’s all good.”
She took a sip. The coffee scalded her tongue and made her eyes water but she didn’t move away from the counter. Didn’t dare look at him. Couldn’t let him discern that everything she’d said was a lie.
Alex was silent for several never-ending seconds. “Okay, then,” he said slowly. “As long as we have that cleared up.”
She heard him stand, bit her cheek again as he joined her at the counter. She forced herself to meet his gaze.
“Everything’s cool?” he asked, his eyes, greenish-gray today, boring down into hers.
Taylor nodded once, emphatically.
“Good.”
He placed his hand gently on the back of her neck and kissed her forehead. Released her as she fought not to let that simple gesture get to her. She couldn’t help noticing his relief at being off the hook.
“We’ll go back to the way things were.”
“Right.” She somehow managed to flip him an unconcerned smile.
The way things were. Fabulous.
She turned away from him and took her phone out of her pocket to check her schedule. Tonight was happy hour with Vienna and a group of grad students. Vienna had assured her there would be men there. Smart men. Driven, intellectual men. Though the odds were low that she’d meet the one for her, she’d at least have somewhere to go besides her empty, echoing house.
That was something.
ALEX HADN’T INTENDED to walk out of her house hard as a rock and rejected. Not that he’d expected or wanted anything to happen back there. But he sure as hell hadn’t foreseen her giving him the blow-off line.
Didn’t that just serve him right?
An hour-and-forty-minute car ride hadn’t done a thing to ease his agitation. Nor did thirty minutes of intense physical therapy. Which only annoyed him further.
“I’d tell you to go harder, Alex, but I’m afraid you’d actually try.” Helen wasn’t known for showing any kind of a personality. The therapist was all business, all the time, so the attempt at sarcasm was somewhat remarkable.
He didn’t answer, just channeled all his unrest and frustration into his leg muscles and managed to lift the weight again.
“Is that it?” Helen asked. Despite the question, her tone said the session was over.
She was more motivating than she realized.
Alex went for one more rep, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain in his muscles. His legs shook like a Blackhawk’s vibrations and he wasn’t sure he could move them another millimeter.
Damn the helicopter that crashed. Damn the enemy that caused the crash and took Quinn away from them. Damn all of it.
He forced the weight upward, using the pain and the anger. Helen grabbed it and motioned for him to let go so she could lower it herself.
“We’re done,” she said abruptly.
He checked his watch and looked at her questioningly. “We’ve got ten more minutes.”
“Not today,” she said. “I’m all for pushing yourself, but you have a death wish today. You’re going to end up reinjuring yourself. That kind of setback is not happening on my watch.”
He paced over to the wall and picked up his sports drink. Poured some down his throat as he tried to settle himself. He mopped his face with a towel and sauntered back to Helen, who was making notes on a piece of paper.
“Wednesday?” he asked to verify their next meeting.
Helen nodded. “Take it easy, Alex. I don’t know what’s got you so bothered today, but I hope you can work it out.”
He thanked her halfheartedly, got his stuff together and walked out. Normally he changed clothes before the trek home, but today he just needed to get out of these four walls.
Helen was right. He was tied up in knots and for what good reason? The visit to Taylor’s house had gone better than he’d expected. The reasons he’d dreaded it hadn’t panned out. So what the hell was his problem?
Whatever it was, it was time to get over it right damn now. The sooner he got back to active duty, the better off everyone would be.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
IT’D BEEN NEARLY TWO WEEKS since Alex had seen Taylor.
After the blow-off Monday morning, he hadn’t felt obligated to go out of his way to prove everything was fine in spite of their night together. If it was “no big deal,” then there was no need. He hadn’t specifically avoided her, but he hadn’t stayed late to run into her on the days he worked at her house, either.
Frankly, it’d been too long for his liking. That was the protective part of him, wanting to check on her. At least that’s the story he told himself.
As he strolled up the driveway between her car and the side of the house, he tried to ignore the subtle relief, bordering on anticipation, at the sight of her car.
Okay, damn it all, he’d never been one to tell himself stories. He wanted to see Taylor for the mere fact that he’d missed her and he liked looking at her. Liked her, period. Which was perfectly fine. They’d forged a strange sort of friendship over the past couple of months, and that was acceptable. Quinn would be happy to know his sister could count Alex as a friend, and Vienna, as well. That was his duty to his buddy, right?
Not a duty at all, he corrected. Making sure Taylor was okay was something he felt he owed Quinn, but nothing more. He was here by choice. Her…friend by choice. Which made it okay that he was looking forward to working on her bathroom all day alongside her.
He knocked and went on in since the door was open. One of the cats was right there in the entry, soaking up the sunlight. It raised its backside and looked eagerly up at him.
“Hey, furball.” He reached down to scratch its ears. He’d learned to tolerate Taylor’s felines after all the time he’d spent alone in her house with them. They’d never quite figured out they were enemies to start with, and somet
hing about their quiet persistence had worn away his resistance. They weren’t so bad.
“Help yourself to coffee,” Taylor called from the back of the house.
As he was pouring himself a mug full, she came bustling out to the kitchen. He turned to greet her and—she wasn’t dressed for working around the house. Not unless she suddenly didn’t mind dirtying the denim skirt that hit just above her knees or the tank and button-down shirt she wore over it. And as much as she supposedly adored those green flip-flops his sister had given her, he was sure working in them wasn’t on her agenda.
“Did Vienna bring you over?” she asked, not meeting his eyes.
“Was she supposed to?”
Taylor shrugged. “She and I are going shopping. I just figured you might carpool.”
Shopping?
“I thought…” He shook his head, silently calling himself an idiot. “Bathroom supplies get delivered?”
“In the garage.” She grabbed a half-green banana from a bunch on the counter and peeled it. “Everything you’ll need to replace the countertop and tile the floor.” She took a bite and chewed. Looked startled by a thought. “It’s just a one-person job, right? You don’t need me to help?”
Need, no. “Go do your girl thing.”
He’d stay here and do his man-fix-it thing. Alone. No big deal.
THE ONLY REASON ALEX perked up at the sound of his sister and Taylor thundering into the house louder than a herd of elephants was the hope that they might’ve picked up some dinner for him.
Yep, hunger was his only concern. Nothing to do with a certain redhead who apparently really was unaffected by the night they’d spent together. He’d be hard-pressed before he’d admit to a soul that that very redhead had infiltrated his dreams on a nightly basis. Usually naked.
If someone were to suggest it was getting to him that Taylor had so easily dismissed him after sleeping with him, well, he had nothing to say to that. People could think what they wanted.
The bathroom door opened about a foot until it hit his backside, and Taylor stuck her head in. “You’re still here?”
“Tile’s going slower than I expected,” he said, ensuring the piece he’d just laid was square with the others. “I’ll stick around and finish it.”
“Oh.” Her tone made him crane his neck to look at her.
“That a problem?”
“You can go home. You’ve been working a long time.”
“I don’t mind. Just as easy to finish it now as it is to come back tomorrow.”
“Vienna would probably take you when she leaves.”
“I don’t need Vienna to take me.”
His sister’s head appeared next to Taylor’s. “She’s got a date, army guy. She wants you to vamoose.”
He turned back to his tile and scrutinized it unnecessarily. The women twittered off down the hall toward Taylor’s room, gabbing about how the shoes would look with the outfit or some other all-important matter. Alex clenched his jaw and concentrated on finishing the row.
When Taylor and Vienna came out of the bedroom a good while later, he was midway through the next row of tiles, close enough to the door that he was forced to work with it open all the way.
“Alex…” Taylor’s tone left no question she wasn’t thrilled that he was still there. “No. You’re not doing that again.”
“Doing what?”
“Hanging around so you can judge Brian. Please.”
Brian? Judge wasn’t the first verb that came to mind.
“I wasn’t—”
“Come on, Alex, I’ve got a study group for my last test in twenty minutes. I’ll drop you off at home on my way.” Vienna stopped in the doorway again and dared him to argue with a look she’d picked up from their mother.
He stood and glared down at her.
“Give me five,” he said and turned to clean up for the day.
Both women were in the kitchen when he emerged. “I closed the door and turned on the fan to get rid of the fumes. Keep the cats out and use the other bathroom.”
Taylor nodded as she flitted around, tidying the already neat countertop, and he could tell, though she fought to hide it, she was once again scared as hell. Instinct made him want to soothe that fear as he had before. He had to remind himself that wasn’t his role. It’d be twisted for someone who’d slept with her to calm her down before a date with another man. Besides, Vienna was here.
Alex went to the sink and scrubbed his hands with melon-scented soap. As he was drying them, Taylor came up behind him.
“Here,” she said, handing him an envelope. “I meant to give you this when you got here but had to run to the bank first.”
He was just the hired help.
He took the envelope with a tight nod and headed to Vienna’s car without a word.
MARSHALL’S CAR WAS the only one in the garage when Vienna dropped Alex off at home ten minutes later. Their mom might have told him where she was going tonight but he couldn’t recall. Didn’t much care as long as she and his sister were out of the house and he’d have some peace.
He slammed the front door harder than necessary.
Marshall was in the kitchen, and Alex headed that way. Later, he’d realize that had been his first mistake upon returning home.
“Hey,” Marshall said from his spot at the table. He bent over a grilled cheese sandwich and took an oversize bite.
Alex automatically scanned for liquor. Yep. His brother was using his manners tonight, drinking the brown stuff from a cocktail glass instead of straight from the bottle. He bit down any insulting comments. Might as well broach the subject of his drinking, as Vienna had repeatedly asked him to do.
“Make a sandwich for me?” Alex asked dryly.
“What do you think?”
“I think if it’s not about meeting Marshall’s immediate needs, it’s not happening.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Maybe Alex wasn’t in the right frame of mind for a serious discussion but what the hell. He slathered butter on two slices of bread and lined up the last two pieces of American cheese between them. The burner was still switched to high, and the hot skillet sizzled when he tossed the sandwich in. “You trying to burn the house down?”
Marshall grinned. “Not intentionally.”
“Well, that makes it okay, then.”
“What did you and Quinn’s sister do all day?”
“I worked,” Alex snapped. “Her name is Taylor.”
“We a little testy?” Marshall asked.
“I am just damn fine. You are once again lit.”
Alex turned the heat down a couple of notches. Something had to change because if he hadn’t come home when he did, who knew how long the stove would’ve been left on.
“You and Taylor are getting pretty cozy now that Quinn’s not around to stop it.”
Alex lifted the pan, flipped the sandwich and slammed the skillet back down on the burner. He clamped his jaw shut. Blowing up wouldn’t help Marshall see what he was doing to himself. This was for his mom and Vienna’s sakes, Alex reminded himself.
He eyed the bottle on the table next to the near-empty cocktail glass. More than half-full. Maybe it was early enough he could get somewhere.
“What are you doing, Marshall?”
“Eating a grilled cheese. What’s it look like I’m doing?”
“Looks to me…” Alex said as he turned the heat off, took a plate down and slid the sandwich onto it “…like you’re pissing your life away.”
“Cheers, bro.” Marshall lifted his glass, a smirk on his face, eyes bloodshot.
Alex sat down heavily at the table, reining in his temper, though the urge to punch the stupid out of his brother just about made him twitch. “When are you going to find a job?”
Marshall finished off the whiskey in his glass and set it down hard. He pushed the glass aside and slid the bottle closer, obviously intending to do away with formalities. “That’s my business,” h
e said quietly.
“When you’re living in Mom’s house, it’s her business, too.”
“You her spokesman now?”
Alex stared at him. “Looks like it. The way I understand it, Mom and Vienna have both tried talking to you.”
“The women don’t get it, Alex. I did my best to be polite while they had their say, but they have no idea what it does to a man when he loses…” Marshall looked around the kitchen as if searching for the word he wanted “…damn near everything.”
“It sucks. I get that.” Alex’s anger cooled slightly because he did understand. He was living the same thing, to an extent. “But you’ve got to pick yourself up. Move forward.”
“There’s nothing forward that I can see.” Marshall swigged down several gulps of whiskey.
He couldn’t even stop drinking long enough to discuss this.
“If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for Mom and Vienna.”
“What the hell do they have to do with anything?”
“They have to live with you.” Alex’s voice rose in volume. “You’re ruining your own life and making them watch. That’s not goddamn fair to them.”
“Yeah, well, excuse me if I’m not too freaking concerned about them. They’ll be fine.” He shoved his chair out and stormed over to the counter, gripping his beloved bottle as though his life depended on it.
“Not if you burn down their house.” Alex stood, set his plate in the sink with a clatter. “You think they’ll be okay if you drink yourself to death?”
“Guess they wouldn’t have to worry ’bout me burning their house down then, would they?” A sloppy, self-amused grin spread across Marshall’s face before he took another long draw of whiskey.
Being in a shitty place was one thing, but not giving a damn about the two people who would do just about anything for him…
Something snapped in Alex. He whipped the bottle out of Marshall’s hand before he could lower it from his mouth. Marshall swore at him as Alex spun toward the stainless-steel sink and purposely hit the bottle on the side of it as hard as he could. The glass broke, shards landing in the sink, and the vile liquid ran down the drain.