Unrequited

by Kimberly Dean

  Fuck.

  Just standing here wasn’t going to fix things. Reaching out, he caught the handle and rolled the door along its track. He saw her spine stiffen at the sound, but otherwise she didn’t move. He approached her carefully.

  “Can’t sleep?” he asked as he sat down on the step behind her. He stretched his legs out on either side of her. She was wearing one of those slippery satin robes. Hot pink if he guessed right. The moonlight didn’t do the color justice, but he had a feeling it would be a knockout in full sunlight. It looked pretty good as is—even if she did have the belt tied around her waist so tightly it was almost knotted. The material only came to midthigh and it left most of her legs bare. He gritted his teeth when their skin brushed.

  Now was not the time.

  She shifted her legs, trying not to let him see. “I’m not used to having someone take up all the space,” she said noncommittally.

  “Sorry.”

  The night was quiet around them, but Ty had never felt more edgy in his life. Trying to be as relaxed with her as he could, he reached for the glass in her hand. The plastic tumbler was sweating. The temperature had gone down with the sun, but the humidity still hung heavy in the air. He tried to tell himself that was why he was finding it hard to breathe. Casually, he took a drink of her lemonade. He could have used a shot of whiskey, but the tartness hit the spot.

  Needing to break the tension, he gestured to the backyard. The shadows couldn’t hide that the grass was starting to get long and ragged. In this weather, it was impossible to keep up. “Your lawn boy needs to get to work.”

  He thought he saw a ghost of a smile cross her lips. “He’s a slacker that one.”

  Playfully, he nudged her shoulder. He was her lawn boy. “Maybe he just needs more incentive.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Her smile disappeared, and his shoulders slumped. Tact had never been his forte. He was more of a straightforward type of guy. Going with his strength—and his gut—he wrapped an arm about her from behind. He cupped his hand over the ball of her shoulder and gently pulled her back against him.

  “You don’t have to say it back,” he told her softly.

  She stiffened and tried to pull away. “But I…”

  “Relax. It’s all right.”

  Those three words cost him more than he’d like to admit. He might as well have reached into his chest and ripped out his own heart. Nevertheless, he kept her close. She resisted, but eventually her weight eased back against him.

  That, at least, made the claws in the back of his neck finally ease up. She still felt safe with him. That was something.

  They sat together for a long while, neither of them saying a word. Crickets chirped, and somewhere an early bird started to sing. The cheerful sound rubbed Ty the wrong way. He hoped the damn thing croaked on its stupid worm.

  “How long?”

  The sound of her voice surprised him. “What?”

  She didn’t respond, and the silence just about killed him.

  “How long have you felt that way about me?” she finally asked.

  He took a ragged breath. Oh, now they were getting into dangerous territory. She’d asked, though. For once, he wanted her to know. He’d been hiding it for too long. “Since Denny brought you home for Thanksgiving dinner that first year.”

  She looked over her shoulder sharply. “That was the first time we met.”

  “That was all it took.”

  She became less settled in his arms. He gave her a squeeze and took another drink of lemonade. His throat had just gone dry as sandpaper. “You walked in the door, and I was done for.”

  “I…I never noticed.”

  “You didn’t think that I walked funny?” He tried to laugh it off, but couldn’t. With a sigh, he rested his chin on her shoulder. “You were Denny’s girl; then his wife. I knew that. That’s why I made sure you didn’t notice. That nobody did. If you’d been anyone else, though, I would have had you flat on your back before the night was out.”

  He paused. “Or your stomach, given what I know now.”

  She made a tight sound and reached for her drink. “Give me that,” she said hoarsely.

  He passed her the lemonade and pressed a kiss to her temple. He saw the way her hand shook as she lifted the glass. He knew how she felt. He was more than a bit rocky himself.

  “It wasn’t just physical,” he confessed, wanting to make sure she knew that. “You were gorgeous; I wasn’t blind. As I got to know you, though, I realized how sweet you were. How smart and resourceful. A roughneck like me never stood a chance.”

  The lemonade was gone. She set the glass aside and nervously rubbed her hands on her thighs. “The divorce has been final for a long time, though. Why didn’t you…Not that I expected it, but you never…”

  “Shh,” he whispered into her soft hair. “I know how badly that whole thing hurt you.”

  When they went quiet this time, not even the crickets made a sound.

  The divorce hadn’t been contentious. As far as most people knew, it had been almost friendly. Ty knew better. When that marriage had ended, Trista had been shattered. He knew because he’d been the one to pick up the pieces—not because he was trying to take advantage, but because he’d been disappointed, too.

  He’d hoped it would last.

  Honest to God, he had. Denny was his brother. He’d wanted them both to be happy, even if he was getting the short end of the stick.

  But the way it had ended…

  Just thinking about it got him fired up all over again.

  For as long as he could remember, Denny had been the golden boy. The favorite. He couldn’t do anything wrong—not with his family, his friends, the media…Learning that his All-Star little brother wasn’t perfect had been a kick in the gut.

  Especially when he thought of all the time he’d wasted standing back in the shadows.

  Ty let out a quick curse and ran his hand up and down Trista’s arm. She deserved better. They both did. “When I told you we’d been working up to this, I wasn’t lying. I’m more than your lawn boy.”

  “I know that,” she said quickly.

  “I’m more than your ex-brother-in-law, too, so stop trying to use that as an excuse.” He gave her a little jiggle when she started to shake her head. “For the past eight months, we’ve been dating. We just haven’t been having sex.”

  She might not have admitted as much to herself, but it was true. At first, he’d just started helping her around the house. When he’d seen the rotting board on the front porch, he’d become her fix-it man. Then her mechanic. He hadn’t wanted to push her, but slowly and surely, they’d gotten closer. She’d started making dinner for him whenever he came over to mow the lawn. Tuesday night had become movie night—sometimes out and sometimes in—but always with popcorn. Now they talked on the phone daily.

  That was why he’d gone ballistic when he’d seen her out with that pharmacist. She hadn’t told him about the date but, more to the point, she was his.

  Her hands were trembling as she folded them in her lap. “I thought we were friends.”

  Son of a bitch. Anything but the “let’s just be friends” line. Anything.

  His voice went rough. “Did you ever notice how you’re shy and quiet with everyone but me?”

  She paused. “Yes.”

  “There’s a reason for that.” Trying not to let his desperation show through, he wrapped both arms around her. Determinedly, he slipped his hands inside the edges of her robe. “I can’t be just your friend anymore, Trista.”

  She arched when he caught her breasts, but he simply held her. She couldn’t deny the physical. He’d already proven that much, and he wasn’t above using it to his advantage. Dropping his head, he nuzzled the side of her neck. “I don’t think you want that either.”

  The air seemed to almost shimmer about them. He could feel her resisting, fighting her own response rather than him. Almost at once, though, she gave in. Her head dropped back onto his shoulder,
and her hands came up to cover his. He brushed his lips across her neck and felt her pulse pounding.

  “Ty, I’m scared.”

  The words stopped him cold. Suddenly, it was hard to get oxygen past his heart in his throat. “Of me?”

  “No…” She shifted in his embrace. “Of this.”

  He didn’t understand. “Why?”

  “I do love you…just not that w—”

  He jerked. “Don’t say it.”

  She turned in his arms, finally looking at him. “You don’t understand. That’s why this is so frightening to me. I care about you, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “What did I tell you about overthinking things? Just let it happen. We both want it.”

  She tilted her head beseechingly. “I’ve got too much to lose.

  “No. Listen,” she said when he started to argue. She scooted around on the step, and he spread his legs wider to give her more room. “When I divorced Denny, I lost more than a husband. I lost your parents, too.”

  “My parents? What the hell do they have to do with this?” His voice carried across the backyard louder than he’d intended, but damn. If she was stretching that far for excuses, then he’d read her wrong. He started to get impatient, but the feeling vaporized when she lifted her hand and cupped his cheek.

  “I don’t have any other family, Ty.”

  His gut tightened. Her eyes looked big and wounded as she stared at him in the moonlight.

  “I was an only child,” she said quietly, “and I lost my parents in a car wreck when I was twenty.”

  “I know that,” he said. His voice was as quiet now as it had been loud a moment ago. If she cried, he didn’t know what he was going to do.

  “Your mother won’t hear anything against Denny, and your dad won’t even look at me.” She swallowed hard and shook her head. “I can’t lose you, too.”

  Lose him? Ty looked at her helplessly. He’d waited for three years already. She couldn’t shake him if she tried. “You won’t lose me.”

  “I lost Denny.”

  Well now, wasn’t that the kicker? “That was his fault.”

  “I have to take some responsibility. A marriage takes two people.”

  “Right. Two. Not three or four or ten.”

  Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in surprise. “You know?”

  “That black eye he had during the playoffs didn’t come from a foul tip.”

  He saw the embarrassment start to come over her again, but he wouldn’t allow it. None of that had been her fault. Denny may be his brother, but if he found out the arrogant snot had made her think she’d deserved to be cheated on, he had another ass-kicking coming. So help him.

  Ty felt his anger building, but he pushed it away. He wasn’t going to be the one to pay for his brother’s mistakes. Lifting his hand, he brushed her hair back from her face. He didn’t even care if she felt his hand shake. “Listen, I know how it feels to be left in Denny’s shadow, to feel second best. Mom and Dad don’t mean to do it. They still love you; I know they do.”

  She let out a soft sound and turned her head away.

  He cupped her face and made her look at him again. His jaw tightened when he saw the shimmering in her eyes. Tears. Damn. “What’s happening here between you and me—it’s got nothing to do with anybody else,” he said gruffly. “I’m not my brother, Trista. I won’t hurt you. I swear. Just give me a chance.”

  She let out a shuddering breath. “This isn’t going to be a one-night stand, is it?”

  “No,” he said firmly. “Not even close.”

  Finally giving in to the need, he leaned forward and kissed her. Somehow, he managed to keep it light and slow. He let her deepen it, and his hand fisted in the dark tangles of her hair. It was only then that she noticed he was naked.

  And aroused.

  “Come back to bed, baby.”

  She stared at him for a moment that seemed to last forever. Ty waited tensely, his muscles feeling like they wanted to jump out of his skin. He watched her steadily, though, letting her see whatever she needed to see. It must have been enough, because slowly, silently, she leaned into his embrace.

  For the first time since he’d awakened alone, Ty relaxed.

  One way or another, they were going to make this work.

  “Okay, enough already,” Kelly said as she took another batch of cream puffs from the oven. She set the cookie sheet on top of the stove and tossed the pot holder onto the counter. Turning, she planted her hand on her hip. “If you won’t tell me on your own, I’ll just have to ask. How did last night go?”

  Trista froze in the middle of what she was doing. Absolutely froze. Her partner knew? Already? But how?

  Oh, God! The open front door! She’d known people could see!

  Panic flared inside her chest. How was she supposed to explain? How could she? She didn’t really know what had happened herself. There’d just been so much heat. Lust. And Ty.

  Lots and lots of Ty.

  “Last night?” she said, hedging.

  “With Cliff. The pharmacist.”

  Cliff! Her date. The first one she’d had in eight months…The one Kelly had insisted she go on…Trista nearly sagged in relief. She’d forgotten all about it.

  “Don’t play coy with me,” her friend said impatiently. “You know I have ways of making you talk.”

  “Mmm,” Trista murmured. She’d nearly made her confess without even trying.

  With a quick breath of relief, she resumed her work on a batch of cream puffs that had already cooled. Without thinking, she sliced open each puff and scooped out the insides. She was grateful for the mindless task, because her mind was definitely elsewhere. “The date was…unusual. Things didn’t go quite as Cliff had planned.”

  “How was that?”

  “He took me to the wrong restaurant.”

  “Wrong? What do you mean by that? Wasn’t the food good?”

  Trista glanced at her friend, amusement finally shining in her eyes. “He took me to the Blue Moon.”

  “The Moon!” The oven door closed with a whump as Kelly set a new batch inside. “Why would he take you on a date there?”

  “He thought it was the Blue Muse.” Trista pressed her lips together. It wasn’t polite to laugh, but it was so funny now. The look that had settled on Cliff’s face when she’d told him about the mix-up had been absolutely priceless. “He had reservations and everything.”

  Kelly let out a hoot of laughter. “But you were going to wear your flirty little cocktail dress.”

  “I did,” Trista said, her color heightening at the reference. That was where her trouble had all started. “And he was wearing a suit. We fit in like British royalty at a monster truck rally.”

  “Oh, no. Didn’t the gravel parking lot give him a clue that he might be in the wrong place?”

  Trista shook her head. “He didn’t know until I pointed out the neon sign.”

  Kelly broke out in new gales of laughter. As always, it was contagious. Soon, they were both bent over laughing.

  “Crap,” her friend said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I had such hopes for him.”

  “It was an honest mistake,” Trista said, trying to sober up. “He’s a nice man—except for the fact that he’s a fan of Denny’s.”

  Kelly groaned. She’d never been a fan of her ex’s. “No way.”

  “He couldn’t stop with the questions about him.” Trista gave a halfhearted shrug. “I think that’s why he wanted to go out with me.”

  “Right. And that face and those legs of yours have nothing to do with it.”

  Trista felt a thrill rush through her. Ty had had more than one compliment for her legs last night. She felt the heat start to rise in her cheeks.

  “Denny,” Kelly scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Unbelievable. Well, scratch him off the list. We’ll have to find you somebody else. Somebody yummy.”

  Yummy. Now that was a word that described Ty to a tee. Trista kept her head down as she pluck
ed a deflated cream puff off the sheet and set it aside.

  Kelly began dropping spoonfuls of the raw pastry onto another cookie sheet. “Somebody who’ll be more interested in tearing off your clothes than talking about baseball.”

  Cream puffs, Trista reminded herself. Concentrate on the cream puffs.

  “What time is that going-away reception this afternoon?” she asked, trying to steer the conversation in a less dangerous direction.

  Kelly’s head slowly turned. “Two,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “You know that. You’re the one who scheduled it.”

  “Yes, well…We’d better speed up or we’ll be late.” Trying to keep moving, Trista opened the refrigerator and pulled out the vanilla pudding. She could feel her friend’s stare drilling her in the middle of the back.

  “What’s up with you?”

  “What do you mean?” Trista said, her voice jumping.

  Kelly started to slowly approach. “You’re all flush.”

  “It’s hot in here.”

  “I’m the one working the oven.” Her friend propped her hip against the counter and folded her arms over her chest. “And you didn’t get red until I said ‘yummy.’”

  Trista tried to keep her face placid as she started filling the little pastry bowls. “Isn’t it about time for that batch to come out of the oven?”

  Kelly drummed her fingers against her arm. She looked like a military strategist debating her next move. “And you’ve been absentminded all day.”

  “Yes, well. I’ve had a lot—”

  “Sex.”

  The one, blunt word surprised Trista so much, she jerked. Vanilla pudding plopped onto the counter.

  “I knew it. You had sex!” Kelly declared. Triumphantly, she reached out and poked her in the shoulder. “I knew it the moment your knees buckled when I mentioned someone tearing off your clothes!”

  Trista was too tongue-tied to deny it.

  “So…How was he?” Kelly asked, the question rolling off her tongue like a delicious secret.

  “Ooo!” she squealed before Trista could choke out a response. “Hotter than that oven from the looks of you.”