Unrequited

by Kimberly Dean

  “I should feed you more often,” he said huskily.

  She brushed her napkin over her lips self-consciously. “You have a one-track mind.”

  “Honey, I’ve got three years to make up for.”

  And there it was, the thousand-pound gorilla that they’d been tiptoeing around for weeks.

  Slowly, Trista folded her napkin and tucked it under the side of her plate. As intimate as they’d become, she still hadn’t been able to say back those three little words he’d confessed on her deck steps.

  She wished she could. They just wouldn’t come.

  Ty went quiet. He hadn’t pressured her. Not even once. Spreading his legs wide, he sat back in his chair, nearly draping himself across it. As casual as the pose was, though, he was tense. “I think it’s time we had the folks over for dinner.”

  Surprised, her gaze flickered up to meet his. He’d just jumped from the gorilla to its big, ugly mate. When she saw the determination in his eyes, the bottom dropped out of her stomach. “Can’t we wait a little longer?”

  He shrugged a shoulder and the muscles of his chest moved sinuously. “It’s time, Trista. We can’t keep sneaking around.”

  Why not? Things were going so well. She didn’t want to stir up all those old wounds and hurts. “They won’t approve, Ty.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  She didn’t, but she wasn’t strong enough yet to find out for sure. “Please?” she whispered, looking at him pleadingly.

  He stared at her, the fight stirring behind his eyes. After a moment, though, he wavered.

  “Shit,” he grumbled. In one smooth move, he sat upright and caught her. He had her on his lap before she could react. “All right. We’ll wait, but you’ve got to stop using those big, lavender eyes to get what you want.”

  “Ty!” she gasped. She was straddling his lap, and he’d somehow worked her robe down to her waist. Her arms caught in the sleeves when she tried to grab onto him for balance. He took advantage of her vulnerability and caught a breast in each hand.

  He began to massage her deeply. “What time do you have to be at work?”

  “Soon,” she groaned. He squeezed harder, and a shiver shot straight to her core. “Ty, we don’t have time for this.”

  His teeth nipped at her earlobe. “Consider yourself lucky I let you have breakfast first.”

  She shuddered when he reached between her legs to deal with the zipper of his jeans. Before she could manage to wrestle her arms free, he was lifting and positioning her.

  “Ah!” she moaned as his thick cock slowly pushed up into her. She grabbed his shoulders, and her head fell back.

  He suckled hard at her breast, taking as much of her warm flesh into his mouth as he could.

  “I do own my own business,” she said on a high note.

  He was lifting her on his lap with each deep thrust. “And I’m the foreman of my crew,” he growled as he turned to her other red nipple. “I think we can be late just this once.”

  “Mmm, really late,” she groaned. Enthralled, she scraped her fingernails down his chest.

  “Fuck it!” His hands clamped down hard on her hips. “We’ll get there when we get there.”

  He was late, all right. Ty waited impatiently at the intersection for the light to turn. The guys wouldn’t be able to let this one pass. He was going to catch hell for days.

  It had been worth it, though.

  In some ways…

  His shoulders clenched.

  “Damn it.”

  He reached up to rub the tense muscles. They were getting worse every day.

  He sighed. How was it possible to be so happy and miserable at the same time?

  Frustrated, he rubbed his fist around the steering wheel. Something had to give. The past three weeks with Trista had been unbelievable. Except for one thing…

  She didn’t feel about him the way that he felt about her.

  Reflexively, his foot tamped down on the gas pedal. The engine revved, raring to get off the starting line.

  Hell. That’s where he felt like he still was, the starting line.

  He didn’t know why that surprised him. He’d known the facts when he’d gone into this. That hadn’t stopped him from charging in headfirst. He’d wanted her. Fool that he was, he’d thought he could change her mind. That once they got past the Denny thing…

  “Come on,” he growled at the light. He shifted out of first gear and then back into it.

  The sex was great. Great? She’d nearly made the top of his head come clean off this morning. Just being around her should have been enough. Her smile, her good humor, her friendship. He needed it all.

  But he wanted more.

  “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. The stoplight finally turned green, and he stomped on the gas.

  His truck went flying into the intersection.

  Trista was rushing around the kitchen, trying to do too many things at once. The menu was big today. They were doing a retirement party for a furniture store’s owner, and apparently that called for gluttony. The cake was in the oven, the meat and cheese tray was done, but stuffed mushrooms and miniature quiche took time.

  She never should have let Ty make her late.

  Although, looking back, she might have had some part in that. Her smile couldn’t be repressed.

  Kelly, fortunately, wasn’t looking. She was too busy swearing at the phone as she hung it up. “Add little weenies to the list. Apparently, they’re the boss’s favorite. What does that say about a man?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Trista looked up from the spinach mixture she was stirring for the quiche. “This is ridiculous. Why didn’t they order them sooner?”

  Kelly shook her finger. “You don’t get between a man and his little weenies, hon.”

  As harassed as she was, Trista had to laugh. “Lucky for them we have some on hand.”

  “Lucky for us, I negotiated a steep price for the late menu change.”

  “Hey! Well, okay. Little weenies, it is.”

  The phone on the wall rang again, and Kelly gave an exaggerated sigh. She was turning to get it when the timer for the oven dinged.

  “Get the cake,” Trista said, wiping her hands. “I’ll handle them this time.”

  Kelly pulled on an oven mitt. “If they want crackers with Cheez Whiz, tell them no. I don’t care how much they offer.”

  Trista hurried to the phone. “Hello?”

  “Trista?”

  “Yes,” she said, her brow knitting. She plugged her finger into her ear when her partner opened the squeaky oven door. The voice on the other end of the line sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

  “This is Frank. From Ty’s crew. We met last week at the Blue Moon.”

  “Oh. Hi, Frank.” She tucked the cordless phone between her shoulder and her ear and returned to her spinach filling. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I hate to bother you at work, but I thought you should know there’s been a little accident.”

  Her spoon stopped midstir. “An accident?”

  “Now, don’t panic. Ty just—”

  At once, her knees wobbled. “Ty?”

  Ty had been in an accident? But she’d just seen him. She’d just talked to him. They’d just made love!

  “What happened?” she asked, her throat clenching around the words.

  “Whoa, whoa,” Frank said awkwardly. “I said not to panic.”

  Trista felt Kelly come over to stand at her side. Her friend’s hand settled on the middle of her back, but Trista couldn’t stop the shaking that had started inside her.

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine,” Frank said quickly. “Fine, I swear.”

  “What does that mean?” she snapped. She knew men. Denny had once been hit by a pitch on the hand. He’d sworn it was just a bruise until the team doctor had run X-rays and found that his finger had been broken.

  “Sprained ankle,” Frank provided promptly. He was starting to learn.<
br />
  “I’ll be right there.”

  “He just can’t drive,” Frank called loudly, sensing that she was about to hang up on him. “It’s his clutch foot, but he won’t let any of us take him home.”

  “I’ll be right there!”

  “Here,” Trista said, shoving the bowl and the phone into Kelly’s hands. She reached under the counter and pulled out her purse. “Call Susie in to help you.”

  She looked around the kitchen. “Laura, too.”

  “Don’t worry about this. I’ve got it under control,” Kelly said, waving her out the door.

  Not willing to argue, Trista untied her apron and pulled it over her head. She tossed it at the hanger on the wall, not stopping to see if it caught on a peg. She ran out the back door. She tried to calm down as she stuck the key into the ignition. When she pulled out of the spot, though, the tires squealed.

  Her nerves were screaming. What had happened? How badly was Ty really hurt? She knew how dangerous construction sites were.

  Oh, God.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God!

  She needed to see him. She needed to touch him. She needed to make sure he was all right!

  The drive across town went much too slowly. In truth, she was lucky she didn’t get a ticket. The construction site was busy when she got there. Sweaty muscled men were carrying things, climbing things, and driving big pieces of equipment. From what Ty had told her, the downtown parking garage was ahead of schedule.

  “Awful thing,” she spat. If it had somehow hurt him, it couldn’t be finished fast enough for her.

  She parked in the only spot she could find. The fact that it was in a restricted zone didn’t faze her. She hopped out of her car and squinted as she looked upward. When she saw a man balancing on a steel frame four floors up, she went light-headed.

  Oh, she couldn’t even think about that.

  “Ma’am?” somebody behind her called. “This is a restricted area. You can’t be here.”

  Spinning around, she saw a man in a white hard hat. “Trista Christiansen,” she said.

  The man’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh. That way,” he said, pointing towards a makeshift office.

  Trista hurried “that way.” Once the construction workers caught sight of her, she heard more than one whistle. Her purple tank top and white shorts were like honey to the bees, but she didn’t care. There was only one man she wanted to whistle at her right now. She just couldn’t find him, and that made her even more nervous.

  She did spot Frank, though. She hurried over to him. “Where is he?” she asked without preamble.

  Frank’s head came up. When he recognized her, he stood up straighter. Immediately, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards where the workers had parked their cars. “His truck is over there. Be careful. He’s in a touchy mood.”

  So was she.

  Trista felt like she was about to snap as she rushed to the parking area. Her heart was pounding and her hands were sweaty. She knew she was being silly. If it were serious, Frank would have rushed him to the hospital.

  Wouldn’t he?

  Her tennis shoes skidded suddenly in the dry dirt. “Ty?”

  He was sitting in the back end of his truck with the tailgate turned down. He looked up sharply when he heard her voice. “Trista.”

  Relief overcame her so swiftly, she had to reach out and hold onto the side of somebody’s SUV. He looked okay—at least from a distance. With unsteady steps, she crossed over to him. When she was within reach, he caught her hand.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Frank called me.”

  The look on Ty’s face darkened. “What the hell did he do that for?”

  His head swiveled as he looked for his second-in-command. “You didn’t have to come all the way down here. I know this is a busy day for you.”

  “Shush.” Worriedly, she looked him over from head to toe. His tanned body looked too healthy to be injured. “Are you okay?”

  His gaze rushed back to her face. When he saw how close to tears she was, his mood swiftly changed. “I’m fine,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze. “Just a little banged up.”

  His shirt was off and so was his left sock and boot. His foot was propped up on top of his clothes, and an icepack was draped over his ankle. Already, it was turning bright shades of yellow and purple. Unable to help herself, she ran her hands over him, looking for other wounds.

  “Twisted ankle, that’s all,” he assured her.

  She laid her hand over his muscled chest. His skin felt warm, and his heartbeat was reassuring. Her emotions jumbled, and she took a shuddering breath. She was horrified when tears spilled from her eyes.

  Ty’s face whitened, and he sat up sharply. “Oh, God. Don’t do that.”

  She swallowed hard. “I can’t help it.”

  For such a big, tough guy, he looked unraveled at the sight of a few tears. Almost roughly, he pulled her onto the tailgate with him. Trista sat down in relief, but her hip bumped against his. She winced at the way it jarred his ankle.

  “It’s fine. I’m fine,” he assured her. His hands were shaky as he tried to dry her cheeks.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He grimaced as if embarrassed. “My head wasn’t on straight when I got here. I accidentally stepped on a piece of rebar and rolled my ankle. But hell, it’s not even a decent sprain. I’ll be able to walk on it tomorrow.”

  She closed her eyes. She was overreacting; she knew it. She just couldn’t stop.

  He’d scared her.

  “Please stop crying, baby.” His voice was gruff, but his hand was soothing as it slid down her side. He rubbed her leg gently. “You’re killing me here.”

  She tried to pull herself together. “Let’s get out of here,” she said softly.

  He glanced towards his crew. “I can’t. I need to—”

  “Frank wants you out of his hair,” she said firmly. She gave one last sniff and wiped her eyes. She slid off the tailgate and held out her hand to him. “Come home with me. Please, Ty. I want to take care of you.”

  Trista’s protective instincts were raging by the time she helped Ty into the house. He was too macho to admit how much that ankle really hurt, but he let her flutter about him anyway. It made her feel somewhat better, although she didn’t know how much she was helping. She just wanted to ease his pain—inside and out.

  “This way,” she said, stopping him when he started to sit down in a kitchen chair. Looking at him steadily, she caught his hand. “To bed.”

  She slipped her arm around his waist. He felt so solid. Warm and steadfast. Giving in to a moment of weakness, she pressed her face against his chest. When she’d heard he’d been hurt, her entire world had swung upside down. She was still trying to regain her equilibrium.

  His fingers tangled in her hair. “It’s not that bad,” he said, dropping a kiss atop her head. “Just stick me in the easy chair in the living room. I’ll prop my foot up on the hassock.”

  He wasn’t going to win on this one. “Come to bed with me, Ty.”

  At first, he resisted. Then the air snapped, and his eyes turned smoky. All it took was a gentle tug to pull him away from the table. Trista felt her legs start to shake, but she wrapped his arm around her shoulder for support. Silently, slowly, she led him down the hallway.

  Bright rectangles of sunlight lit up the floor, but she walked past each of them as she headed to her destination. He hobbled beside her, and she felt him try to turn left when they hit the guest bedroom.

  “Not there.” She knew his ankle must hurt, but she kept on going. This would make it feel better; she knew it would.

  He paused for a moment in confusion, but then she felt his intensity skyrocket. She was leading him to the master bedroom.

  “Are you sure?” he asked gruffly.

  “I’m positive.”

  Today had been a huge wake-up call for her. It had shaken her out of her complacency…made her realize how unfair she’d been to him by si
tting on the proverbial fence. He’d told her once that he knew how it was to feel second best, to be forgotten in the shadows.

  Well, he was second best to nobody. She needed to show him that.

  “This is the room you shared with Denny,” he said, refusing to enter. “My little brother.”

  Turning, she looked up at him. “You’re my lover now.”

  How could she have ever thought to compare the two of them? Besides, after the divorce, she’d wiped every trace of Denny from the room. The furniture had been rearranged, and the brown earth colors were now a cool, soothing blue. The autograph collection on the dresser had been replaced with perfume bottles, and she’d changed the morning alarm from rap to easy listening. It was her bedroom now.

  And she wanted to share it with Ty.

  She drew him into the room. Lines of stress remained on his face. From pain or worry, she couldn’t tell. Gently, she reached up and smoothed them. “I’m sorry you were distracted this morning. I know it was my fault.”

  His eyes deepened in color, but his characteristic wiseass smile reappeared. “You do do your best work in the kitchen.”

  She refused to play along. “You weren’t distracted by the sex.”

  She’d hurt him this morning.

  And that hurt her almost more than she could stand.

  Impulsively, she kissed him. It rocked them both on their feet. Unfortunately, in Ty’s condition, that wasn’t a good thing. She pulled back immediately at his grunt of pain.

  He reached out for her. “Get back here. It’s nothing.”

  “It’s something.” But it wasn’t something they couldn’t deal with. Not breaking eye contact, she cupped her hand over his erection. “We need to get these jeans off of you,” she whispered.

  His face slackened in surprise, but the bulge behind his zipper swelled. She took a deep breath and anticipation fluttered in her chest.

  “Trista,” he groaned. “I don’t know how much I can do.”

  She smiled seductively. “Don’t worry. I’ll do all the work.”

  Leaning forward, she kissed his chest. His six-pack clenched, and he reflexively reached out to the dresser for support. Emboldened, she undid the button of his jeans. The importance of the moment shook her. Her fingers felt clumsy, but before she could lose her nerve, she caught the tab of his zipper.