“You feel amazing, you know that?” He murmured as he nuzzled her neck, spreading light kisses along her vanilla-scented skin. Her silence didn’t necessarily bother him at first; any woman who’d come apart as passionately as she had would find speaking a rather difficult task. But when his lips brushed the sweet spot just below her ear, her quiet demeanor took on a whole new meaning.
She was crying. Shit!
Chapter 16
“Lana…”
She quickly turned her head away from him in an attempt to hide her tears, but it was no use; he’d already seen them, tasted them. Randall rose onto all fours and nudged her chin, turning her head to face him. A steady flow of hot tears spilled over her lashes. God, look what you’ve done—you shouldn’t have been that rough!
“Did I hurt you?” he questioned frantically.
Lana’s head shook from side-to-side just as a sob broke free. “Damn it, Lana, talk to me!”
Like a caged animal she battled for freedom, squirming underneath him, flailing her arms and legs until she managed to break free. She scurried toward the doorway, the rapid click of her boots matching the pace of his fleeting pulse.
Randall leapt off the bed and lunged toward her, but in the midst of the hysteria he’d suddenly found himself in, he’d failed to remember he hadn’t removed his pants. The top of his jeans lay bundled around his knees, thwarting his hasty effort to latch on to her. Falling forward with a heavy thud, he reached for her just as she disappeared into the hallway.
You have to fix this, damn it! You have to make this right!
Bracing his palms on the pine floor Randall pushed his solid frame upright, hauling his pants over his hips as he charged into the hallway after her. The bathroom door smacked against the frame, immediately followed by the clicking sound of the lock as she barricaded herself behind the wooden door.
“Lana!” He shouted as he skidded to a halt. He frantically rattled the knob, even though he already knew it was locked, then pounded on the wood with his fists. “Lana, please, open up!”
The panic in Randall’s voice only caused her tears to fall faster. Lana covered her mouth with her hand and tightly clenched her eyes shut as sob after sob spilled out of her.
She’d desecrated her vows. Spat on the promise she’d made nearly seven years ago. Tainted her body with another man’s hands…
She’d cheated on her husband—with his best friend!
“Lana, damn it!”
She winced as he pounded on the door, vibrating the walls with such fury she was surprised cracks hadn’t emerged along the plaster’s smooth surface. Deep down she knew the overwhelming sense of panic mounting inside her chest was partly unwarranted. Jimmy was dead, and no matter how much she wanted him to, he wasn’t coming back. Being celibate for the rest of her life was an unrealistic vision.
Wasn’t it?
“Please, Lana”, he begged softly, despondently. “Will you just talk to me?”
It was his defeated tone that tugged her heart most. Even as confused and baffled as she was by her feelings and what they meant, she couldn’t do this to him. Randall had been so good to her, so caring. And tonight she’d pushed and pushed until he revealed what he wanted. He’d warned her more than once, giving her ample opportunities to walk away.
But she’d stayed anyway. And she knew why, too.
She was falling for Randall Burns.
Cradling her head in her hands she sucked in a hefty liter of air, expelling it through her pursed lips, calming her rattled body from the inside out. She couldn’t barricade herself inside Randall’s bathroom indefinitely. She needed to face the music—preferably with her panties on.
“I-I need my clothes.”
“Lana—”
“Please, Randall… I promise we’ll talk once I get dressed.”
Randall glanced at the pink panties and white dress next to his feet and quickly snatched them off the floor. “Okay, I’ve got ‘em. Open up.”
“Wait…”
Randall sighed, trying to ignore the instinctive urge to break down the door. “This isn’t gonna work, Sweetheart. Not unless you open the door”, he uttered with a calmness he didn’t feel.
“Promise me, you won’t barge in here until I’m fully dressed.”
“Lana, I’ve seen every inch of y—”
“Please”, she uttered just above a whisper.
If it meant she would finally spill what’d caused her to run off like she had, and more importantly, what he’d done to make her cry, he’d do it. “I promise…”
The clicking sound of the lock disengaging was subsequently followed by the groaning door. Lana reached one of her delicate hands through the thin slit, waiting for Randall to deliver on his part of the deal. And when he did she quickly snatched them from his grasp and nudged the door closed behind her, removing the temptation of barging in on her by turning the lock.
With forethought, she maneuvered her satin panties over her boots, turned her dress right-side out, and then slipped the soft cotton garment over her head. She stole a quick glance in the mirror.
You look terrible, girl!
Black moisture settled just below her eyes then narrowed into two distinct streaks, marking the vertical path her tears had taken, and her long brown locks were tousled in an unmistakable sex-induced mass. A few passes with her fingertips easily erased the smudges and a quick finger-comb soon had her I-just-got-laid hair back in order.
With a fortifying breath she turned the lock and opened the door, not the least bit surprised to find Randall standing in front of her with his hands braced on either side of the frame.
Randall peeled his hands from the molding and stepped toward her. “Are you all right?” He questioned anxiously, palming the sides of her face, his gray eyes boring into her blue depths.
With a subtle nod Lana closed her eyes and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His arms wrapped around her small frame. She stiffened at first, but soon relaxed, practically melting into his embrace. “God, I’m the one who should be apologizing. The last thing I wanted was to hurt—”
“You didn’t hurt me…”
Randall pulled back to look into her eyes. “So why the tears, then, huh? Talk to me.”
Lana moistened her lips with her tongue, buying herself a few extra seconds. “Remember when you asked me earlier if I trusted you?” She watched as his head nodded, the concern in his eyes turning the steel hue a deeper, drearier shade of gray. “Well, do you trust me?”
“Absolutely”, he answered without hesitation.
“Then please believe me when I say: you did nothing wrong. I just…need some time”, she sighed. “I need to sit on this for a while before I can talk about it. Does that make any sense?”
Randall nudged a strand of hair from her eye. “Not really”, he uttered with a hint of a smile. “But…if that’s what you need, consider it done.”
“Thank you”, she whispered.
The panic and fear that’d been practically palpable upon the door opening moments ago dissolved, allowing Randall to draw in his first deep breath since she’d appeared at his doorstep earlier. He still didn’t have the answers he wanted, but just knowing his sexual aggression hadn’t harmed her was enough.
For now.
Because he would get to the bottom of it eventually.
Leaning forward he pressed his lips against her forehead, lingering a bit longer than he’d intended to. He fought the urge to taste her kiss again—fifteen minutes without her sweet mouth and he was already jonesing. “Can I at least walk you to your car?”
“I’d like that.”
The weak smile Lana revealed was a small victory, he knew. But considering how swiftly she’d scrambled from his bed, concealing herself in his bathroom, it was a step in the right direction. He’d give her twenty-four hours to mull over the details of what’d happened between them tonight—what’d been slowly brewing since that night in his truck nearly three months ago.
And then Randall would start pressing for answers.
Chapter 17
Sunday’s at the fire station were notoriously calm. No training or drills, no toilets to scrub, no trucks to wash, no schedule whatsoever.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true—a ritual of sorts had been bred many moons ago. It involved warm doughnuts from Anderson’s Bakery and a rather competitive round of hoops to burn the plethora of fat and calories they’d inhaled at the start of the day.
Today was no different from any other Sunday in recent memory. Randall had wolfed down three key-lime-glazed doughnuts upon his arrival, and as usual, his team consisting of Grant, Ty, and Mark, were currently up by sixteen points.
Yep, just an ordinary Sunday…
Only, it wasn’t.
Outwardly Randall looked the same, but on the inside underneath his tough façade, he was a changed man.
Last night he’d sunk his cock deep inside his dead best friend’s wife. He’d broken cardinal rule number one, and yet that matter was only the tip of the iceberg. It was the fact he’d enjoyed every blessed moment of it—that he couldn’t wait to do it again—that gnawed on his conscience.
The sun’s rays pelted his bare back as he dribbled the ball near the make-shift three-point line. Randall’s eyes scanned the court, noting the positions of both teammates and opponents, charting the course he’d likely take.
Bouncing the ball three more times for good measure he exploded forward, zigzagging, charging ahead until he reached the rickety goal. Pushing off his left foot he leaped into the air, launching the ball toward the faded backboard with his right hand. The basketball bounced off the weathered wood a moment later, then swished through the net, rattling the rusted chains as it squeezed through.
“Hell yeah!” Grant shouted, raising his hand in front of him for a high-five.
Randall smacked his palm against Grant’s, then walked to the edge of the pavement for his water bottle.
“What is that, three games in a row, now?” Grant jived to the opposing team.
“You got lucky”, Tommy countered. Tipping his head a bit, he gestured to Randall, now walking toward them. “Burns cut out early last night. Otherwise, he’d have been too hung over today to—”
Without warning, Randall shoved Tommy with enough force to cause the man to take a step back in order to remain upright.
“What the hell was that for?”
“What’re you tryin’ to get at, Tommy? Huh? Are you sayin’ I’m a drunk?” Randall stepped forward, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his fists clenched into two tight masses at his sides.
“No, man—c’mon, it was a joke!”
In the blink of an eye Grant and Ty had Randall by the shoulders, carting him away from temptation.
“C’mon, buddy, ease up”, Ty warned. “He was just shit-talkin’ you—the same damn thing I’d do if I’d gotten my ass handed to me on the court.”
Randall’s eyes skittered to his lieutenant before landing on Tommy again. Angrily shrugging free from Ty and Grant’s grip he raised his hand, thrusting his index finger at Tommy for emphasis. “Keep your fucking hands off Lana”, he uttered through clenched teeth, then turned and stalked inside, leaving everyone to wonder how their normally calm Sunday had suddenly turned awry.
It was one of the warmest spring afternoons in what felt like eons, Lana acknowledged as she scanned the calm surf for Connor’s whereabouts. After a slew of cold fronts, the Florida Panhandle was returning to temperate bliss. The cloudless sky was a vivid shade of blue, the sun directly above showering the earth with luminous love.
Lana’s parents had delivered Connor to her doorstep just before noon; not wanting to waste the beautiful day indoors, she’d decided to pack a picnic lunch and head to the beach. Gulf temps were still a chilly sixty-eight degrees—too cold for her just yet, but apparently not for Connor. He was currently digging by the water’s edge, tossing the soft wet sand back into the ocean.
Stuffing their trash into the small portable cooler, Lana reached for her Diet Coke. She watched as Kendall played with Tenley, now nearly four-months old. “She rolling over yet?”
“No, but she’s come close a few times. She’ll get on her side and kick her legs for momentum, then teeter a bit before falling on her back again.”
“She’ll do it when she’s ready”, Lana explained. “I was the same way with Connor—I was so excited about the next milestone, sometimes I’d forget to enjoy the here and now. Savor this time—when you can lay her down and walk away knowing she’ll be exactly where you left her—because soon she’s going to be into everything you don’t want her to and be everywhere you’d rather she wasn’t.”
Kendall reached for her last onion ring and popped it in her mouth. “You may have a point”, she said as she glanced at Tenley, still lying in the same spot since their arrival.
“Ty finish baby-proofing the house yet?” Olivia asked while wiping mayonnaise from the corner of her mouth.
“Are you kidding me? The man brainstorms everyday trying to figure out ways to make the house safer. In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if every hard surface isn’t covered in bubble wrap by the end of the summer!”
Lana and Olivia howled with laughter, because they both understood that if someone suggested the bubble wrap idea to Ty, it would be implemented in no time.
“Speaking of Ty, I got a very interesting call from him before I left the house to come here”, Kendall shared.
“Ugh!” Olivia mouthed as she covered her ears. “If you say you had phone sex with my brother before you came here, I’m gonna lose my lunch.”
“No, no phone sex—at least, not this time… Actually, it was about Lana.”
Lana slapped her hand against her chest. “Me?” She questioned incredulously.
“Uh-huh, seems you were the heart of a scuffle this morning at the fire station.”
Baffled, she asked, “What kind of scuffle?”
“Well according to Ty”, Kendall began while preparing Tenley’s bottle, “they were playing a round of basketball when Tommy made an innocent dig about the other team only winning because Randall wasn’t hung over, incidentally implying he was a drunk, I guess. Apparently Randall didn’t take it so well and charged at him.”
“What?”
“I don’t get it”, Olivia cut in. “What does that have to do with Lana?”
“That’s the mystery. Because when Ty and Grant hauled him away, Randall said to Tommy, and I quote, ‘keep your fucking hands off Lana’.”
Both Olivia and Kendall examined her closely. Her face suddenly felt hot—a symptom that had absolutely zero to do with the sun’s warm rays and everything to do with the memory of Randall’s rough hands gliding over her bare skin last night. “H-he said that?”
“Come to think of it, Grant mentioned something last night about Randall seeing red when you were dancin’ with Tommy”, Olivia divulged.
Lana fought the urge to squirm as two pairs of analytical eyes probed her guileful exterior. She picked the red polish from her left thumb before finally breaking the silence. “Oh, c’mon, I’m not sleeping with the guy.” Not Tommy, anyway…
“You know that”—Kendall gestured to Lana—“and we know that. But you also know how the people in this town like to talk, or should I say embellish.”
Cradling her head in her hands, Lana released a groan of frustration. “I bet Jenny is fuming right about now. Gosh, if I’d known how out of hand all of this would’ve gotten, I’d have told him no when he asked me to dance last night.” Lana’s eyes skittered to the shore in search of Connor. He was oblivious to the drama unfurling as he shuffled his feet through the chilly Gulf water.
And she prayed he remained that way.
“Frankly, I felt sorry for the guy”, she went on. “I was just trying to be polite, you know? He was a complete gentleman on the dance floor—never once tried to cop a feel or anything!”
“Jenny would have a lot of nerve bein�
� upset—she cheated on him, for heaven’s sake!” Olivia stated. “Tommy dancin’ with you is G-rated compared to what she did with John O’Reilly—“
“Allegedly”, Kendall reminded the group, never one to encourage nasty gossip. “Anyway, I think Rand was just being overprotective, you know?—looking out for you. I wouldn’t doubt he feels a responsibility to Jimmy to make sure—”
“Did anyone bring dessert?” Lana didn’t miss the expression on both her friends’ faces at her obvious attempt at changing the subject. Clearly the two were curious about Randall’s outburst, but even more so about Lana’s not-so-subtle attempt to ditch the topic. But one of the things she loved most about these two was their ability to sense when to pry and when to leave well enough alone.
Olivia and Kendall shared a quick glance before Olivia reached into her small basket. “How do doughnuts from Anderson’s Bakery sound?” she asked as she opened the bag. Instantly they were accosted with the sweet aroma of succulent bliss as the popular delicacy merged with the salty breeze.
“I love you”, Kendall stated flatly.
Olivia shrugged. “That’s what friends are for.”
Yes, Lana thought as she reached for a key-lime-glazed doughnut, good friends provided comfort in the form of support and glazed pastries. They gave advice when one needed it, and held their tongues when it wasn’t. She was lucky to have these two in her life. Very lucky.
But their presence here today only magnified how profound her feelings had become for Randall. Because he’d comforted her in a different way last night, a way in which she hadn’t thought she’d needed.
A method she longed to experience again.
Lana and Connor returned home just before dinner. She was exhausted—both physically and emotionally—and was thankful Connor had agreed to Chef Boyardee, exempting her from kitchen duty for the evening. But her son was a tricky little thing, using her lack of enthusiasm for slaving over a hot stove in exchange for a round of football in the backyard.
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