A Love Restrained

by Becky Flade

  “Thanks. I’ll get her tab okay?”

  She didn’t glance up as he settled onto the stool beside her. She shoved her empty bottle toward the center of the bar, the universal sign for “I need another.” Tim placed a fresh beer and two shots of what looked to be tequila on the bartop before shuffling off to convince a couple of underage kids they weren’t getting served.

  “Thanks for the shot, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. Plenty of bar to go around. Find yourself another stool.”

  “That’s not very friendly, Kylee Parker, not very friendly at all. Whatever would your mother think?”

  “Shit. Donovan. This is my bar. Go gloat somewhere else okay?” She looked up at him.

  Grief swam in her eyes. Grief and something darker. Something he recognized from within his own soul. Despair.

  “Why are you in here drowning yourself in tequila and…” he looked at the mountain range on the label of her bottle… “girlie beer?”

  “I shot a man tonight.”

  She licked and salted her hand before downing the shot. He chastised himself for the train his thoughts had boarded when he caught a glimpse of her tongue. She sucked the lime and his gut clenched with heat. I may just end up in heaven after all. This woman has no guile, no idea what she’s doing to me. She looked at him and then to the other shot. He considered. He didn’t drink hard liquor often. Too afraid I’ll look in the mirror one day and see my father. He pushed the second shot toward her and averted his eyes until the used lime wedge joined its mate on the deck.

  “From what I heard on the news, he’s going to make a full recovery, and you saved lives. They’re calling you a hero on channel six. Isn’t that a win? Why are you sad?”

  “It’s the first time I’ve used my gun outside of the range since Guff died.” She took a long gulp of beer. “There was blood all over me then too.”

  She whispered the last but her words were no less powerful. She pushed off the stool, swaying as she walked away. He flagged Tim.

  “Keep ‘em coming, but make mine soda.”

  “How is she getting home?”

  He smiled. He was more grateful Kylee had people looking out for her than insulted his best bud from high school wasn’t sure if he could be trusted.

  “I’ll walk her. I’ve got my bike with me and doubt she’d be able to hold on.”

  Tim hesitated.

  “I gotta come back here to get the bike, man. I’ll leave the keys with you. I won’t lay a hand on her. You’ve got my word.”

  He nodded, put out two more shots, another beer, and a soda before going over to help other customers. He watched Kylee’s rear end as she fiddled with the juke box. It twitched with the music already playing. He picked up his soda. Didn’t say I wouldn’t look though. Her return was no less steady, but her hips moved in time with pop rock she’d selected. His mouth watered.

  “You’re still here.”

  “You upset or happy ‘bout that?”

  “Neither. Both. I don’t know. You confuse me.”

  “Good. Drink up.”

  He didn’t know when she’d gotten started, but sensed she was done. Maybe two more beers and he’d be carrying her home and cleaning up puke. Before he had a chance to suggest she slow it down, Tim had put up a fresh beer and another shot.

  “I’m sorry about the flowers. They were nice, and I was a jerk.”

  The apology surprised him. “Yes, they were, and yes, you were. Since you’re feeling conversational would you mind explaining now what you meant when you told me to go gloat somewhere else?”

  “Come on, like you don’t know.”

  That look probably makes weaker men blab the truth all over Officer Parker. Sober. Drunk it didn’t have quite the same effect, and he couldn’t help but smile at her when he shook his head no.

  “Fine. Waiting for me in the parking lot that night, the flowers that followed, it was all a joke. You were rubbing it in my face you got over on me. Again.”

  “Hold on. It was not a joke. I wasn’t gloating. Okay, well, yeah in the parking lot I gloated some, but the flowers were a sincere gesture. As was the dinner invitation. I thought it clever. When have I ever gotten over on you?”

  “The English final.”

  It wasn’t his intent to piss her off, but he preferred spitting mad to heartbreakingly sad any day of the week and twice on Sunday. The sad eyes were destroying him. Goddamn, she’s beautiful. When she’d whispered, full of pain, about her partner, he’d wanted to slay demons for her. He preferred mad. It was safer for them both.

  “Help me cheat, and I’ll take you to the picnic,” she mimicked. “Seal it with a kiss on the cheek and then don’t show up. Bet you got a good laugh.”

  He didn’t know what to say. He thought she’d known, that her parents had told her. Thinking she knew he was in the hospital and hadn’t come to see if he was okay had hurt. She thinks I stood her up on purpose. He opened his mouth to correct old hurts, but she was too drunk for it to matter.

  “Yep, I’m a son of a bitch.”

  “Yep.” She downed the final shot and swiveled. “And I’ll tell you what else…”

  She slid off the barstool mid-sentence, landing in his lap.

  “Whoops.” She laughed as he righted her. “Stupid stool.”

  “Hey, sweetheart, I feel like taking a walk. Wanna come with me?” He didn’t wait for her to agree. He held her steady as he stood, then tossed a hundred and his keys on the bar. He nodded to Tim, who made a point of glancing at his watch, before smiling and waving goodbye.

  They were a block from the bar when he took her hand in his. And she let him.

  “How’d you find me tonight?” She hiccupped. “Are you really stalking me?”

  “I heard about what happened tonight and wanted to see for myself you were okay. You weren’t home. I figured you’d want a drink, maybe a few, to congratulate yourself. Devane’s was close.”

  She stopped walking and gave him a funny look.

  “What?”

  “You aren’t stalking me.”

  “You upset or happy ‘bout that?”

  “Not sure.” She started walking again. “Shoulda been a cop.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. When he finished, she stared at him. He knew that look. He’d seen it before on other women, on other men, as they stared at someone they wanted. Uh-oh. He wanted her, he’d always wanted her. For as long as he could remember, she’d been his fantasy. But there was no way after waiting all this time he’d settle for a drunken roll in the hay. He started walking again, and she allowed herself to be led.

  Everything I’ve ever wanted is right here. All I have to do is take. And I can’t. The need a hard fist lodged in his gut, almost as bad as the fear that had him searching her out. She’ll hate me if I take advantage. I’ll hate me if I walk away. I can’t win here.

  He didn’t know if she’d ever welcome him into her bed sober. This could be my only chance. No. She needs to want me too. I’m not cheating either of us. Kylee stopped walking and tugged on his hand. They were outside her house.

  “All right, you’re home. G’night, lock up.” He leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she tipped her face back, making sure his lips landed on hers. He stepped back. She seemed confused.

  “Don’t you want to kiss me?”

  Her eyes were huge, and he swore, dragging his hand over his face, while he nodded, not trusting his voice.

  “Okay, good, I want to kiss you too.”

  “I promised Tim I’d get you home safe and sound and I wouldn’t lay a hand on you.”

  “You don’t break promises?” She slowly, sexily, closed the space between them.

  She moved like a cat, like a predator, and his breath caught. He’d thought she didn’t possess guile? The innocent girl had grown into a woman to be reckoned with, one with a badge and a gun. I can’t forget she’s dangerous. She’s not the doe. Then he thought of the Senior Picnic.

  “Not if I can help it.”
<
br />   “I didn’t give anyone my word about anything. Guess I’ll have to kiss you then.”

  She slid in close. He could smell her perfume; a light, airy scent, it reminded him of summer. Her body was so close if he’d leaned forward a fraction, they’d be touching. She brushed her lips against his cheek in a whisper of a kiss.

  “Goodnight, Jayson.”

  He stood still, not daring to move until after she had climbed the steps to her door, unlocked it, and pushed it open. Before she stepped inside, he called to her, “Ky? Remember this.”

  She nodded and went inside. He walked back to Devane’s, his mind and body churning with fifteen years of childish infatuation morphing into something adult and terrifying. He sat down at the bar and Tim placed a cold lager in front of him.

  “Tim? Double shot of whiskey, too.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  She woke with a pounding headache and someone beating down her door. She sat up and held her head in both hands. Her clothes littered the floor in a path from the door to the sofa where she’d spent the night in her tee and panties. Her head throbbed in time with the incessant knocking. Make it stop, God, and I’ll never drink that much again. Promise. The knocking resumed, and she moaned.

  “Okay, I’m coming.” Her own voice too loud in her head, she’d whispered in vain as she staggered to her feet. The room spun as she padded to the window. Her sister and mother stood on the front step. It had to have been Jordan banging on the door like that. Oh no, I do not feel like doing this. Not now. She tried to step away from the window, but her sister spotted her.

  “She’s home. Open the door, or we’ll use the spare.”

  Damn it. She shot her middle finger through the curtains, but moved to unlock the door. Before they used the spare.

  “I saw that Kylee Ann Parker.”

  Her mother bussed her cheek as she glided through the doorway.

  “Put on pants.” She sniffed. “On second thought, go shower. You reek.”

  “Hi, Mom, good to see you too. I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

  Her mother stopped and looked into her dry, burning eyes. “Take a shower, sweetheart. I’ll send Jordan up with a cup of coffee and some ibuprofen. You’ll feel better for it.”

  After a shower, wearing comfortable clothes, wet hair scooped back out of her face, she found her sister sipping coffee and her mother frying bacon.

  “You were right. I do feel better.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and stole Jordan’s coffee. “What’s for breakfast?”

  “Try lunch, sleepy head. Have a seat.” Her mom set a plated BLT on the table.

  Mouth watering, she sat. She ate. They watched.

  “All right. What? Why are you both staring at me?”

  “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “Not me. I’m here for gossip.” Jordan leaned forward. “Mike drove by to see you last night. He thought you might like company. You were out front with some guy. He said it looked intense.”

  “I’m fine. And it was nothing.” She took her plate to the sink. “I was drunk, and Jayson walked me home from Devane’s. End of story.”

  “That’s not what Mike told Kira.”

  “Well, Mike’s an idiot.” She braced her hip against the counter.

  “Jayson Donovan?” her mother asked.

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “Jordan? Go collect your sister’s car from the precinct lot. Please.”

  “Sure. See you later.” Jordan palmed Kylee’s car keys, mouthed “Sorry” and let herself out the back door.

  “I’m fine, Mom. This is not a big deal.”

  “Sit.”

  She sat.

  “I need to tell you something important. Jayson had a hard childhood. His father was a violent, alcoholic. The day I met him, he’d gotten lost attempting to run away from home because his father had beaten him up. There’s more, but it’s not for me to say. If and when the time comes, he’ll tell you.”

  There were stories, gossip, about Jayson’s family back in school, but she’d thought them rumors. I never paid them any mind. “You think he’d hurt me, Mom?”

  “Not ever on purpose.” She stood and puttered around the room cleaning the small kitchen. “Just remember, not everything is the way it appears at first. And you’ve got just as much power to hurt him as he does you. Maybe more.”

  “It wasn’t anything but a walk.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, Kylee Ann.”

  Her mother ran out when Jordan returned, preventing her little sister from pressing for more information. But that won’t stop Jordan from getting what she wanted. Her sister was relentless. They all are. She ran her hand through her hair. I’m going to have a huge target on my back come Sunday dinner. Oh, she knew how they operated. God, she loved them.

  She picked up her discarded clothes, intending to throw in a load of wash, and noticed her cell phone under the coffee table. One missed call. The precinct. Dread curled in her soul and released as she heard her Captain’s message: the guy she shot is in stable condition.

  I want the sun. And music. Something to match the lightness inside me. I didn’t kill him.

  She threw the curtains wide and opened all her windows. With spring welcomed inside, she turned her stereo on and upped the volume. Her father wired the entire house to her stereo. Within seconds, Madonna begged her papa not to preach in every room.

  She tossed the dirty clothes into a corner. Shimmied her shoulders and swayed her hips. Beat her bare feet against the floor and swung her arms while gyrating to the rhythm. With her arms lifted high, she rolled her hips in a small, tight arc bending further at the knee with each rotation until her bottom skimmed the floor. At the crescendo, she leaped up into a fast spin. The song slowed to its end, and she swept over into a graceful bow for her imaginary audience.

  Applause startled her. She jumped back. Jayson Donovan stood on the top step, his shoulder braced against the jam, watching her with eyes shielded by the screened window. She kept him in her peripheral vision as she turned down the volume.

  “You scared me.”

  He smiled. “I knocked, you didn’t hear.”

  “Oh.” She looked at the stereo and smiled. “Guess not.”

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  “Said the spider to the fly,” she murmured. She crossed to unlock the screen. He stepped into her home and it seemed smaller than it had just seconds ago. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing. Wanted to see you.”

  He looked at her, seemed to look through her, and she thought the spider crack all too appropriate. She wasn’t a short woman, but Jayson Donovan towered over her. Usually, it made her feel petite. Today it intimidated. He’s too close, that’s it. That’s what’s different. She took a step back. He took one forward.

  “You remember my little sister Jordan? She was a couple years behind us in school?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  He took another slow step toward her. His eyes hadn’t left her face since he’d walked though the door—she knew because she was afraid to take hers off him. Her spine stiffened. I won’t be intimidated in my own home. His next step put him within touching distance.

  “Do you remember how we left things last night?”

  Her mouth was dry and her heart hammered in her chest. Can he hear that? She’d barely nodded when his mouth touched hers. His lips were soft but strong, and they fit hers as though designed to do so. Only their mouths touched. Her lip slid between his, and he sucked. She stepped closer and felt tingles where their bodies met. More, I want more.

  Her hands fisted in his shirt, and he cupped her neck with his large hand, his fingers pressed over the vein in her neck. The tip of her tongue darted out, testing the taste of his lower lip. The one she’d daydreamed about as a teenager. The one she’d been daydreaming about a few minutes before she’d found him prettying up her door.

  He responded, and the scratchy texture of his tongue against hers made her gasp. His tongue fille
d her mouth, seeking and destroying. Her breasts tightened igniting a fluttering lust in her gut, and she hummed in hungry approval.

  It’s too much. Jesus, it’s too much. He’s going to burn me up.

  She used her hands to push away from him and prayed her unsteady legs wouldn’t let her fall. He’d destroyed her every defense with one kiss. With her eyes tilted down, she counted to five, and when she thought her voice wouldn’t betray her, she spoke.

  “Okay, wow, um. What was that? A belated goodnight?”

  “I’d call it a belated good start.”

  “Where are my manners, would you like something to drink? Iced tea? I can make iced tea.” Desperate for something to do other than stare into his face or fall back into his arms, she escaped to the kitchen. She heard him walk into the room behind her. “I hope instant’s okay.”

  “Instant is fine.”

  He came up behind her, pinning her hips to the counter with his body, his arms snaking around her waist to rest palm down on the counter. She tried to act natural, scooping and pouring the powder into the pitcher while he whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

  “When I walked into Devane’s, I had the odd sensation of having gone back in time. If not for the short hair, I’d have sworn I had. Watching you dance around your living room to an ancient Madonna song, I felt it again. Both times it was your hair that kept me grounded in the here and now. I wasn’t sure I liked it short. Until now. Cause it lets me do this.” He put his mouth on her neck, behind her ear. “And this.”

  His tongue drew a line to her nape. His erection pressed against her backside. She squirmed and gasped when his teeth caught the edge of her earlobe, and his hands left the counter, gripped her hips hard and held her steady.

  “Jayson?”

  “Yes. The answer is always yes.” His breath fanned over her collarbone.