Need You Tonight

by Marquita Valentine

  “Convicts have the same problem, but at least employers are willing to take a chance on someone in the military. They’re the good guys.”

  Unsure of how to respond to that, I get out of the car and wait for Rowan to do the same.

  My phone buzzes, and I fish it out of my purse. My face grows hot. I’d almost forgotten about tonight.

  Parker: What time should I come over?

  Me: I get off work at 5.

  Parker: Be there at 5:30

  Me: Ok.

  “I’m dying to know who you’re texting,” Rowan says, making me jump.

  “It’s no one,” I say, shoving my phone back inside my purse.

  “No one sure knows how to get you all hot and bothered.”

  She winks at me, clearly trying to joke around, but the reminder of what happened last night with Parker puts me on the defensive. “I’m not hot and bothered!”

  “Well, that sucks. I was hoping that you had a hot date, and he had a hot friend.”

  “But I’m a widow.” And not ready to date. I’m barely ready to live again.

  “Yeah, which means you’re not dead.”

  Angry tears spring to my eyes. “I know I’m not dead. I know it every day I don’t wake up with Braden beside me. I know it every day I eat supper by myself. I know it…” I blow out a breath.

  Rowan’s face pales. “I did mean to hurt your feelings. I only saw how excited you got a first and then… I assumed that you were ready to date by now.”

  “So there’s a time limit on how long I can grieve?”

  “No,” she says slowly. “But I would think that grieving for years can’t be healthy. Or how your husband would have wanted you to live the rest of your life.”

  Rowan sounds so much like Soon Lin in that moment that a wave of homesickness washes over me. She would so approve of me being friends with such a no-nonsense woman like Rowan. I take a breath to calm my nerves.

  “Please forgive me. I get a little testy sometimes.”

  Rowan’s blonde brow arches.

  “I get a lot testy sometimes, and I’m really sorry.”

  A genuine smile covers her face. “You’re forgiven. Just don’t let it happen again or I’ll fire you.”

  My mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”

  “Kidding,” she sings out, and then gives me a side glance. “Tell me about the hot date.”

  “I don’t have a date tonight. I’m making dinner for my handyman.”

  A smirk covers her face. “That sounds like a date to me.”

  “Parker and I are nothing to each other, not even friends. I barely know him.”

  “Parker Morgan?” The look on her face is priceless as I nod. “You’re going on a date,”—I narrow my eyes at her—“making dinner for him?”

  “He came with the house,” I say lamely.

  “Do you know how many women will hate you after this?” she says as we walk inside.

  “Should I?”

  “Oh my gosh. You really have no clue about those Morgan boys.”

  “I’m not from here, so why would I?”

  “Two, please,” Rowan says to the hostess.

  We are led to a table near the back. I can tell that Rowan wants to know more, but the waitress has to get our food and drink orders first.

  “Back to Parker Morgan. He is fine, like ovary-exploding fine. Spill all the details of how the two of you met.”

  “There’s nothing to tell, really. I’m renting a house from his sister-in-law’s grandmother, and I was told he’s the guy to call if I had a problem.” I skip the part about our first meeting, where I practically forced him to read my husband’s obituary.

  “I’d be having a problem every night,” she says with no small amount of glee. “How do you control yourself around him?”

  “Because I don’t think of him like that.” Liar, liar a voice in my head sings at me. “I wouldn’t know what to do with him even if I did. I haven’t been with anyone in two and a half years. Soon Lin says I should get out more. She was more than pleased that I’m going out with you and your friends tomorrow night.”

  “That’s because Soon Lin is brilliant. I don’t even know her and I know this to be true.” She winks at me. “You know… maybe you should try to think of Parker that way and get him to think of you that way, too.”

  I give her a please-stop look.

  “Just see what happens and then report back to me for further instructions,” she adds in a rush. “Not that I want to live vicariously through you due to my own long dry spell.”

  I can’t help but giggle. I know Rowan is an encourager by nature, so I’m not offended.

  “It’s like the Sahara Desert up in my girl parts,” she says in all seriousness.

  My giggle turns into full-blown laughter. “That sounds like something a doctor might need to take a look at.”

  Rowan throws a napkin at me. “Witch.”

  We spend the rest of lunch talking about tomorrow night, her friends, and the club we’ll be going to, but I can barely concentrate, because all I can think about are her words.

  Maybe you should try.

  *

  Parker

  Two hours before I’m supposed to head to Brooklyn’s my brother finally calls me back.

  “Glad you could fit me into your busy schedule, punkface,” I say, biting into a piece of strawberry-flavored licorice.

  “Shut it,” he grumbles. “Miss Violet took a nasty fall, and we’ve been dealing with that.”

  Shit. “Is she okay?”

  “She will be. Luckily, we were with her when it happened, so she got medical attention pretty quickly. Scared Kelly to death.”

  “Want me to come get her?”

  “Nah, she doesn’t want to leave Miss Violet’s side.”

  Now that we’ve got the reason why he hasn’t called me back out of the way, I can finally get some answers. “About Mrs. Reeves,” I begin.

  “What about her?”

  I frown. He doesn’t sound defensive or guilty. Just tired. “She’s ah… our age.”

  “You’re shitting me.”

  “No.” I run a hand through my hair and walk out to the back porch. “She’s making a list of things for me to fix.”

  “Is that why you were calling?”

  Better to lie than admit that I was pissed about my reaction to her. “Yeah. I wanted to make sure it was okay.”

  “Of course it is. Miss Violet would love it. That house hasn’t been lived in for a while now. There has to be a shit-ton of things to fix.”

  “Brooklyn mentioned not being able to lock the back porch door and the guest bedroom window.”

  There’s a loud silence, before my brother speaks again, “You’re on a first name basis with her? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, seriously. Watch yourself and remember that you’re not staying.”

  “What does that have to do with her?”

  “Everything. She’s fragile and… Look, I’m not trying to bust your balls, but women seem to fall all over themselves when it comes to you. That could be a real problem.”

  “It’s my problem women are attracted to me?”

  “Hell yes, it is. You’re not stupid or ignorant of the fact. Watch yourself and do what she asks, nothing more. Got it?”

  “Fuck you, Cole. I haven’t done shit to her, and I don’t plan to. So you don’t have to worry about me sullying her reputation or body.” Except I have touched her. I have pressed up against the wall and felt her shiver in my arms. I’ve tasted her skin.

  “That’s not what I mean,” he snaps. “Quit being a dick and just listen to me.”

  I grind my teeth together. “I need to go. Mrs. Reeves needs my help this evening, but don’t worry, I won’t fuck her before I’m done with the list she’s giving me.”

  “Parker.”

  Disgusted with myself and with his assumptions of me, I end our call. It rings again, but I refuse
to answer it. Instead, I toss the phone on the ground beside me and head back inside.

  Seething with anger, I change clothes and put on some running shoes. With my earbuds firmly in place, I jog outside and then down the road. Brooklyn doesn’t deserve any residual anger from my talk with Cole, and this is the only way I know how to deal with it.

  Growing up, Cole used to make fun of me for being so healthy. For quitting smoking, for rarely drinking, for constantly working out, and for buying food that was good for us. Only, he didn’t know the real reason behind it. Those things I could control. Not anyone else. Not the woman who raised us when it was convenient for her, and certainly not the woman who’d hired me at fifteen to work for her agency.

  My shoes hit the road, the pull of my muscles a comfort. I push myself to go harder, veering off the main road and into the woods. Here, the path is less traveled, and I have to dodge low-hanging branches and jump rotting logs. The world fades as I head deeper into the forest. The air changes, becoming thicker. Sweat begins to gather at the small of my back and on my chest.

  I keep running, until my lungs feel as though they’re about to burst and my legs are burning. Slightly hunched over as I slow to a walk, I breathe deeply and try to calm my racing heart.

  My brother is right, no matter what I think about myself or what I used to do. I have no business getting involved in any capacity with Brooklyn. She sure as hell hasn’t invited me to get more involved.

  I barely know her, or her story, only the facts about her life that she’s revealed. Like her husband’s death.

  Only, I don’t want to spend my summer alone. All my buddies have paired off with good women. Women who love and respect them, accept their pasts, and want their futures. I can’t see how any woman would ever feel that way about my past. Or her family. I can only imagine the conversation.

  What did you used to do, son?

  I got paid to attend high society functions and perform oral sex. Safely, of course. The agency I worked for had very strict rules about that.

  BAM!

  That’s the sound of the door slamming in my face by every father who heard that. Honestly, I can’t blame them. I wouldn’t want Kelly to date a man like me. Who would?

  I wait for a car to go by before upping my walk to a jog on the main road again. Unable to help myself, I try to picture how Brooklyn would react to the truth about me. What would she say, or would she say anything at all?

  Mentally, I give myself a shake. It doesn’t matter what I imagine, because I don’t plan to get involved with her, much less reveal my not-so-distant past to her.

  Chapter Nine

  Brooklyn

  At precisely five thirty, Parker knocks on my door.

  “Come in,” I call out to him. “I’m in the kitchen.”

  He walks inside, and my heart flutters at the sight of his chiseled good looks. His sexy lips curve into a smile, dimples that make my knees weak appearing. Before I met Parker, I never knew I had a thing for those.

  “Smells good.”

  With a pleased smile, I finish chopping up the salad and turn to him. “I hope you like roast.” Grabbing a beer from the fridge¸ I offer it to him and he takes it.

  “I like anything I don’t have to cook myself,” he says. “You got a bottle opener?”

  Nodding, I grab the one from the drawer beside the sink. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” He pops the top, throws it away, and takes a drink, his golden-green gaze never leaving my face. “I’m ready for your list.”

  “My what?” I can’t stop staring at him. Rowan is right, the man is fine. Ovary-exploding fine. I snort a little.

  “What’s so funny?”

  My eyes round. “Ah, nothing.”

  His grin widens. “That was not a nothing snort.”

  I wave a hand in the air. “Just some… gossip I heard about you.” His grin practically turns into a glower. “Nothing bad. It was very complimentary and flattering.”

  Obviously unconvinced, he crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles bulging slightly with the movement.

  Danger, Brooklyn Reeves, danger. Forearm porn in the vicinity. Look away. Look away.

  But I can’t. I’m a slave to my sudden lust for him and suggestion by Rowan to try hitting on Parker to see what happens. Something she had to tell me again right before I left work for the day.

  His eyebrows rise. “I’m all ears.”

  I swear my face turns red as I stammer, “That you’re ovary-exploding fine.”

  He purses his lips, one hand coming up to stroke his jaw. “But not panty-melting?”

  Biting my lip, I shake my head. “Sorry.” Those sexy lips of his twitch a little, and I let out a huff. “You were giving me a hard time, weren’t you?”

  “Maybe.” Smiling, he takes another drink of his beer. I can’t help but watch his mouth and then his throat as he swallows before he sets the bottle down on the table behind him. “Do I have enough time to work on the window before supper’s ready?”

  Right. The window. The doors. The list. “Oh, the list. You want my list.” I smack my forehead, and then walk to the living room. “It’s right here.”

  Braden’s picture stares back at me. I let out a shaky breath. What was I thinking? I can’t be with another man, not even one as sexy as Parker Morgan.

  I feel Parker’s presence behind me before he speaks. My skin prickles with awareness. Guilt slams through me. How can I react to another man with Braden’s picture in the room? Rowan is wrong. So is Soon Lin.

  “Is that your husband?” he asks softly.

  Unable to speak, I nod.

  “He looks like a good guy.”

  Finally I turn, grabbing the paper as I do. “He was a very good man.” I gaze into Parker’s face. “The finest. I know I’ll never meet another one like him.”

  Something flashes in Parker’s eyes, but it’s gone too quickly for me to figure out. “No, you probably won’t.”

  For some reason, his compliment strikes me wrong. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. It means nothing.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Parker tilts up his chin a little. “Fine. You want honesty?”

  No. “Yes.”

  “I think you’re afraid to meet someone new, but here’s the thing, finding someone else to love won’t diminish him.” He touches my collarbone with the tip of his fingers. “There is room for more love in your life, Brooklyn.”

  I was expecting honest from him, not poetry. “Maybe I have all the love I need.”

  A sad smile touches his lips. “A picture can’t love you, sweetheart. No matter how much you wish it were true.”

  “I’m not your sweetheart,” is all I can say in my defense.

  His fingers linger for a moment, then travel up my neck to cup my cheek. I shiver in response, my nipples hardening, and my panties growing damp. “No, and that’s a damn shame.”

  He walks away, leaving me staring after him and wondering what just happened. And what could have happened.

  *

  Thirty minutes later, Parker joins me in the kitchen. “Fixed the lock.”

  Relief rushes through me, not only at what he accomplished, but also at the tension that’s no longer there.

  “Great. Supper’s ready.” I gesture to the already set table. Steams wafts up from the roasted veggies and mashed potatoes.

  He holds out my chair. “My lady.”

  I smile and sit down, allowing him to scoot my chair up. “Thanks.”

  Sitting across from me, he begins to fill up his plate. “You’re welcome, and thank you for feeding me. You really didn’t have to, because I do get paid for my time here.”

  “Right.” I look at my empty plate. “I knew that.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings. I just didn’t want you to think you had to waste this meal on me.”

  “I know.” My vision gets all watery as I realize I had prepared Braden’s favorite meal. T
he meal I had planned to have ready for him the night he came home. The meal he never got to eat. My heart twists in my chest, and a tear slides down my nose and drips on the plate.

  “Fuck.” I hear the clatter of utensils. Suddenly, Parker is at my side, tipping up my chin to look at him. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, baby.”

  I sniff. “I’m not. I won’t.”

  He takes me in his arms, pulling me into his hard, muscular chest. Strength and his male scent surround me. “What did I say that made you cry? I swear I’ll remove the words from my vocabulary.”

  “It’s not what you said. It’s the meal.”

  Pulling back a little, he looks at me. “I like what you fixed.”

  “So did Braden. It was his favorite.”

  “That’s fine with me.” His eyes are open and honest. He truly means it. “Fix all his favorites if you want. I’ll eat every last one.”

  I smile a little. “It’s not that… this meal was the one I had planned for the day he came home. But he never came home alive.” More tears fall. I try to brush them away, but Parker beats me to it. His fingers are gentle as they wipe each one.

  “Tell me how to fix this,” he says.

  “I’m sorry. It’s stupid. You’d think after two years, I’d be better, but I’m not. People keep telling me I should be—my friends, my family. Even Rowan and you, two people I barely know can see all the reasons why I shouldn’t be stuck in this. In my life.” My voice cracks. “But I’m not ready to date again. I’m just not, Parker.”

  “You don’t have to, sweetheart. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  “I don’t know what to do anymore,” I say helplessly. “I don’t know anything.”

  With a tender look on his face, he sweeps me up in his arms and carries me out of the room. I slide my arms around his neck, torn between screaming at him to put me down and snuggling in closer.

  He bumps open the guest bedroom door and lays me down on the bed. “If you give me fifteen minutes, I’ll make us something else.”

  I blink up at him, my lashes spikey with tears. “You’re going to cook for me?”