by Maisey Yates
“Well, you know what you can fix?”
“What?”
“My sink. Hop to it, Shuller.”
Chapter Eight
‡
The problem with doing physical labor was that it gave Luke a lot of time to think. And thinking was all he had done while he’d worked on stopping the leak in Mel’s sink. He thought about the moment outside the hardware store, about his confrontation with Kaitlin in the deli, and about the argument he’d had with Mel outside.
In all of those scenarios he wasn’t overly thrilled with himself. Mel had been so nervous when he’d taken a hold of her hand that he realized they’d never shared small things like that. He kept a firm line between sex and everything else, for the sake of their friendship.
He hadn’t fixed anything. Yes, she’d been looking into dating, casual relationships. And yeah, looking to lose her virginity. But it had been about expanding, getting out there. And he’d been using this selfishly. Telling himself that he was doing something for her benefit, when really, he was just getting laid.
That was how he found himself out in the barn as the light disappeared behind the mountains and pine trees, creating a thin gold band around the peaks and ridges in the distance, setting up candles, lanterns, a blanket and a meal he’d procured from the Italian restaurant in town.
If Melanie needed more, he would give her more. He would give, period. Which he felt like he hadn’t really been doing.
You’re such an ass. As if your penis was the ultimate gift that would heal all her issues.
The real truth was he’d been using her body to deal with his own issues. Or, to be honest, not deal with them.
He sucked.
Hopefully this would make up for it.
He walked out of the barn, across the yard and to the house. When he walked in, the smell of sugar and chocolate greeted him, as it often did, and he had to smile. All that greeted him when he walked into his house was the vague smell of motor oil and the faded aroma of food that was past its prime.
He just wanted to be still in this moment. This moment of walking in to this house that had always been a refuge for him when he was a child, with the smell of baked goods lingering in the air, and a woman in the kitchen who was beautiful, and soft, and made his heart beat faster.
But it wasn’t his. She wasn’t his. She might be beautiful, she might make his heart beat faster, but there wasn’t anything he could give her in return. It was why he’d never looked at her as anything other than a friend. Until that flash of attraction at the wedding reception caught him off guard. Caught him in a moment of weakness and tore the veil from his eyes and showed him everything he’d been missing.
But just because he’d seen her as a woman, just because that had changed, didn’t mean he’d changed.
He pressed through the living area, and on into the kitchen. Melanie was just opening the oven, bending down, her jeans conforming to the rounded curve of her ass and in spite of the mental scolding he’d just given himself he just stood there and looked.
“I feel you back there. Checking me out, Shuller.” She straightened, cocking her hip to the side and turning dramatically, her blonde hair swinging over her shoulder, one brow raised. “Enjoy the show?”
“I think you enjoyed being the show.”
“Hell yes. I’ve never been anyone’s show before.”
Now she was acting like there was nothing wrong. Like none of the shouting and strange feelings had happened back in Marietta. It made him feel almost tempted to abandon his romance plan. To go back into the barn, blow out all the candles and leave the food for the mice.
But that was the coward’s way. He was going to be a man. He was going to give her exactly what she deserved. Instead of treating her like his personal sexual outlet.
“I have something to show you.”
Both of her brows shot upward. “Really? My sink?”
“That is fixed. But unless you get off on perfectly sealed and fitted pipes, I figure we’ll skip it.”
“Color me intrigued.”
He reached out and placed his fingers through hers, tugging her toward him. “Come on then.”
Her cheeks flushed pink, a pretty smile curving her lips upward. “What’s going on?”
“You’ll see.”
They walked back out of the house, across the gravel driveway and to the barn. The old structure wasn’t in use at all anymore, beyond storing some old equipment. It was pretty much the worse for wear, and Luke bet that in the winter the roof leaked. But for now, it would serve his purposes. He led her through the open door and watched her face as she took in his handiwork. He had no experience with this sort of thing, so he hoped that he’d done it right. Judging by the expression on her face, he had.
“What is this?” she asked, looking away from the glowing Mason jars and the blanket spread out with cartons of food, and at him.
“Romance. I guess.”
She laughed. “You guess?”
“I’ve never really done romance before.” He suddenly felt really self-conscious and that was just damned ridiculous. He’d been with his share of women, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt awkward in a relationship with one. If ever. It had never mattered enough.
“And why are you doing it now?”
“Because you deserve it. Because you deserve more than just me getting you naked and taking advantage of you without giving anything back.”
She made a coughing sound. “Is that really what you think is happening? You’re not taking advantage of me. You’re well aware that I enjoy what we’ve been doing.”
“I know. But…” He lost his words completely, so he turned and gripped her chin with his thumb and forefinger, dipping his head and kissing her lips gently. He closed his eyes, swallowed. “But I want you to have this. Because I want you to see that there are good things out there. For you.” Someday she would find a guy who would do things like this for her. Really. With the intent of the future, and all that stuff that she should have.
“It seems like there are some pretty good things in here for me,” she said, her eyes meeting his.
There were a lot of things he wanted to say to that. But all of the words got stopped up in his throat, and anyway there wasn’t much he could say that didn’t sound like an excuse. That wouldn’t ruin what was happening here. And he didn’t want to ruin it. Not yet. Eventually, he would. But not now.
Instead, he just led her to the blanket, and gently touched her down with him. A little bit different than throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her out of a bar. He opened up one carton full of spaghetti, and handed it to her, then open the other for himself, uncovering the basket of garlic bread that was sitting in the middle of the blanket.
“Garlic bread!” She slid her pasta to the side and picked up a piece of the heavily buttered toast.
“I didn’t bother to order any salad,” he said.
She scrunched up her nose. “You know me well.”
He did. Better than any other woman he’d slept with in the past. Which is probably why all of this felt weird. Probably why he felt self-conscious bringing her in here. Probably why he felt the weight to be something, and do something, when he rarely felt that anymore.
When she looked at him, he felt like she wanted something. Like she expected something. And he couldn’t find the answer to the unspoken question in her eyes. No matter how deep he looked inside himself. So he’d brought garlic bread instead. Which seemed like a pretty piss poor substitute, but it was all he had.
He wasn’t great with feelings, but he could bring her butter.
“So, are you going to call Kaitlin?” Melanie asked after a few moments.
“Talking about my pregnant, angry sister isn’t exactly the epitome of romance.”
“No. But it is bothering you. I thought you might want to talk about it.”
“Not really. Anyway, she told me not to call. So I won’t.”
“Since when do you ba
ck off when you’re told to?”
“Since my own sister so clearly didn’t want to speak to me. I messed it up. I know I did. But I can’t… Beckett. She only knows him because of me. I feel like this is my fault.” He felt a hard, dull whack up against the side of his temple. “Did you just flick me?”
“Yes. I flicked you. Because you’re being a martyr. You can’t control everything, Luke. Not everything is your fault, or your triumph. She made her choice. Beckett made his choices. Everybody makes choices. You can’t take responsibility for them, you can’t take control of them.”
He hated that thought. Hated it down to his bones. It made him feel like he was floating through space with nothing to anchor him to anything. It left him with nothing in his own stuff, and he didn’t like that idea at all.
“That isn’t what I do. I just wanted to protect the people I care about. And when I feel like I put the people I care about in danger due to my poor friendship choices, I don’t take it very well.”
“You’re taking responsibility for things you have no business taking responsibility for. Why do you do that?”
“I don’t know. Why do you let your past dictate your actions, Mel?”
She drew back like she’d been slapped. “I don’t think you’re in any position to comment on my decisions. Especially not when you stepped in to direct me taking control of my life. Which with hindsight, was probably not something I should have ever let you do. It was about me, and I let you sweep in and play Superman. Which, also allowed me to stick with the only man that I’ve ever been comfortable with. So I kind of enabled us both while pretending I was stepping out of my comfort zone.”
“So now you regret all of it?” He took the piece of bread out of her hand, tossed it down into the carton of spaghetti, and pulled the whole container away from her. “And I don’t think you get my food. The food goes with the sex. If you regret the sex, you can’t have the food.”
She gasped. “Why are you being such an asshole?”
Because nothing made sense. And he was confused. Sitting here feeling like he wanted something, needed something, and he couldn’t figure it out. It had been so many years since he’d wanted anything. “Why aren’t you letting me?”
“Maybe we both need to change.”
“Oh no, this is your therapy, not mine,” he said.
“So, you’re allowed to sweep into my life and make changes, but I’m not allowed to change you at all?”
“I don’t need to change.” I can’t change.
“We can all change. We all have those choices. We aren’t bound to them. I don’t think you understand how important that realization has been to my life. It’s what I’ve been working through for the past year. And everything that kind of came to a head last month.”
“Why last month?”
“Because I thought I might kiss you. Only then you didn’t seem to realize I wanted to kiss you. And then I saw that woman at your house, and I know you didn’t sleep with her, but I thought you did. And that hurt. I realized I had no right to be hurt by it. I never… I never asked for more from you. I was too afraid to ask for more. Even though I wanted it. I realized that you didn’t feel the same. But it was what made me realize that I needed to go out and make changes for myself.”
“You wanted more from me?”
“Yes.” She looked down at her hands. “I trust you. You’ve always been safe. And I wanted very much to keep you in that safe place. So for a long time I didn’t let myself feel the attraction that was always there, just beneath my skin. I didn’t feel like I could do anything about it. Then I realized that all of the unhappiness I was dealing with. The feelings of being stagnant… They were my fault. I spent a long time being angry at my mother. I spent a long time using her mistakes to justify my fear. I think… I think in my efforts to avoid becoming like her, I actually ended up just like her.”
“Except not in a relationship with an abusive douche.”
“Yeah. But, I blamed love for that. Until this very moment I blamed love for that.” She frowned. “It isn’t love. It was never love. It was fear. And that’s something I do have in common with her. She was afraid to leave. She was afraid to change things. Either because she was afraid of what he would do, or because she was afraid of things being different. Maybe she thought the status quo was better than the unknown. All I know is I’ve let fear drive my life too. And I can’t. Not anymore.”
“And what brought on this particular revelation?”
“Watching you do the same thing.”
“I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Yes you are. You’re afraid to want things. Afraid to try. You hold on so tightly to everyone else, to all of their choices, because it makes you feel like you’re in control. It gives you something to pour that energy into since you won’t do it for your own self.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion on my life, Mel.”
“Too bad. I’m in the mood to psychoanalyze. I figured I would get you and me in one fell swoop, since this is all about you and me.”
“No, this is about giving you normal romance.”
“There is nothing normal about a romantic picnic in a barn with your best friend that you’re sleeping with that ends in shouting and confiscated garlic bread,” she shouted.
“Well, the garlic bread confiscation and the yelling are your fault.”
“Or they’re your fault. Because you can’t deal with your shit. If you could, nothing that I’m saying would bother you.” She looked at him, defiantly. And this, in a nutshell, was why he didn’t usually sleep with women who knew him. She could see too deeply inside him. Was hitting far too close to the truth, and he didn’t like it.
He pushed the food cartons to the side, wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed her back so she was lying down on the blanket. “I think this was a bad idea. The talking. The romance. I think we need to get back to what was working.”
His cock was already hard for her. In spite of the argument, or maybe because of it. It was hard to say with Mel. From the moment he’d acknowledged that he wanted her, he’d wanted her every minute after.
“That’s your solution?” she asked, her voice breathless, “more sex?”
“It works.”
And maybe, just maybe, if they went back to the sex, it would erase the ache that he’d felt since he’d walked into her kitchen and smelled the cake. Since he’d walked into that house, and wished for one blinding moment that it was his. That he was coming home to her. But this was more than friendship, more than sex. That it was more than therapy between two screwed up people who couldn’t seem to move on from the disappointments in their past. Or, in his case the disappointments in his present.
“Sure, but it doesn’t get us anywhere.”
He kissed her, deep and hard, flexing his hips and pressing his hardened cock against her clit, settling deeper between her thighs. “It’ll get us far enough.”
She let her head fall back, rough, raw sound on her lips, and he’d never heard or seen anything more beautiful. How had he ever ignored this? How had he ever thought of her as only a friend?
She squeezed her eyes shut tight and wrapped her arms around his neck, tugging him down and kissing him. He didn’t like that she closed her eyes. Didn’t like that she was trying to shut out everything, their discussion, the reality of the situation. Didn’t like that he put her in the position where she had to do that. But he wasn’t going to fight against it either. He wanted this. He wanted it more than he wanted to be right. More than he wanted to be helpful. He just wanted her. It had nothing to do with helping her break through any walls. Had nothing to do with having her so that no one else could have her. So that no one else could hurt her.
He was going to hurt her anyway. Like the useless bastard that he was, he was going to break her heart. He knew it. He knew it now. Soon enough that he could still turn back. But he wasn’t going to. He was going to make the bad decision, the wrong decision. He wasn’t going to
try hard enough. Because that’s what he did.
And right now, he didn’t even care.
He wrenched her top over her head, stripped her bra from her, took her jeans and panties off as quick as he possibly could, baring her beautiful body to his hungry gaze. He needed her, needed this. He was being selfish. And he was owning it.
“You’re so beautiful.” He lowered his head, tracing her pale pink nipple with the tip of his tongue before drawing it deep into his mouth. “You have no idea. You’ve always been beautiful. I’ve just been blind.”
She tugged at his shirt, and he helped her, pulling it over his head and casting it to the side before shrugging his shoes, socks and pants off. He pressed himself against her, skin to skin all the way down, and enjoyed the feeling of her, bare and beautiful and perfect. This was perfect. He’d managed to screw up their friendship enough that talking wasn’t working anymore. That sex worked better than casual conversation.
He couldn’t regret that right now either.
She moved her delicate fingertips down his back, over his shoulders, as she wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him on, urging him inside of her. He pressed the head of his cock against her slick flesh, testing her, teasing her, teasing them. Then he eased in slowly, so slowly he thought he was going to explode. She was so tight, so hot, so incredibly perfect. He clenched his teeth to keep from losing it completely. He wanted to laugh at himself. For thinking that somehow this was going to help him maintain control. That sleeping with her would have somehow put him in a position to guide her actions when in reality it had taken his ability to direct his own.
And then he didn’t think at all.
He was lost in her, in this, in the heat and desire building in his blood. She flexed her hips with each move of his, each thrust he made deep into her body accompanied by a hoarse, sweet sound from her lips that let him know just how into it she was. Just how much she wanted him. Melanie Richards wanted him.
It was that thought that sent him over the edge.
He tightened his grip on her hips, tried to get a handle on himself as he lost complete command over his body, as his movements became wild, unsteady. She stiffened beneath him, arching against him, her release rippling through her, around him. In him.