by Jessi Gage
“Judgmental bitch,” he grumbled, but he’d lost his angry steam. Yeah, Deidre was a piece of work, but she was a good mom, and that was all that mattered to him these days.
Shit. He needed to apologize to her. And to Haley.
“Too late now,” he said as he glanced at his bedside clock. Seeing the rumpled bed reminded him of the comforter Haley had picked out. It was still in the kitchen. He went to get it, dropping the drill and extra wall anchors in the laundry room on the way.
Back in his room, the sight of the new blinds and drapes made him smile despite his exhaustion. His little girl had picked out the perfect colors. The blue looked sharp against the off-white walls. The tight muscles in his neck began to unwind as he stared at the sheer fabric.
Beautiful blue eyes swam in his memory, eyes so deep and calm they reminded him of the ocean when he chartered with the guys and went way out, looking for marlin.
“Frigging ghosts,” he muttered, pulling the old, tan comforter from his bed and replacing it with the puffy dark gray one with navy blue patterns on it. “Kid’s got some imagination.” So did he, apparently, because he could picture those eyes with the kind of crystal clarity he’d never known from any dream.
He snorted. Just the bourbon talking. He’d worked off most of his buzz, but there must be some fumes lingering, making him remember things that didn’t make sense, like the scent of melon on his pillow this morning after he’d scared his dream girl away.
He looked down to find the comforter bag crushed in his fist. He made himself relax his grip and noticed the pillow covers still inside. They didn’t go on the pillows he slept on. They were decorative. He remembered that much from living with Deidre. Since he only had two pillows, not the sea of puffy, frilly things he used to have to toss on the floor before getting in bed, he shoved the bag, pillow covers and all, in the closet. He didn’t want a million pillows on his bed again, but maybe after he made up with Haley, she could help him pick out some new sheets to match the comforter. He wanted some in that soothing blue color, like the curtains.
Beyond exhausted, he hit the lights, stripped to his briefs, and fell into bed. The nightmare seemed to start immediately. He couldn’t catch a break. His subconscious should have moved on a long time ago, but he was still reliving that frigging accident.
So he’d witnessed a bad car accident. He hadn’t been involved in it or anything. He should be over it by now, definitely not letting meaningless dreams reduce him to unmanly hysterics.
He whimpered as the airbag punched his face and pain lanced his head. Fear crashed over him like breakers on the shore. He couldn’t catch a breath. Until the pain and terror surrendered to darts of pleasure.
Someone was touching him intimately. A warm body straddled his. A slender arm brushed his stomach as a determined hand worked its magic south of the equator. His whimpers of fear turned to moans of delight. Warm lips nipped along the side of his neck and jaw before seeking permission for more at the corner of his mouth.
Oh, fuck, yes. Now this was a dream.
He turned his head enough to capture those tentative lips. They instantly parted and he tasted his first kiss since his pathetic attempt to date a few months after the divorce. The one-night stand had left him feeling dirty. Responsible fathers didn’t have one-night stands. He hadn’t made a move on anyone since. And his poor dick hadn’t seen any action since, except occasionally by his own hand. Embarrassment warred with euphoria as climax zoomed up on him.
Fight it. Make it last. You don’t know when you’re going to feel this good again. Might be never.
The woman broke the kiss. Her breath fanned over his cheek as her breathing sped. She dug what she was doing to him. Damn, he’d imagined up the perfect woman, part innocent shy girl, part wildcat.
He ground his molars in an effort to prolong the fire of her touch, but when her tongue traced his ear, he was lost. Lost to pleasure and comfort. Lost to a fantasy that felt so fucking real. The scent of melon hit him as her hair fell across his face, and he erupted in his dream girl’s hand.
His eyes squeezed shut and stars burst behind his lids. A groan ripped past his clenched teeth. It was a primal reaction he tried to temper, but his control was gone, zapped by the perfect dream, the perfect woman.
“You came back,” he panted as his body came down from the best climax he’d ever had from a hand job. He reached for the tissue box by his clock. He’d probably just soiled his briefs in real life, but here, his dream girl had taken most of his spent passion on her hand. He cleaned her by touch in the darkness, gently wiping her fingers one by one. He couldn’t believe his luck he hadn’t woken up yet. “I thought I scared you away.”
“I regretted running away.” Her voice was sweet and smoky, like honey barbeque. “I was a coward. I wanted to make it up to you. I hope you don’t mind.” Again with the blend of innocence and seduction. The combination had his dick twitching again already.
He liked his new window coverings, but damn if he didn’t miss the streetlight. What he wouldn’t give to see those imaginary blue eyes and that gorgeous, thick auburn hair. Was his imagination good enough to create a face with the same mix of sex and innocence as her voice?
He wanted to turn on the lamp. Would she disappear in the light? Not willing to take that chance, he let his hands learn her, running them up her smooth thighs to the hem of her shorts, up her bare arms until he felt the edges of a sleeveless shirt. Her shoulders were slender but strong. Her neck was graceful. As he cupped one hand around the warm column, her pulse thundered under his thumb and her hair tickled his fingers.
“Hell no, sweetheart. You can do that to me anytime. But you don’t have anything to make up for.” His thumb inched up to caress her jaw. When he touched her full lower lip, she sucked in a breath. Her tongue touched the pad of his thumb and she nipped his skin. He found his voice with difficulty. “I’m just glad I didn’t scare you away for good.”
“I don’t think I could stay away from you if I tried.”
She was just saying that because she was a figment of his imagination. He wanted someone who wanted him back, so that’s what his dream girl did. But damn if it didn’t feel amazing having a woman on his lap enjoying his touch, even if she wasn’t real.
“What’s your name?” she said.
He blinked. His dream girl didn’t know him? Strange. “Derek,” he told her as he let his hands wander down her arms again and linked his fingers with hers. He loved touch. Deidre had called him grabby, but his dream girl didn’t seem to mind. She let him touch all he wanted.
“Derek,” she repeated, and it sounded like she smiled. “Good name.”
“Glad you approve. What’s yours?”
A heavy sigh. “You really don’t know, do you?”
Uh, oh. Why did he suddenly feel like an asshole? Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but definitely disappointed. “Should I?”
“I guess not.”
His new erection flagged. He didn’t think she meant to, but his dream girl was making him feel guilty when he hadn’t done anything wrong. She expected him to know her, remember her from somewhere, but he couldn’t call up a memory that didn’t exist. He hadn’t dated a ton before Deidre. They’d married young. There had been a few girls in high school and college, but this woman left them in the dust.
Shouldn’t his dream girl just kind of be quiet and let him—what?—use her? As soon as he thought it, he knew he wouldn’t have imagined up someone who would be no more than a source of sexual release. He’d had that once and hadn’t liked it. No, his perfect woman would be more than a pretty face and willing body. She’d be a whole person he could talk to and be friends with.
“Look,” he said, “maybe if you tell me your name, I’ll remember something. I know you’re not based on anyone I’ve ever dated. But maybe I knew someone like you at one point.”
She huffed a humorless laugh. “You still think I’m a dream.”
Why wouldn’t she just tell him her name? Wait, maybe she didn
’t have one because he hadn’t given her one. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but that’s all you are. Believe me, I wish you were more.”
“Me too.” The longing in her tone ripped his heart. The urge to comfort her had him lifting their linked hands to his lips. He kissed her knuckles. Her skin smelled like his own musk and a fruit orchard on a warm summer day. He meant to soothe her with the kiss, but found his chest puffing up with contentedness.
He had to get rid of her. He didn’t deserve to feel this good after hurting Haley. “Damn, sweetheart, you have no idea how bad I wish you could stay, but you really shouldn’t be here. I should be having nightmares tonight, not sweet dreams.”
He tried thinking about the car accident. He pictured the view out the windshield of the little Honda. He could almost see the glare of sun off the other cars on the freeway, the feel of the steering wheel gripped in his too-small hands. He was almost there, stressing about merging, seconds away from disaster.
Soft lips brushed his ear. Full breasts squished against his chest, and he tried not to imagine how great they would feel naked and in his hands. “Why do you think you don’t deserve sweet dreams?”
“Because I was a jerk to my ex-wife and made my little girl cry.” No need to save face with her. She was an extension of himself, after all.
“So you think you need to be punished?” She nuzzled the hair behind his ear, and relaxing chills spread down his entire body. He was getting hard again, but he was more exhausted than horny.
“I guess.” He yawned loudly. Tiredness dragged at him, which made no sense since he’d been asleep for hours.
“And your dreams punish you?” She sounded appalled.
“Yeah.”
“What do you dream about every night? What makes you cry?”
“A car accident,”
“That sounds scary. Do you get hurt?”
“Yeah, but it’s not really me. It’s someone else. Someone I don’t know.” Some emotion he didn’t want to explore settled like a stone in his gut. For the first time since Friday afternoon, he wondered what had happened to the driver of the Honda. He hoped the guy was okay. “It should have been me,” he muttered, thinking of Haley’s tears. “I’m an asshole. I deserve to get hurt.”
Gentle fingers stroked his scalp. He hummed a contented sigh, feeling ridiculously cared for. He really should try harder to change the dream. It was selfish to take this comfort when he didn’t deserve it.
“I don’t think you’re a bad person. And I don’t want to see you hurt. How about you go back to sleep and I’ll watch over you and keep the nightmares away.”
I think she was watching over you, Dad. I like her. She seems nice.
A chill snaked over his skin. “I’m asleep already,” he said, yawning again. “This is just a dream.” A spooky, wonderful dream.
“Shhh. Go back to sleep. I’ll stay as long as I can.” She curled against his side, and he drew her close.
“Okay,” he said.
A second later, it seemed, his radio alarm woke him from a dead sleep. He tried to hit snooze, but something pinned his arm to the mattress. Why the hell was his room so dark? He couldn’t see shit. Oh yeah. Blinds.
“I got it.” A woman spoke by his ear. The weight lifted, and a second later the alarm shut off. The lamp clicked on, and he squinted up into innocently beautiful blue eyes.
His dream girl.
“Good morning,” she said. “I’m glad you got some peaceful sleep for a change.”
Chapter 7
Derek groggy and with sleep-flattened hair was the best thing DG had ever seen, and since her memory encompassed only three nights, she could say that with absolute certainty. The moment he blinked up at her in adorable confusion, she lost her heart completely.
Who knew what supernatural force had thrown them together or for what purpose, but she was glad it had. She wouldn’t have picked out a serious, aggressive man with a temper for a lover, especially one prone to seeking refuge from his problems in a bottle, but she didn’t regret being here with him. Derek had a loving heart, and he wanted to do right even if he missed the mark sometimes. Staying up late last night to hang curtains for Haley proved it.
She wanted to bring laughter and fun to his serious eyes. She wanted to fill his temperamental heart with love. Giving him some pleasure last night had been just the start. For as long as she would be allowed to visit him, she vowed to offer him the comfort, love, and pleasure he seemed to crave so much, even if he didn’t know how to ask for it.
Her smile started deep inside and made its way out to greet the man who had called her his dream girl and held her through the night, the man who had given her purpose.
He scrambled away from her until he fell off the far edge of his bed, taking the new comforter with him. He bounced up like a jack-in-the box, saying “Shit!” over and over again, until his hands wrapped around a wooden baseball bat propped in the corner. Pulling the bat back, he tangled it in the blinds and cursed some more as he took his gaze off her to detangle it from the buckled aluminum.
Panting and wild-eyed, he looked back at her. A flush crept up his cheeks. He abandoned his defensive posture, letting the bat slide in his grip until he held it relaxed by his side. “Probably overkill with the bat?”
She held back her laughter. “I’m betting you could take me without it. But I don’t think it’ll come to that. I’m not interested in hurting you, only doing nice things to you.”
He gulped and stared at her, a large, muscle-bound man looking like a horny teenager unable to believe his luck. “I’m still dreaming.”
“Nope.”
“Shit.” He wiped a hand down his face, shut his eyes for a beat and reopened them as though expecting her to be gone. Of course she didn’t go anywhere, and she wouldn’t, not for another few minutes if the pattern of the last two mornings held. The alarm had gone off at 4:50, and she’d been yanked away the last two mornings in the minute or two before 5:00. She’d never caught even the barest hint of dawn. Would this morning be the same?
Please let me stay to see sunrise this morning, she pleaded to whatever power was responsible for this weirdness.
Derek wiped a hand down his face again. “Shit.”
She grimaced. “Not quite the reaction I was hoping for.”
“Sorry. It’s all I got.” His face grew pale. Fear replaced the sleepiness in his eyes.
Okay, the guy was freaked. Not what she’d intended, but she could deal. She just needed to explain.
She folded her legs under her so she knelt in the middle of the bed, facing him. “Look, sorry if I scared you, but I’m no threat. Honest. I’ll even disappear if you want me to. All I have to do is get out of bed and poof, you won’t see me anymore. But this is the first time I’ve gotten to really talk to you in three days, and, I don’t have long, only a few more minutes, and, well, maybe I’m a little lonely. I was kind of hoping we could talk—I mean I know you probably have to get ready for work and all—I’m guessing it’s Monday. I don’t want to impose or anything. I just—”
Just what? Wanted to have breakfast with him? It wasn’t like she could sit at the kitchen table and sip coffee. In fact, she had no right to expect anything of him. Derek had a life, and she was completely interrupting it.
Not to mention, she was a supernatural phenomenon he probably had one heck of a time trying to wrap his brain around.
When he continued staring at her, she forced a smile and tried not to let disappointment crush her. “Never mind. You’ve got to get to work.” Why else would he be getting up so early after less than four hours of sleep? “Look, I don’t know why, but I always show up here in your room after dark. And I always stay until five or so. And you can only see or hear me when I’m on the bed. I can’t even open doors or move things or pick up a stupid sock. Crazy, I know. But there it is. So, I’ll go now—” She couldn’t make an exit until the fog claimed her, but she could climb out of his bed and at least become invisible to him,
give the guy a chance to reboot. “I’ll be back tonight, though. Probably.” She hoped. “Maybe we can talk then?”
Good grief, she sounded desperate. She was desperate—for company, for Derek’s affection, to understand what was happening to them and why—but she didn’t want to come across as burdensome.
“Only if you want,” she added.
His expression never changed. His eyes were still wide, his eyebrows still drawn together. The firm lips she’d nibbled and kissed earlier made a stony line.
She’d messed up big time. She was supposed to be his comfort, and here she’d upset him.
Way to let your own agenda override good sense, DG.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. Before she could make things any worse, she slipped off the opposite side of the bed.
With her heart shrinking into an embarrassed prune, she watched his eyes search the rumpled covers. He wiped his hand down his face again. “Too much fucking bourbon.” He grabbed some clothes out of the dresser, left the room, and pulled the door closed behind him, barring her from following.
“That went well,” she said to the empty room.
* * * *
The sun wasn’t up yet, but morning twilight lit the sky with a mellow blue. Humidity rested heavy against Derek’s skin as he walked to Brick and Mortar to retrieve his truck. Today would be a scorcher.
He gripped his Thermos in one hand and the insulated lunch bag Haley had given him for Father’s Day in the other. Amazingly, his head was clear despite the glasses of bourbon he’d sipped one after another last night, and despite a craptastic night of bad dreams and too little sleep.
Okay, the night hadn’t been all craptastic. He’d gotten to see his dream girl again. He’d gotten to hold and kiss her and come in her hands like an overeager kid. None of it had been real, of course—except the coming; he’d noticed the tissues on the floor in the morning and marveled that he’d been able to clean himself up in his sleep. But even if his dream girl hadn’t been real, dreaming about her had saved the night for him.