After he caught Rebecca looking at him in much the same way he was looking at her, it left both of them turning away, and feeling confused. Even stunned. Yet, there it was. Attraction. And even stranger, chemistry. An undeniable attraction to each other had begun. And worst of all, he was starting to like Rebecca Randall, despite her being Nick’s sister, the mother of three girls, married, but separated, and living in the middle of nowhere. Damn, if he wasn’t suddenly, liking all that distance and isolation too.
Chapter Eleven
Rebecca watched Rob through the opening to her living room as she did the dinner dishes. Karlee was snuggled up close to him, talking away, her Polly Pockets spread all over the couch and him. Kathy was helping dress the pea-sized dolls, and Kayla was in a chair nearby, pretending to read, but really listening to the rest of them. Rebecca didn’t know if what she was doing was right, by letting her kids get so close to Rob, but it seemed okay. And… it felt nice having someone else there. Especially a man. Even this man.
Rebecca turned when her youngest ask, “Wob, why did you paint your armth wike that?”
Rob’s voice was deep, sexy, and thrilling. Each syllable he spoke sent shivers through Rebecca’s nerve endings and started a quivering in her center. It was a ridiculous reaction to a man like him. He smiled at Karlee, and even his smile was at odds with his rough appearance and biker persona. His expression was kind, gentle, and warm toward her little daughter.
“It’s not paint. They’re called tattoos.”
Karlee’s eyes got big. “Oh! That’th not good. Even the wub-on kind are bad. Mom won’t wet uth wear them. She told Kaywa ony thkanks and hoses get tattoothe. We’re never awwowed to get them. Never.”
As Karlee spoke, Rebecca realized with a start what she was about to say. Heat surged through her whole body and ended in the nerve endings of her white skin. Oh God, did she really say that? Did Karlee hear her say that? Rebecca rushed out towards the couch, putting a hand over Karlee’s mouth.
“Karlee, it’s time to get ready for bed.”
Rob’s eyes met hers over Karlee’s head, with his eyebrows raised. He glanced back at Karlee. “Your mom doesn’t approve of tattoos, huh?”
Karlee shook her head no, even though Rebecca’s hand stayed firmly over her mouth.
“I don’t approve of them for young girls. That’s all I told Kayla one day, after a thirteen-year-old that we know got one.”
Rob held her gaze and finally smiled and patted Karlee’s head. “You shouldn’t get them; your mom’s right.”
“Then why you have them?” Karlee mumbled from behind Rebecca’s hand. She finally let her babbling daughter go. There was no freaking use in trying to quiet her.
“Karlee, quit it.”
“No. It’s okay, Karlee,” Rob said, still holding Rebecca’s gaze. “I got them after I was already an adult, Karlee. They fit me, but they don’t fit someone like you. So don’t get them.”
“Why do they fit you an’ not me?”
“Because you’re a good person. You’re sweet and nice. Tattoos don’t say that about a person.”
“Then what are you, Wob? I think you vewy nithe.”
Rob glanced down at Karlee and Rebecca became silent when she caught the look of stark longing that crossed Rob’s eyes. He was surprised her daughter said that about him, and more importantly, he was touched. He patted Karlee’s arm with awkward affection.
Rebecca stared down at him. Who was Rob? And why the tattoos? Why did he have to look so inappropriate? And to the extreme? He should act like a loser. He should be mean and stupid and ignorant. He should be the kind of man she kept isolated from her house and kids. Instead, she invited him in and wanted him here. All the tattoos he wore were suddenly not so bad. There were too many and some were inappropriate as hell, like the cross with blood dripping off it that graced his left arm. But to Rebecca, they quit being a reflection of Rob’s personality, and more of a hindrance that kept anyone from seeing Rob’s real personality. And that was something she was starting to think she might really like.
Especially after seeing how nice he was to her girls.
Rebecca was saved by the phone ringing. She quickly left to answer it and stiffened at the hello she heard on the other end. The girls’ gazes followed her as she turned towards the counter, feeling Rob’s eyes also on her, who was looking at her with curiosity.
“Kayla, you go first,” Rebecca said, holding the phone up to her oldest. Kayla was already starting to stand.
“Hi Daddy,” Kayla said, disappearing into the kitchen.
The phone was passed around until finally, Karlee grabbed for it. “Hi ya, Dad. Yeah okay. I thittin’ here wif Wob. Wob? Oh, Mommy’th new fwend. And mine. He wath showing uth his tattoothe. On hith armth, wike wong thweeveth. He thmoketh too. But I don’t. Mom theth that thmoking burnth your wungth up bwack. And it’th a thtupid thing to do. Wob thould quit, but he duthent know it yet.”
Rebecca closed her eyes, feeling mortified. Was there anything Karlee wouldn’t repeat with her guileless excitement? Including Wob? Rebecca was well aware of Rob’s gaze on her. She opened her eyes again when she heard Karlee telling her dad she loved him, and here was Mommy. “Mommy? Daddy wanth to talk to you.”
Rebecca was sure Daddy wanted to talk to her. Sighing, she took the phone, and walked into the kitchen.
Rebecca fielded Doug’s questions, with short, clipped answers. She told him that Rob was helping her write her next book, to which Doug scoffed, since he never really believed she’d do it. He didn’t think she could write a book that anyone would want to read.
Finally, she got off the phone. She hated talking to Doug because it unsettled her. It reminded her each time he called that no matter how much she tried to pretend her life was fine, it wasn’t. Things were drastically wrong for her children and her.
“Girls, time for bed,” Rebecca said, walking into the living room.
“Aww, Mom.”
Rebecca felt weary, and suddenly unable to field their normal resistance and whines.
“Can’t we stay up a little longer? Please?”
“No.”
“Mom, that’s so lame. Why do I have to go to bed too? I’m not a baby.” This from Kayla.
“Mommy, pweathe? I wanna talk to Wob.”
“Come on, Mom.”
Rebecca rubbed at her temple, where her head suddenly ached. Aww Mom from the girls, aww Rebecca from Doug. Did she ever do anything right? She sometimes wondered. Rob was quiet as he watched her ineptitude.
“I think you girls oughta just kiss your mother, and thank her for the nice day she gave you, and go straight to bed.”
Rebecca’s eyes popped open at Rob’s quiet, but stern voice. The Dad voice of threat. Her mouth dropped opened in surprise and so did the girls’. They finally stood up, grumbling, but got up nevertheless. Karlee gathered up all her loot to take to bed with her.
Rebecca met Rob’s eyes over the girls.
Then Karlee and Kathy both pecked Rob on the cheek as they passed him, saying good night. His astonished look mirrored her surprise when he spoke up in her defense with her kids. It took her another fifteen minutes to get all three girls ready for bed, and tucked in. Each one of them took Rob’s advice and thanked her for the day. Huh. That was interesting.
Rebecca came down her staircase, after the house was suddenly quiet. The girls were in bed, the dog was fed, and now sleeping near Rob’s feet. There were no distant giggles or voices, or any girlish distractions that usually made the house vibrate with life. Now it was quiet, and the windows were dark since the sun had set long ago. Rob was waiting for her and his head turned at her approach before his gaze pinned her. It was dark, deep, and intense. She wasn’t sure why or where it was coming from, but it definitely was there.
She felt him watch her stepping across the entry, into the living room.
“Why do you put up with your husband?”
Startled, she looked up into his face. His green eyes sta
red into hers: light-colored, mesmerizing, and very probing.
“What do you mean?”
“He calls to talk to his kids, I get that, but why do you let him talk to you? Make you feel different? You started acting all quiet and insecure. Even with your kids going to bed! You’re not quiet and insecure, unless you make yourself be. Your husband left you. He’s the one who chose not to be here. So tell him it’s none of his business who Rob is! Tell him you’re fucking me. Tell him whatever you want. Anything would be better than apologizing to him!”
She was jarred from seeing the sedate Rob in front of the kids to the normal Rob who was so direct and honest. His words brought the familiar blush to her face.
“Because I’m not doing anything with you. Besides, why do you care what I tell him?”
“There. That. That attitude right there is you. And yet, your mother, your husband, your brother, they don’t know that, do they? You stop being yourself. What I don’t get is, why? And furthermore, why the hell are you so sure, and so confident with me, when I scare most people senseless? How do I manage to bring out your self-confidence? I don’t get you, Rebecca, I really don’t. You’re so fucking sure of yourself with me. So why aren’t you with everyone else? Hell, you were the one who decided I’d spend the day with you and your kids, and I’m still here, aren’t I? So why is it any different with Doug Randall?”
“Why do you see me like that? Because I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t care if you like me. That’s why I don’t try real hard.”
“Oh, really? But you care so much about what a man who left you high and dry thinks? Tell me how that’s helping anything?”
“What do you know of accountability to someone? Responsibility? You may not have left Joelle, but when did you ever do right by her? Or care about her? I share three kids with Doug. It’s all very complicated. And you don’t know the details. So you don’t get to judge.”
“I’ve spent my entire life being judged by people like you. Because I have tattoos, I smoke, I drink, and because I had no family, and no money. I made a mess of my life, Rebecca, no doubt about that. But sober, I’d never do to anybody what that man did to his own kids. I’d never leave.”
“You don’t think your addiction has the same effect?”
“It might, but I didn’t have kids.”
“You almost did.”
Rob stopped dead, and his expression went from indifferent to outraged. “How do you know about that?”
“Joelle told me.”
“Joelle? Told you. Of course. Unrestricted access to my life, right?”
“Right. She told me about the miscarriage.”
“It’s what first made me take notice of my problem. Or that I even had a problem. I realized Joelle was so terrified to have a baby with me when she got pregnant, I don’t think she could face having one with me. It crushed me. It really did. My wife was devastated at the thought of trusting me with fatherhood. She was probably right. I tried after she came home to get sober. But like most alcoholics, I couldn’t. It wasn’t long before things got much worse.”
“You don’t blame her for leaving you?”
Rob shrugged. “I really can’t blame her for anything she had to do to survive the hell I put her through.”
She looked at Rob’s profile; he was staring down at his hands. He had long, thick, black lashes that swept over his lower lids. His hair fell onto his forehead, and he really was gorgeous. Too bad he was such a mess or she might have found herself falling for him.
He glanced up. “This is how you like to do it, isn’t it? Startling confessions? Truth leaking out when I don’t mean to give it? No cold, boring Q and A for you, huh?”
Rebecca shook her head. “No, I don’t mean to cause you unexpected stress. I just don’t want it to be a monotone diatribe of facts. Besides, I told you I won’t print what you don’t want.”
“If you print anything, it’s Joelle’s version.”
Rebecca nodded. “I knew you’d say that. You have a surprising loyalty, even to your ex.”
Rob shrugged as he glanced back at her. “I need a cigarette,” he said and suddenly got up. He walked past her and out the front door to her porch. Rebecca followed behind him and sat on the porch swing. He lit a cigarette, taking a long, deep inhale, like it was somehow refreshing to him. All Rebecca could picture were the black flecks of poison and cancer he was ingesting into his lungs.
He eyed her when she sat, then settled back, leaning against the railing, and looking into the deep, quiet darkness of the night. It seemed endlessly immense out there. The yard floodlight was the only break in the vast darkness.
“You’re a good writer.”
She jerked her eyes up to Rob at his unexpected statement. He was staring out into the night now, deliberately not looking at her.
“What you wrote about me was right on. And even interesting. I think your idea will work, I mean, the addiction series; you’re good enough to pull it off. So screw your husband, your mother, your brother, even me, whoever thinks you can’t do it, or wishes you wouldn’t. Just do it. Ignore any doubts when they come up.”
He leaned down and ground the cigarette into the coffee jar she set there and rolled his shoulders as if they were stiff. He was so not what she was used to. The scary tattoos, the shaggy hair, the deep, dark stubble that always covered his face. He was dark and edgy, and in the black of the night, he seemed to belong. Yet he was so nice to her, and to her kids. She didn’t know what could have changed, or what made her notice him, not just as Rob Williams, but suddenly so much more.
He pushed off from the railing, obviously ready to leave. “I gotta go.”
“Friend waiting for you again?”
He stopped dead, then turned and smiled at her, a cocky, sexy smile. Her heart skipped a beat. Did that happen anytime to her in the last decade? “Something like that.”
“Do you have a lot of friends?”
He stared at her, catching her gaze and holding it. “Nah. I never could enjoy a lot of friends at once.”
She stopped breathing as he broke eye contact, and started to step away. She jumped up towards him, moved by something that kept drawing her nearer him. She put her hand out on his arm, right above his elbow, over the thick swirl of tattoos. His skin felt warm and silky to her fingers.
He stopped dead at her touch and turned slowly. His eyes reflected the lights shining from her living room. She pressed her lips together, and tried to think of something mundane and trivial to say. Thanks for coming. Thanks for staying for dinner. Something. But nothing came out of her mouth. Instead, she tightened her fingers around his arm since that’s all she could seem to comprehend. This was not a good idea. It was a terrible idea. He wasn’t someone to tangle with. He wasn’t someone trustworthy, nice or respectable. He was Rob Williams. Former addict. Former musician. Former everything. But it had been so long since she felt that kind of inner burning, tingling all through her body. And its source was literally at her fingertips. She should have moved her hand away before now; but instead, she slid her fingertips down the length of his arm towards his hand, over more tattoos, that practically screamed how opposite they were.
Suddenly, his hand came up and grabbed hers. Not in a gentle lover’s hold, but more in an angry “get your hands off me” grasp. His mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed down at hers. “Quit looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m suddenly a good idea for you.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, still staring into his eyes.
“You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play timid with me; remember: I don’t buy it, Rebecca.”
She tried to yank her hand from his vise-like grip.
He was still looking at her though, and she quit moving. He swore.
“Don’t for a moment think this is a good idea,” he said as he pulled her towards him. His hands came to her waist, then his lips were on hers, warm and aggressive. He kissed her
as he did everything else, hot and hard. His head bent down as his lips moved over hers, wet, warm and soft. Her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest with the sudden heat and excitement coursing through her. It had been so long. Years even, since she was kissed like this. By a man. By a hot, aroused, demanding man.
One of his hands moved to the back of her head, anchoring it while his head tilted and his lips moved over hers with a thoroughness that took her breath away. Her heart started racing as her body practically convulsed in response.
His mouth tasted like cigarettes. It was thick on his breath and tongue and should have repelled her. Disgusted her. Turned her off. Instead, it only excited her more. The very wrongness of it only enhanced the very wrongness of whom she was kissing.
And that seemed to be the point.
He pushed her backwards, stepping forward until she bumped into her front door. He pressed her against it, his body surrounding hers. His leg went between her legs, and his other hand came up to her hair, brushing through it with a tenderness that was so at odds with the heat of everything else. Her nerve endings were ablaze, turned on in a way she couldn’t ever remember feeling. Not since she was eighteen. Her breasts suddenly ached for his hands to touch them, and release the soreness building inside them. Inside her. She was wet and hot all at once. His tongue was in her mouth. Then hers was in his. Oh God, it was like nothing she’d done in years.
Zenith Fulfilled (Zenith Trilogy, #3) Page 13