“Rough night?”
She jumped, and the glass slipped from her fingers. She grasped at it but too late. It shattered in front of her. Cold water, glass and ice splattered her feet and legs.
“Fuck!” The epithet slipped out, but she did manage to keep from shouting. Bad enough Blaine had caught her creeping around the house. She didn’t need Charlie out here, too. Damn. She’d just wanted some cold water.
“Don’t move. I’ll get the lights.”
The source of the voice was a silhouette in the office doorway. Blaine’s shadow slipped through the dark room to the wall by the front door. Had he been there when she’d first come through?
The lights flickered on. Shards of glass surrounded her, mixed with the ice, so it was difficult to tell which was which. A few small pieces flecked the tops of her feet. Those were glass. No blood though. She glanced over her shoulder, ever aware of Blaine walking toward her. She wanted to step back, but there was glass behind her, too.
As if reading her mind, Blaine repeated, “Don’t move.” He was wearing jeans, a little long over his bare feet and frayed at the hem, and a threadbare white T-shirt, the remnants of the design so faded she couldn’t make it out. “I’ll get a broom.”
“Thank you,” she said stiffly.
“Least I can do. If I hadn’t startled you...”
He left her alone in the middle of the den. She tugged at the bottom of her cotton sleep shorts, suddenly feeling overexposed. Silly. He’d certainly seen her in less. The thought made her cringe. She searched for a way out of her shattered glass cage, wanting to move so badly the temptation tingled along her spine and scalp. It was driving her crazy. She considered risking a few cuts to her feet just to escape. What was Blaine doing? Harvesting the straw for the broom?
She kept glancing to the door leading to the bedrooms, expecting Charlie to appear at any minute. Maybe he hadn’t heard? Hard to believe. He wasn’t a heavy sleeper.
When Blaine finally returned, he’d put on boots and was carrying a broom and plastic dust pan. He worked quickly, quietly. She was grateful for both. The tingling decreased as the diameter of the splatter diminished. Any second she’d be able to move again. When a path cleared in front of her, she tiptoed out of her cage.
“You’ll want to wear shoes around here the next couple of days.”
She nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” She stood uncertainly, wanting to escape to her bedroom, but something kept her there with Blaine.
He tilted the dust pan over the small trash can. The glass pinged and crunched against the metal.
“Well,” she said. “Good night.”
“Let me get you a refill.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m fine. But thank you.”
As she backed away, a sharp pain pierced the sole of her foot. She immediately lifted it and took a couple of hops on her other foot.
“Hang on,” Blaine said. He scooped her up and carried her to the sofa before she could object and then sat with her feet in his lap.
When he picked up her foot, she found her voice. “I can do that.”
“I got it.” He was so gentle, so considerate, that she was thrown back to that night. How he’d taken care of her afterward. Wrapping her in a blanket, holding her, warming her.
His thumb skimmed the bottom of her foot. When he found the spot, she flinched. He plucked the sliver of glass from the ball of her foot and set it on the coffee table.
She tried to slip her feet from his lap, but he held them.
“Just a sec.” He ran his hands over the soles and tops of her feet.
“Are you a foot reader, too?”
His lowered head didn’t hide his grin. “Nah. That’s all Charlie. Just checking for more glass. You feel anything?”
Oh, yeah. She felt everything. His calluses. His heat. His gentleness. And anger. Don’t forget the anger. Hers, not his. The anger that had plagued her all night—the reason she couldn’t sleep. Anger mixed with desire. Because despite everything, he was still as sexy as he’d been eight and a half years ago. Dark blond hair, blue-green eyes that crinkled at the corners. That beautiful wide mouth that smiled even when he wasn’t smiling.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and mellifluous like wind through the trees.
“It’s not your fault. I startle easily.”
“Not about the glass. Although I’m sorry I surprised you. I didn’t mean to. I thought you’d seen me.” He lifted his head from his overly intense study of her feet. His serious expression made her more uncomfortable. “I’m sorry for that night.”
The apology surprised her. Sure, it had been the elephant in the room since she’d recognized him standing on the front porch. But she couldn’t believe he was actually bringing it up. Figured he’d avoid the subject at the risk of it going supernova.
She wanted to be nonchalant about it, wanted to say it didn’t matter, wasn’t a big deal, but the words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t. That night had changed her life. Maybe if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, she could shrug it off. After all, people got their hearts broken all the time. It was part of living. But most people didn’t end up pregnant and alone. Once again, she tried to slip her feet from his lap. This time he didn’t stop her.
“It’s a lousy excuse, but I was young and stupid. Selfish.” He sighed. “A coward.”
That last surprised her.
“We used you so we could—” he swallowed, “—be together.”
She blinked, not understanding. They’d been together—the three of them.
“Dylan and I.” He cleared his throat. “We used you.”
His meaning registered. It hadn’t been about the three of them. It had been about the two men. No, not men. Boys. Men didn’t use women. They didn’t hide behind a woman. “You and Dylan?”
He nodded.
She’d suspected, but she’d discounted her suspicions for one simple reason. “I don’t understand. You were roommates. You were already together. All you had to do was lock your door and fuck or make love or whatever. Why did you need me?”
He shrugged. “I can’t speak for Dylan, but I was scared. Afraid of being who I was. Afraid of admitting it to myself, much less anyone else.”
His confession sank in, and all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The puzzle she’d been trying to put together for more than eight years. She hadn’t had the right pieces. All this time she’d thought it had been about her. About a conquest. Another notch on their belts. But that wasn’t it at all. She’d just been a convenience, a conduit. Neither boy had had feelings for her. Dylan hadn’t loved her. Blaine hadn’t thought she was sexy. It wasn’t about her.
“It was wrong, and I’m sorry. If it helps, I’ve never done anything like that again.”
She jumped up and began pacing, her arms crossed protectively in front of her. Because they hadn’t had the courage to be who they were, she’d paid the price. She dealt with the heartbreak every day, the ache of relinquishing her daughter, of giving her to strangers to parent, of watching her grow up through photos and letters. “Well, if you learned your lesson, then I guess that makes it okay,” she said sarcastically.
“No, it doesn’t make it okay. I didn’t mean—I just—I’ve always regretted it.”
“Are you and Dylan still in touch...or anything?” Please say no.
He shook his head. “I moved out the next day. I haven’t seen him since.”
“What happened? He dumped me. Wouldn’t talk to me after that except to say it was over. And you were gone. You got what you wanted. Him. And then you just left. You could have been together again. With me. Because I was stupid enough to think I was special. But you left. Why?”
“It’s not important now.”
“Not important?” she said through tight lips. “You fuck a gi
rl, get her—” She almost said “pregnant.” She had to calm down, think. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I deserve an answer.”
She thought of her brother. For four years, Landon had been in love with a man, his best friend. And he’d hidden that love until last month, afraid of losing that friendship, afraid of losing his family. How could she condemn Blaine for wanting a man without condemning her brother in the same breath? Oh, yeah. Her brother hadn’t used a woman to have sex with a man. At least she hoped he hadn’t. No, Landon wouldn’t use anyone like that. He didn’t have it in him.
“It was you. You played the ditzy sexpot to the hilt. I believed it.”
“And...”
“I suddenly realized you were more. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. I guess I didn’t look deep enough until that moment. God, I still remember it. All that sweetness and intelligence. You were special. I just didn’t realize it until it was too late.” He paused, and his eyes begged her to understand. “You fooled both of us.”
She sat, hard. He’d seen exactly what she’d wanted him to see. And when he’d seen what she’d tried to hide, he’d rejected her.
Blaine interrupted her thoughts. “Charlie doesn’t know about that night. And you don’t have to worry about me telling him.”
“I’m not worried. Charlie and I are just having a good time.” She started pacing again. “In fact, go ahead and tell him. Get it off your chest. I hear confession is good for the soul.” Maybe I’ll tell him. Maybe in the morning. After breakfast. Then he won’t stop me from leaving. He’ll probably pack my bags. She ignored her sinking heart.
“You’re wrong there,” Blaine said. “If you weren’t important to him, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Oh, please. You can’t tell me he’s never brought a woman here before.”
“Yes, I can, and I will. You’re the first.”
She stopped with her back to him and forced out a laugh, but it was weak. She hated being weak.
“Why the act?” Blaine asked.
Arms crossed tightly over her chest, she faced him. “You have to ask?”
“Well, yeah. I don’t get it. You’re perfect. Why the ditz?”
She snorted. Perfect? Far from it. “I was young. My priorities were screwed up. I wanted a social life.”
“Nothing wrong with that. But it doesn’t explain the act.”
It seemed so silly now. A child’s desperate attempt to be accepted. Except she was still acting. Oh, not with everyone. Only in social situations when she was uncomfortable, unsure of herself. When her IQ was a liability. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got a few hours.”
Hmm, bare her soul? Not even tempted.
The front door opened, startling them both. Charlie entered. Where had he been? He was dressed in jeans, a grease-streaked T-shirt and tennis shoes. There was a smudge on his chin. His short hair stuck up and out in every possible direction. “Y’all are up early,” he said, a question in his eyes.
“Not as early as you,” Meredith answered. Now she knew why he hadn’t come running when she’d dropped the glass.
“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep, so I decided to do some maintenance on the ATVs.”
“Well, I was just heading to bed,” Blaine said.
“Me, too,” Meredith added.
“Wait,” Charlie said. “I didn’t mean to run you off. I’m gonna get a shower. Y’all hang out.”
“No, I need to get some sleep before I head home this morning,” she said.
Charlie’s face fell. Obviously he’d hoped she’d change her mind. She hated hurting him, felt his pain in her own chest. That explained the ache, the regret.
“I thought you were spending the week?” Blaine said.
“Uh, yeah, but something came up at work and I need to get back.” She started toward her room. “If I don’t see you before I leave, good luck with the campaign.”
Neither man tried to stop her. She closed her door quietly. She checked the time on her phone. Almost five. Another two hours and it would be light. She yanked her suitcase out of the closet and onto the bed then just stared at it. She was suddenly exhausted. Her eyes burned with hot tears, and the suitcase blurred.
She didn’t want to leave. Her anger at Charlie had disappeared. She sniffled. It wasn’t Charlie she’d been angry with. Blaine? Yes. Herself for being tempted? Probably. And maybe a little with Charlie for tempting her.
A knock on the door dragged her from lethargy. “Come in, Charlie.”
Blaine’s appearance surprised her. He immediately shut the door behind him. “Please don’t leave. Finish the week. I’ll make myself scarce. Work and campaign events. Don’t let my screw-up scare you off.”
She was so tired. Tired of hating Blaine. Tired of fighting her feelings for Charlie. Tired of missing her daughter’s life. “I’m not leaving.”
He lifted his brows and stared pointedly at the open suitcase.
She gave a small wry smile. “Yeah. You wanna put that away for me? I’m just gonna crawl into bed and sleep.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
He blew out a relieved breath. “Thank you. You won’t regret it. I promise.”
She closed the suitcase and zipped it. “And don’t worry about making yourself scarce. I’m fine. I don’t want to run you off.” It might be uncomfortable, but she could deal. Could he? “Unless you’d rather avoid me. I can understand that, but I don’t think Charlie will. Not unless we explain it to him. I don’t want to do that, do you?”
He shook his head and lifted the suitcase. “I imagine he’ll appreciate my disappearing act. Three’s a crowd.” His body froze as his jaw dropped and his eyes widened. “Oh shit, I mean— Ah, I didn’t—”
She lifted her hand. “I know what you meant.”
He shoved the suitcase into the closet then turned pleading eyes on her. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot. It’s a cliché. A part of our language.” She chuckled. “But you might want to reevaluate your position on threesomes. I know a woman in a relationship with two men. They’re living together, and they definitely don’t believe ‘three’s a crowd.’ In fact, they seem insanely, sickeningly happy.”
“Um, you’re not suggesting...”
“God, no!” She absolutely wasn’t suggesting anything of the kind. Wasn’t even tempted. Well, maybe a little tempted.
He winked and grinned. “I didn’t think so. Can’t blame a guy for trying though.”
As if he was interested. Well, maybe he was. There was one way to find out. “Do you have a thing for Charlie?”
He didn’t answer, but the torture in his expression spoke volumes. She’d unwittingly inserted herself between two men. Again.
Chapter Twelve
The world seemed clearer when Meredith woke. Clear enough that she was up to sorting out the muddle of Charlie, Blaine and Dylan. Or at least trying to. Blaine’s explanation of that night plus a good seven hours of sleep definitely helped.
When Charlie had tried to seduce her in the pool room, it had been a shock to learn that her twenty-seven-year-old self hadn’t changed from the eighteen-year-old one. She’d wanted everything he offered.
It’d scared the shit out of her. That was fact number one.
Fact number two? With the exception of Cassandra, the mistake she’d made eight and a half years ago was over and done. Blaine and Dylan had used her. Blaine regretted it. She believed him. As much as she grieved relinquishing her daughter for adoption, she couldn’t regret Cassandra’s existence. She loved her. It was that simple.
Now, Meredith found herself between two men again, but this time her eyes were open. Blaine wanted Charlie, but she’d seen no indication that Charlie reciprocated. Unless his seduct
ion in the pool room last night was an attempt to come on to Blaine—consciously or unconsciously. Of course, he could just be into exhibitionism. Either way, knowing that Charlie and Blaine might be into each other meant she wouldn’t be blindsided. She could protect her heart.
The last fact? She was still turned on by the idea of Blaine watching. And honestly, she had to admit she wanted more, including his active participation. She’d been turned on all those years ago. She’d been turned on last night. She was still turned on this morning. Her skin heated. Her nipples tightened to hard nubs, and her pussy dampened the crotch of her sleep shorts, tempting her to skim the tips of her fingers through the slippery folds and take the edge off. Because she had a decision to make. It would be easier to make the right one, the socially acceptable one, if she relieved the pressure building in her pussy. That was exactly why she didn’t give in to temptation. She didn’t want to make the safe decision. She wanted the dirty, no-holds-barred experience.
* * *
That afternoon, Charlie entered the kitchen through the back door to find Meredith sitting at the kitchen table in denim shorts and a T-shirt, her hair still damp from the shower, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands. She had one bare foot tucked up in the chair, the other hooked on the chair’s front rung.
His mood cautiously lifted. She was still here and he didn’t see any signs she’d be leaving soon. “Pancakes?”
“Please.”
“Bacon?”
“Yes, I’m starving.”
“You found the sugar?”
“Yep.”
He didn’t say anything else, just worked on breakfast, mixing batter, flipping pancakes and frying bacon. Meredith wasn’t very communicative until she ate breakfast. Trying to draw her into conversation was an exercise in futility. But once she ate a few bites, took the edge off the gnawing in her belly, they could talk.
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