It Will Always Be You (You Series Book 1)

by Tina Ness

  I love this feeling, the pure, raw, and ravishing emotion of a first kiss. The intenseness of being pinned against his truck and the twisted excitement of feeling unable to escape cause an almost primal desire to tighten like a fist within my belly. His teeth lightly graze my bottom lip, making me tremble with arousal.

  I never want this kiss to end, but as several people came around the corner and into the lot, Marshall looks over at them and quickly turns his face away from both me and the group. He pushes away from me like he was just caught doing something he shouldn’t. He motions me to get in and quickly makes his way over to his door. He gets into the truck, and instead of leaning over to continue with our kiss like I’d hoped, he puts the truck in gear.

  The quiet drive back to my place leaves my mind whirling with worry. I think I may have done something wrong. What if I was a horrible kisser? I look over at him several times, but he stares straight ahead. I don’t know what to say. The drive to my townhouse is short, but the silence makes it feel long. Instead of dropping me off on the other side of the road, Marshall turns his truck around to drop me off at the curbside. I move slowly to grab my purse off the truck floor, hoping he will say something, do something, at least look at me.

  Sitting back in my seat, I sigh. “I had a great time tonight. Thank you for taking me out.” I see him swallow hard. His eyes are still straight ahead. Moving slowly, I reach for the door handle and make my way out of the truck. With one more look his way, I shut the truck door and turn to walk to the house. Tears threaten my eyes as I walk alone to my front door. Was he embarrassed to be seen kissing me? Perhaps someone in the group is one of his booty calls. How silly of me to feel like crying. It was one date, one kiss. What did I think was going to happen?

  Digging for my keys in my purse, I hear his truck door close and his footsteps nearing me.

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth.” He touches my arm. “It’s just not the best idea for me to date right now.”

  Wait a minute. Isn’t this just another fling for him? I know I felt like there was more. Could he have felt the same? I look at him. I work hard not to blink, knowing the moisture building in my eyes will soon become falling tears that I have no desire for him to see.

  “It was nothing but drinks and good conversation. No need to apologize.” I turn back toward the door, feeling a pang of heartbreak at the thought of tonight being nothing to him, not even worthy of a one-night stand. It didn’t feel like nothing to me.

  “Good night, Elizabeth.”

  “See you around,” I say and quickly close the door before he says another word or I wind up crying and making a complete fool of myself.

  Every inch of me shudders as I struggle to maintain the little composure I have as I turn to face my living room. My purse slides down my arm, past my fingertips, and onto the tile with a thud. How could you have been so stupid, thinking he could be actually attracted to you? The cool metal door touches the backs of my exposed shoulder blades as I lean back against it. Tears cascade down my cheeks as I slowly give way to the weakness I feel in my knees. Sinking slowly down the door, the pain, deceit, and rejection I knew were inevitable fight their way to the surface. A quiet sob escapes from deep in my throat as my bottom sinks down onto the smooth tile. I’m once again left alone and broken, unworthy of even a fling.

  Chapter 7

  Sunday, May 23

  It seemed so easy, almost natural, to be near him last night, after all the blubbering I’d done a few days ago. He made it so easy for me to relax. No way could I have mistaken the fire I’d seen in his eyes right before we shared that kiss, that kiss I could never have imagined, not even in my wildest dreams. And I, Elizabeth Murphy, have plenty of over-the-top ideas in my creative head. Something in me stirred in the past few months. I hardly feel like the same person I was when I was with Gavin. Certainly, Krystal’s confidence, strength, and ability to bounce back from such heartbreak had a hand in lighting a fire within me.

  ***

  Lakeside Trail isn’t as warm as I’d hoped, and the sky is threatening me with rain. Screw it, I tell myself. I clench my teeth and head to the pavement. Every muscle is tense with frustration as I take off in a full-on run. My heart races much faster than I know is smart. However, my need for some release other the sexual kind feels borderline life-and-death. My steps are heavy as I continue my ridiculous pace. The trees seem to follow me in a violent motion, which should make me worry about getting too far away from my car in case the weather takes a turn for the worse. But I ignore my inner voice and keep on running.

  I’ve never run this far before. I usually turn around and head back at about the mile-and-a-half point, and by then, my head is clear of thoughts, just me and the pavement. Today, I can’t seem to shut my mind up. Once I have been gasping for air long enough, I slow down to a walk and turn around. The puddles beneath my feet show me a vivid reflection of a woman who had been content in a loveless relationship for the sake of comfort and stability. A woman who has settled for a stable job not requiring her to take any chances. A woman too scared to pursue her passion of interior design. A woman who never feeds her desire to see the world, telling herself it’s about saving money for her own business when she knows a loan would be easy to acquire with her credit score. A woman who knows she deserves better, deserves more in her life and, most importantly, deserves a life with a man who feels as much desire and passion for her as she feels for him. A woman who is worth more than a booty call but is willing to be just that to get close to a man she has no potential future with.

  Once I’ve washed off yesterday’s heartache and this morning’s run, I decide I’m not going to give up on this until I have more answers. The old me would have tucked her tail between her legs and run away, but I don’t wish to be her anymore. I want to be more like Krystal, the woman who knows what she wants and will stop at nothing until she gets it. I know I need to talk to Marshall, and since he checks out tomorrow, it needs to be tonight. I just pray that I won’t chicken out after dinner at my parents’ and head home instead of going to Beacon Pointe.

  My parents’ lawn is as pristine as they come. Not a weed to be found. Picture-perfect yellow violets, pink primrose, and purple tulips are meticulously planted with later-blooming perennials around every inch of the front porch. My father loves the days he can spend time in the yard, then grab his old, worn-out lawn chair—one of those old-school folding metal ones with a woven seat—and sit and drink a beer while he admires his work on the outer side of the garage.

  “Hey there, love bug,” he says as I make my way out of my car. “How’s the lawn looking?” It’s his usual question whenever I stop by.

  “Well, Dad, it’s not bad. Just a few weeds caught my eye as I pulled in.”

  He shoots me a knowing smile as he rises from his chair and scoops me up in a big bear hug. My dad is a banker, but you’d never guess he sits at a desk all day by his size. Standing over six feet tall with a stocky, muscular build, he may be pegged as a physical labor kind of guy.

  “Does Mom need some help with dinner?”

  “She’s got lasagna in the oven, and the salad is already made. Sit and have a beer with me,” he demands, already grabbing a chair.

  My father’s long workbench is in perfect order. Tools hang on the wall in neat, largest-to-smallest rows, and on the post at the end, next to the fridge, hangs the bear-face bottle opener, a Christmas gift from Rose and me nearly twenty years ago. The garage fridge is fully stocked. I grab a beer and pop the top off with the bear’s fangs, which makes me smile like it does every time. The bottle cap tings as it lands in the bucket below.

  “The garden looks beautiful, Dad,” I say as I take a seat.

  “What about my lawn?”

  “Oh, and of course the lawn too,” I say, patting his arm.

  We sit and silently admire the garden for a while before he asks, “So how’s that job of yours going?”

  “Fine, Dad,” I say, as that familiar regret boils up in my throat.r />
  “They still have you working those crazy overnight shifts?”

  “No, Dad, they haven’t for a while, not since I became manager three years ago.” I know my father is digging, trying to get me to bring up my interior design business plans.

  “Well, good. Those overnight shifts can really wear you out. You’re still young, though. You can handle anything thrown your way. Plus you’re a Murphy. Hard work is in your blood.”

  Wow, he’s really laying it on me today. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad.”

  “Rose said their living room is coming together great. She’s so excited.”

  “Good to hear,” I say, still unable to let him get me to bring up leaving my job at Beacon.

  I love that my family is so supportive of my job as a designer, but I can’t bear to tell them that my fear of failing is holding me back. That I have never felt worthy of success. That every ounce of confidence I may have ever had was stripped from me, piece by piece, all through high school. That my poor grades and living in the shadow of my smart, beautiful, successful sister had taken it all from me. Tanner didn’t want me, Gavin didn’t want me, and now Marshall doesn’t even deem me good enough for a one-night stand. What good is a successful career when you’re bound to be alone forever?

  “You’ve got to be itching to do more design jobs.”

  “Well, Dad, I actually have an appointment in two weeks to meet the owners of a club that will be opening up in Hermantown. I’m going to see the building, take measurements, and hear about their vision for the club. If all goes well, I will have two weeks to come up with a design presentation.” I hadn’t planned to tell my family this news yet—I only just spoke with the owners this morning after answering the ad Rose had given me. But maybe if they feel like things are going well for me, they will stay off my back during dinner tonight, then I can focus on keeping myself convinced that I have to speak with Marshall tonight.

  Hell, I’m used to rejection. What’s another one going to matter? I just need to know why he blew me off and acted embarrassed to be seen with me, then maybe I can just let this fantasy of being with Marshall go for my own good.

  “That’s great news, Liz. Wait until your mother hears this. It’s time for you to pursue your dreams, sweetheart. I know I’m stingy with money, but if you need Mom and me to back you up financially, I want you to know that we will. We want what’s best for you.”

  I can hardly believe my ears! My dad has never offered money. “Wow, thanks, Dad.”

  My eyes well up with tears, but I remain quiet, sipping at my beer until Rose and Derek come walking up the driveway and we head in for dinner.

  Sunday dinner at my parents’ house, as always, is a great distraction from the world, the lame reality that is my life. After the hubbub my news creates wears off, it’s Rose and Derek’s wedding that’s the main topic of conversation, which is fine with me. I really don’t care to answer the “meet anyone yet, Elizabeth?” question or hear the “I know who you should go out with” suggestions. My reply is always the same: “I’m fine and happy to be single for a while.” Which, in fact, is not true, and I’m sure they know it too. Though no one ever said it, I never sensed that they really cared much for Gavin. Most Sundays, he would have some lame excuse for why he couldn’t go to dinner, which I was usually relieved about since he had nothing in common with anyone in my family and rarely added anything to our conversations.

  My mind wanders to Marshall, our kiss, and what I’m going to say to him tonight. What if he has company when I show up at his room? Am I crazy to just show up uninvited? I want to be more than a one-night stand, but do I have the courage to walk away if that’s all this is?

  Rose notices me daydreaming. “So how was your date with the guy from the hotel?”

  I shoot her an angry scowl. “Fine.”

  Rose covers her mouth to hide her grin.

  “You had a date?” My mom’s face brightens.

  Rose gives me an impish grin and mouths, “Sorry,” even though I know she doesn’t mean it. She, too, is excited to see me dating.

  “Yes, Mom. I had a date this week. Two, actually,” I tell her, knowing this information will overjoy her. “Don’t be too quick to marry me off yet, though.”

  “Well, you think you’ll see either of them again?” She gets up and starts to clear the table, acting like it’s no big deal.

  “Perhaps,” I tell her with a smile, again, for her benefit.

  Chapter 8

  I make it past the front desk unscathed. Melissa, whom I don’t know well, has tonight’s shift and thankfully doesn’t ask why I’m here. She just gives me wave and goes about her business. Krystal’s or Kiki’s questions as to why I’m here may have caused my courage to waiver.

  My hands are shaking and my throat is scratchy and dry. My knuckles rap the door softly. I wait, but nothing. I rap again, louder this time. I begin to worry I won’t get to see him or talk to him before he heads back home tomorrow. And I don’t know when he will be back again. Damn, why on earth hadn’t I looked at the books to find out? I know why: because I would have chickened out.

  The door opens to a surprised-looking Marshall, causing me to take a step back.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come,” I say as I begin to step sideways.

  “No, Elizabeth, please don’t go.” He reaches out to grab my arm. “I’ve been considering stopping by your place all day.”

  “Well, why didn’t you then?” The harshness of my question surprises us both.

  “Please come in, and let’s talk.”

  He directs me to have a seat upon the sofa and sits down next to me.

  “I want to apologize for last night. I know I acted strange. I haven’t dated in awhile, and I guess I just … well, to be honest, I sort of panicked.”

  I’m not sure what surprises me more, that he claims he hasn’t dated in a long time or that he would ever panic. Honesty is not something I’m familiar with. I don’t think Gavin was honest with me (or himself) the whole time we were together. How do I know Marshall’s not just saying this to get what he wants?

  “Well, I figure it was someone you saw in the parking lot that made you act so weird, like you didn’t want to be seen with me. Someone like a girlfriend or …” I stop myself from saying “wife,” afraid if I say it, it might make it true somehow.

  “I suppose that’s how it looked.” He pauses as if to choose his words carefully. “The sister of someone from my past was in the group passing by, and I”—again he carefully searches for his words—“I wasn’t prepared to have her see me … in that way.”

  “What? Having a great time with someone? Do you still have feelings for this girl? Is that it?”

  “It’s kind of complicated, Elizabeth. I will always have feelings for her, but it’s … over and will remain so.”

  “I’m sorry, Marshall,” I say, holding my hands up. “It’s really not my business.” I suddenly feel ridiculous for coming, for having an exchange that sounds a bit more like a conversation between two people who have been dating for a while. It was one date. I’m acting nuts.

  “Beth.” He leans forward and places a warm hand on my cheek, turning my face to meet his. “I need to move on, and I really would like to get to know you better.”

  Beth. No one has ever called me Beth, and I have to say, I love how it sounds coming from his lips.

  He tips my chin and looks into my eyes. “It’s in my past, and I’m hoping my future has a beautiful redhead in it. It’s been a really long time since I felt this way about anyone.”

  I’m a sucker for his words, wanting like hell to believe them. How can I let myself do this again? I have believed kind words from Tanner and Gavin, and they turned out to be just that—words—empty promises leading to a broken heart. Can I really let myself believe him? I surely want to.

  His lips meet mine, and I don’t pull away, even though my subconscious is barking at me to do so. I want so much for every bit of this, kissi
ng Marshall, having him look into my eyes the way he does with that deep-seated fire, and having him care for me the way he did on Lakeside Trail.

  Our kiss only lasts a few seconds this time, much to my disappointment. What this man does to me when I’m near him makes me forget to protect my heart, makes me forget that it will most likely be broken. I want him. I want him so badly in that moment that I don’t even care if my integrity is being compromised.

  “When do you leave for Minneapolis?” I say, shaking myself back to the moment.

  “I have a morning meeting here at nine, and I will take off from there.”

  “Oh,” I say, with obvious disappointment in my tone.

  “I’ll be back again in less than two weeks, but I do have twelve hours before my meeting. We could use some of that time to get to know each other.”

  My heart leaps into my throat. “What did you have in mind?” I sputter nervously.

  Marshall stands and reaches for my hand, pulling me up from the bed. I wonder if he will suggest we get into the Jacuzzi like he had the other night with Miss Mile-Long Legs and the one in his bed. Or will he just get right to it here and now? His eyes look me over briefly. He begins to speak, but a reluctant sigh leaves his smiling lips instead. I long to know what he’s thinking. His grip tightens on my hand as he pulls me in, again meeting my lips with his. Our kiss is deeper this time, his tongue dancing with mine. He stops and rests his forehead on mine. Our heavy breathing is the only sound in the room for several long moments before he suggests we head out onto the balcony.

  The night is calm, and the moon is nothing but a slit, making the stars appear extra bright. We each take a seat on the cushioned bench. Marshall sits sideways facing me, resting his elbow on the back of the bench. “I want you to know that I had a really good time last night.”