It Will Always Be You (You Series Book 1)

by Tina Ness

  I didn’t want to agree to let it go last night. I want to know as much as I can about him, but I agreed—knowing it was temporary—that I would bring it up again. At that moment, I would have done just about anything to take away the pain that I had reawakened in his eyes, pain that only minutes before had been seemingly absent.

  I surprise myself by being twenty minutes early to Lake Street Café for my meeting with Max. I promised myself that the new me, the one with her dream job, the new pearl-colored Cadillac Escalade, the gorgeous lake home, the perfect husband, and two of the most beautiful well-behaved little kids would never be late. So at least prompt is a start. Hopefully, with Max’s help, the job will be first. The car may be mine someday if I work really hard, which I know I can do. The husband, kids, and home are highly unlikely for the unlovable, but a girl can dream.

  I order a black coffee; my high-maintenance soy latte just doesn’t feel right to me today. I need to do anything I can to keep Marshall from popping up in mind while talking business. I take a seat near the front window and pull out my tablet to show Max the images of the building for the new club when he gets here. I open a new tab to pull up my e-mail while I wait. As usual, the local news pops up on my main screen, a setting I keep telling myself to change. I tap the e-mail button in the corner, and just before the screen changes, I catch a glimpse of the face of my attacker, a mug shot. My stomach twists as I decide whether it was real. Should I arrow back? Can I possibly ignore this?

  “Liz?”

  I jump at the sound of my name.

  “Liz, are you all right?”

  I look up at Max standing next to me.

  “I said your name a few times, and you didn’t answer.”

  I swallow back the bile rising in my throat. “Oh, sorry, Max. I must have zoned out.” I hit the X to close my e-mail. “I started a lunch tab, Max, so please go up and get whatever you want to drink and something to eat before we get started.”

  He thanks me and heads to the counter. I hurry and pull up nightclub images in a new tab, eager to get back into the work zone. I tell myself it was just in my mind.

  Max takes a seat while I’m ogling an image of a long W-shaped yellow nightclub sofa with chaise lounges on both ends. It’s perfect. I franticly go back to the building images, anxious to keep my head in the business game. I begin to show Max what we will hopefully be working with. I get to the image of the large brick wall and proceed to share my plans for the wall art and club sign idea: two illuminated martini glasses and a standout metal sign with the club name.

  “This is where you come in, Max. I would want you to do some art pieces based around illuminated cocktails and martinis in bright colors with a rich black background.”

  Max’s eyes light up as I speak, and I can tell he wants this job almost as much as I do. Sensing his intrigue, I can’t help but share with him the sofa image I’d found and fill him in on a few of the other design element images I have in my nightclub presentation file. Even though they don’t really involve Max, he seems fascinated. It feels good to have someone get excited about my ideas. The day before my big meeting, the boost in confidence doesn’t hurt, either. It gives me just what I need to put in my two-week notice at work, something I should have done yesterday on my first day back.

  Our meeting goes longer than I’d intended, but I’m glad that I have to head straight to work when we leave the café; I have no time to revisit the image I saw—or at least I think I saw—come up on my screen today.

  I immediately go to Kiki’s office, knowing she will be in today to meet with a new lawn care service, so I can give her my news. She tells me she knew it was coming and that she will be sad to see me go, but she knows it’s what I need to do. She also asks me if I feel like Krystal would be a good manager. I tell her I do. As much as I love my dear friend, if I had been asked this question before her divorce from Ross, the loss of her father, and her mother’s meltdown, it would have been hard, but I would have had to say no, or at least a weak maybe. All of Krystal’s tragedies seem to have changed her, grounded her. This management position is just what she needs.

  Marshall stops in at the front desk this afternoon, insisting that he cook me dinner tonight. I give him my house key since I will be off later than him.

  He cooks me dinner all right, a rosemary lemon chicken, roasted potatoes, and cranberry spinach salad, all delicious—at least the little I ate of it; we couldn’t wait to get our hands on each other and didn’t even make it to the bedroom until we had exhausted ourselves in every other room.

  ***

  Wednesday, June 23

  You know when you get that feeling of being certain that something will happen, something is going to go in your favor? Well, that is how I feel as I walk into the old brick grocery store for my meeting.

  The future nightclub owners, Vince and Melanie, were about as easygoing and laid back as they come, not what I expected from two new business owners with a deadline. If I had to guess, I’d say they must be in their late thirties. I decide right away that I like them. They greet me with firm handshakes and smiles that are joyful and sincere. I envy the way Vince kindly escorts Melanie by lovingly putting his hand on her lower back. It is clear in seconds the two adore each other, something I could only hope to have some day. Something I wish with every ounce of my being that I could have with Marshall.

  I lay out my design portfolio with the images Max had taken of Beacon Pointe, Aunt Margaret’s den, my bedroom, and my sister’s new living room. I sit back as they look around, anxious for them to get to the last few pages. I had decided to add a few of my ideas for the new club design just this morning. After speaking with Max yesterday and seeing how interested he was in my ideas, I couldn’t resist the urge to add them, even though the only requirement was that I show the owners my past work. I’d added the amazing sofa with tufted cushions and sleek curves that seats up to fifteen people with chaise lounges at each end with a soft teal-green fabric swatch next to it. I had printed the image of the large brick wall and drew up (to the best of my abilities) my martini glasses with bright liquid pouring into them. I had created standout club logo design idea elements. And even though I was unsure of the whole layout of the future club, I had added a basic floor plan layout with pops of color that were sure to catch their eyes.

  My heart races as they turn to the first page of my design. They both stare silently at the page, then the second one, for what feels like forever before they look at each other. I feel my face flush. I worry they don’t approve. The fear I may not get my dream job sets in. Maybe I jumped the gun when I quit my job at Beacon.

  “I really like what I see here,” says Melanie, “and from the look on Vince’s face, I can tell he agrees.”

  “I would love to see more,” says Vince while he rises to his feet. “We are hoping to see plans from two or three designers; we will pay you for your time, so if you’re interested, we have the floor layout and measurements for you.” He turns to the desk behind him, then hands me a large rolled-up poster-sized tube.

  “I would love the opportunity” I say, taking the tube from Vince.

  “We look forward to seeing your design. Will two weeks be enough time for you?” asks Melanie.

  I assure her it will.

  Wednesday night for Marshall and me is much of the same. We are unable to look at each other without wanting to tear into one another like two savages, but we do manage to talk about work for a few minutes. I tell him how it had gone with Max yesterday, and for a second, I almost tell him about my attacker’s face popping up on my screen before Max showed up. But I am still afraid I imagined it and that he might think I’m crazy. I don’t want him to know I am too afraid to even look and see if I am right or not. Before we go to sleep, we promise to talk more tomorrow since neither of us has to work late.

  ***

  Thursday, June 24

  I get home just after two o’clock, and Marshall is waiting by his truck. Just the sight of the dark hair my
fingers had been wrapped in this morning—while that magnificent mouth of his explored every inch me—has me panting in my driver’s seat. He meets me as I open my door and takes my hand to help me out.

  “How was your day?” he asks.

  “Great. And yours?” I look up into his beaming eyes staring intently at me. He keeps quiet and just holds his eyes with mine. “What?” I ask, feeling my face flush. Will he ever quit affecting me this way?

  “Mmm,” he moans, pulling me into him. “I really like that color on you.” He laughs and I bury my face in his chest. “This is what you do to me, Beth,” he says as he pushes himself up to me, his warmth and hardness pressing firm against my belly.

  The new, braver, bolder me shows up and takes her face out of Marshall’s chest. “If you only knew what you are doing to me right now.” I lick my bottom lip, then bite at it innocently.

  Within seconds, he has me backed up, tucked between him and my open car door. His mouth is on mine and his hand disappears into my black work pants and deep down into my panties. I gasp, and he bites down on the lower lip I’d moments ago used to get him going. His fingers dip into my sex, and he moans as he does it.

  “You weren’t kidding,” he whispers in my ear. I’m surprised as he withdraws his hand since it had only touched me a moment. Seeing my surprise, he grins devilishly at me, then brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks one, then the other. “What I’m doing to you right now tastes delicious.”

  My knees feel like limp noodles. This is the single, most sexy thing I have ever experienced.

  He wraps his arms around my waist and leans in. “We’ll have to finish this later, Beth. There’s somewhere I want to take you.”

  I look up at him, and there’s no doubt that disappointment has wiped my face clean of any passion I’d felt just seconds ago.

  He laughs. “Sorry, baby. I just really want to get going. Why don’t you go in and change. I have a day to make up for, and I’d like to have time to do it.”

  “You’re such a damn tease.” I smack his arm. I begin to walk to my front door but turn on my heel. “I will get you for this.” I do my best not to smirk as I try to look angry, but I don’t think I succeeded. He’s laughing again.

  “On second thought, let’s make this a total adventure. Pack an overnight bag,” he tells me. “I’ll be back in an hour. I need to go get a few things. Pack tennis shoes, and you may want a sweatshirt too.”

  I try to pack light, but since I don’t know where we’re going, it’s a hard task. I don’t own any cute pajamas, so at least that was easy. My yoga pants and Zac Brown Band T-shirt will have to do. I take a cool shower to ease my overstimulated body, attempting to make every warm, pulsing part of me ready for our evening.

  I smile as I come out the door an hour later wearing my favorite cutoff shorts, the ones I wore last time we were supposed to have our day together, the first time we’d had sex, the night he left me alone, the night I don’t want to think about right now. That conversation can wait.

  As I reach him, he’s shaking his head. “Shit, woman, you know wearing those shorts may just ruin my PG-rated plans for tonight.”

  “PG-rated plans?” I laugh, knowing we have not done anything PG since our first date, and even that is debatable since the sexual tension was evident. There has been nothing PG about anything I’ve felt or desired from him since the first time I saw him over two years ago. He licked the indication of my yearning for him from his fingers only an hour ago. We don’t do PG. I don’t think we have it in us.

  “Challenge accepted,” I say, walking past him to the truck with an exaggerated booty rock.

  Chapter 22

  As I get into Marshall’s truck, he runs his hand up my inner thigh and into my shorts, just grazing the edge of my panties. I have a seat, then turn to him.

  “That was hardly PG. Looks like I’m in the lead.”

  “You really want to play this game, huh?” His look of amusement makes me momentarily want to retreat, to instead give in to his every advance, but I stay strong.

  I lean forward, hoping to give him a clear view down my V-neck T-shirt. “I don’t like to lose, Marshall. Murphys are raised to win games. Challenge accepted,” I say and then bite at my lip, knowing now just what it does to him but also knowing damn well that he will not be able to call it anything but PG.

  “You don’t know who you’re messing with, Beth.” He winks and shuts my door after I sit back.

  I’m staring straight ahead as he rounds the truck, thinking of how he’s right. I don’t know who I’m messing with. I know so little about him. Maybe this PG game can let us finally get to know each other better. I realize how little I know about myself in this moment too, because I feel like I’m falling for him, and you can’t feel something like that for someone you know so little about. But I know I will fall for him; it’s what I do. Plus he will be done with me sooner than even he knows, and I’m prepared to read the signs and walk away this time, before he gets a chance to be the one to leave. At least that’s what I keep telling myself I’ll do.

  We head southeast toward Wisconsin. Marshall looks down at a piece of paper in his hand periodically over the next half hour. I itch to know what’s written on that paper, but I let him do his thing. We pull into Amnicon Falls State Park and stop in front of the main office. I haven’t been here in years.

  I remember hiking the trails as a kid and taking all kinds of pictures of the waterfalls on one of our family trips. This was as extravagant as our family trips got. I do recall liking it here a lot and am eager to see the falls again, only this time with Marshall.

  I wonder which of the local hotels he has chosen for us. There are several in town nearby. Rose and I had begged to stay at a hotel as kids so we could swim in the pool. That’s another thing I have not done much of, staying in hotels, even though I work in one.

  Marshall steps out of the truck. “Hang here. I’ll be right back.” He comes back minutes later, grinning like a kid. “Have you ever been here before, Beth?”

  “We came here when I was a kid. You?”

  “No. Aubrey told me about this place. She and her husband, Rich, used to come here for some alone time to get a break from the kids. They say it’s their favorite place.”

  “They used to come here? They don’t anymore?”

  I watch as he takes a deep breath. His cheek twitches like he is searching for the right answer. “My wife, Sarah, used to insist on taking my nieces Emma and Kayla so Aubrey and Rich could get a weekend away. Rich works a lot.” He pauses again. “I have offered to take them several times since Sarah passed away, but I guess it just hasn’t worked out.”

  The air in the truck begins to feel heavy. I can’t help but want to just ignore anything that puts pain into those pale-blue eyes, but I want to know him. I want to know more about him, even if this temporary relationship is bound to be doomed.

  “Your wife was pretty amazing, huh?” I swallow back the twinge of jealousy, feeling sick for even feeling that way toward a woman whose life had been taken from her.

  “Yeah, she was. Her death has been pretty hard on Aubrey. They were really close.”

  Here’s that guilt for being upset that he’d chosen Aubrey over me that day coming back. I can’t begin to understand the magnitude of their loss.

  “You and Aubrey are pretty close, huh?”

  “Yeah, we are. She’s been through a lot in her life.”

  I begin to wonder why she is the one who has been through so much when it’s Marshall who lost his wife and was left alone. Aubrey has her husband and kids. It doesn’t seem he is going to offer any more on his sister, so I continue to try to learn more about his life. “How about your other siblings?”

  “My older brother, Lance, lives in California. He moved out there with my mom when I was five, so I really only grew up seeing him in the summer when Aubrey and I would go and visit. My stepsister, Eva, is great. We’ve always been pretty close. She and Aubrey are the same age, o
nly two years older than me. Her little guy, Dustin, will melt your heart. Well, so would those nieces of mine.”

  He so clearly adores his nieces and nephew. His sisters are obviously very important to him too. Does this man have any faults? Other than the fact that he can never love me.

  “How about your mom?”

  He clears his throat, and I can feel the pain as he speaks. “My stepmom, Maureen, is who I call Mom. She is much more a mother to me than my real mom has ever been.”

  “I’m sorry, Marshall.”

  “No need to be sorry. I’m lucky to have my Minnesota family.”

  “Spending summers in California must have been nice, though,” I say, aware of the fact that I have never been anywhere.

  “Surfing was fun. What’s your family like?”

  He must not want to talk about California life. I sink a little deeper into my seat as he puts the truck in gear. My dull upbringing, married parents, and uneventful past will either bore him or make him wonder why he is even with me.

  “My family’s great, not much to tell there. My dad’s a bank vice president, and Mom works at an antique store.”

  Instead of turning toward the falls, Marshall turns toward the campsites.

  “Wrong way,” I tell him.

  Marshall takes my hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. “How would you feel about camping here tonight?”

  I look over at him, a bit stunned. I would have bet he’d have gone with one of the local hotels instead. The man is used to the penthouse suite.

  I laugh. “It’s fine with me, but you only told me to pack a bag. We might need some of the camping essentials.”

  “You just leave that to me,” he says, squeezing my hand.

  “Okay, Grizzly Adams.”

  “What, you don’t take me for the strapping outdoorsy type?” He grins at me before pulling into a campsite set deeper in the woods than the others we’d passed.