Who You Least Expect

by Lydia Rowan

  But the rest of her, the part that she wished was all of her, if only to silence the little voice inside her head that said she didn’t have to be bound by her last name and past, not even here in Thornehill Springs, was relieved he was gone. Cody tested her resolve in a way that no one else ever had and time with him, even in these public surroundings, would lead to ruin. So when she glanced around the hall and confirmed that he was indeed gone, she let out a sigh and smiled, happy to have at least some of the tension relieved.

  As she walked out of the hall, she tried to reflect on the good things that had happened today. It seemed every person in Thornehill Springs had made it out to the wedding, and as complicated as her feelings about this town were, sharing in Verna’s special day had been worth the agitation. Besides, she was an adult now, one who’d made a life for herself. Of course, it hadn’t worked out as she’d planned, and she had come home, bent but not entirely broken. But nobody in town needed to know that and she didn’t need to bow to the pressure to come clean. As far as they were concerned, she’d just come home like so many others did. And she wasn’t the same person they’d known. Her past didn’t matter, and she wouldn’t let these people, this place, control her. Not anymore.

  She was exhilarated by her resolution and by the opportunity it presented. The new Blakely Bishop didn’t care what other people thought of her or who she chose to spend time with. Which meant there was no reason that Cody Sommers couldn’t, temporarily anyway, be hers.

  Chapter Two

  Cody was bored. He glanced over at the smoking-hot brunette he’d hooked up with—eight weeks? No, twelve weeks ago—and turned back to the pool table.

  Very bored.

  He appreciated some of the charms small-town living offered, but there was definitely a downside. Sure, Thornehill was a nice sleepy little place to rest and relax, but he’d made his way through most of the available locals and was loath to indulge in repeats. It gave them the wrong impression, made some of them think that there could be something permanent, and he couldn’t have that.

  But maybe… He glanced at the brunette again as she was doing her best to pretend that she was ignoring him while at the same time making it clear that she was waiting for him to come over. He gave a mental shrug. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  Decided, he made one step toward the brunette and then stopped when the door to Mason’s, the only marginally adult establishment in the entire town, opened, bringing in an unexpected guest.

  Blakely Bishop.

  His friend Joe’s happiness aside, she had been, by far, the best part of the wedding-related festivities. She was beautiful, her prickly, sometimes icy demeanor interesting, and those moments when she loosened the tight reins of her control and let him see the woman inside were something he craved.

  But most importantly, she was different, challenging. And a challenge was something he’d never been able to resist.

  She hadn’t spotted him yet, so he watched as she looked around the bar, her brown eyes seeking something, though he wasn’t sure what. When her gaze landed on him, he shot her his cockiest smile and laughed out loud at the disapproving lift of her eyebrow. But she walked toward him and in an instant, the fire in his blood was stoked.

  When she stopped in front of him, they stood, silent, her assessing him as openly as he did her. She looked as beautiful and perfect as always, her hair flowing around her shoulders and framing her face, the red of her blouse highlighting the honeyed tone of her skin, the dark denim jeans cupping her ass in a way that made him jealous.

  “Come to play some pool, Blake?” he finally asked.

  “It’s Blakely. And I don’t play games.”

  The words were cold, the delivery nonchalant, but he didn’t need to be a psychologist like Poole to know a loaded statement when he heard one. Despite what she said, Blakely was in the mood to play, and so was he.

  “But games can be fun,” he said, and he was again treated to a reproving lift of the brow.

  “Maybe for some people, but not for me,” she said.

  Instead of responding, he inclined his head toward an open table in the back and through silent agreement, they headed to it. When they’d settled, he said, “So if you don’t play games, how do you amuse yourself?”

  It was her turn not to respond. She broke his gaze and quickly swept the room with her eyes. Seemingly satisfied with what she saw, she turned back to him. “Cody,” she said, spearing him with her eyes again.

  “Yes?”

  “We both know where this is headed, so let’s cut to the chase. I dislike wasting time on meaningless flirting or idle chatter.”

  He hadn’t expected that; seemed Blakely Bishop was full of surprises, another point in her favor. Still, he wouldn’t relent so easily.

  “I enjoy flirting and idle chatter.”

  “Well, then, maybe you aren’t the man I thought you were. Or the man I’m looking for,” she said, again glancing around the bar but this time as if she were searching for a different companion.

  Not on his watch. The vehemence of the thought took him off guard, but he didn’t try to stop it. Blakely had said she didn’t like games but that clearly wasn’t the case. And she might not know it yet, but she’d only be playing them with him.

  “I’m exactly the man you’re looking for,” he said.

  “Well, then, what are we waiting for?” she asked, eyes narrowing with incredulity.

  “Blake, I wouldn’t want you to think I’m easy.” He flashed another smile.

  “I know you’re easy, and today, I am, too,” she said without pause.

  “You wound me, Ms. Bishop,” he said, turning his mouth down.

  She scoffed. “Unlikely.”

  He laughed, and she smiled at him, though the expression appeared grudging at best.

  “What gives you the idea that I’m a man of looser morals?” he asked a moment later.

  “You’ve made quite a name for yourself around here. From what I hear, you’re working your way through the single ladies in town alphabetically.”

  A slight exaggeration but Cody still felt compelled to defend himself.

  “That’s not entirely accurate,” he said, to which she smiled. “And I hope you don’t pay heed to gossip.”

  “It can be useful, but no. It’s like the telephone game. Who knows what the truth is after it’s passed around from fifty people before it gets to you?”

  “Exactly. And for the record, I’m going numerically, oldest to youngest.”

  She laughed out loud, her face transforming with her humor and making her even more beautiful.

  “In that case, you would have gotten to me sooner rather than later, but I’m happy to save you a little time.”

  “Oh, it would have been sooner.”

  “Well, then, let’s go,” she said, making as if to stand.

  “But not today.”

  She gave him the cutest frown and then stared at him unblinking. “So from the sound of that statement, I’m guessing you won’t take me to your house and let me fuck your brains out?”

  “Afraid not, Ms. Bishop,” he said without missing a beat, though he was still surprised and intrigued by her forwardness. “Like I said, you won’t respect me if I don’t make you work for it.”

  She stopped again, a small smile that was a mix of respect and annoyance playing at the corners of her lips. “Your choice. But this is a one-time invitation. It won’t be extended again,” she said, and then she took a sip of the water the waitress had left, watching him intently and waiting for his response.

  The desire in her eyes, the way the light made her lips, wet with the remnants of her drink, shine had him instantly hard and reconsidering his stance. It’d be so easy and oh so fun to take her up on her offer, and he had more than half a mind to whisk her out of here right now.

  But he held off, instinct telling him she’d be more than worth the wait, and that some quickie fuck that she would probably regret tomorrow wouldn’t be nearly enough
of Blakely Bishop.

  “I think I’ll be able to change your mind. Why don’t you stay awhile and let me try?” he said.

  “That’s highly unlikely,” she responded.

  “Ms. Bishop, I do so love a challenge,” he said.

  “Your loss. But I guess I can stick around since I don’t have anything better to do.”

  “If I were a weaker man, you’d hurt my feelings,” he said.

  “Well, lucky for you, you aren’t a weaker man.”

  He laughed and out of the corner of his eye noticed that one of the pool tables had emptied, so he stood and headed toward it.

  “I told you I don’t play games,” she said, though she’d followed him.

  “Humor me,” he responded.

  “I’ll do my best,” she said as she reached for a stick. “Ladies first?”

  “Always,” he said suggestively.

  She let out a scoff that was more of a chuckle and then polished her stick as he set the balls.

  “Why is it you don’t play games?” he asked.

  She stalked around the table, face rigid with her intense expression, and examined the balls from every angle.

  “Well,” she said after she’d taken her first shot, one that had landed five balls. “I’m a sore loser.”

  As she spoke, she again moved around the table and then quickly made three more shots, sinking multiple balls with each, which only left the eight ball.

  “And when I win,” she said as she leaned forward to line up her final shot, one that she sank with the same ease as she had the others, “I gloat.”

  One eyebrow quirked, she handed him the pool stick, a victorious little smile playing on her face. He strode toward her, lifting a corner of his mouth when she didn’t even flinch.

  “Trust me. There are some games that everyone can win,” he whispered huskily.

  “You’ll have to try and convince me,” she replied, eyes alight.

  ••••

  Blakely stood at her front door facing Cody. They’d played three more games of pool, two of which she’d won, a fact that she’d been happy to remind him of during the entire walk home. He’d taken her teasing in stride, his easy laugh confirming her initial impression that Cody didn’t take himself too seriously. The entire evening had been more pleasurable than any she could recall, made only more so by the relaxed conversation and the feel of Cody’s hands on her. It hadn’t been much, a brush of her hair, their fingers grazing one another’s as they’d talked, but the effect had been explosive. And now, her body screamed for his touch: her nipples had perked and pulled tight and her core throbbed with the need to play out her deepest, dirtiest fantasies with him.

  In fact, she wanted him so badly, she almost had to bite her tongue to keep from repeating her offer. It probably wasn’t necessary anyway. She knew that her burning desire for him was apparent in the way she leaned toward him. And she knew she wasn’t alone. Cody’s eyes glittered with his own desire, intense and arousing.

  “Good night, Cody.”

  The words, the way she’d said them, were as much of an invitation as her earlier offer had been, and the heat that had his eyes going so dark they were almost black made her heart pound and her hips shift in anticipation of what was to come. He eased forward, obliterating their height difference, his lips so close to hers that with the slightest shift of her head, she would bring them together in the kiss she knew they both wanted. She was anxious, edgy for the kiss that she knew would relieve at least some of the tension that arced between them. He moved, his face now so close that she could feel the warm tickle of his breath, see his pulse beating at his neck.

  “Good night, Ms. Bishop,” he said softly, the brush of his words against her lips making her choke out a sigh.

  And then he was gone, the wide expanse of his shoulders and the play of muscle in his back as he retreated clear even in the dark of night. Unbidden, a smile formed on her lips, and she unlocked the door, opened it, and stepped inside the house, closing and relocking the door behind her. This was not how she’d intended the evening to end, but she was more turned on and exhilarated by a few hours of flirting with Cody than she’d ever been by sex with anyone else.

  She smiled again at the realization as she walked to her bedroom. Maybe he was on to something with this whole challenge thing.

  Chapter Three

  Blakely sat at the table she’d spotted in the midst of the crowd that always seemed to be gathered at Love’s, grateful that she was able to get a spot.

  “You ready to order, ma’am?” the waitress asked. The woman had arrived so fast that Blakely hadn’t even had a chance to open the menu. Good thing she already knew what she wanted.

  “Yes. I’ll have a full stack. Thank you,” she responded.

  The woman nodded and rushed away in a frantic huff, and as Blakely watched her leave, she caught sight of a figure approaching her. He was full grown now, a man and not the boy she’d known, relied on, and then casually tossed aside, but she still recognized him instantly. She waited for that warm feeling of security that he’d always brought, but if it was there, she couldn’t feel it through the thick cloud of nerves that shrouded her.

  “I see Mr. Love is still as demanding as ever,” Mathias Poole said as he sat at the table.

  “Some things never change, I guess,” she said, glancing through the huge plate glass window before turning her gaze to her old friend.

  She immediately regretted doing so. He was older now, still breathtakingly handsome, but she didn’t pay attention to that. No, the betrayal in his eyes was all she saw, and a flush of well-deserved shame hit her hard.

  “Your hair is longer than regulation,” she said, grasping for the first thing she could and gesturing toward his shaggy, almost shoulder-length brown locks.

  “They cut me slack. You been keeping tabs on me, BB?”

  She looked back out the window, knowing she’d again been busted. First Cody and now Matt. Maybe flustering Blakely Bishop was a skill they taught in SEAL school. If it wasn’t, she seriously needed to step up her game. Turning her gaze back to him, she took him, the expression on his face so different than what she’d seen in the past. They hadn’t spoken to each other since before he’d joined the Navy, but no matter how callous she might have seemed, or been, she’d always kept track of him, seeking what information she could about where he was and praying for his safe return. No matter what she’d done, or had failed to do, she’d always cared.

  But habit kept her from speaking the truth, from telling him how sorry she was. Trying to maintain as much nonchalance as she possibly could, she shrugged. “It’s a small town. And besides,” she said, an idea coming to her, “you’re a friend of Joe’s, so Verna probably mentioned it.”

  Her eyes had drifted partially closed, but she opened them and hazarded another glance at Matt and was not remotely surprised by how unconvinced he looked.

  “Yeah, all perfectly reasonable, I suppose. Far more reasonable than the idea that you might have actually given a shit about me.

  The unsuppressed anger in his voice took her by surprise, and she again considered him. Like her, Matt had always valued his self-control and despised the lack of it in other people, something she suspected had nurtured their unlikely friendship, so the barely contained rage in his voice was a shock. But then again, she’d only known the boy he’d been, not the man he’d become, and however close they’d been as children, she couldn’t assume that what she’d known then was what he was now.

  She searched his face with her gaze, noting the differences. The smooth, unlined skin of youth had given way, and his face was now slightly weathered, the faintest hint of golden-brown stubble covering his cheeks. And his eyes had changed. They’d always been haunted, couldn’t have been anything else, not with his life, but they had even more edge now, shadowed by years and experience that hadn’t been there before.

  And if the look in his eyes was any indication, he hated her. And she didn’t blame him
a bit.

  “Here you are,” the waitress said.

  Blakely jumped when the woman settled a plate in front of her and walked away. She gulped hard and looked away. Even though her appetite was gone, she took a bite anyway and the usually delicious light, fluffy pancakes felt like sawdust in her mouth.

  “God, BB,” he said, and at the playfulness in his voice, she looked up, noting that the anger that had marked his expression just moments ago had faded. “No wonder you’ve been practically killing yourself to avoid being alone with me.”

  “It’s just…after all this time, I didn’t know what to say.”

  “How about, ‘Hey, Matt. How have you been for the last two decades?’”

  Maybe he hadn’t changed so much after all.

  He smiled, the expression reminding her of the same look she’d seen a million times during their childhoods. “Now I’m still pissed and you still owe me an explanation, but I’m also damn happy to see you. I missed you, Blakely.”

  “I missed you too, Mathias,” she said quietly.

  And just like that, the tension that had sprung up dissipated. Mathias Poole could hold a grudge with the best of them, and she wouldn’t have blamed him one bit if he’d held one against her. She deserved it, but she hadn’t wanted to face the reality of it. And that reluctance had kept her away, but as she looked across the table at him now, she remembered something else about him, something that she’d let herself forget. She remembered his capacity for forgiveness, remembered how hard he always tried to understand. And when he turned up his lips in that smile she knew so well, the fear that had kept her from talking to him seemed insignificant, especially in the face of the easy camaraderie that came back as if it had never left.

  “Hey, Matt. How have you been for the last two decades?” she said with a chuckle.

  He laughed, the lines in his face new, but that sound and the pure joy he’d always radiated when he’d laughed as familiar as it had always been.