by Lili Valente
“You realize I’m not talking about fun one-on-one time, right?” I ask, not wanting him to get his hopes—or anything else—up.
“I figured,” he says with a tired smile. “Baba’s only met a few of my girlfriends, but I’ve learned to expect fallout after.”
I lift a brow in his direction. “Yeah, about that… She’s great, and I really like her, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not sure setting her loose on your lady friends without grandson supervision is a good idea.”
He huffs. “Oh, I know. But she doesn’t give me a choice. If I hadn’t arranged for you to meet one-on-one, she would have found a way to ambush you when you least expected it. At least this way, you had your guard up.”
“No, I didn’t!” I say, slapping his arm with a laugh. “I was totally unprepared! You didn’t tell me she was like that.”
“Like what?” he asks in a teasing voice.
“Like a territorial rhinoceros intent on ripping me open and exposing my every weakness,” I say. “I was expecting a sweet old lady.”
“She’s sweet and old, but she’s no lady,” he says, grinning. “But I knew you would do okay.”
I glare at him as he throws his duffel into the back of his truck. “Why’s that? Because I’m too nice? That’s what Sofia said—that I’m too nice and need to toughen up if I’m going to hold my own with you.”
He turns back to me with a surprised expression. “Really? She said that?”
“Among other things.” I shrug, not ready to discuss my weird lifeline or “going underground” issues just yet. That can wait until we get home and have hot tea and privacy. Or until after the baby’s born and I’ve got my figure and my relative emotional stability back after this wave of hormones laying siege to my usually even-keeled existence.
“Well, she’s wrong.” He brushes my hair over my shoulder, letting his fingers linger, digging lightly into the tense muscle near the curve of my neck “You’re made of tough stuff, Esposito.”
“Yeah?” I soften under his magical fingers. How does he always know exactly how and where I need him to touch me?
He nods. “Tough, strong, and sexy.”
“So, you’re saying I’ve got you fooled?”
“I’ve known my share of weak people.” His hand slides from my shoulder down to the small of my back, drawing me close. “You’re not one of them. And I thought I’d made it clear how irresistible I find your body, but if you need a reminder…”
“No sex tonight,” I say, even as my knees begin to melt. “I need to have words with you, not orgasms.”
“How about words, then orgasms?” He smiles when my lips tighten in response. “Can’t blame a man for trying. Not when you look so beautiful and smell good enough to eat.” He bends his head to the crook of my neck, inhaling as his hands slide down to cup my bottom through my jeans. And before I know it, we’re making out against his truck, his hands roaming, setting fire to my skin through my clothes.
And then somehow we’re in his truck, falling into the backseat where he does his best to get me out of my bra, even though other players are starting to filter into the parking lot, toting duffel bags and clicking open their oversize SUVs.
“Why do all of you drive such enormous vehicles?” I pull my shirt down a third time as another too-close-for-comfort beep chirps and the lights of an Escalade two spots over flash.
“Compensating for low self-esteem, probably,” Alexi says, slipping his hand down the front of my maternity jeans. “Have I mentioned how much I love the elastic waist on these? Makes access so much easier.”
“No access,” I hiss, slapping his wrist until he reluctantly reverses course, calling off his panty invasion. “Someone is going to see us, and I’m serious about talking. I need to talk to you. Because sometime tomorrow, you’re going to leave and I’m going to be alone, and when I’m alone I start doubting things and worrying about things, and I don’t want to do that anymore.”
He sits back, expression sobering. “Doubting what?”
“Things,” I say vaguely, sinking lower in the backseat as Justin Cruise walks by on the way to his car. I’m pretty sure we’ve avoided detection and am starting to sit up again when Justin shouts over his shoulder—
“You two should get a room. I mean, surely somewhere in those two houses you own, Petrov, there’s a place you and your old lady can be alone.”
“Go fuck yourself, Cruise,” Alexi calls back good naturedly, making Justin laugh. He turns back to me, the sexy half smile fading. “All right, let’s head home and talk. But we should probably go to your place. I can’t guarantee Sofia won’t come home early and do a couples’ tarot reading at midnight if we’re at the big house.”
“My place it is,” I say, nose wrinkling. “Though I’m afraid I won’t be able to offer you any snacks to go with your tea, in that case. This guy I know has been cooking for me non-stop, so I haven’t bothered to get groceries in over a week.”
Alexi nods seriously. “No worries. That guy made four loaves of banana bread this afternoon so he could whip up some banana bread French toast tomorrow morning. We won’t starve.”
I sigh. “That guy is pretty sexy when he’s making sure I’m fed.”
Alexi leans in to murmur in my ear, “Confession: that guy has noticed that good food makes your clothes fall off. He has ulterior motives.”
“That’s okay.” My heart gives a bittersweet jerk in my chest as he kisses my cheek. “I like his ulterior motives, too.”
I more than like them. I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with them actually, which means it’s past time to have the “where are things going” talk, no matter how afraid I am of scaring this man away.
But he’s right, I am strong—strong enough to tell him I’m out if he can’t promise more than another week or two of “seeing where things go.” I already know where I would like things to go.
Now I just need to find out if my wish has a chance at becoming reality.
Chapter 14
Petrov
*
Back at the house, I grab banana bread, a bowl of fruit salad, and some leftover cheese and crackers from a platter Mandy put together a few days ago and head back out the door, across the darkened yard to where lights are flicking on in the pool house as Mandy moves around, bringing the place back to life.
That’s what she does. She brings things to life—conversations, lazy afternoons, my previously dormant relationship-craving instincts.
I want to be the man in her life. Hell, I was ready to hook up exclusively pretty much the moment I met her. I took one look into her dancing, laughing, heart-on-her-sleeve eyes, and knew she was someone I’d like to keep close. And that was before she was having my baby. Before I knew she was kind, easy-going, funny, generous, and so sexy I can have her twice before bed and still wake up in the middle of the night aching for more.
There are times when I want her so much it feels like something deep inside of me is about to break, to shatter into a thousand useless pieces and leave my soft, gooey center exposed and vulnerable. If that final wall falls, even once, even in the privacy of my own home, in my own bed, I’m not sure I’ll be able to prop it back up again, and I don’t trust humanity to have mercy on me if I start walking around with my heart on my sleeve. Even big guys can’t get away with shit like that without consequences, and my livelihood depends on being a Scary Motherfucker, not a Big Cuddly Teddy Bear.
That wall-crumbling feeling is the only reason I haven’t asked Mandy to quit pretending we aren’t going to end up in bed together at least every other night, no matter what time either of us get home from work, practice, a game, or the eight o’clock prenatal yoga class, and move in with me for real. That, and the sneaking suspicion that I’m on the verge of jumping into a box so deep that once I start falling, I might never hit bottom.
Before Mandy, I thought I knew the worst the love box could dish out, but I’m beginning to think I was wrong. I’m beginning to suspect that if I let m
yself get any closer to this woman she might literally end up holding my life in her hands.
Losing Renee almost killed me, and in a little over a month, Amanda has pulled me deeper under her spell than Renee or anyone else ever has. She’s all I think about, all I dream about, the only thing on my mind when I board a plane for an away game, already counting down the minutes until I get to be with her again.
And that scares the shit out of me. It would probably still be scaring the shit out of me even if there weren’t any secrets between us, but there are. And those secrets, that fear that’s been hanging over my head, a cloud growing darker and more ominous the closer we get to the time when problems might start to show, is why I can’t make Mandy any big promises tonight.
No matter how much a part of me wants to ask her to be mine.
I step through the pool house door to find her at the kitchen island, arranging tea things on a tray while the plug-in kettle burbles on the counter. When I close the door behind me, she looks up, a smile curving her mouth. “Hey, tea’s almost ready. Want to sit on the couch or at the table?”
“Either is fine, whatever you want,” I say, adding silently, but please don’t want a big commitment. Not now. Not yet. Just give me a little more time. Another month, maybe two, and then we should know…
“Table, I guess, then?” she says. “Easier to clean up crumbs that way. Though I have to confess I’m not very hungry.”
I make a shocked sound, and she laughs before adding, “I know, right? The bottomless pit might not be bottomless after all. Or I might just be nervous.”
I set the snacks out on the table before wiping my sweating palms on my jeans. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
She shrugs as she pours the hot water into the mugs, eyes focused on the task at hand. “I don’t know. You look pretty green around the gills, and I’ve found that men turning green when you say you want to talk feelings is usually a bad sign.”
I want to laugh, but my throat is too tight. “I’m not green. I’m just tired.”
“Would you rather talk tomorrow, then?”
I shake my head as I pull out a chair. “Nope. Let’s do this.”
She arches a brow. “And get it over with as quickly as possible?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” She smiles as she places the mugs on the tray and brings it over to the table, setting a steaming cup in front of me. “It’s red raspberry tea. Hope that’s okay. It’s all I have.”
“It’s fine,” I say, wrapping my hands around the mug. “And I don’t want to get this over as quickly as possible. I want to talk until you don’t feel worried anymore.”
Her breath rushes out. “Okay. Good.”
I wait a moment, watching her watch the ribbon of steam rising from her cup before prodding, “So, what exactly are you worried about?”
“Um, well…” She fiddles with the cheese plate, turning it in a circle before picking at the cling wrap at the edge. “Maybe cheese does sound good.”
“Cheese always sounds good,” I agree before adding in a gentler voice. “Specifics are good, too. I can’t do much to help you feel better without them.”
Mandy pulls her hand away from the cheese plate with a sharp nod. “Right. And I can give you specifics. Because I’m not too nice.”
“You’re just nice enough. The perfect amount of nice.”
She sits up straighter. “Right, and your grandmother doesn’t know me, and palm reading is dumb.”
I frown. When did Sofia pick up palm reading? I make a mental note to encourage her to start dating again—she was much less crazy when she was trolling elderly gents on Say Yes to Cupid than when taking metaphysical classes at the Hippie Rainbow Bridge Institute down the road from her farm—and return my focus to Amanda, who is nodding more vigorously.
“Okay. So I’ll just tell you. I’ll tell you that I’m not okay with just ‘seeing where things go’ anymore. Because that’s the truth, and when you’re sleeping with someone on a regular basis, you should be able to tell them the truth.”
“Absolutely,” I say, shoulder muscles tightening. “So…what does ‘not okay’ mean?”
“It means I want to be your girlfriend,” she says, her anxiety-filled eyes meeting mine. “Exclusively.”
My chest contracts, and I nearly spit out my first sip of tea.
“Are you okay?” Her forehead knits as I cough with my mouth closed. “Do you need help?”
I shake my head, fighting to keep from snorting tea into my nose.
“Are you sure? You look like you’re choking.” She starts to rise, but I motion for her to sit with another slashing motion of my arm.
Finally, after snort-choking for another moment, I manage to gulp the liquid down before gasping, “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about dating exclusively,” she says, brow-furrow deepening.
“What do you think we’ve been doing the past month and a half?”
“It’s been five weeks,” she corrects, “and I assumed we were ‘seeing where things go.’ Like you said. I mean, I didn’t think you were dating anyone else, but we hadn’t expressly said that we wouldn’t see other people so…”
A scowl takes possession of my face, digging in deep and dark. “Were you seeing other people?”
She huffs in obvious amusement. “Um, yes, Alexi. I’ve been out at the club every night getting my flirt on when you’re out of town.” She motions down to her belly with a circling motion while wiggling her brows up and down. “The men folk can’t get enough of all this. Nothing sexier than a chubby, knocked up lady wiggling around on the dance floor in her maternity jeans.”
“You’re not chubby,” I snap, still angry for some reason. “You’re pregnant.”
“Yes, I am,” she says, smile fading as she shakes her head. “Why are you mad?”
“I’m not,” I lie. “I’m…confused.”
“Me, too. I’m totally confused. I mean, call me crazy, but in my experience with men, ‘seeing where things go’ isn’t the kind of thing they say when they want to lock down girlfriend-boyfriend privileges. It’s the kind of thing they say when they like you, but they also like keeping their options open.”
My options open…
This isn’t about my options. This is about all the unknown factors in play, all the things that could go wrong, all the paths that could veer off into the woods where wild animals wait to pounce and tear this delicate new relationship apart. I care about Mandy and I want to be with her, but I know how fast love can turn to loathing.
All it takes is one failure, even if that failure isn’t really your fault.
“And if that’s what you want, it’s okay,” Mandy adds in a small voice, addressing the words to the oily surface of her tea. “I understand wanting to take things slow, but I can’t get in any deeper without a commitment of some kind. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. But I guess it’s not a small deal, either.” She lifts a shoulder and lets it fall with a sigh. “I don’t know. It’s been so long since I had the ‘define the relationship’ talk maybe I’ve forgotten how to do it. I’m sorry.”
I study her pretty face and curved spine, my chest aching. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” she whispers.
“Don’t apologize for asking for what you want.”
She peers up at me through her bangs. “Maybe Sofia was right, huh? Maybe I am a total wimp.”
“You’re not a wimp. You just worry too much about making other people comfortable. But sometimes other people don’t deserve to be comfortable. Especially when that someone is an asshole who didn’t make it clear he isn’t interested in seeing other people.”
She lifts her chin. “No?”
“No. Not now, not in the near future, not in the not-so-near future.”
The smile that stretches across her face in response to my words goes straight to my heart, flooding me with another bittersweet wave of happiness laced with fear and self
-loathing. But I can hide the ugly stuff. I have to hide it. There’s no point in burdening Mandy with my bullshit. I’ve kept her safe for this long, and I will continue to shield her until protecting her is no longer an option.
“You’re not an asshole,” she says. “Not even close. But maybe your communication skills could use a little fine-tuning. More words in general would be good. Girls like words.”
I push my tea away. “I’ll work on it.”
“Thank you.” She pushes her tea across the table to touch mine. “It smells horrible, doesn’t it?”
“Awful,” I agree, lips curving when she laughs. “I think someone peed on the raspberry leaves before they put them in the teabags.”
Her nose wrinkles. “They totally did. I noticed the funky smell in the store, but I was hoping it would get better once there was hot water involved. It’s supposed to be good for pregnant women.”
“Oh yeah? So what’s it going to do to me?” I ask, arching a brow.
She shakes her head, grinning. “I have no idea. Probably turn you into a chick. Or maybe just give you boobs. Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
I glare, and she giggles.
“But it’s okay,” she says, laughing harder. “I’ll still like you if you have boobs. It’s what’s on the inside that counts in a relationship, don’t you think?”
I sit back in my chair, crossing my arms slowly and deliberately over my chest as I continue to shoot daggers with my eyes and she continues to lose it.
“Okay, I take it back,” she says, hand pressing to her chest as she fights for breath.
“You’re not going to like me when I have boobs?”
She snorts as she shakes her head. “No, not about that. About more words. Some situations are funnier without them.” She cocks her head, expression softening as she studies me. “You’re a funny man.”