by Beth Andrews
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep that up. “You have to know I’m attracted to you,” he said slowly, wanting her to hear the truth, as much as he could give her.
“That’s a good start,” she said with a smile.
“I’m not so sure. I don’t want to be attracted to you.”
“That is a problem.”
He stood. Began pacing. “It’s a problem because you’re Zach’s sister. I’m his brother. It’s too...complicated.”
She sat back, relaxed and unruffled, when he felt like a ticking time bomb. “I don’t mind complicated. Complicated makes things interesting.”
“Or it ruins everything.” He wanted a calm existence. One he was in control of. “I don’t want to use you, Daphne.”
Wouldn’t use her. Wouldn’t take advantage of her feelings for him the way his father had taken advantage of her mother.
“Oh, Oakes. You could never use me.” She stood, approached him and took both his hands in hers, forcing him to stop prowling the room like a damn caged lion. “Why don’t we back up a few steps? Do you like spending time with me? Take sex off the table—which just made me think of us having sex on a table, but you know what I mean.”
He couldn’t help it. He grinned. Mainly because he’d had the same thought. “How about, take sex out of the equation?”
“No, that makes me think of us having sex in a classroom, on a desk this time, with math equations written on the board. Let’s just say...no sex. It’s not there. And if that’s gone, the question is, do you like spending time with me, as a friend?”
He lifted his hand, touched her hair. “How could I not? You’re bright and funny and fun.”
“All good things and, I might add, very well said. So we put all of this other stuff on the back burner for a while. I’ll lay off with the flirting, and you can stop acting like I’m about to attack you at any moment and maybe we could go back to being...friends? Just friends.”
He squeezed her hands. “I love being your friend.”
“Then it’s a plan. And as your friend I have to tell you that you don’t have to worry about me tomorrow at the wedding. I’ll be fine. I want you to enjoy your day with your family. Then, the day after, we both go back to Houston, and if you find yourself missing me, thinking about me, wanting to spend time with me, you can give me a call. We’ll step up our friend game by hanging out more. Do the kinds of things serious friends do.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Serious friends?”
“Yes. The kind who do more than have coffee once in a while.”
“My friends and I usually drink beer, play pool and watch football.”
“As I happen to be a big proponent of all three of those activities, count me in.”
He couldn’t imagine her at his house, shooting pool, the large-screen TV on the wall turned to the game.
But then, he could imagine it. All too clearly. Her, in his place, with her dark, tight jeans and a baggy sweater, one of those soft ones that begged a man to touch. To see if the skin beneath was softer.
“Now that that’s settled,” she said, taking his drink from him and setting it down. “It’s time for you to say good-night.”
“You’re kicking me out?”
“As your friend, I’m telling you it’s late and we both have a big day tomorrow and I, for one, need my beauty rest.”
Irritated for some reason, he frowned. “You’re the one who invited me in for a drink in the first place.”
“I’m well aware of what I’ve done and what I’ve said,” she assured him, ushering him toward the door. “Now I’m saying I’ve changed my mind and think it’s best if you go on your way and I get some sleep.” She opened the door and practically pushed him out into the hall. Smiled at him and even gave him a little wave. “Good night.”
And she quietly shut the door on his face.
What the hell?
He stared down the hall to the left. Then the right. But there were no answers there, so he stomped to his room, unlocked his door and went inside wondering if he hadn’t just gotten the bad end of a worse deal.
* * *
THE CREDITS OF the movie Luke and Gracie had watched rolled across the screen. Luke stared at them, his heart racing. He wasn’t sure what to do. What to say. He slid a glance at Gracie, who sat primly next to him on her bed, her hair down, her fingers twined together in her lap.
Gracie clicked the remote, shutting off the TV, then reached over to the bedside table. “Thanks again,” she said softly because it was late—past midnight—and everyone else was sleeping, as far as they knew. Though her older brothers had been so amped up, they might still be awake somewhere in the huge house. “It was nice of you to help string the popcorn and play with the boys.”
“It was fun,” he said, not knowing what else to do but to slide to the edge of the huge bed, let his legs hang over the side, his feet on the hardwood floor. “I’ve missed hanging out with the boys,” he admitted.
She had six younger brothers ranging in ages from toddler to eight and they were all energetic and really tough to handle. If his mom saw how they ran around and destroyed things, she’d have a fit. But then, his mom didn’t need to know everything that went on at Gracie’s house, such as the fact that after they’d strung popcorn and played with the boys and watched a Christmas special with the entire family, they’d come up to Gracie’s room to watch a movie.
Her room was really a couple of rooms. She lived in a rambling old Victorian house, not like Bradford House, which was all glossy wood and had been renovated to look like some showroom. Her house was lived-in, with toys scattered all over, dirty dishes on the kitchen counter, chipped paint on the walls.
She had a suite, she called it. Two large rooms, one for her art stuff and one for her bedroom. She even had her own bathroom. Compensation for being the only other female in the house besides her stepmother.
They’d come into her bedroom and shut the door, as easily as you pleased. Her dad hadn’t made any issues about it, her stepmom hadn’t warned them to behave. Gracie said her parents trusted her, which he guessed was good in theory, but his mom always said trust had to be earned and kids needed structure and discipline. But Gracie was one of the best people he knew, so he guessed not having either structure or discipline hadn’t hurt her any.
And it meant he got to sit on her bed with her, watching a movie, for the past two hours, her leg sometimes brushing against his. He could smell her scent, could sneak looks at her from the corner of his eye, see her smile when something amused her, watch her bite her lower lip during the tense moments.
He’d wanted, badly, to take her hand in his. To edge closer and maybe even put his arm around her. Or, better yet, have her make the first move. Have her slide over and lay her head on his shoulder, but that hadn’t happened.
Being just friends sucked.
But he figured he was lucky to be friends with a girl who didn’t have any curfew, didn’t have rules about a boy being in her room or how long that boy could stay.
He stood and she did, too. “Well,” he said, “I should probably go.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ll see you later?”
She made it sound like a question. “Yeah. At the dance, right?” And that only reminded him that she was going with Bryce.
And not him.
“Right. And at work on Monday.”
He nodded. “Okay, then. ’Night.”
“Good night.”
They were friends now so he could hug her. He remembered the first time, the only time, really, that she’d hugged him. It had been right here, in her room. He and Kennedy had already been broken up, and he’d seen her snuggling up with Drew on Drew’s back deck. Luke had been upset and Gracie had tried to comfort him.
Except he’d felt more than comfort.
He’d felt...attracted. To Gracie. To the girl he’d thought was just a friend up until that point, a coworker he enjoyed hanging out with. And those feelings had grown until he’d gotten confused over his lingering feelings for Kennedy.
All in the past, he assured himself and just followed his instincts and bent over, wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She seemed surprised at first, stiff, as if she was going to push him away—which would be freaking humiliating—but then she went soft all over and wrapped her arms around his waist, laid her head against his chest.
She was so tiny. The top of her head barely reached his chin. He lowered his head and inhaled the sweet scent of her shampoo. She wasn’t like Kennedy, who was tall and built, a walking wet dream to torment him, to keep him under her spell, always pushing him until he was ready to break, and then luring him back with her kisses and her body.
He fell for it every time, which meant he was a schmuck. Just like any other teenage boy. But he hadn’t fallen for it, hadn’t taken her back for good after she’d cheated on him. He’d broken free of her and now he could move on.
Now he was ready to move on. With Gracie.
He lifted his head and she stepped back slightly, but he held on and he noticed that she did, too. “Good night,” he said, his voice gruff. He winced, realized he’d just said that two minutes ago.
Maybe he should just not talk. He didn’t want to anyway, not when she was looking up at him, her eyes wide, her lips parted. He bent his head, slowly, giving her plenty of time to back away before he fully committed. But she didn’t move so he brushed his mouth against hers.
Her lips were warm. Soft. So he kissed her again, this time settling his mouth on hers. This wasn’t like the other time when he’d kissed her at his sister’s house while they were babysitting his nieces. That had been quick. He wanted this to last.
He felt her sigh against his mouth, felt her mouth soften under his, her fingers gripping his shirt. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth. He wanted to take his time, knew he should, but she responded so openly, so honestly and fully, he couldn’t hold back. Couldn’t resist pulling her even closer, and then when that wasn’t close enough, stepping back, with her still in his arms, and sitting on the bed, bringing her down with him so she straddled his lap.
He had no idea how long they stayed that way. He kept kissing her and as long as she was kissing him back, he was happy. Told himself that was enough. But then, the weight of her on his lap, the sweet scent of her skin, her softness, the warmth of her and her slight curves, tempted him to slowly draw his hands up and down her back, to touch her curling hair, to kiss the nape of her neck.
She touched him, too, her hands hesitant as she slid them up to his shoulders, her fingers cool as they caressed the back of his neck, delved into his hair. She shifted and his fingers flexed on her waist. He went back to kissing her mouth, slowly, ever so slowly, slid his hands to the hem of her sweater, ran his fingers underneath it, across her back, feeling the slight bumps of her spine. He waited to make sure that was okay and when she continued to kiss him, her hands playing with his hair, he tugged her even closer, slid his hands higher.
He moved his hands to her stomach, felt her muscles quiver under his touch. God, she was soft. He knew he should stop. Should tug her sweater back down, should gently set her back on her feet and leave, but she wasn’t stopping him and she felt so good, tasted so sweet.
He moved his hands up higher, trailed his fingers across her rib cage. She stiffened so he kissed her deeper, lowered his hands again. Up and down, around to her back and then to her waist. Keeping one hand on her waist, he smoothed his free hand up her side, touched the silk of her bra under her arm and then down again. He repeated the motion several times then, heart racing, he gently cupped her breast.
She leaped off his lap.
Or she would have, if he hadn’t had a hold of her waist, if his other hand hadn’t been up her shirt, trapping her.
“Let go,” she said, sounding upset, shoving his shoulders.
He immediately let go and stood. She stepped back so quickly, she almost fell, her arms windmilling to keep her balance. He reached out to steady her and she slapped his hand.
“Don’t touch me.”
He held up both hands as if in surrender. “Okay. Okay, I won’t. I swear.” His heart was racing. Sweat was forming at the base of his spine. “Gracie, I... God...” He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth but he could still taste her.
And she was staring at him, big-eyed and wounded, as if he’d attacked her.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said, using the same tone he’d use to calm one of his nieces when they got hurt. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I swear.”
She crossed her arms in front of her, as if protecting herself from a blow.
As if protecting herself from him.
“I want you to leave now.”
Her words, whispered in a raw, ragged voice he’d never heard her use before, swept through him. Burned him. “I’m not leaving when you’re so upset. I swear, I didn’t mean to scare you or—”
“You planned this.”
The accusation, stark and ugly, had his head snapping back. “What? No. No, of course not.”
“Do you think I’m easy? Cheap?” She looked horrified, her face white. “Oh, my God, did Drew tell you...”
He went cold all over, some weird premonition making him not want to know what she was talking about. “Did he tell me what?”
She shook her head.
“All that talk about wanting to be my friend, about wanting to hang out with me again because you like me was just an excuse to try and have sex with me. Why? Why me? We both know you could get just about any girl you wanted,” she whispered. “Why did you have to do this to me? Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?”
“I don’t want any other girl,” he heard himself admit. “I want you.”
She laughed harshly, a sound he’d never heard from her before. “You’ve barely spoken to me in months. Now you want me to believe you...what? Suddenly, you have feelings for me?”
“I do. I always have,” he insisted, stepping forward, but that only made her back away like a scared kitten so he stopped. Fought to keep his voice calm and low so they didn’t wake anyone. “I swear. I was just...confused last summer...with everything that had happened with Kennedy and between us.” He swallowed. “But when I saw you with Bryce, I realized how much you mean to me.”
Instead of swaying her into believing him, his words only seemed to make her more upset. “When you saw me with Bryce? So you only want me so another boy can’t be with me? Or is this just some stupid plan to make sure Bryce and I don’t grow closer? Then I’ll always be around, waiting for you to decide if you want me or not.”
“I do want to be with you,” Luke said. “It was just...losing you to someone else, to some other guy, forced me to see what I’d done. What a mistake it was to let you go.”
Wasn’t that what girls wanted to hear? The truth? Except she just shook her head again. “It’s too late.”
“It’s not. You kissed me back,” he said desperately. “I know you still like me, Gracie. Just give me a chance.”
“I would have given you a chance. Two months ago I would have jumped at the chance to be with you again, but now it’s too late. I don’t want to be your second choice or the girl you go to because it’s easier than moving on. If you really wanted to be with me, you wouldn’t have waited this long.” She looked weary and sounded exhausted. “Now please leave. Please.”
Because her eyes had tears and her mouth was trembling, he did as she wanted. But as he silently made his way through her dark house, he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done to lose her before he’d even had a chance to win her back.
CHAPTER FOURTE
EN
THE WEDDING WAS BEAUTIFUL.
Not that Daphne expected anything less, at least not from a Bartasavich. Except, this wasn’t about the Bartsaviach family—not like it would have been in Houston. There were no reporters covering the event for the newspaper society pages, no paparazzi present to capture live video or snapshots of the bride and groom to flash across the local evening news. No reports on what dress the bride wore, who all attended or what kind of flowers made up the bouquets.
This was Charlotte’s big scene, her day. Most of the guests in the church had been seated on the bride’s side. The ushers had finally started putting people on the groom’s side, just to balance things out. But the ceremony itself had been lovely. Not quite as traditional as Daphne wanted for her own wedding, but lighter. Fun.
Who knew scary Kane Bartasavich, with his grim countenance and rebellious past, could be brought almost to tears by the sight of the woman he loved walking down the aisle?
It had been a revelation to say the least.
“Did you enjoy the ceremony?” Oakes asked as he offered her a glass of champagne at the reception. A band was playing softly in the background and people were milling about, conversing and eating appetizers while waiting for the bride and groom and bridal party to arrive from the church.
“It was lovely,” she said on a sigh and accepted the drink. Just one glass, she promised herself. Ever since her slip with the tequila a few weeks ago she’d been careful to watch her alcohol intake.
She just wished it was as easy to watch her tongue. She still had a bad habit of blurting out most of what popped into her mind. The alcohol just made it easier for her to speak faster and with more fervency.
“You were crying,” Oakes said, sipping his own champagne. “At the church.”
She smiled. “Were you watching me, Oakes?”
“I couldn’t help but notice.”