The Garden (Lavender Shores Book 2)

by Rosalind Abel

  Fate, being the bitch she was, caused Walden to pause and look back at me. Maybe he’d decided to do that himself, but I was betting it was Fate. She liked to fuck with me.

  I stared at him, terrified, but trying to keep that emotion from my face.

  “What, Gilbert? Why should I wait?”

  You shouldn’t. You should run away. Run far, far away. Hook up with every man between here and Lavender Shores and never think of me again. The last thing you should do is wait.

  “I don’t find you disgusting. You’re the furthest thing from disgusting I’ve ever seen.”

  Walden didn’t attempt to hide his scrutiny of me, and he must have seen the truth in my words. Damn it, who knew what else he could see?

  “Then what is it? Why did you walk away like you did?”

  Twenty different lies flitted through my mind, but I discarded each of them. Walden would be able to tell. Or maybe I just couldn’t lie to him. “I didn’t realize you were a teacher. I don’t fuck around with teachers.”

  A disbelieving laugh burst from him, but it faded quickly, his eyes narrowing. He stepped closer once more but didn’t sit down next to me. “Seriously? You left because I’m a teacher?”

  I wanted to stand, to be on equal footing with him. But I didn’t really deserve that, did I? “Yeah.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with me being a teacher?”

  “I… ah….” Again the lies came to the surface, then excuses. I couldn’t use them, though. Not on him. And that realization completely scared the shit out of me. Nearly as much as his profession. “I really can’t explain that to you. Or at least I really, really don’t want to. Can you just believe me that I was reacting to your job, not to you? You do not disgust me. Not at all.”

  He sat then, and once more didn’t hide that he was inspecting me. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. There was wariness, but a hint of his old openness as well. “Okay. So you don’t fuck teachers, yet you made it pretty clear you were planning on fucking me tonight. Is that just a mind game, or are you trying to decide if you really want to fuck me or not?”

  Just hearing him talking about me fucking him so plainly, no sugarcoating or pretending it was anything lighter or sweeter than what it was, would’ve taken away any hesitation I had. That was not true. It didn’t take away my hesitation, but it sure as hell smothered it. I didn’t fuck around with teachers, but I was going to. Even if it meant daily phone sessions with Donovan afterwards. Walden was worth whatever mental anguish he cost. “No, I’m going to fuck you tonight. I shouldn’t because you’re a teacher, but I’m going to. There’s no doubt. I’m going to fuck you exactly like you want and need.”

  The lust returned to his eyes, though his hesitation was still evident.

  “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

  He touched me then, his large hand gripping my thigh. “Yeah. That’s completely okay with me. Even if I shouldn’t—” He cut himself off with a little shake of his head. Then he tilted his chin, studying me. “I don’t have my glasses on, obviously, and stuff far away is blurry. Was that you in the pool watching me a while ago or the other guy? I thought it was you but decided that it was stupid to think you were here.”

  “That was me.” If there was a time to lie, this was it. It would be showing nearly every card. I had to admit I’d spent over an hour watching him—warring with myself as I tried to make my body get out of the pool, run to my car, and drive back home. At first I’d thought he recognized me, but then noticed he’d seemed confused. I’d forgotten about the glasses for a bit. When he’d looked away, I had my chance. Get the hell away from him and back to sanity. But I hadn’t been able to leave. And then fuckface had made his move. There was no way I was letting any other man touch him. Not if I had anything to say about it. Teacher or not. “I wasn’t going to bother you. I was going to just let you do your thing, but… I couldn’t. I… couldn’t watch you with some other guy.”

  The water splashed as he darted forward and kissed me. His fingers dug into my thigh as his lips pressed to mine. I felt relief in his kiss. Or maybe that was just me. The kiss was nothing more than firm pressure for several moments, then it altered slightly. With the scrape of his tongue on my lips, I opened to him. He sank against me, his chest pressing against mine. Our tongues met, and despite the fire that exploded through my veins, something within me sighed and I went slack against the wall of the pool.

  He pulled back slightly and our gazes met. He searched me again, and I searched back. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, what either of us hoped to find. But what I saw was enough. I found desperation in his eyes. Not a weak kind of thing, but a desperation that was for me. That spoke of needing me. A desperation that matched how I felt for him. That echoed the need that had grown for him over the past three months, whether it made sense or not.

  It suddenly hit me, what had happened.

  We’d kissed.

  I never did that. Ever. Prostitute version of Julia Roberts or not, I simply didn’t do that.

  I kissed him again. Firm, quick. And not caring if I showed him that I was just as desperate for him.

  “Wow.” He sat back down, hand still on my thigh. He let out a quiet puff of air. “Wow.”

  I didn’t ask for an explanation. Though I kept silent, I felt every bit of wow that he did. And it was terrifying. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d experienced fear as much as I had in those few minutes in the pool.

  Walden looked at me after a couple of seconds, appearing a bit dazed. “Should we get out of here?”

  I nodded. “For sure.” If I could move.

  He glanced down, then back up. “I’m not sure we can get out of the water without showing the world what we’re planning on doing next.”

  Somehow with the kiss, I hadn’t noticed half my blood supply had traveled to my dick. And it wasn’t returning to my brain anytime soon. “I don’t care.”

  “Me neither.” Walden’s grin was the only sign of how dirty I knew he could be, and I twitched in the confines of my trunks. “Do you wanna go to my room or yours?”

  “I wasn’t planning on staying. I never do. I always go back home.”

  “Oh, okay. Easy enough. We’ll do my room.” Walden turned and started to step out of the pool.

  Disappointment cut through me. “Wait a second.”

  When he looked back, it was clear he thought I’d changed my mind. A hardness crept over his features even as I watched.

  “I’m not changing my mind. Just give me a second.”

  He relaxed.

  What the hell was I thinking? It was insane and dangerous. And like the kiss, it was something I never did. It wasn’t something I’d ever wanted. But suddenly I did. Even as I spoke, I couldn’t believe what I was saying. “Why don’t we go to my place, actually. It’ll be… more comfortable.”

  His eyes brightened, but then he seemed to reconsider. “You said you’re half an hour away. So by the time we get there, you bring me back and then drive home again, you’re adding an hour and a half to your night.”

  I never did this. I’d never wanted this. Ever. “I know, which is why you should just stay. I can bring you back in the morning.”

  He froze. “You want me to spend the night?”

  Holy shit. Yes. Yes, I wanted him to spend the night. Nearly as much as I wanted to kiss him again. To have his hands on me again. To bury myself deep inside him. I wanted all of that. And then I wanted him to fall asleep beside me in my bed.

  God help me.

  “Yeah. I want you to spend the night.”

  Walden took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly. I swore he was thinking the same thing I was. That spending the night together was going to hurt later. Make things so much worse. But I knew I was just projecting. Finally he nodded. “Okay.”

  Eight

  Walden

  We’d driven about ten minutes before I gave up trying to determine whether I was ecstatic to be with Gilbert again or
experiencing a sense of dread knowing what it would be like after. If that brief time with him at the gym and at my house had so royally fucked with my brain and celibacy, spending the night with him, in his bed, and waking up with him, was surely going to be calamitous. Ultimately it didn’t matter. I was doing this. We were doing this. And if the consequences later were going to be as bad as I predicted, I needed to enjoy the hours we had together, otherwise it was pointless. Besides, I was overanalyzing, as I always did. I was thinking of this as a brief relationship. One that had a time limit. It wasn’t. This was a hookup. Sure, a more intense hookup with someone who affected me in ways only one other person ever had. Truth be told, Gilbert affected me more than Levi ever had. God, no wonder I was terrified.

  And, again, fuck it. I needed to be in the moment. Make sure whatever the price was going to be would be worth it. I cleared my throat and glanced at Gilbert, though I had no idea what to say.

  He turned from the road for a second and cocked an eyebrow. “You okay? You’ve looked on the verge of a stroke ever since we got in the car.”

  I forced a laugh. “Yeah, I’m good. Just—” How did I explain any of this without looking insane or scaring him away? “—didn’t see this happening. My brain is trying to catch up.”

  Gilbert nodded. “Know what you mean.”

  And that was part of it. As hard-edged as Gilbert seemed, and for as much as he played the sexed-up playboy, he kept confirming that he felt as strange as I did. Maybe if I believed it was all in my head, I could then let it go and treat him as nothing more than a ready, talented cock. But that wasn’t the case. These feelings obviously weren’t one-sided.

  He drummed the steering wheel with his thumbs. “You mind if I turn on the radio? Maybe music will help ease us a bit.”

  Yep, feeling the same as me. “Good idea.”

  “You mind country music?”

  My laugh was real this time. “I’m from the South. I’m good with country music, though I never would’ve have pegged you for a fan. Despite that straw hat you like to wear.”

  “I’m not.” He flipped on the radio. Fiddles and steel guitars blared through the speakers. He winced and turned it down. “Sorry.”

  “Sure sounds like you’re a fan, unless you’re into torturing yourself when you drive by using music you hate to murder your eardrums.”

  He shrugged. “My therapist would probably say that is exactly something I would do. But not in this case. I’m designing some jewelry for a country music singer, and I find it helps to immerse myself in my clients’ worlds as much as I can when I’m in the designing stages. Once we’ve settled on a design, then I can go back to normal. Thank God.” He flashed a grin. “I designed a necklace for another country singer in December, and I think Andrew had his hopes up that I’d be converted. I wasn’t. Now it seems I’ve broken into the ranks of the country music elite, much different from my pop clients. Well, not really. But while I’m not the biggest fan of pop music, the more I listen to country, the less I like it.” Another grin. “But keep that between you and me. If they hear me bashing the genre, they might look for someone else to make their jewelry. And they have just as much money to spend as any pop star.”

  Both of those revelations threw me off, neither matching the picture of Gilbert I’d built in my mind. He was in therapy? And he was a jewelry designer? The second topic seemed safer, considering the emotional high-wire I was already on. “I never pictured you as a jewelry designer.”

  He cocked a brow again. “You imagined what I do, huh? What did you figure?”

  I didn’t even hesitate. “For a minute I pictured you as a truck driver, with the hat and the plaid shirts. That or cowboy of some sort. But I discarded those pretty quickly. You and your clothes are way too fancy for either of them. So I figured you were in oil or something. Plenty of money but still needing to fit in with the good old boys club. Of course, there was always the option of you being a male model, but—” I stopped talking abruptly, suddenly aware I’d revealed just how much I’d thought about him over the past months.

  If the realization threw Gilbert off, he didn’t let on. “Those all sound horrible. And the only modeling I might enjoy would be the porn kind. That’s gotta be fun, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Now that you know I design jewelry, has your view of me changed? Still wanna get fucked by a guy with such a nelly career?” There was a touch of defiance in his tone, of challenge.

  “I’m glad, actually. An artist is much more my speed than a… I mean, I respect artists. Not that truck drivers or farmers are bad or anything. I just….” Fuck.

  He chuckled. “You overwhelm yourself a lot, don’t you?”

  I sighed. “Obviously.”

  “It’s kinda charming.”

  It was the first compliment he’d given that wasn’t about my body, about my talented ass, or a precursor to fucking me. I chose to ignore that it was about my lack of smoothness and just held on to the idea he found me charming. I didn’t want him to look too closely, though. That type of charm would quickly be revealed to be nothing more than the result of an insecure mess. I turned the spotlight back on him, and not just to avoid stumbling over myself. “You must be doing something right if you’re designing for stars and famous people.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I do all right. I’m a really good designer. Not the best, but good.” There wasn’t any false humility in his tone, nor arrogance. He was just stating facts. “What I’m the best at is throwing caution to the wind and going for it. If you can convince one of the people in the in-crowd you’re the shit, the rest will fall in line. If you’ve got an ounce of talent and a shitload of perseverance and chutzpah, that’s really all it takes.”

  That explained why he looked like he had money. “Well, I can’t imagine talking to all those famous people. I’d probably—holy shit!” At the moment, we rounded a corner and the view changed. The snowcapped mountains were still off in the distance, though closer now, but the sky full of stars reflected off the black smoothness of Lake Tahoe, surrounded by silhouettes of pine trees.

  “Pretty gorgeous, right?”

  That description didn’t even begin to cover it. “Yeah. I can see why you live here.” I fell silent, captured by the beauty.

  A softer song came on the radio, more acoustic guitar, less twang of fiddles. Gilbert turned it up slightly.

  Another few minutes and the wild, majestic scenery gave way to a little town. Nothing more than a strip of shops. Cute. Touristy. Almost like…. “Kinda reminds me of Lavender Shores. Just smaller.”

  Gilbert stiffened. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before. My mother says I traded one Lavender Shores for another. My father—” He gave a mirthless laugh. “—says I traded Lavender Shores for its tackier, smaller cousin.” He drummed his thumbs again, though not in time with the music. “It doesn’t matter. I’m never in town, and whatever else it may be, it’s not Lavender Shores, so that’s all I care about.”

  I nearly asked why he seemed to hate the place I loved so much, but figured that wouldn’t help the evening go as we’d hoped. Hell, judging from the distance in his voice, it might cause him to turn the car around and take me back to the spa.

  The song changed, turning into something loud and crass. Gilbert didn’t lower the volume, probably glad to terminate the conversation. We hadn’t touched during the entire drive over. Doing so would’ve been strange. It was a hookup—sex. We weren’t doing the whole “holding hands while you drive” thing. But between the music and the change in the tone of the conversation, I suddenly felt cut off from him, more than before. Some insane part of me wanted to reach over and take his hand. Form a link between us again, maybe soothe some of the tension that seemed to rise within him.

  That wasn’t my place, so I kept my hands to myself.

  In little more than a blink of the eye, we were past the town, and it faded in the distance, giving way to wild scenery once more. We drove on a winding road that followed the curves of the lake. For sever
al minutes we disappeared into the trees, and then the lake emerged once more, though this time, below us. I hadn’t felt us gaining elevation, but as we pulled up to a log cabin, the change was obvious. It was perched on a rocky cliff that overlooked Lake Tahoe and the mountains. The mountains were huge around us, which made sense, considering we were now in them.

  Gilbert parked in the driveway and shut off the engine. “Home sweet home.” Before I could respond, he got out of the car. As I stepped out, he retrieved my bag from the trunk and carried it toward the cabin. He didn’t seem irritated with me, just distant.

  I shut the door and followed him. A few feet away and the car beeped and locks clicked behind me. Like his job, Gilbert’s cabin wasn’t what I’d pictured for him either. Especially now, considering his career. It was tiny, and though it was pretty and well made, it was just a cabin. Like a grown-up version of Lincoln Logs. I loved it, but it wasn’t at all what I’d thought might suit him. Just another reminder that I had no idea who Gilbert Bryant was. A thought that shouldn’t be a surprise nor cause a twinge of disappointment.

  Gilbert offered a smile as he unlocked the door and then stood aside. I stepped in, followed by Gilbert, who flicked on the lights and closed the door behind us.

  I managed not to make a sound, though I’d nearly gasped. The inside, though still cabinish, sort of, fit my version of Gilbert. Huge wooden beams glistened in the vaulted ceiling, but the walls were smooth and painted a rich blue-gray. The furniture, though a mix of wood and metal, was sleek and modern. And expensive. The space was gorgeous, out of a magazine. But it didn’t look overly comfortable or homey. Which made sense based on what I’d gotten from Gilbert so far. I pushed up my glasses and allowed myself to look around, which was little more than a slow spin. Though it had high ceilings, the place was small and completely open-concept, with the exception of two doorways into darkened rooms to the right, which probably led to the bedroom and bathroom. “It’s beautiful.”