Shatter Me

by Tori St. Claire

  Alex climbed down from the ladder with a slight frown. “All this is just…crushed. That tree fell and wham. Nothing left.” He pushed aside bits of shingles and wood with the toe of his boot. “Drew used to keep lumber in the woodworking shop, but Reagan’s moved all that.”

  Chance nodded. “Yeah, she wants to turn that into a greenhouse. Had a plan and everything until this.” He indicated the mess in front of them with a sweep of his hand. “If that asshole contractor she hired ever shows his face again, I’m going to strangle him.”

  A strange sense of jealousy spread behind Alex’s ribs. Chance was one of Reagan’s closest friends, and it was natural for him to look out for her. But Alex couldn’t shake the instinctual protest that the contractor who’d boldly taken advantage of her was his to strangle. That Chance felt the same protective instincts as he did only unsettled him more. He didn’t like it. Didn’t like the idea of some other guy taking care of her. Even if that guy was one of his own friends. He nodded, stifling a response.

  Chance stepped off the remains of the porch and pointed toward the former woodshed. “See the fruit trees out there?”

  Alex nodded again.

  “The greenhouse was supposed to stop just shy of them. She wanted a range and storage unit in the existing shed. So she could harvest the apples, walk just a few paces instead of all the way to the house, and can out there.” He flashed Alex a grin and chuckled. “She always misses the peaches—damned deer come up from the trees. Thought she might be able to ripen them up if she picked them early.”

  Alex frowned as the same sense of unease he’d experienced that morning crept over him again. “I don’t get it, Chance. Maybe you can explain it to me.”

  “What? The greenhouse?”

  “No. There’s nothing left of Drew in the house, and it’s not like he’s been gone for years. Don at the hardware store has more to say about him than she does.”

  Something passed across Chance’s expression, a look that resembled what Alex had witnessed too many times in the field—that of a man who’d seen something he wanted to forget but couldn’t. It passed just as quickly, replaced by another chuckle. “Let me guess, Don went on about Drew being a hero? Get used to it—the whole town holds him in reverence. Half the people here think Reagan didn’t deserve him. Don’t believe everything you hear.”

  His offhand remark only served to add discomfort to Alex’s confusion about Reagan’s behavior. He frowned and looked away, turning back toward the porch. “He said his wife disapproved of Reagan selling Drew’s tools.”

  “His wife doesn’t approve of a lot of things.” He chuckled softly. “Don’s a good guy, though. Did he invite you to the VFW?”

  “Yeah. Said he and the boys would give me a hero’s welcome.”

  Chance joined Alex on the porch, his amicable smile back in place. “You should take him up on it. Those old boys have the market cornered on top-shelf scotch and vodka.”

  Alex shook his head. “I’m not a hero, Chance. Never was, never will be. And it’s pretty damn awkward trying to explain that to everyone.”

  Chance picked up the pry bar and applied it to a loose section of roof. With a jerk, he pulled loose worthless nails and sent another chunk tumbling onto the pile of debris. “Sure you are. What do you think you’re doing here, with this roof, this house?”

  Blinking, Alex stared at Chance. “Helping out a friend.”

  Chance gave him a pointed look. “You’re not friends.”

  Alex’s frown deepened. “Sure we are.”

  With a short bark of laughter, Chance pried off another chunk of worthless wood and shingles and tossed it aside. “Whatever makes you comfortable, man. But I’m telling you, if you’re sleeping in her bed, you’re not friends.”

  Sleeping in her bed… The nagging feeling he’d fought throughout the day clanged into place. The statement Reagan had made the night before echoed in his head. I couldn’t sleep through his snoring.

  Son of a bitch—he’d slept near Drew for the last several years. Drew didn’t snore. For that matter, he slept like a rock and damn near didn’t move once he was out.

  He stared at the rubble, unease churning in his gut. Why had she lied? Better yet, why hadn’t she shared the bedroom with her husband?

  “Alex?” Chance asked, eyebrows lifted.

  “Hm?”

  “I asked you to hold that post steady.”

  “Sorry.” Pulling himself out of his mental fog, he supported the broken corner post. If they hadn’t been sleeping together, and she’d packed up his things so quickly, maybe they’d had trouble in their marriage. An impending divorce certainly made the idea of being involved with Reagan more comfortable, but Drew hadn’t mentioned problems at home.

  Come to think of it, Drew rarely talked about home. Only the occasional mention he was calling Reagan, or she’d sent him something he’d needed. The exception being remarks about finances; he never talked problems—they’d always seemed exceedingly happy.

  “Earth to McCray,” Chance called with a touch of amusement. “Are you ready?”

  “Yeah,” he answered absently, securing his hold on the post.

  Chance jerked hard on the pry bar, hard enough to make the broken roof shudder. The post Alex held on to shook under the duress, threatening to break clean in half. He steadied it as best he could as a four-foot section of overhang broke free from the foundation wall. It creaked unsteadily, supported only by the post Alex held and the intact section on the opposite end. If he let go, the entire thing would come crashing down and block the front door.

  As Chance scrambled down from the ladder, picked it up, then hauled it to a new position, Alex’s focus turned inward again. If everything wasn’t good in Drew’s marriage, why in the world would he be concerned enough to ask Alex to look after Reagan?

  “Hey, Chance?” he asked. Normally, he wouldn’t resort to asking third parties. But in the few days he’d spent with Reagan, she’d made it exceedingly clear she didn’t feel like discussing Drew—another hint that perhaps divorce had been in their immediate future.

  “Yeah?” he answered as he mounted the ladder again, chainsaw in hand.

  At that moment, Reagan’s car pulled into the drive. Alex groaned inwardly. So much for getting answers. “Never mind,” he mumbled.

  Chance fired up the chainsaw and applied it to the dangling section of roof. Alex’s concerns about the state of Reagan’s marriage vanished as she strolled up the short walk and stopped at the porch steps. Her gaze caught his, mesmerizing blue pulling him in deeper than he wanted to fall. In the afternoon sunlight, her hair shone like strands of gold had been woven through the endless lengths. But her smile, the beguiling uptick of her lips that spoke of shared secrets and intimate promises they had yet to fulfill, made the space behind his ribs suddenly too tight. His entire body homed in on her presence. From head to toe, he ached to touch her.

  She waved with the fingers of one hand then turned, cutting a path around the house, presumably to enter through the back door. His gaze fixed on the sway of her hips and the heart-shaped curve of her ass. He wanted that bottom up against him, flexing beneath his hands as he took her from behind. Wanted to see the muscles in her back tense as she pushed back against his cock.

  He gritted his teeth and forced his attention back on the roof that now dangled on two corners. Chance killed the chainsaw and climbed down from the ladder. He nodded at the post Alex held.

  “That corner next. Then it should pull right down flat. There’s not enough tension to take the rest of it with her when she goes.”

  Alex took a half step sideways, allowing Chance room to climb on the debris pile and reach the top corner of the post.

  One swipe of the chainsaw sent the shattered portion of the roof tumbling. A cloud of dust rose from the rubble, and with the weight no longer threatening the post, Alex let go to survey Chance’s work. The foundation wall was clean. The front porch supports still remained—all of them solid and strong, sav
e for the corner he’d supported. It would need to come out eventually. Along the crossbeam, Chance had cut far enough away that the intact portion of roof was mostly solid. But contrary to his belief it would hold entirely, several boards near the seam between porch and house jutted up and down at awkward angles, having been broken loose when the larger chunk fell. Those would need to be pulled out first thing tomorrow, before they could come crashing down on anyone’s head.

  But right now, he had air-conditioning to investigate. And one very fine ass waiting for him inside.

  He shot Chance a look. “Thanks, man. I think I’m going to call it a day.”

  A smirk pulled at Chance’s mouth. “Tell me again you’re friends.”

  “Can it,” Alex grumbled good-naturedly. “Gentlemen never tell.” Gentlemen also didn’t consider the things he was thinking of doing to Reagan’s body, but so be it.

  Chance burst into laughter. Shaking his head, he hefted the ladder onto his shoulder and picked up the chainsaw. “I’ll put these up and get out of your hair. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

  Oh, he was planning on doing a whole lot of things that Chance better never even consider when it came to Reagan. But Alex nodded and gave him a wave. As Chance rounded the corner of the house, heading for the woodshed, Alex let himself in the rickety front door. He eyed the beam overhead, cringing inwardly as it teetered, barely balanced between two others. Yeah, that had to go. But it was too high to reach, and the ladder was now gone. He’d get it later this evening.

  A thick cloud drifted in, blocking the sunlight. He glanced toward the horizon, noting building clouds. Another storm—good thing he’d patched the leaky roof. They could stay in tonight, get a reprieve from the heat with the incoming front, and weather the storm with wine and a whole lot less clothing.

  He closed the door behind him and headed for the noises coming from the kitchen. Reagan stood at the counter, a stack of red potatoes piled up to her left. He approached behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and nuzzled the side of her neck. “Hey, you. I missed you.”

  …

  Bliss blanketed Reagan as Alex’s warm lips caressed her skin. She closed her eyes and leaned back into his strong arms, releasing the potato she held to the cutting board. Contentment purred in the back of her throat. “Missed you, too. Sorry I was gone so long—waited forever for an answer on the compressor. They can’t come until tomorrow. Your credit card is in my purse. Let me get it.”

  The stubble on his chin scraped alongside her neck. “Hang on to it.”

  Hang on to it. It took a second to accept it really was that simple, that he wasn’t concerned. “Looks like you and Chance got a lot done on the porch.”

  “We did. I called my sister, too, and told her you were coming Saturday. She’s looking forward to meeting you.”

  Meeting her—that sounded so…intimate. “Really?” she asked as casually as she could.

  “Yeah, really.”

  His hand drifted over her belly, up her ribs, and cupped her breast, sending automatic heat surging through her veins. As she shivered, he stepped closer, bringing her bottom into direct contact with his groin. Through their clothing, the hard evidence of his arousal pressed between her buttocks. She resisted the urge to grind into him.

  “Damn,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “You should never be let out of the house wearing those shorts.” He dragged his thumb across her nipple, and then kneaded the soft flesh of her breast.

  Desire coiled her stomach into a tight knot. She shifted, her breathing becoming ragged. The cant of her hips rubbed against his erection, and Alex sucked in a sharp breath near the base of her ear. But beneath the pull of arousal, old fears stirred to life. Was he annoyed by her choice of clothing? Would she now pay for a mistake she hadn’t realized she’d made? Would he, too, try to control her freedom, take away her choices?

  As Alex’s teeth grazed her collarbone and his other hand flattened against her belly, pressing her bottom more securely to his groin, she shoved hard at the ridiculous fear. This was Alex, not Drew—clearly, he liked her choice of dress. And he’d made it evident this morning, when he’d stressed she’d have input on the rebuilding of her porch, that he wouldn’t make decisions for her.

  He tipped his pelvis into hers, stroking her once more. “Come shower with me,” he whispered. “I’m aching to put my hands all over you.”

  Shower…the idea nearly melted her into a puddle. What she’d give to lather his body, slide her hands all over his slickened skin. Lap off the water after he rinsed, drop by drop by drop. But it was nothing more than a fantasy—she would be fully exposed. In daylight. Where the obvious would be impossible to miss.

  With a short, forced laugh she hoped sounded casual, she eased out of his embrace, turned, and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. “If I do that, then we won’t have dinner.”

  Alex caught her around the waist and dragged her closer. Dipping his head, he flicked his tongue against the sensitive hollow beneath her ear. “I’m okay with starving. Really.”

  She laughed more genuinely. Playfully, she pushed at his chest. “I’m not, handsome.” To soften any possible interpretation of rejection, she hooked her fingers through his belt loops and closed her hands, holding him in place. “Besides, I have it on good authority you’ll need your energy later.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “I can think of a better caloric intake.”

  “No, that’s burning calories, silly.” She giggled, fascinated by this teasing side of him. He seemed so at ease. So content with their newfound intimacy.

  “Mm. Pardon me. I can’t seem to think straight with your hands so close to my cock.” He captured her lips with his teeth, tugged, then released them to brush a soft kiss across her mouth.

  Feeling playful herself, Reagan shifted one palm over his erection. “Better?”

  Alex let out a groan. “Worse. Now I don’t care about food at all.” He flexed his hips, pushing against her hand.

  She massaged him for a moment, reveling in the way he closed his eyes and parted his lips, stuttered breaths escaping. She’d forgotten the sheer delight that came with touching a man’s body. Even when her marriage had been happy, she’d never experienced the unspoken power she wielded now. And that control humbled her as much as it thrilled her.

  Alex opened his eyes, and his gaze scorched beneath her skin. “That countertop is looking pretty good right now.”

  Reagan grinned broadly, squeezed him tight, then slid her hand up his chest. “I cook on that countertop.”

  Alex smirked. “Hey, I’m not picky about where or when I taste you. If it’s on the potatoes…” He shrugged.

  Laughing once more, she pushed at his chest again. “Shoo. Go shower. I’ll finish dinner, we can eat, and then, my dear, I’ll put my hands wherever you want them.”

  With a growl, he tugged her close. “Promise?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  He kissed her soundly, licking his way into her mouth and tangling his tongue with hers before breaking away with a protesting grunt. “Damn, you’ve got me hard as a rock.”

  “They say cold water helps,” she answered with a smirk.

  He smacked her on the butt before releasing her completely. “There are much, much more helpful things.” Reaching around her, he snagged a baby carrot. “I’m pretty partial to warmth. Specifically from your mouth.” He pointed the carrot at her. “You’re in trouble for this, minx. The way I ache right now—you’re so going to pay later.”

  Reagan jammed down the reminder of a similar threat with a drastically different meaning. But her smile faltered, and she turned back to the counter to mask any possible reflection on her face. With a forced chuckle, she replied, “Quid pro quo, Alex. Tit for tat.”

  “Definitely tit. Yours are perfect.”

  She turned around to give him a false glare.

  “Okay, okay, you win. I’m showering.” Grinning, he popped the carrot into his mouth, held his hands up in surrender, an
d backed toward the stairs. “If you change your mind…”

  Struggling to maintain a straight face and failing miserably, she pointed the knife at him. “Out.”

  His laughter echoed up the stairs. Reagan placed the knife on the counter, braced her hands on the edge, and pulled in a deep breath. In the silence, the walls pressed in around her. She was falling for him, falling hard and fast. And the only thing that waited for her when she hit the ground was heartache. Devastating, complete heartache. Because no matter how she wished otherwise, the excuses wouldn’t last much longer. He’d catch on to her evasion tactics. He’d ask questions. And God help her, she didn’t know how to answer.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alex reclined on the sofa, legs stretched out before him and propped on the table, ceiling fan swirling overhead. Reagan sat tucked against his side, her attention fixed on some television show he’d tuned out of long ago when the hot, sticky air had finally made it impossible to think of anything else. It was fucking miserable in this house, and the rainstorm that had blown through had done nothing to alleviate the unmoving humidity. Dinner and the oven only amped up the temperature.

  Hell, it was even too hot for sex. And that was saying something, considering he’d been at half mast since he stepped out of the shower.

  He disentangled his arm from around Reagan’s shoulder and sat forward. “You know what sounds good?”

  She blinked as if the sound of his voice had startled her. “Um. Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Ice cream.” He stood, captured her wrist, and then pulled her to her feet. “Mint chip ice cream. Let’s go to the store.” When she looked like she might balk, he tugged her close for a quick kiss. “It’ll cool us off. And so will the air-conditioning in my truck.”

  “Mm. You don’t want to do that. AC in the vehicle only makes coming back inside worse.” She bent for the remote and flicked the television off. “Let’s walk. There’s a breeze out there, too. It’s just not hitting the windows right.”

  Anything would be better than sitting here in the sauna. Alex headed for the door. “The repairman promised he’d come tomorrow, right?”