by Charli Webb
He shakes his head but takes another peek at his watch.
He’s counting my breaths. I shove my arm at him. “Want to take my pulse while you’re at it?”
He puts his middle two fingers over my wrist.
I jerk my hand out of his. “Cut it out.”
He blinks, obviously surprised that I’m pissed off. “What’s wrong?”
“I hate being fussed over.”
“And I hate watching you struggle to breathe because you’re too damn proud to use your inhaler.”
Vanity is part of it, but mostly I’m trying to conserve my medication. I shake the canister as I push all the air out of my lungs then inhale and administer a dose. I count to eight then exhale. “Satisfied?”
“That was textbook perfect. Are you feeling better?”
I nod my head. “Glad you approve of my technique.”
Rowdy ignores my sarcasm. “You’d be surprised how many people can’t coordinate the act of depressing a canister with inhaling.”
“Can we talk about something besides asthma?”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Okay, us.”
“What about us?” He moves back to his spot against the far wall and folds his arms over his chest, tucking the tips of his fingers under his armpits. “I didn’t know there was an us anymore.”
Wow. That hurts. “I don’t want to play games with you. We used to be so open and honest with each other. It was one of the things I loved about us.”
“I don’t want to play games with you, either. But it’s been four years. I’ve done a lot of things you aren’t going to like.”
“I’m not going to hold anything you’ve done in the past against you. All I’m concerned about is what you do from this night forward.”
“You’ve already told me you don’t want to have sex with me.”
“No. I said we weren’t having sex tonight.”
He smiles as he stretches, expanding his chest. “I might be able to hold out until tomorrow.”
“God, Rowdy.” I kick the side of his thigh. “I’m trying to be serious.”
“I am serious.” He’s not smiling now. “I need to have sex on a regular basis to blow off steam.”
I’m trying to keep from losing it, but man, he’s pushing all my buttons. “You use women to blow off steam?”
“I don’t use anyone. The women I have sex with get just as much out of it as I do.” He bends his knees, pulling his feet back until they’re flat on the floor. “I suppose you’ve been completely celibate for the past four years.”
“Not exactly.”
“And what does that mean…exactly?”
No games, right? If I expect him to be honest with me, I have to be honest with him. “It means that I messed around with a guy but I haven’t had sex with anyone but you.”
“No shit?” Rowdy’s eyes widen.
“No shit.”
“You must be fucking horny.”
I glare at him. He’s right, but there’s no way I’m admitting it.
“Wait. Just one guy?”
“We can’t all be sluts like you.”
“How long were you together?” Rowdy clenches his jaw.
What is his problem? “Eight months.”
“Did you kiss him?”
“Yes, I kissed him. We did a lot of other stuff, too. Do you want all the details?”
“Do you love him?”
“No.”
“Did you ever love him?”
“No.”
“Does he love you?”
“What difference does it make?”
“Are you still together?”
“Would I have kissed you if we were?”
“Answer the question, Skylar.”
“No, Rowdy. We aren’t together.”
“When did you break up?”
“Three weeks ago.” I’m suddenly so tired I can no longer hold my head up. I hug my shins and rest my forehead on my knees. “The day after Mom’s funeral.”
Chapter Twelve
Rowdy
Skylar’s mother hasn’t been dead a month yet and I’m cross-examining her about an ex-boyfriend. An ex-boyfriend she didn’t even have sex with. What the fuck’s wrong with me? I crawl across the floor on my hands and knees. “Hey.”
A tear slips out of the corner of her eye.
I wipe it away with my thumb. “Do you miss him?”
She shrugs. “We were pretty good friends before we got together.”
“That’s how we began.” My voice is as rough as the gravel road in front of Boone’s house. I hate the idea of her being with another guy…as evidenced by my reaction to seeing her with Wade. But it’s the thought that someone else might have owned even a part of her heart that’s shredding mine.
“Ethan and I were nothing like you and me.”
“How’s that?”
“I only went out with him because my mom wanted me to.”
“Why did she want you to go out with someone you weren’t into?”
“I think she wanted me to have someone that could comfort me after she died.”
Skylar brushes another tear off her cheek, triggering a need to protect her that’s so strong it hurts.
This is exactly why I don’t want to get involved with her again. She has entirely too much power over me. But I can’t help myself. I scoot in next to her and sling an arm over her shoulder. I pull her closer and kiss the top of her head. “I’m so sorry.”
“Do you believe in an afterlife? In Heaven?”
“I don’t know.” Mostly, I just believe in Hell.
“Rowdy?”
“Hmm?” I rock her gently back and forth in my arms. If I keep this shit up, I’m going to grow a damn vagina.
She takes a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds then shivers when she exhales. “I know we can’t pick up where we left off, but maybe we can start over.”
I freeze. “What do you mean?”
Her heart’s pounding so hard I can see the pulse in her neck.
“What we had was amazing and rare and beautiful. It was a once in a lifetime, fairytale kind of love.”
“Fairytales aren’t real.”
She lifts my arm off her shoulder and leans away from me, but keeps her gaze locked on my face. “Don’t you dare try to pretend that what we had wasn’t real. You promised to love me forever, right here.” She slams the side of her fist against the wood floor.
“We were kids, Skylar.” I rub my forehead, trying to alleviate the pounding behind my eyes.
“Are you saying you didn’t mean it?”
“I meant every word, but I didn’t know anything about life…or love. And I’m still pretty damn clueless.” I’d been beaten, burned, ridiculed and humiliated beyond belief. But Mom’s death is the only thing that’s ever hurt me as much as losing Skylar. The two events are so closely entwined that I have a hard time separating them. I know it wasn’t her fault. But the fact remains that I know how it feels to lose her and I don’t ever want to go through anything like that again.
“I’m not asking you to marry me.” The moon peeks out from behind a cloud, illuminating her eyes. “All I’m asking is for you to give us a chance. Can you do that?”
What am I supposed to say? My heart’s already agreed without waiting for any input from my brain.
I lift my hand, extending my pinkie finger, just like I did when we were kids. “Friends?”
Skylar grins and hooks it with hers. “Friends.”
I tug her closer. “With benefits?”
She licks her lips. “With limited benefits.”
“How limited?”
“I think we need to take it slow.”
“I think we need to get naked.”
“Rowdy!” She lightly slaps my chest.
“I have needs, woman.” I mean it as a joke, sort of. But Skylar doesn’t laugh.
“If we’re going to have any
chance at all, you can’t sleep with anyone else.”
“I figured as much.” I make a mental note to stock up on tequila. “Can you give me an estimate on when you might be ready for full benefits?”
She smiles and shakes her head. “Let’s just take it one day at a time, okay?”
“Do you have any idea what a sacrifice this is for me?”
“It’s going to be hard for me, too.”
“That’s what she said.” I give her my patented ‘sexy’ grin that she hates and wiggle my eyebrows.
Skylar tries not to laugh and snorts like a pig. And even that’s cute.
“Hey, you left yourself wide open for that one. Don’t blame me.”
An eerie, whistling sound rises above the noise of the creek. My mouth goes dry. Eldorado Canyon turns into a wind tunnel when storms roll out of the Rockies. The lightning is legendary. “Storm’s coming.”
Skylar’s eyes widen. So does her smile. “Awesome!”
I stand up and offer her my hand. “We need to get back to the house.”
“Are you kidding me?” She ignores my outstretched hand and heads towards the cargo net linking the main part of the tree house to the observation deck above. “Come on!”
The girl has no sense of self-preservation. Never did. “Skylar, it’s not safe.”
“What happened to your sense of adventure? You used to love watching storms.”
That was before I started hearing the blast of a pistol with every clap of thunder and seeing a muzzle flash with every bolt of lightning. “I grew up. Don’t make me carry you out of here.”
She eyes me warily then returns her gaze to the open door. She shifts her weight, hunching down ever so slightly.
“Skylar.” I draw out her name. “Don’t.”
She glances over her shoulder and grins at me.
Shit. I lunge for her but she’s too fast. She leaps through the open door. Lightning flashes, imprinting the image of her hanging in midair on the back of my eyelids. Thunder booms and echoes off the canyon walls. “Damn it, Sky!”
The tree house lurches then sways with the aftershocks of her slight weight hitting the ropes.
“Come on, Rowdy. The lightning rod on the house will protect us.”
A feeling of vertigo washes over me as I realize there’s more than one way to lose Skylar. “Get back here right now or the deal’s off.”
She’s halfway to the observation platform. She pauses and looks over her shoulder again, this time with a frown on her face. “What deal?”
“We can’t be friends if you’re going to act like an idiot.”
She cocks her head. “Are you kidding me?”
“I couldn’t be more serious. Get your ass on the ground or we’re done.”
“Okay, okay. Jesus.” She climbs back towards me, feet first.
I hold onto the door frame then lean out and grab the waistband of her pants as soon as she’s within reach. All I’m trying to do is to get her inside as fast as possible so we can get out of here before we’re fried by lightning. But that’s not what happens. I had no idea fabric could stretch that much.
Chapter Thirteen
Skylar
Cold air rushes over my ass as Rowdy practically jerks my pants off. I squeal and scramble for purchase, arms and legs flailing. My elbow impacts something hard and sharp.
Rowdy swears and grabs my upper arm. He hauls me inside with one hand.
My pants are around my knees. I’m wearing a tiny, see-through, black lace thong. The bottom half of me is practically naked and on full display. I reach around and grab the hem of my shirt, yanking it down past my bare ass. But Rowdy’s not even looking at me.
He’s holding a cupped hand in front of his bleeding mouth.
“Oh, crap.”
Rowdy glares at me and points at the trapdoor.
I nod then climb down without a word. As soon as Rowdy’s feet hit the ground, he grabs my hand and drags me into the kitchen.
My elbow’s throbbing. I can only imagine what his mouth feels like. “I’m so sorry.”
He pulls his phone out of his pants, scrolls through his contacts then hands it to me.
“You’ve reached the after-hours office line for Dr. Clint Maxwell. If you have a true dental emergency that cannot wait for regular office hours, press one.”
My hand shakes as I follow the automated instructions. Finally, a human answers. “This is Dr. Maxwell.”
“Hi, my name’s Skylar Layton and I accidentally hit my boyfriend, Rowdy Daletzki, in the mouth with my elbow.” Oh crap. Did I really just call him my boyfriend?
“Were any teeth knocked out?”
I repeat the question to Rowdy. He lowers his hand and opens his mouth.
I cringe when I see the damage. “No, but one of his front teeth is really crooked. And it wasn’t like that before.”
I run to the family room to tell Boone what happened and once again borrow his car. I try to apologize to Rowdy during the drive to Boulder but he just holds a hand up and shakes his head. I guess he doesn’t want to hear it.
The storm catches up with us just as I turn onto Broadway. I love thunderstorms, but I can’t enjoy this one. I’m a walking disaster zone. First Boone, now Rowdy. I wonder who’s next?
Dr. Maxwell meets us at the front door of his office building. I hold my breath as he examines Rowdy’s mouth.
“Is he okay? He’s not going to lose the tooth, right?”
“Not if I can help it.” Dr. Maxwell explains each step of the process as he examines and then splints Rowdy’s tooth. Basically, all he does is straighten it out then glue it to the adjoining, undamaged teeth on either side with little globs of resin. He shines a bright, blue light on it for a few seconds then leans back and removes his latex gloves, tossing them into a biohazard bin. He claps Rowdy on the shoulder. “Call my office tomorrow and set up an appointment for two weeks from today. Nothing but soft food for the first week.”
“Soft food?” It sounds more like ‘thof foo.’ Rowdy closes his eyes and groans.
Dr. Maxwell chuckles. “You let me poke and prod a lateral luxation without complaint, but the thought of a restricted diet makes you whine?”
Rowdy rolls his eyes then points at my chest. “Smoothies. Lots and lots of smoothies.”
It takes a second for my brain to decipher his impaired speech. But when it does, I know exactly what he wants.
“Chocolate, banana and peanut butter?” Aunt Lori used to make smoothies for all of us when we were kids. Rowdy was the only one that liked peanut butter in his.
He grins and nods. “Lots of peanut butter.”
“You got it.” The lump in my throat swells. Not only is it obvious that Rowdy’s forgiven me for practically knocking his tooth out, he’s going to let me take care of him.
Since we’re already in Boulder, Rowdy insists I drop him off to get his car.
The storm blows itself out before we get back to the house. Rowdy parks behind me then jogs to Boone’s car and opens my door. The clean scent of rain and pine is a welcome change to the usual dust.
When we get inside, I notice that Boone is no longer in the recliner. I follow Rowdy upstairs, admiring the view of his muscular butt. He walks past Boone’s closed door and leans against the wall next to my room, feet spread a few inches more than shoulder width apart.
I hope he doesn’t think he’s going to be spending the night in my bed. I’d love to fall asleep wrapped up in his arms, but I don’t trust myself.
He hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his sweats, tugging them dangerously low. His fingers fan out over his hip bones. “Do I get a goodnight kiss?”
“Are you sure you want one?” Not only did I mess up his tooth, I also split his lip.
“I want a lot more, but I’ll settle for a kiss.” He takes my wrists and leads me into the space between his legs, placing my hands on his chest. His heart thumps against my palm. It’s beating almost as fast as mine. He grabs my ass and pulls me closer. The
evidence of just how much more he wants presses against my stomach, causing every muscle below my waist to clench. His gaze drops to my breasts. I’m sure he’s getting an eyeful. I can feel my nipples straining against the thin fabric of my t-shirt.
My knees turn to jello. I slide down his body. Not far, just a couple of inches, but that slight amount of friction triggers a needy whimper.
Rowdy growls in response. His abs contract as he sucks in a breath through his teeth.
I try to pull back, but he holds my hips in place, digging his fingers into my ass. He slips one hand under my shirt and skims the surface of my ribs with his fingertips. The heel of his palm brushes against the side of my breast.
I want him to touch me. Desperately. It’s all I can do to keep from turning into him. Both of us are trembling, now.
I’m not a virgin. We’ve made love before. He wants me. I want him. This shouldn’t be such a big deal. But it is.
I stare into Rowdy’s eyes and remember how I used to see love and adoration reflected there. A mirror of my own feelings. Now, all I see is lust. His and mine. It’s a raw, animal hunger, demanding and reckless.
This is not what I want. My body disagrees. But if I let Rowdy use me, the way he’s used all those other girls, I’m afraid I’ll lose him forever. I’d rather free solo every route on The Redgarden Wall than risk that. “Rowdy, stop.”
He freezes then slowly slides his hand out of my shirt, tracing the same path as before, only in reverse.
“I’m sorry.”
He gently pushes my hips away from his then drops his hands. “Me too.”
I can tell from his tone of voice that he’s not apologizing. He’s just sorry I stopped him.
In all the time we were together, he never once made me feel guilty for slowing things down. The night we made love, he kept stopping to ask me if I was sure. I was then. I’m not now.
Rowdy wraps his fingers around my upper arms and moves me to the side so he can step away from the wall. He leans in.
My pulse throbs in my neck as I lift my chin and close my eyes. His warm breath caresses my face. I lick my lips and silently remind myself to be gentle.
He presses his cheek against mine and whispers, “Goodnight, Skylar,” then disappears into Boone’s room.