by Dani Collins
“Where are you going?” Flynn had asked when they’d climbed into the rental.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. You look like you’re going somewhere.”
“Because I showered?” And shaved. And put on a clean shirt and real pants, not jeans?
“You’re not wearing your hat.”
Ah. The real tell. He was a ball cap guy, always had been, even in this part of the country. His good one sat on the back seat, but he didn’t want hat head. Truth was, he’d come close to putting on a tie.
“Are you going on a date?” Flynn had asked, like he couldn’t quite believe such a thing was possible.
Chase preferred honesty at all times with his kid brother, even when it wasn’t the most palatable thing to do, but he wasn’t sure it was the best policy in this case.
“It’s just dinner. I’ll be home before you are,” he side-stepped.
“With who?” Flynn demanded, like he couldn’t think of one eligible woman in this town.
“I’ll let you know if it gets serious,” Chase shot back.
Flynn gave him the guy stare, the one that refused to ask again, but communicated that more information was expected.
Chase pulled into the parking lot behind the restaurant and gave Flynn a smug smile. “Make good choices.”
“You too,” Flynn snarked back. Damned teenagers and their overdeveloped streaks of sarcasm.
He was still wondering if he should have been more forthcoming with Flynn as he found the top of Skye’s driveway and rocked his way down. The drive wasn’t too steep, but it was long. What did she do in winter, he wondered?
He reached the bench where her house sat on a nicely landscaped handful of acres. A good-sized lawn tractor stood in a three-sided shed. He didn’t doubt for a minute that a girl from a ranch knew how to drive that thing and attach its plow blades herself when the snow flew. If he had to bet between the average jock parking a trailer full of gear and a sixteen-year-old girl moving her horses, he’d put money on the rancher’s daughter every time.
This particular one was doing really well for herself. Since when did school secretaries afford a five-thousand-square-foot house with a pool and in-ground irrigation?
Drawn by exceptional masonry down a path along the side of the house, he admired the plexiglass panels that fenced the pool and stepped up to a deck with a hot tub under a small gazebo. A million-dollar view opened before him, the kind of thing he’d aspired to when he’d been the lowly son of the town drunk. The sort of vision he still held in his head to get through a punishing practice or a tricky moment in a game.
Glass clinked onto a stone tabletop and Skye said, “You can imagine what happened at that point. The phones went off at city hall like a five alarm fire. Penny told me—”
“Skye?” Chase took a few steps toward her, expecting her to turn with a phone to her ear.
She jerked around on her lounger and jumped out of it, looking positively edible, barefoot in a body-hugging dress of sunset colors that matched her blush and glossy lips.
“You’re early,” she blurted.
“Who are you talking to?”
“What? Oh.” She glanced at the tablet set up beside a glass of wine on a small table next to her chair.
“That sounds like one of my kind of girls,” a male voice said with mock accusation. “Angel, are you seeing other gay men behind my back?”
“Shut up, Terry. Or I’ll throw you off the balcony again.”
“Wait. I want to know—” She shut down the tablet and slapped the cover into place, ignoring it when it burbled with a fresh call.
“Again?” Chase prompted, strolling closer to her, but veering to the plexiglass rail and looking down to the terraced rock walls below. A clean fire pit stood on the first level surrounded by more of those well-laid paving stones. A free-standing swing stood on the lowest level, perfect for two to curl up on and watch the sun set.
“The other night at the dance may not have been my first temper tantrum,” Skye confided, biting one painted nail. He liked that she’d done that, going all out for their date. Her toes were the same shade of ripening pink. Cute.
“Continue,” he prompted, starting to grin, feeling really happy to be here. “This sounds like good information to have.”
“I don’t blow up often, honestly. I’m a bottler, which is probably the worst kind of temper because I put up with a lot, letting it fester until I reach my limit and then…”
“You throw a man off a balcony. I noticed at the gym you can lift quite a bit.”
“I threw my tablet off the balcony.”
“Ah. But it survived.” He glanced at the now silent and sleeping device.
“No, but Terry spoils me. Always has. I came home the next day to a new one on the doorstep. He even had the courier pick up the old one and take it away.”
“Is that why you married him? Because he spoils you?” The question came out of him involuntarily, partly because he’d already been wondering, but more because he was so surprised. His spidey-sense for gold-diggers was pretty well honed and she’d never struck him as one. The grandeur of her home took on a new significance.
He came back from glancing at it with new eyes and found her expression had cooled and stiffened.
“No,” she said firmly. “I always thought I’d renovate the old homestead at the ranch when I married and raise my kids there, but Terry’s father is Rolf Baynard of Baynard and Bradley—”
“Architects, right.” He winced at his stupid assumption. “His uncle is Baynard Construction.”
“And his mom is in real estate. She’d had her eye on this property for years. It wasn’t just my dream home, but a kind of group project we all threw ourselves into.”
He took another assessing look at the huge windows and the open floor plan he could glimpse through them. “Terry’s an architect too?”
“Interior designer,” she said, punctuating that announcement with a pointed look then shrugging and turning away to snort, “The clichés were there like billboards, I just didn’t want to see them. You know what I do if I want to get him riled, though?” she confided with a switch of mood to a mischievous grin. “Like seriously get him bent out of shape? I tell him I’m thinking of painting. He starts looking up flights. Won’t let me so much as touch up in the laundry room. No joke.”
“You really didn’t know he was gay?” he asked, latching on to the one piece of really interesting information she’d revealed.
She sighed, hands resting on the rail as she stared into the vastness over Marietta and beyond. After a brief, indecisive look his direction, she said, “I guess I wondered sometimes. I thought the problem was me, of course. That I wasn’t attractive enough.”
She splayed a hand on her chest where the top of her dress drew a half circle across breasts that were goddess-like in their perfection.
“That is not a problem you have, Skye. Trust me.”
She ducked her chin and laughed shyly. “Thank you. Part of me knew I wasn’t hideous, but if I wasn’t the issue, then what was? I thought maybe he had an undiagnosed medical condition, because really, things were dismal up there.”
She pointed to a balcony he assumed came off the master bedroom.
“I thought that’s why he was resisting trying for a family, because he had performance issues, you know?” She blushed bright red, looking at him anxiously, stirring up all his protective feelings. “I can’t believe I just told you that. I’ve never admitted to anyone how bad things were.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Skye.” He sensed that she really needed to hear that.
“I know, but everyone around me seemed to be tearing it up with their guy and it was just too personal and embarrassing to talk about. The worst part was, my real best friend, the one person I always told my problems to, was Terry. And he was the one putting me through it. It was a really confusing time.”
“And then you have asshats like me, keeping it alive.”
“Fortunately I’ve lured you to the balcony now and can exact my revenge.”
He snorted, silently willing her to make a move. Desperate to reach out and have physical contact with her.
“How did it—he—finally come out?”
“Stan’s wife was pregnant with baby number three. I’d always had this dream that our kids would grow up together. I’m really close to him and, you know, cousins. They’re the best, right? So I was literally pleading with Terry to try and he just broke down. It was horrible. I had all this pain inside me and his was worse. It really was.” Her mouth pulled down at the corners.
He stared at her. “So you didn’t kick him out? You had to be angry with him.”
“Of course I was, but I couldn’t cut him loose. He tried really hard to be straight for so long, really wanted to be for his father’s sake, but the lie was killing him. And he was still Terry. Once I got past the shock, I could see that plain as day. His family didn’t, though. His parents barely look me in the eye, they’re so ashamed of him. They never said a word about me keeping the house. It’s super sad.”
“Damn, Skye, I used to think you knew he was gay and you were just smoothing things over for him at school, but even after he put you through all that, you’re not bitter? I’m impressed.”
“Bottler,” she said with a point at her collarbone and a fatalistic shrug. “But what do you mean? You knew he was gay when we were in high school?”
Oh shit. Touching his tongue to his bottom lip, he heard himself drone, “Uhhh.”
Little shadows edged in behind her soft brown eyes, full of dark suspicions and dying trust.
“Look, I’ve never told anyone this, but… One time I was showering after gym class, Terry and I were the only ones in there, and I caught him checking me out. There was that weird moment where he wasn’t sure if I’d seen him looking and I could tell he was scared that I had. Afraid I’d say or do something. I didn’t mean to hold that over him, but I was kind of shocked. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. We seemed to agree to pretend it hadn’t happened. Then you two started going together and I was surprised, but I read it as him really not wanting anyone to know so I left it alone.”
She made a noise of finality. “Well, it sounds like you were trying not to judge, despite what I accused you of the other night.” She moved to take up her wine and sip, then turned to him with a little start. “Can I get you a glass of wine? Or a beer?”
“I don’t drink anything but water.”
“Really? Training thing?”
“Child of an alcoholic thing.”
Her expression changed, turning somber, taking a moment to decide, then saying earnestly, “Obviously I heard tales when we were kids. It was pretty bad?”
“There’s no kind of girl you can date to hide that kind of secret,” he said, feeling his mouth twist with old anger and chronic disgust. When he’d come home with Flynn last night, he’d sent Flynn to bed and half carried their father out of the garage himself, filled with the knowledge that he wasn’t protecting Flynn from anything the kid hadn’t had to do himself, too many times to count. “I think I grew a shell against being stared at before I left kindergarten. That’s why the internet thing didn’t impact me too much.”
“Your dad holds down a job, though, right?”
“If you can call it that. He delivers newspapers to the businesses in town.” A nine-year-old could do it. “Cindy works for groceries and whatever incidentals she needs. I pay for the house and all the bills, cover Flynn’s gear and school stuff. The only thing Dad needs money for is booze, which we all refuse to buy for him, so he gets himself to work twice a week. I don’t know what else to do.” He shrugged at the helplessness he’d never been able to shake. “We’ve all been to meetings. Dad even went into rehab when I threatened to take Flynn. Cindy was okay with it, but I’m on the road so much and Flynn has a lot of good influences here. Max. His friends come from good families. He wanted to stay and it’s not like Dad’s a violent drunk. He loves us and tries in his way to show us. The house is a friggin’ shrine to the two of us. He’s really proud of us. He’s just… got a disease.”
“Oh, Chase, I had no idea it was that bad.” Skye experienced a funny waver of something new inside her. A different kind of admiration that came from seeing beyond Chase Goodwin the super-hero to Chase Goodwin the boy with mettle. “I used to think you were gifted with natural ambition. You made it look like things came easy to you, but you’ve fought for everything you have, haven’t you?”
“I have, Skye. I really have,” he said with a resigned expression, hands going into his pockets. “And I feel like I should have been able to spare Flynn from going through any of the same things. I wish Cindy would have left him and taken Flynn a long time ago, but she stays, so I’ve done what I could. But you know what happened the other night? Flynn and I wound up in quite the man-to-man chat about his going off to college and what would happen after he left, what kind of arrangements I need to make for Dad and his mom and Flynn said, He’s my dad, too. For the first time I felt like it wasn’t all on me. Then I felt guilty as hell, but…”
“No, he’s growing up and you have to let him have a say.” She came forward a few steps. “He’s right. You do. But I know what you mean. He’s quite a bit younger than you are and these are big issues, but look at the decisions you were making at his age for the same reasons. He’s a good kid, Chase. I know who the trouble-makers are, believe me. I chat with them weekly as they wait outside the principal’s office. Flynn is the one who comes into the office because he found someone’s keys in the parking lot.”
His shoulders softened their tense line and he looked into her eyes in a way that seemed kind of bemused, kind of accepting, like he’d come up against something inevitable.
“Can I do something, Skye? It’s not a come-on, I swear, but it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.” He moved into her space.
She swallowed and held her ground, but had the feeling of a groundhog being cast in the shadow of a low-flying hawk. “What?” she prompted.
He set firm hands on her arms and slowly drew her against the heat of his big body.
Indecision had her hands rising nervously between them, but her arms folded as his wrapped around her and he molded her into his hard shape. He even set a wide hand on the back of her head to urge her into resting her cheek against the warm hollow below his shoulder. She was barefoot so the top of her head barely reached his collarbone and his jaw rubbed against her hair while he smoothed his hands reassuringly all over her back.
It wasn’t an aggressive, sexual move. They’d shared some really personal things in the last few minutes and this was a sweet embrace to seal the connection.
It was something Terry would do.
That thought made her stiffen until she realize Chase was stiffening—
“Um—” she blurted, jerking away.
“Yeah, I really meant that to be just a hug.” He eased his hold but left his hands loosely resting on her hips, allowing enough space for her to look up and see his rueful grin. “Let that be proof you’re doing just fine at attracting a man.”
It was the kind of boost her crushed womanhood really, really needed. They hadn’t even kissed and he was hard? Her eyes began to sting and her heart rate skipped into an uncertain gallop.
“I desperately want to kiss you right now,” he said gruffly, one hand rising into her periphery, hesitating, then resting on the side of her neck.
He was giving her time to decide and she’d already made this decision. As he set a possessive hand over her throat and tilted her chin with his thumb, she lifted on tiptoes, meeting the crush of his mouth.
And it was brilliant. No hesitation on his part. The opposite. Mastery. Hunger. He knew exactly what he was doing and it took her apart at the first indrawn hiss of her breath. In fact, she could hardly keep up under the onslaught of sensations. He kissed with firm, assertive masculine want, carefully gri
nding their mouths together, spreading dampness so their lips slid deliciously and a rush of excitement poured through her, culminating in a flood of wet heat between her legs.
Her arms curled around the back of his neck instinctively, mashing her tingling breasts into the hardness of his chest and even though he held her so close and tight it almost hurt, she loved it. His hands moved on her back, digging into her muscles and sliding low, encouraging her as she leaned her straining, reaching body into his. He caught her bottom lip in a gentle bite and lashed the plumped flesh with his tongue, then released it and swept to soothe the flesh before he delved into her mouth, flicking and coaxing her to play her tongue against his.
Oh God, she could barely breathe, but they only broke away to switch sides and threw themselves into another famished kiss, one she returned from a place of instinct and passion. She knew she ought to be having some kinds of thoughts, but her brain totally shorted out, leaving her flashfiring with bursts of excitement and contractions in delicious pleasure points. This was how it was supposed to be. She understood now.
Except, just as she was giving herself over to the mindlessness of it, his hands tightened on her arms and he set her away, sucking a pained breath through his teeth as he said, “Dinner. We have to leave now or we might not get out of here at all.”
She looked at where her hands had trailed down to rest on his chest. Her trembling fingers rose and fell with his panting breaths. Her own lungs were gasping for oxygen while her head swam and giddy desire filled her.
Real desire. Crazy, let’s do it in the road desire.
His hands moved restlessly up and down her arms. “Skye? I could really use your help here, ‘cause much as we professional athletes have a reputation to uphold, I don’t usually sleep with a woman this fast. Dinner first, for sure.”
“You really want to, though, don’t you?” she asked with wonder, needing to work up the courage to lift her lashes and read his face.
His expression flickered with bafflement, then slow understanding dawned and finally softened to tenderness. “No one since Terry? Really?”
“Not even a date. I’m using you. I’m sorry.” She withdrew her touch, quirking a sheepish look up at him. “I need to get back in the game, Chase. Do you mind taking one for the team?”