View With Your Heart: a small town romance (Heart Collection Book 5)

by L. B. Dunbar

  “It’s been a while for me, too.” My head snaps up, and I narrow my eyes at him. Now, he’s just mocking me.

  “Her name was Zoey, and we lived together for years.” Nervously, he swipes a hand over his wet hair before softly chuckling. “When we met, she was a force. She had all these plans and connections. She sought me out.”

  His eyes briefly shift to me. “And I just sort of fell for the attention. She pursued sponsorships and endorsement opportunities. She wasn’t my agent, but quickly became mine, and more. When I broke my wrist and lost some commercial gigs, she stepped back, wanting out of the relationship.”

  Gavin rubs a hand down his face before continuing.

  “She’s still on retainer with me, although I don’t know why I’ve kept her around. She approved of the documentary at first, fighting for more rights as I became more prominent in it, but when everything fell apart and I started working on the project more out of passion than a paycheck, she didn’t like the idea.”

  He grows impassioned as he speaks.

  “Zoey humored me, calling my interest a nice hobby, but she missed me being in the game. The notoriety of dating Gavin Scott,” he says bitterly. “She eventually traded down for a younger model.”

  She had to be out of her mind. Gavin is unbelievably hot, and I imagine he still performs well in all departments. Not to mention, he’d always been a good man, and I am hopeful that hasn’t changed in him. He sounds truly crushed that she didn’t support his new endeavor like she’d supported his high-profile sports career.

  “Zoey should have been proud of you no matter who you are,” I offer, realizing I’m not making him feel better.

  “She should have been, but she wasn’t.” He sighs, glancing down at the towel over his thighs and plucking at the material. Then he tips his head back, looking upward for a brief second before rolling his head to gaze at me. “I just didn’t love her. We lived together. . . but I moved out. It was her place anyway. Everything was hers, and she’d always remind me of that. She’s rich daddy’s spoiled little girl, and I just didn’t see a future with someone like that. I was just stuck for a bit.”

  I cringe. No woman wants to feel like a man is just stuck with her, but I understand a little bit. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to marry Patrick. I loved Patrick, but I was also so vulnerable when he proposed. My life was in turmoil. Gertie was ill. I’d just had Gee. Leo needed me.

  “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t believe in me.” His eyes hold mine a second before he looks back at his outstretched legs, jiggling them side to side a little.

  “Yeah, I get that.” My voice lowers as my eyes fight the pull to his bare shins. I fight even harder not to look at the six-pack of abs just above the towel. My own stomach flinches, reminding me I’ve had a child and never fully recovered my body to the post-pregnancy stage. I’m soft in the middle with stretch marks to boot.

  Gavin glances back at me. “You said you stopped dancing because of Gee’s birth. Did something happen with your husband? Did he not support you returning to dance?” Concern fills his voice.

  “No, Patrick was . . .” How exactly do I explain him? “He was very supportive. He wanted me to return to dance, but I just didn’t have the heart for it anymore. I still love to dance, and I exercise through barre classes, but I don’t actively practice ballet anymore. I left when I was pregnant.”

  Having a baby can change a person’s perspective on what’s most important in life, and Gee was everything to me.

  Gavin shifts his whole body to face me. His shoulder presses into the edge of my bed, and I almost feel bad we’re sitting on the floor, but I don’t want to move. There’s nowhere else I’d like to be right now, and while my thoughts flit to sitting on the bed, I don’t trust myself to crawl up there with Gavin. Especially Gavin in a towel.

  “That’s how it was with baseball and me. When I broke my wrist and struggled to recover, I just didn’t have the same drive to return. It wasn’t that I thought filmmaking would be my next thing, but I’d felt like I was missing something—as though baseball wasn’t enough anymore. Like there was something else out there waiting to be discovered, to be found by me.”

  I swallow around his words, understanding again what he means.

  “It sounds silly, doesn’t it?” He glances down at my hand between us and traces his fingertip down a finger.

  “Gavin, I really need to—”

  His hand lifts, and he strokes a section of my hair behind my ear. As I watch his movements, my mouth dries at the tender touch. He freezes, pulling his hand from my neck but hovering over my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry.” He’s watching me as my chest heaves. My sharp nipples scrape against my soft tee, enhancing the sensitivity. My breasts feel swollen and heavy. “We’re twenty years older, but it feels like I’m that eighteen-year-old kid hanging out with you again, and it’s a natural reaction to reach out and touch you.”

  “Gavin, you shouldn’t do this. I can’t be some filler for you just because you’re back in town for a few weeks.” My voice turns edgy. He’s always temporary, and I don’t need temporary in my life. Besides, he’s distracted me from telling him what I need to say, once again.

  “Because you have a man?”

  “Yeah, because I have a man,” I sarcastically snap. I’m offended he thinks I have a boyfriend when I should be flattered he thinks I’m in a position to date. However, I don’t date. I haven’t been with anyone since my husband.

  “If you have a man, how come he doesn’t kiss you?” His forehead furrows like this is the most puzzling mystery. I’m startled by the question but quickly realize what he means. He’s thinking I have a man-man in my life, not the little man I’m using as my excuse.

  “Our relationship isn’t like that,” I say, trying to cover for myself while my voice croaks. I need to protect myself from him, and this is the only way I know how.

  “You’re still so beautiful, Brit.” His brows pinch, questioning how I could be with someone who I don’t kiss.

  “Gavin,” I groan, turning my head to look at him while my face heats with the compliment. It’s been a long time since someone has sincerely called me beautiful as well.

  “I just told you all about Zoey. Tell me more about your man or about your husband.” His interest is surprising, but I’m uncomfortable with this line of discussion.

  “I don’t think we should do this,” I state, picking at the hem of my sleep shorts.

  “Do what?”

  “We don’t need to trade secrets. We don’t need to share our sad stories.”

  Gavin’s eyes drop to my fingers now curled around the edge of my shorts. My nipples are fully on display under my thin shirt, and he blatantly stares at them, making them even harder, if that’s possible.

  “Is it wrong that I want to know you again, Candy? I’ve missed you. I can admit it, and I feel sick that we misunderstood each other and lost all these years.”

  “Who’s to say we would have kept in touch?” I say with more bite than I intend, but the truth is, if Gavin had learned the truth, he wouldn’t have wanted to stick around any more than he did. He was on the fast track to Baseball’s Hall of Fame. He didn’t want to be tied down, and it’s one reason he proposed a weekend with no strings attached.

  His forehead furrows like my words hurt, and I accept that I’m being unfair to him. I haven’t given him a choice in the matter, and I’m unjustly assuming his response. I’ve also spent thirteen years without him, so this is more difficult than I thought.

  “I don’t want to lose touch again. I’ve been here almost a week, and I feel like I’m running out of time. I’m here another week, and I want to see you. I promise to keep my hands to myself.” He holds up two fingers like Scout’s honor.

  “Why?” I stare at him. Why now? “I’m not that girl who stayed in a hotel room with you for a weekend.”

  His eyes widen. “I’m not suggesting you are. Things have changed.”

  “Yes,
they have,” I state harshly again, but some things stay the same, and my attraction to him, despite our heating words, is rising in temperature. I want to crawl on his lap and kiss him silly, debunking my claim of a man in my life.

  “You still haven’t told me anything about your husband.”

  “What is there to tell? He was a good man, and he died.” The words tumble out in a rush and sound even sharper than my previous snap at him. Quickly, I press off the floor and stand. “I’m going to check on your clothes.”

  Needing space from him and the sexual energy rippling over my body, I exit the room for the laundry closet. His jeans are still damp near the bottom, but the shirt is dry. He probably doesn’t even wash them but has then professionally laundered and starched. Tumbling it in the dryer has made it a wrinkled mess, but it will have to do.

  When I return to my room, Gavin is standing but propped against the edge of my bed. His ankles cross again, and his hands are clasped together in his lap. His head is lowered, but he looks up when I enter.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.” His dark eyes soften, and I see the Gavin of years ago. The one who told me he loved me when I was only sixteen years old. The same one who asked me to make love to him in a hotel room.

  “I’m sorry, too.” I hold out his clothes, and he accepts them but places them over the towel on his thighs. “It’s just a shock to see you again.”

  I have all these feelings inside, and I don’t know what to do with them. Most of all, I have something to tell him.

  Gavin reaches for my hand, rubbing his thumb over my fingers, watching as he strokes my knuckles.

  “I shouldn’t have run away like I did last night. That was adolescent. It was only a kiss, right?” Dismissing the kiss lessens the sting of his apology for it and my awkward response to it.

  He tugs me toward him, and I stumble a bit. My feet knock into his crossed ankles, and I’m forced to straddle his legs to catch myself from falling over.

  “If it was only a kiss, maybe we should do it again,” he teases, his voice lowering as his gaze drifts to my mouth.

  “What happened to being good?” I tease.

  “If he doesn’t kiss you, don’t you miss it?”

  He has no idea how much I miss kissing someone. How much I miss hands on my body, touching me with desire. How much I miss the feel of someone entering me, connecting with me.

  Not just anyone but him.

  My eyes focus on his lips as well. When I don’t respond to his question, he slowly licks the bottom one, turning up the temptation to give into him. This has bad idea written all over it, and he’s making it so difficult to resist him. His hand flips, so his fingers entwine with mine.

  He yanks me forward a little more, and I widen my stance over his legs, using the strength in my thighs to prevent me from collapsing into his chest.

  “One more, Candy. Then I’ll stop.” I’ve heard these words so many times from him. We’d pull off to the side of the road for one more kiss. He came to see me the morning he left for California, for one more kiss before he said goodbye. He asked me to make love to him in the wee hours of the morning that weekend, for one more time before time was up.

  “Gavin,” I groan, but I don’t finish his name before his mouth is on mine, sweet but demanding. His hand cups the side of my face, tilting my head, offering him a better angle to take my lips with his. He’s kissing me with all the tenderness I desire and the eagerness with which I want to give in. Our mouths move together, finding the taste familiar, finding the connection I’ve ached for, and too soon, I pull back, needing to separate before I push him back and crawl over him, removing his towel and making him do things to me which would result in something amazing and not good at the same time.

  “You should get dressed. I’ll step into the living room.” My voice isn’t more than a whisper while my gaze falls to his lips once more, still wet from our kiss. I bite mine, feeling the pressure of his mouth still against me. My legs are spread over his thighs, and the heat of him just below me increases the pulse at my core. I need to move, but my legs are frozen in place. My chest heaves, causing my nipples to rub against the soft tee of my sleep shirt, increasing the ache in the swell of my breasts.

  Everything in me wants to lunge at him, tackle him to the bed and straddle him, but I fight the urge, reminding myself who he is, who he’s been in my life. He’s temporary, and I’m not looking for a quick fix.

  Take 12

  Scene: The Living Room

  [Gavin]

  Leaving her bedroom takes all my strength. I wanted nothing more than to tug her on top of me, remove the towel and enter her, reminding her of us, reminding her how it feels to be wanted by a man.

  Who the hell dates her and doesn’t fucking kiss her?

  Her mouth is lush like I remember, and she tastes every bit the same. Britton was so sexual. Nothing makes sense.

  When I meet her in the living room, I’m thrown back in time some more. The paneled walls. The stone fireplace. The rug and couch have been updated, and the two reclining chairs that belonged to Gertie and Leo are gone, but the aura feels the same. The room is small. The entire cottage is tinier than I remember with its simple layout of the kitchen, living room, and two bedrooms joined by a bath. The bedrooms face the water, but any position in the house has a view of the lake.

  Britton is standing by the front door, and the implication is clear. Time to go. Only I don’t want to walk out that door without a promise she’ll see me again—man in her life or not. When the film festival ends tomorrow night, I have another week to hang out before Jess and Emily’s wedding, and I want to spend time with her. We don’t have to consider things a date. We can just be together, but I already know it’s not really that simple.

  As I stand in the living room, staring back at her, Gee enters the room.

  “Hey, Coach, I didn’t know you were here.” He looks from his mom to me and back at her. If he’s questioning her attire, he doesn’t say anything. Her rosy nipples are not disguised behind the faded material, and the sharp nubs give away her reaction to my body. Her short shorts expose tan dance-muscled legs, and one barefoot rubs up against her ankle with nerves.

  It’s late, and I don’t know anything about children and bedtimes. Still, shouldn’t Gee be sleeping?

  “Mr. Scott was just leaving,” Britton says.

  “You wouldn’t want to pitch to me again, would you?” Gee addresses me, ignoring his mother. His voice is hopeful, and something about him gazing at me has my heart racing.

  Britton hisses his name, but I slowly smile. “I’d love to pitch to you. When’s a good time?”

  “Gavin,” Britton cries to me next, but I ignore her myself.

  “Tomorrow is Harbor Days, but I could play on Sunday. I want the practice before my game on Monday.” I admire his drive at such a young age, and it reminds me of when I was twelve.

  “Perfect. Want me to meet you there? I can drive us to the field.” My eyes look up at Britton because I suddenly feel a temperature change coming from her direction. Maybe it’s not appropriate to take the kid to the park as I’m essentially a stranger to him.

  “Or we could hit here?”

  Gee shakes his head. “There’s not enough room. I don’t want to hit someone’s house.” He smirks, exerting confidence in his ability.

  “I need to work on Sunday,” Britton says, but I’m not certain what that has to do with pitching to her kid.

  Gee’s shoulders visibly fall. “I can ride my bike to the field.”

  “Not alone,” Britton admonishes. “I’ll talk to Theo. Maybe he can take you.”

  I’m not liking how complicated she’s making this, but I understand. If Gee were my kid, I’d be overprotective too.

  “We gotta do what Mom says,” I tell him, and his head snaps up.

  “You sound just like my dad.” The comment makes me smile, but the color drains from Britton’s face.

  “Okay, well, Sunday then. Let me give you my
number.” Gee disappears for his phone in his room, and Britton glares at me.

  “Not cool, Gavin.”

  “What did I do?” I smile innocently, and Britton shakes her head.

  “Don’t do this.” I don’t even know what she means, but her eyes are full of caution while the color slowly restores to her face.

  “It’s only batting practice,” I tell her, uncertain what she’s so afraid of happening. She shakes her head as if disagreeing with me and Gee returns to the room with his phone in hand. I give him my number and then tell him to text his mom mine, so she has my number as well. I want her to be able to reach out to me. I won’t risk losing her again.

  Gee lingers, and I realize Britton and I aren’t going to have another alone moment.

  “I guess I’ll be going,” I say, stepping up to the door, and Britton steps aside.

  “Will you be at Harbor Days tomorrow, Coach?”

  My gaze lands on Britton before shifting to Gee. “I’ll be at the beach during the day with my family, but tomorrow night is the final night of the film festival. I have a dinner to attend.” I glance back at Britton. “In fact, I’d like your mom to attend the dinner with me.”

  Britton’s eyes widen.

  “Like a date?” Gee teases, and his voice cracks.

  “No, just as friends, but I understand if you guys have plans for the night. I remember Harbor Days.” Fondly, I recall all the nights of carnival rides, firework displays, and the parties at someone’s field. Then I remember a boat from this property, wabbling on a lake with a girl in my lap, and my eyes return to Britton.

  “I want Mom to let me hang out with my friends without her following me around. Theo already said he’d take me to the carnival. You should go with Coach, Mom,” Gee encourages, and I can’t believe the kid has become my accomplice.

  “Maybe I have plans,” she huffs, and Gee laughs.

  “Like what?” he asks. Good one, buddy.

  “Jenna and Henry want me to hang out with them.” Her voice turns haughty like she’s a twelve-year-old herself, and I’m questioning these sudden plans. Gee shrugs at his mom’s answer, and I’ve lost my partner in crime.