He ran his hand over his stubbled face and blew out a large breath. “I remember. You ignited something in me I’ve never felt before. It felt wrong, seeing as I’ve been married. I felt guilty. I needed to not like you. I wanted to find any excuse I could to why I shouldn’t.”
“Why didn’t you just let me drown? Or did you not know it was me?”
Heat crept up his neck and landed in his cheeks. I’d upset him. “How could you ask that? Of course I knew it was you. You were the only person I knew that drove a black Camaro with a pink stripe.”
I missed that car. I couldn’t bring myself to get another one.
“All I kept thinking was not her. Not that I wished it on anyone, but more than anything, I didn’t want it to be you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either, to be honest, but I’m done fighting it. There’s obviously something between us. A chemistry that can’t be denied. And the more I’m around you, the more I like you.”
I took a moment to peer into his eyes. I could see the war had calmed, that he had reached a peace with himself where I was concerned. I didn’t like it. It was disconcerting, and I never felt that way. “I told you I’m done with men.”
“I remember.”
I wasn’t sure what his tone indicated. Disappointment? Relief perhaps? I turned to my salad before I turned into his eyes and him. He had no idea how hard it was for me to keep my hands off him. “Thank you for dinner.”
“You’re welcome.”
Chapter Thirteen
My fingers ran through his wet hair. It was better than I had imagined and I had imagined it for a long time. I almost ended up in his lap at the washing station over it, but I held back. Why was I so attracted to this man? He had basically insulted me earlier, and he was right, I wasn’t his type and he was so far away from being mine. And I was unsure of what to say to him. That never happened. I could talk to clients all day long about any menial subject. That was a good idea. I’d go with menial.
I scrubbed the glue out of his hair. Looking down at him with his eyes closed, he was obviously enjoying it. It was something we shared. I loved nothing more than to have someone, preferably a man, wash my hair. I thought of a few who could make my toes curl. Stop, Cheyenne. I couldn’t think about it. I had no idea how hard it was going to be to cut men out of my life. Especially the one my hands were enjoying. I took my time massaging his scalp. I watched him breathe deeply and relax under my touch. As my hands moved to his neck, I could feel his skin raise in pleasure. Why did that fill me with the same feeling?
We needed to talk or my lips were going to do something else, and I knew he would be a willing participant.
“So, who were you meeting for dinner last night?” I forced my hands away to rinse the cleansing shampoo out of his gorgeous, thick hair. And bonus, he didn’t have any weird knots or bumps on his head.
He opened his eyes. I could see in them he didn’t want to say. It must have been a woman. Jealously crept in, at least I think that’s what that was. I didn’t like it. It wasn’t me. And what did I have to be jealous of? A man who willingly admitted he didn’t want to like me. I suppose I didn’t want to like him either, but still. I averted my eyes and finished rinsing his hair. I didn’t care. I repeated that to myself.
“Shane,” he admitted.
My eyes were back on his.
I hovered over him glaring. It was a good thing I didn’t have anything sharp in my hand besides my nails.
“I’m letting him stay with me.”
I squeezed the excess water out of his hair, trying to stay calm.
“I’ve never known anyone as remorseful as him.”
I scoffed at the notion. “He should have thought about that before he bedded the tramp.”
Aidan’s eyes widened. “He didn’t exactly—”
I wrung his hair more than I should have.
He winced.
I didn’t apologize. “He’s not getting off on a technicality. How would you have felt if your wife ‘didn’t exactly’?”
“Which one?”
Did he say what I think he said? I dropped the towel I had picked up to dry his hair. “You had more than one?”
He sat up, wet hair and all. “Yeah.”
I wanted to act aloof by the shocking news, but failed. I could feel my eyes begging for details.
He stared at me as if waiting for me to press him for information. He knew how bad I wanted to. My whole body was asking him to divulge every and any detail. He gave in. “After Mary was killed—”
Silence went out the window. “Killed?”
Water droplets rolled down his handsome but obviously uncomfortable face.
I handed him a towel.
He buried his face in the black cotton. His breaths were deep and troubled. He focused on the towel resting in his lap while I stood there waiting for him to decide if he wanted to go down this road. “My wife, Mary, worked for an organization that provided medical supplies and treatment to third world countries, many war torn. There was an attack by insurgents and . . .” The words got stuck in his throat.
“You don’t need to tell me.”
He raised his head until our eyes met, but his quickly dropped to my legs that I kept inadvertently shifting on. He immediately stood up. The next thing I knew he took my hand and led me to the washing chair he had vacated. “You really should stay off that leg.” He didn’t let me argue.
I now looked up at him, not sure what to say. I wasn’t used to this.
“It’s a long story, and I want you to be comfortable.” He paused and let out a heavy breath. “I want you to know me.”
I hated that I wanted that too.
He paced back and forth in front of me as he spoke. “When Mary died, I lost myself for a while. We had been best friends since college and married for six years. She was my life.”
Since my actions already indicated I was interested, I went all the way. I raised my hand. “Define best friends.”
He stopped and gave me a quizzical look. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Were you lovers to friends? Platonic friends? Wanted to be more than friends?”
His confusion turned to a pressed-lipped smile. “We were friends that decided we should give more a chance.”
“When?”
“A couple years after we graduated. Why does this matter?”
“You can tell a lot about the dynamics of a relationship by when and how a couple fell in love. Long, slow falls are different than head-over-heels you can’t get there fast enough, or even built-up sexual tension over years of wanting more.”
His shoulders dropped. “Mary and I were a long, slow fall.”
“And that bothers you.” It wasn’t a question.
“You do know people. I think it bothered her. Women seem to want the head-over-heels. Even practical women like Mary.”
“So she wanted more.”
“I was attracted to my wife.”
“Don’t jump down my throat. I wasn’t accusing you of anything.”
He took the washing station’s seat next to me. “I’m sorry.” He rested his hands on his knees. “Mary was the best person. She always thought of others. She set out to make a difference in the world and she did. I was proud to be her husband. I loved her. And when she died a piece of me went with her.” She sounded perfect. Someone the exact opposite of me.
“A piece you can’t get back?”
“A piece I tried to fill with Portia.”
Now we were getting to wife number two.
“I met her a year after Mary died. I wasn’t ready to move on, but there she was and I was lonely. She was different. Our relationship was based on all the wrong things.”
“Do I remind you of her?”
He turned his head toward me. “It’s kind of scary how good you are. Like I said, you are different than any woman I’ve ever met, but the answer is yes, when I first came to town, you did remind me of her.”
> “She was amazing, then?” I smiled.
“I thought so for a while.”
“What happened?”
“I threw myself into my work after Mary died. Portia was really into her career too, so it worked, sort of. I didn’t give our marriage the kind of attention I should have. And she was easily bored. She eventually found the attention she was looking for somewhere else.”
“I would say ouch, but you sound relieved. And for your information, I’m not a cheater, or easily bored.” But I could see why he would think so, even if it ticked me off. I only moved on from men so quickly to keep them from getting attached.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I keep digging myself deeper in the hole with you. I don’t see you like that.”
“You mean anymore?”
“I mean period.”
I watched for body language to see if he was lying, but it wasn’t there. Only a determination for me to believe him. “Do you miss her?”
“No. It was for the best.”
“Well, Shane cheating on Abby isn’t for the best, unless she leaves him.”
His eyebrows hit his now dried bangs that curled perfectly. “You don’t think they should work it out after all the years they’ve been married?”
“Not even a little. Once a cheater, always a cheater, and Abby’s always deserved better than him.”
“Does Abby feel this way?”
“Abby, thanks to Shane, is a wreck right now. He’s devastated her. You may want to prepare yourself for having a long-term houseguest.”
“I’m sorry about Abby. I know you won’t believe this, but Shane wants to make things right.”
“That’s what you men never understand. You can’t make this right. Abby so easily gave her heart to him, and all she wanted in return was his heart back and to have him treat hers with care. Instead he broke it. Maybe he can piece it back together, but there will always be pieces missing. He took something from her that was irreplaceable. So don’t try and defend him.”
Silence hung between us for longer than was comfortable.
He was the first to break it. “Is that what Paxton did to you?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m too smart to ever give a man the chance. My heart is my own.”
“You never plan on sharing yours?”
“Men don’t share, they take.”
“A good man would never take what’s not his.”
“I’ve never met such a man.”
He leaned forward, his eyes took ownership of mine. “How do you know if you’ve never taken the chance?”
Why was he making me feel an ounce of doubt about my choices? Who was this man?
Chapter Fourteen
I took one good look at Aidan in the mirror after I finished styling his hair. Only I could make him look more beautiful than he already was. It wasn’t smart thinking on my part. Ripping off his cape and jumping in his lap was an option in my mind, or maybe doing more if I thought he was willing. I forced myself not to. I did let myself tousle his gorgeous hair one more time, all for the sake of making sure it looked perfect. “You’re done.”
“Aren’t you supposed to ask me if everything looks okay?”
“I already know it does. And it looks more than okay, so you’re welcome.”
He smiled at me through the mirror. He’d apparently had fantastic dentists along the way. “Like I said, I’ve never met a woman like you before.”
“And you’re thanking your lucky stars?”
His smile faded. “Cheyenne, that was a compliment.”
“Are you sure? Because you’ve spent the last few years looking down your nose at me.”
“That’s not entirely true.”
I blew the hair off his cape before removing it.
He wasn’t moving out of the chair. “My hair looks great by the way.” He ran his fingers through it. “Feels good, too. Thank you.”
“Uh-huh.” I was ready for him to leave. It had been a long day. I needed to process.
“Cheyenne.” He said my name differently than he or anyone had ever said it. It caught me in my gut.
“What?” I turned to throw his cape and towel in the laundry bin.
“Can we at least be friends? Maybe start over?”
“I don’t understand why you would want to.” I began organizing my station and getting ready to sterilize my shears. I felt him approach from behind. And when I said felt, I meant my whole body.
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He seemed reluctant to admit to it. I knew I was. I had the same problem.
I looked up and could see his vulnerability through the mirror. “I’m obviously not your type, and you’re not mine, and like I said—”
“You’re not interested.”
“I’m interested, just not willing.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Can I at least have your number?”
I turned so I could face him. “What for?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m going to need more haircuts in the future. I don’t suppose you want me to call the salon to make an appointment. And how will I know what to bring you for dinner?”
“You don’t have to bring me dinner, and there are other places in town for you to get your hair done.”
He braved moving closer. “But you’re the best.”
“True.”
“So what’s that number?”
I knew I would regret it, but the digits fell out of my mouth. “Don’t think you can use that number anytime you want.”
His smile humored me. “Don’t worry, it’s in good hands.”
That’s exactly what I was worried about.
~*~
“I can’t believe he’s been married twice,” Jessie whispered to Abby and me. We were waiting outside the gym for Zumba.
I had relayed some of our conversation from the previous night, anything that didn’t have to do with me. I also admitted to cutting his hair. My friends were being ridiculous about it. But it gave Abby something else to think about for a while. That was a good thing. She was putting on a brave face tonight. Even though her pig husband was taking the kids out to dinner while we got our sexy on.
“So sad about his first wife dying.” Sweet Abby sighed.
“Why did he divorce his second wife?” Jessie asked.
I thought for a second what to say. I didn’t want to mention cheating in front of Abby. “He didn’t go into too much detail. I think she was a band-aid that didn’t stick. I don’t think any woman could live up to his first wife.”
Jessie nudged me. “Maybe he’s looking for something different this go around.”
“You don’t know he wants another go around. And even if he did, it’s not with me. He wants Dolly do-gooder. I’ve seen a picture of his first wife, and we’re nothing alike. Which is fine by me.”
“Uh-huh,” they said in unison.
It was a good thing they opened the gym doors. My friends were going to get smacked. They could see how it felt for once.
“You know, Aidan’s meeting Blake here to play racquetball.” Jessie covertly threw that fun factoid at me as we walked in. Ugh. I forgot that they played together. I looked up at the courts above and didn’t see them. I hoped to keep it that way.
Abby kept sighing on the way to the benches to set our towels and water bottles down. I put my arm around her. “You look like a hot momma tonight.”
She looked down at her leggings and t-shirt, and then at my outfit. “Says the woman in a sports bra and tiny shorts with a flat stomach.”
“Hey. Sexy comes in all different sizes.”
“Can I have yours?” Abby lamented. “Maybe then . . .”
Jessie looked to me with a painful glance before addressing Abby. “Think of Avery and Isabelle. They need to know you know you’re beautiful, because you are. And especially now, they need to see that your self-esteem isn’t tied up in a man.”
Jessie knew how to word things with finesse. I was ready to go on a
tirade about Shane. But Jessie was right. I loved that she was raising Maddie that way. It showed.
Abby teared up, but quickly shook it off. We were all still trying to keep her marriage problems under wraps.
“Enough wallowing, let’s shake our butts off, literally.”
My friends laughed at me.
A happy treat awaited us. Rob, our normal guy, wasn’t there. He was good eye candy and could make you lose two pounds in one class, but he was married, so off limits. But tonight the whole candy store showed up in the form of single Gabriel who announced Rob asked him to sub. Where were all these male instructors coming from? It was another place I needed to visit. It would be like my own private Disneyland. Except I was only looking now and not touching. And for some reason I only wanted to touch one man lately.
Every woman in the gym gaped at the caramel skinned god at the front. Even his naturally wavy black hair was on point. A huge turn-on for me. But annoyingly, my focus shifted when I noticed Jessie wave to Blake above. Next to him stood Aidan. He waved at me. I ignored him.
“Wave back,” Abby demanded. Her forceful tone was unusual.
“No.” I focused back on Gabriel, whose eyes were on me. He had to be at least ten years younger than me, but that hadn’t stopped me before. Too bad I was on hiatus and . . . No. I wasn’t admitting to it. Gabriel called for the class to start, but I found my eyes drifting up toward the man my age. At least I think he was. I never asked how old he was, but I noticed the few strands of gray in his hair last night and the patches in his stubble. I found I preferred older men to younger, but I never limited myself. Age meant nothing over attraction, unless it was illegal, of course. And I had my limits. No one under drinking age. And only once did I go that low. You had to see him to understand why. Good memories. Which were all I had now.
Aidan again made an appearance, racket in hand. He waved with the other. I may have smirked before I turned away, mad he caught me looking up and maybe gratified he tried connecting with me again.
Abby and Jessie gave me sly grins. They needed to get over themselves. If they kept acting like that, I was never going to tell them that Aidan couldn’t quit thinking about me. That was more than gratifying and bothersome. He changed the rules on me, which was my job. I thought about that. It was my job. So how did I change the rules on him? Or better yet, how did I forget about him? Not only did I not need a man in my life, I didn’t need one that would want more than I was willing to give. You could tell Aidan was the soul mate type. I avoided those like I did my doctor’s advice. I’m sure Aidan was one of those men that claimed to want you for your mind. He’d want to know your dreams, hopes, and fears. Besides rushing water, he would be on top of the list, or men like him. Men that pretended to be good only to take anything and everything you would give them. Men like Shane. Men like my father. Men that gave you the world only to destroy it when the next star fell into their orbit. That’s why I lived in my own universe. It was safe.
Cheyenne (The Women of Merryton Book 4) Page 10