“Oh, crap.” Daisy sat beside her, tucking her foot underneath and turning toward Lauren. Holding the coffee mug out, she pursed her lips and blinked those bright green eyes at her. “He hates liars.”
“Yeah,” she groaned.
Steven and Daisy didn’t hang out. They didn’t run in the same circles. But since Daisy was one of Lauren’s only friends that wasn’t also friends with Steven…she knew everything about him. And Lauren’s attraction to him that she tried so hard to deny and ignore. Or, she had up until last night, anyway, when she ignored it all in the name of fun.
“Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t really have a choice.” Lauren shook her head, staring down at the coffee mug. “Okay, that’s a lie. You always have a choice. But I was worried about him. He’s been drinking a lot, and both Lydia and Holt asked me to help keep an eye on him.”
Daisy whistled through her teeth and reared back. “Wait, so you slept with him to keep him around?”
“What? No. God, no.”
“I don’t get it.” Daisy sipped her cappuccino. “How did you lie to him, then?”
She sipped her coffee, too, and it scalded her tongue. “Brian snuck in when I was in the shower, and I didn’t know it was him. When I heard footsteps, I called Steven and he, of course, came running. By the time I realized it was just Brian coming to get his stuff, Steven was here, and he looked so worried…and it occurred to me that the best way to keep him here was to ask him to stay because I was scared. I was right. It worked.”
“Wow. So the sleeping together part just kinda happened?”
Lauren blew out a breath. “Yeah. I decided he needed to be reminded how fun life was, and then he was there, staring at me…”
The way his eyes had heated as he stared at her, as if he was thinking about kissing her, would forever be burned in her memory. No matter how many years passed, last night would go down in history as the most amazing night ever. And if she wished she could have more nights like that?
Oh well.
He didn’t. And they wouldn’t.
After watching men walk away from her for most of her life, she learned not to get attached to anyone, or anything. She didn’t really lose sleep when they left her life. You’d have to care about someone to, you know, miss them. But Steven didn’t fall into that category. Never Steven.
If she lost him…
God. She couldn’t. It wasn’t an option. Which was why it was so important to pretend she didn’t want, or need, more. So she didn’t scare him off.
“Earth to Lauren.” Daisy snapped her fingers. “Hello? Anybody home?”
Lauren jerked back into the present. “Sorry. So sorry. Uh…what were you saying again?”
“What happened after you kissed him? Did he freak out?”
Lauren frowned. “Yeah. He pushed me away and sent me to bed alone after he…well. Got me there.”
Her cheeks got hot. Despite all the men she dated and lost, she didn’t really sleep with a lot of them. And when she did, she didn’t tell everyone about it.
Or give a play by play.
Daisy flipped her bright red hair over her shoulder. “Do go on.”
“I’m not good at this,” Lauren muttered. “Plus, this was different. It was intimate. Real. And when I kissed him, he took me there, and it was amazing, but he sent me to bed without actually, you know, having sex with me. And he didn’t come.”
“Wait. Hold up. I’m confused.” Daisy held up a hand and frowned. “You said you slept with Steven.”
“Yeah…”
“But you just said he got you off, and sent you to bed alone.” Daisy cocked her head. “Which is it?”
Lauren fidgeted with the lid of the coffee, not sure how much she should say. To talk about what she and Steven had shared felt…wrong.
He was more than a story.
“After I went to bed, I came out to get some water. He was still awake and…watching TV. That’s when we slept together.”
Daisy blinked at her. “You’re leaving out something.”
“Lots of things,” Lauren agreed. “But like I said, with Steven it was different. I don’t want to tell you all the things we did. It’s private.”
“Oh my God,” Daisy said, leaning back against the blue couch pillow. “You suck. Throw a girl a bone, man.”
Lauren laughed. “I can’t.”
“Fine. Tell me this, though.” Daisy pointed at her. “Do you want it to happen again?”
“It doesn’t matter if I do or don’t. It won’t happen again. Steven made it very clear it was a one-night thing, and even if he hadn’t, I’d know. It’s what he does.”
“But what if he’s looking for something different from you?” Daisy asked, her voice quiet.
Lauren turned away so her friend wouldn’t see the stupidly hopeful look that was probably on her face. “His feelings for me haven’t changed at all after what we did. Neither have mine.”
“That doesn’t mean much at all,” Daisy muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly, smiling.
“It’s true,” Lauren said defensively. “I feel the same.”
“I don’t doubt that. I just don’t think you truly examined those feelings, or what they mean. And neither has he. He’s a dude.” Daisy sighed. “So what now? You pretend you didn’t see how big his dick is and smile as he brings home woman after woman, all the while pretending like it doesn’t hurt you when it does?”
Lauren choked on her coffee. When she could breathe again, she glowered at Daisy. “Pretty much.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Daisy said, her tone speculative and her forehead wrinkled.
“Why not? We’re adults. It happened, it was fun.” Lauren lifted a shoulder. “And now it won’t happen again. We go back to being platonic friends. Easy peasy.”
Daisy snorted. “You, my dear, are crazy. No one does that.”
“We will.” Lauren lifted her chin. “I refuse to lose him. We screwed for one night. No big deal. I know him, and he’s not looking to make this into something more. That’s not his style. And I won’t try to make it be. I won’t try to change him.”
Even if she wished, deep down, that for her he would change. That he’d think she was worth a real try at a relationship, even though in the end…
It would probably fail.
“But what if he did?” Daisy asked quietly, echoing her thought with crystal clear precision that was almost scary.
Lauren hesitated. The idea of trying for something real with him was…terrifying. Not because he would break her heart—which he very well might—but the idea of losing him was not something she was willing to consider.
Lots of friends had fleeting sexual relationships.
Not many exes remained friends.
“I have no idea,” she answered honestly. “But luckily we were very honest with each other, and I’m okay with just the one time. So is he.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Daisy muttered.
No. They wouldn’t. And for some reason, that made her heart ache. “Enough about me,” Lauren said, waving a hand. “Didn’t you have a date last night?”
“No. My mom set me up on a date last night. I didn’t go.”
Lauren frowned, her heartache forgotten for Daisy’s. “Why not?”
“You know why not.” Daisy frowned. “Stop trying to take this off of you and Steven and the possibility of you two being a real couple. It’s not going to work.”
Lauren rolled her eyes like the mere idea was ludicrous. But, really, was it? Despite her words, and her worries, the idea of him wanting to be with her? To, like, love her and hold her close for the rest of his life? It made her heart race, and her knees shake, and her mind whirl, and her palms sweat, and…it didn’t feel so crazy after all.
Scary, sure.
But not crazy.
“And that’s what pissed me off the most, I think.” Steven paced back and forth in front o
f Holt, who wore Doctor Who sweats, his glasses, and an inside-out black T-shirt. “She’s all ‘that was fun, let’s go back to how things were,’ and all I can think about is doing it again. Even though I shouldn’t.”
Holt sat on his couch, watching Steven carefully, and rubbed his chin. He hadn’t moved from his position at all, and Steven felt like he was in some kind of parallel universe where nothing made sense at all, and everything was fucked up. A steaming cup of coffee sat in front of him, half empty. Steven’s was untouched. Lydia was still asleep in their bedroom. “Why not? And what, exactly, happened?”
“Dude.” Steven stopped in front of him and crossed his arms. He still wore his clothes from last night. “What the fuck do you think happened? We braided each other’s hair and talked about our dreams and desires while bonding over ice cream?”
Holt snorted, took his glasses off, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, but how far did it go? Kissing? Groping? Fucking?”
“We—had sex.” Steven resumed pacing, biting back anything else he might say. He refused to call it fucking. It had been more than that. But it wasn’t lovemaking, either. “And afterward, she immediately told me to stop looking at her as if anything changed, that we were the same as we were, and I needed to accept that. Like she already filed me in the past and moved on the second I let go of her. Which, normally I like, but with her, I didn’t. I’m not sure why.”
“I’ve got a few ideas,” Holt said. His forehead wrinkled up and he pushed his glasses back into place. “So she wants it to be a one-time thing.”
“Apparently.” Steven picked up his coffee and took a big sip. “She was quite clear about that.”
Holt blinked. “And you…don’t?”
The shock in his friend’s voice was not lost on Steven. He couldn’t believe it, either. “No.” He rubbed his face and let out a long breath. “But that doesn’t change a damn thing. I can’t be with her.”
“Why not?” Holt asked, watching him with shrewd blue eyes. “You’re single. She’s single. What’s holding you back?”
Steven refused to admit the real reason—that he wasn’t good enough for a girl like Lauren. He had nightmares. Hated crowds. He never stopped looking over his shoulder for the next attack, even though he’d been out of the war zone for over a year now, and probably never would. And even now, to this day, he felt like a piece of him had died over there in that desert with the rest of his platoon.
The piece that deserved to be happy.
“I’m me, and she’s her,” he said, his jaw tight. “That’s all the reason I need.”
“I don’t understand.”
Steven rolled his eyes. “Have you met me? I don’t do relationships. And the one time I did—”
“She cheated on you, and then broke up with you because you didn’t ‘love’ her,” Holt said drily. “I was there, too. It was a year ago.”
It was true. He hadn’t loved her. And he was pretty damn certain that the part of him that was capable of that emotion had been the part he’d lost overseas, sometime between his tenth kill and his last. In a warzone, after so many losses and deaths, you became immune to emotion.
Or, at least, he had.
“And she was right,” Steven said, ignoring the sarcasm in Holt’s comment. He set the mug down again, and paced. “I don’t think I’ll ever love a woman the way they want to be loved, and I refuse to do that to Lauren. She deserves more.”
So damn much more.
“So maybe you could be more?” Holt said, shrugging. “Ever thought of that?”
Steven stared at him, completely taken aback.
He hadn’t even really entertained the notion that he could change. That he didn’t have to be the guy who didn’t get the girl anymore. Rubbing his face with both hands, he explored his options. There was the obvious one. He could continue on as he’d been, pretending he didn’t crave her as much as a drug addict did his next hit. Keep his distance and his soul intact…or as intact as it could be, anyway.
It’s what he did best, after all.
Keeping a distance.
Or he could man up and fight for her, even though he wasn’t sure what exactly it was that he fought for. He wasn’t looking for an actual relationship with her…was he? Sure, it’s what she deserved. But could he do that?
He wasn’t so sure.
The one time he tried to fit into a box, and be a real boyfriend with Rachel, had been a disaster. He’d been a shitty boyfriend to Rachel, and he’d probably be an even shittier one to Lauren.
If he screwed everything up, he could lose her. That was what scared him, more so than the idea of him doing nothing did. Losing her would kill him.
He already accepted he wasn’t good enough for her, and never would be. But he could try to be better. To do better. For her. All she had to do was ask…
And he’d give it 100 percent.
Maybe Lauren was the woman he had been waiting for his whole life, and he’d been too dumb to see it. Was he willing to continue being a dumbass, and risk losing her? Could he stand aside and watch her find another man who wasn’t scared to let her into his heart? Watch her kiss him? Sleep with him? Marry him? Have his babies?
Fuck no.
The mere idea made him want to brutally murder a fictional man, so he got his answer. Now what was he going to do about it? All Steven did anymore was work, drink, and get laid. What kind of man would he be if he went from that, to being in a committed relationship with the best woman on Earth?
A bad one.
And he’d already done enough bad things.
If he was serious about being with her—if he was even thinking of entertaining the possibility—he needed to clean up his act first. Stop fucking. Stop drinking. Get his shit together. Then, and only then, would he have any right to get the girl.
And if he did all that and succeeded?
He’d fight like hell to keep her.
Chapter Eleven
If Lauren wasn’t seeing it with her own two eyes, she would never believe it. Steven Thomas, the man who had no clue what an oven was for as far as she was aware, was here. Helping her bake a cake. With a smile on his face.
Whistling “The Star-Spangled Banner” under his breath.
She also couldn’t believe he kept looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and quickly glancing away whenever she stared at him directly, as if he didn’t want her to see—and actually thought he got away with it. She just couldn’t figure out why he kept looking at her like she might bite.
The only thing she could guess was that he was trying to act as if they were fine, just like she was, and struggling. Did he regret last night? She didn’t. Despite the fact that she had a feeling no other man would ever live up to Steven as a lover, one night in his arms was worth any lingering desire she still felt for him. A desire that she had a feeling would never fully go away. But whatever. She’d deal.
She was a big girl.
“What next?” he asked, brushing his wrist across his face and leaving an adorable flour trail behind. His cheeks were flushed and he had bags under his eyes, but…he looked more alive than he had in weeks. Months, even.
Apparently, baking suited him.
She bit back a smile. “You’re not finished stirring. You still have one more minute to go.”
“Jesus,” he muttered, glowering down at the bowl. “It’s a miracle you don’t have arms the size of The Rock’s by now.”
“Maybe I do,” she teased.
He snorted and picked up the spoon again. He’d argued against hand stirring, wanting to use the mixer instead, until she told him it made for a smoother, richer cake—and that’s what made her customers come back. Superior product. “Even if I hadn’t just seen you naked, I would know for a fact that you don’t.”
“God,” she muttered. “You just can’t resist mentioning that again and again and again—”
“And again.” He shot her a narrow-eyed glance that sent her pulse skyrocketing into dangerous ter
ritory. “Nope. I can’t. If you saw you last night, you’d get it.”
Damn him. He was good. Too good. And that irritated her. He shouldn’t be so suave with her. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen a million times before.”
“Trust me when I say it is,” he said, his arms flexing with each sweep of the bowl he took. “It really fucking is.”
She flushed. Like, everywhere. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”
And, of course, saying that reminded her of last night…
He continued stirring, not turning her way. “You’re wrong there.”
“Steven—”
“Don’t. I’m an asshole and undeserving of someone like you.” He set the spoon down with a clank, but the fake smile never slipped from his face. “Which, quite frankly, only made me want you more last night. I’m a selfish prick like that. Again, something we’re both already aware of.”
“I…” She shook her head. This perception he had of himself was so skewed and completely backward. “I have no idea why you think you’re this horrible guy. What did you do when you were overseas that makes you think you’re a monster?”
He flexed his jaw and picked the spoon back up. He stirred again, his motions faster and harder. “More shit than you would ever want to hear about.”
“What makes you so sure?” she asked, shoving her bangs out of her eyes. “You never gave me a chance to decide that for myself, after all.”
“I don’t need to, damn it,” he said, his easy, devil-may-care attitude slipping for the first time. “And who the hell said the bad things stopped when I came home? You yourself pointed out how much of a selfish asshole I’ve been, wasting away with booze and women. Do you think those women I fucked and forgot think I’m a good guy? Do you think I am, after last night?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I initiated what happened last night. I wasn’t some victim you have to make penance for, so stop trying to make me out to be one.”
“Shit.” He gripped the spoon tighter, breathing heavily. “You have no idea how hard it is for me to remember exactly why a guy like me shouldn’t be with a girl like you.”
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