by Harloe Rae
That causes her wandering gaze to fix back on me. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“You’ve been testing my tolerance plenty, Sweetheart. I’m ready to snap so try me.” I lean impossibly closer so my lips brush against hers when I harshly whisper, “I dare you.”
Her glare can only be described as ferocious—like she’s stabbing me repeatedly with little blades. “I hate the feeling of letting you win but I’m not excited by the idea of being dragged out of here kicking and screaming. I have limits too.” She huffs before adding, “I can walk, thank you very much. I won’t be in need of your caveman transportation today.”
The possessive fury cools immediately once she agrees to leave. Tranquility washes across my heated flesh as I take a much needed sigh of relief. I release Lark’s other wrist before backing away from her.
“Good choice. Now get moving.”
Lark squeaks in outrage and parks her fisted hands on her hips. “Stop telling me what to do!” She stamps her fancy shoe, like a spoiled brat. “I’m going home and you better not follow me.” Then she spins around before flinging the door open, giving me a final glare over her shoulder.
I shake my head while glancing at the ceiling, silently asking for patience. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sweetheart, but you better believe I’ll be texting you later to make sure you made it back safely.”
She’s worth any battle or argument—the peaceful swirling deep in my gut is proof of that. After getting shoved through a metaphorical meat grinder by that combative conversation, a sense of floating euphoria still manages to lifts me up. We are destined to be together, I believe that now more than ever. And oddly enough, I’m glad we hashed it out because clarifying light now shines on the gap currently separating us.
Lark is seeking vengeance for the scorned girl of her past while I’m determined to show her the possibilities of our future. Hopefully we’ll both make it out unscathed.
Lark
I’m staring into my cup of coffee, expecting answers to magically appear within the dark brown liquid. I woke up feeling rotten, which wasn’t due to the entire bottle of red wine consumed immediately after getting home. Last night with Rowen was an epic disaster and regret has been ricocheting through my skull since I left the bar.
What the hell is wrong with me?
This outrageous plan for revenge against him is turning me into a manipulative bitch and I took it too far yesterday. I’m a mental health professional yet can’t fix my own form of instability. Dangling another man in front of Rowen’s face after he’d confessed all that sweet stuff makes another bout of nausea churn in my stomach. I’m not cruel or combative—confrontation of any kind usually doesn’t sit well with me—but Rowen brings out a psycho side I didn’t know existed.
Whenever I lay eyes on him, all common sense flies out the window and I become an unpredictable ball of crazy. I’m always on the defensive around men but it’s an entirely new level with Rowen. He makes me want to unleash all the hurt I’ve experienced even though he doesn’t deserve the entire blame. These are truths I’m all too aware of but the games are still being played.
Frustration and pain have been bottled up too tight and I’ve finally loosened the lid, but a waterfall of emotion threatens to burst out rather than a slow leak. I’m completely mixed up and acting like a wacko who can’t control herself. Indecision so dense is clogging my mind and making dizzy. My forehead hits my palm before I tightly clutch my head.
I’m officially losing my marbles.
If Rowen’s story about coming back for me is true, my wrath toward him is unwarranted and makes this ridiculous mess more complicated. He was telling me everything I’d wished for, and I wanted to believe every word he was saying, but years of emotional ruin and damage don’t erase overnight.
My diva act was way over the top though. When I was spitting those nasty lines at him, my soul was cracking but the storm kept brewing. I probably could be nominated for an Oscar based on my overly dramatic portrayal of a crazy ex-girlfriend scorned one too many times. Chloe, Faith, and Willow would have been cackling in the corner, enjoying the show, no doubt about it.
My psychological flaws were visible like physical scars and I bared them for Rowen to see. He had the chance to run scared like the rest but he didn’t budge. Even as I stabbed him with my words and attempted to push him away, he stuck around and kept sparring with me. It makes me think Rowen might understand me.
Yeah, right.
What actually happened was Rowen’s face locking up tight as his eyes filled with disappointment. That look caused searing agony to rip through me but I had to protect myself. The threat of potential deception from men is anchored deep within me and pessimistic voices always pester me to shove any guy away—the harder, the better.
He’s a liar.
He’ll leave again.
He’s going to break you.
He just wants to win.
My fucked up mind had been fighting for control while Rowen served me missing pieces from the past. I almost gave in until he pulled that brutish behavior and forced me to snap out of it. My already wavering resistance took another direct hit when I witnessed that commanding version of him. Rowen’s soft and romantic side spoke to my heart and melted thick layers of frosty ice shielding it. Then he switched into alpha-male mode, which damped my panties faster than I could comprehend.
He really might be the entire package . . .
Maybe I can end this defective cycle and try again with him. Putting myself out there and on the line is terrifying but Rowen could be worth it. Going on a date wouldn’t be horrible and perhaps I could lure him in that way. I bang my already pounding head on the table for taking such a sharp turn.
Lure him?! What the hell am I thinking?
The trickery slithers around in me like an inky fog and my mood plummets when I imagine pushing his buttons in such a vindictive way. Misery replaces any arousal I was infused with moments ago. No matter how much I believe this guy hurt me, serving it back to him doesn’t seem feasible without risking my integrity or sanity.
I should back away slowly and cut my losses. I’ll keep my dignity, or what’s left, and Rowen can have the power of knowing he defeated me. Maybe we could be just . . . nope. Not even going there. We can’t be friends. Period. I simply refuse to entertain the idea. I doubt Rowen would be interested in being my platonic pal either. There is no denying the insanely intense chemistry buzzing between us—so forceful it’s like static zapping along my skin whenever he’s close.
I’m so effing confused.
Rowen is impossible to resist, especially with the insta-crazy-love surging through every fiber of my deprived self. Would it be so horrible to surrender and see what happens? The tiny, microscopic piece of my heart that still believes in a happily ever after begins fluttering wildly at the idea. If given the opportunity, that part would spread like wildfire and easily takeover since desperation for true devotion is still very present within me. Faith in love still exists within me, no matter how hard I’ve tried beating it down and out after getting nothing but rejection. If I give power to hope, possibility, chance . . .
It’s only a setup for inevitable pain. A disaster waiting to happen with me standing right in the way.
I’m yanked out of my internal Tilt-A-Whirl when my phone dings with a notification alert. A flurry of butterflies take flight in my belly at the thought of the message being from Rowen. I groan loudly before scrubbing my fingers down my face. These are the types of optimistic ideas that will get me in trouble.
When I glimpse at the screen and see Willow’s name, those pesky feelings of possibility fall flat. I try not to let disappointment take shape, but a small knot tightens in my chest regardless.
Freaking Casper.
Using that nickname for Rowen lifts my spirits a tiny bit as I read her text.
Willow: Can you help with wedding stuff today? I could really use an extra set of hands.
This is exactly the type of distraction
I need.
Me: Count me in. You know I’m always happy to help. Should I come by your house?
Willow: Yes. Perfect. Around 1?
Me: I’ll be there.
That gives me plenty of time to go for a run, reset my toxic brain, and get ready for the day. Then I’ll be prepared for whatever love-infused project my friend has lined up.
When Willow’s door swings open, I expect to see my friend’s smiling face. That’s not what happens. The very last person I anticipate greets me. And I shouldn’t be surprised in the slightest considering my twist of luck with this guy lately.
Rowen’s lips tip up in a blinding grin while I’m sure my mouth is gaping open in stunned shock. “Hey Vix. Fancy seeing you here. What’s up?” He leans casually against the wood frame as though we’re going to have a nice chat, right here and now.
What the hell is happening? Am I in the Twilight Zone?
It takes a few more moments for the bewilderment to wear off and my heart to resume beating at a normal rate. I continue silently staring at Rowen like he’s a mirage and will suddenly vanish in a puff of smoke. When he straightens his stance and chuckles loudly, I begin to believe he’s actually standing in front of me.
“Look like you’ve seen a ghost, Vix. Casper, right? Figured by now you’d be used to seeing me around. Are you coming in or what?”
My mental capacity finally clicks back together. “Why are you here, Rowen? And why are you answering the door like you’re living here? Where’s Willow?” My questions bang out like rapid gunfire but confusion is still swirling around me.
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Willow invited me over. She needs help with something. I just got here and was still at the door when you knocked and figured I’d let you in. Is that all right?”
This entire situation reeks of savvy scheming and my suspicion is confirmed when my friend bounces up next to him. “Lark! There you are. Isn’t it great that Rowen could be here too?” She bats her ridiculously long eyelashes at me in a very obnoxious manner before sending a smirk his way.
Little traitor set me up.
I begin moving away from them with my palms raised defensively in front of me. “Listen here you two. I don’t know what’s going on but I want no part of it. I came over to help you,” I point an accusatory finger at Willow, “with wedding stuff and I highly doubt Rowen signed up for that. I’m just going to leave.” I take one more step back before Willow grabs me and begins dragging me into her house.
“You’re already here so don’t be silly. We can get the invitations done even faster with three of us. Win-win! I already have all the materials set up on the table so go sit down.” She’s talking so fast I’m barely able to keep up but I get the gist. This is happening and Willow isn’t taking no for an answer. She releases my wrist and turns to face me.
I’m busy rubbing at my tender skin when I respond. “Fine but I see what you’re doing and I’m very disappointed in you.”
Willow rolls her eyes and snorts. Rowen approaches and stands next to her. It’s clear they’ve formed an alliance—them against me and I’m outnumbered.
How bad could it possibly be?
Assembling invites won’t take long and then I’ll beat cheeks out of here. Win-win my ass but whatever.
I swerve around them without further debate and settle into a waiting chair. Rowen takes a seat across the table and his heated gaze sears into me. My face flushes and it seems like the thermostat got cranked up a thousand degrees. I won’t get anything done if he keeps looking at me that way.
“What are you staring at?”
“The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
My breath hitches but I cover it with a huff. “Nice line, Casper.”
“When are you going to believe me?” His blazing blue eyes continue devouring me and my blush intensifies under his scrutiny.
Where the hell is Willow?
I clear my suddenly desert-dry throat. “We don’t need to revisit this topic so soon. Pretty sure we discussed my lack of faith in you plenty last night.”
“I am so fucking sorry about the past. You have no idea how many nights I’ve stayed awake wondering about you and obsessing over the way that day ended. The guilt has been eating at me ever since.” He takes a deep breath. “Give me a chance, Vix. You have to let me earn your trust back.” His tone is soft and warm and I want to snuggle up with it. But I can’t.
My eyes focus on the piles of colorful paper in front of me. “I’m a mess, Rowen. I drag around a lot of baggage and it isn’t easy for me to forget the emotional damage I’ve endured. And I don’t mean from you.” I blow out an exasperated breath because I’m starting to sound pitiful. “There has just been a lot of crap without any reprieve so I stopped trying. You’re really wasting time asking me for more because I don’t have it in me.”
He reaches for my hand and intertwines our fingers. “You’re so special to me, Sweetheart. I need to show you that. All I want is a shot to prove my feelings. I know you’re not immune to the connection between us.” Rowen squeezes his grip and the already pleasurable sparks within me thrum even deeper. “I notice your breathing accelerating and your pulse is going crazy. Stop fighting me.”
“I’m scared of commitment. Like serious attachment issues. I won’t give you the chance to break me again.” I whisper while my sight locks on our joined palms.
“Look at me, Vix.” I glance up from under my lashes. “One date. Dinner tonight. Forgive me so we can start over.”
This guy can battle with the best of them. I tried every tactic in my expansive collection to wiggle away and he isn’t backing down. My restraint is crumbling. Leftover confusion from this morning weighs me down as I straddle the line, swaying each way before tipping over. I bite down on my bottom lip and decide to take the leap.
I nod my head slightly while mumbling, “All right.”
Rowen’s resulting smile is massive and lights up his features. That expression alone makes joy spread through me like warm honey. My choice was the right one. A giddy-grin stretches my lips and we keep staring at each other until everything else fades away. I get lost in his hypnotic ocean eyes as the calm waves soothe my restless soul.
“All right! Did you guys get everything taken care of?” Willow barges into the room and pops our bubble of bliss. She glances at Rowen before looking my way, and then zooms in on our clasped hands. An all-knowing smirk lifts her mouth as she cocks a teasing brow my way. I try to untangle my fingers from Rowen’s hold and he grasps me tighter. I huff and puff for a moment before relenting.
“Yeah, yeah. Your little meddling-matchmaker plan worked. Now can we get started on these,” I indicate the stacks of craft materials with my free hand, “or was the entire afternoon a ploy to set us up?” I ask, with hints of my typical sass.
Willow tosses her head back to laugh like an evil genius. When she levels her gaze at me again, her green eyes are sparkling with mirth. “I don’t know what you two are waiting for. Couldn’t you talk and construct at the same time?” Another chuckle bubbles out of her as she takes the chair next to mine. “But really, Lark. I’m glad you see the light.”
Her face is so open and honest, I can’t stay mad at her. Especially when I’m secretly pleased about her interfering.
Rowen
I pull into Lark’s apartment complex and search for a space big enough to fit my truck. Downtown parking is not meant for vehicles this big but the effort for this evening is fucking worth the headache. It was an entirely different battle earlier while trying to convince my date I should pick her up at all. Thankfully Willow stepped in, again, and vouched for me not being a creepy stalker.
When Willow and I blindsided Lark this afternoon, there was a decent amount of concern knotting my stomach over how she’d react. My accomplice assured me it would all work out, but when it comes to Vix, I’d prefer having more solid ground. There are far too many uncertainties since we don’t actually know each other that well. I don’t know most of L
ark’s likes and preferences yet, but I hope to start chipping at the mystery tonight.
I press the buzzer for 5C and wait for Lark to release the lock. A static voice comes from a little speaker near the rows of buttons.
“Hey. I’ll be right down.”
Is she kidding me?
I press the intercom and respond, “Let me in, Vix. I’m picking you up at the door, just like I told you.” I swear a little scoff travels down the line before a loud whir fills the lobby.
By the time I’m on the fifth floor and approaching her place, it’s clear Lark is already waiting in the open doorway. This woman enjoys testing me but there isn’t much she can do at this point that would scare me off. She’s tried plenty of tricks, but I’m still here. I take a deep inhale to ease the nerves tightening my muscles before stepping in front of her.
The calming strategy was pointless because the sight of Lark up close takes my breath away, amongst other things. She has me regretting foregoing some self-love before leaving my house—I’m painfully hard from just one glance. The little vixen stands in her entryway as I devour every inch of her sexiness, innocently unaware of how deep my affection already goes.
Lark’s gleaming brown eyes are lined with black, which makes their amber color pop even more. Her shiny blonde hair is pinned up in a complicated twist and a twinge of disappointment pinches at me. Easily running my fingers through her loose strands will be difficult later—but I can always remedy that.
Her lips are painted bright red and look wet from gloss. They’re like a flashing flare drawing me in and I’m desperate for a taste. By the end of tonight, I’ll have that ruby stain smeared all over my mouth like a trophy. I can’t fucking wait to suck all that color from her delectable pout.
As my slow gaze continues down her body, I notice Lark is wearing her trademark silky dress and fuck-me heels. The combination is lethal to my resolve and the seemingly idiotic rules about waiting for sex. The more I stare, the harder it gets to imagine walking away at the end of the night. Thankfully the top of her dress isn’t the daringly low style she typically wears so her glorious rack is covered. If it weren’t, we might be skipping dinner altogether.