Was it too far a stretch to think she could get him to utter the L-word?
Hauling in a calming breath, she passed him a plate. “Do you want to talk about it?” she ventured.
He pulled a pair of chopsticks from their wrapper. “Can we just sit a while? I need to de-compress.”
Cleo told herself she could be patient. Intending to relax him further, she sent him a winsome smile. “Favor?” she asked.
“Hmm?”
“I’m out of napkins. Would you please grab a new package out of the futility closet?”
The tense lines of his face eased. “Futility closet?” he asked, rising.
“Wait until you see how hard it is to find something in there.”
She was rewarded with a full-fledged grin. It flipped her heart. How much she loved this man.
When he returned, he tossed a stack of napkins on the table. “You should go to one of those efficient storage stores, darlin’. For free, they’ll work up the cost of organization—at least give you a ball pen figure.”
Her groan made him smile again. “I don’t know,” she said. “Getting someone in there to work on said organization might cause a bigger mess—like a bowl in a china shop.”
He shook his head, pointed his chopsticks at her. “Had to work much too hard for that one.”
“I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel, I admit. Where do you find yours?”
“Most often in the library, that great suppository of learning. I absorb new ones there all the time.”
Her frown was severe. “No, thank you. That kind of talk is much too close to otter spraint.”
“Admit you’re glad you know that.”
As she shook her head, he laughed. “When you’re holding back your smile, a little dimple shows up right here.” Reaching across the table, he brushed his forefinger close to her mouth.
The touch felt like a burn. Her gaze locked with his and she shivered.
Reed groaned. “Cleo…”
“I can’t help it,” she said, looking away. “It’s been an emotional day for me, too.”
His hand caught hers. “I’m not complaining about the chemistry.”
But couldn’t he see it was more than that? Cleo pushed her plate away. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
He squeezed her fingers. “How about for me?”
She tried to laugh and it came out sounding strangled. “Sex as a side order?”
“Beautiful Cleo,” he murmured.
Shouldn’t she stand strong? Not settle for another physical encounter when she wanted the entire egg roll? But Reed was on the other side of her table, her night companion, her complicated, wounded writer, the one who had unlocked the woman from her mom-shell.
“You’re looking for a way to say goodbye,” she accused, and there was a catch in her voice.
“I wish I didn’t think continuing with what we had wouldn’t hurt you more. And Eli and Obie too.”
She sniffed. “Oh, play dirty.”
He smiled a little. “I’m being honest. Don’t you think creating something between the four of us that’s unsustainable does them a disservice?”
“That sounds like…like words. Not like emotions.”
“Cleo, I don’t have the ones you want, you need, you deserve. I cut off the blood supply to them years ago.”
After Ben’s suicide, she knew, Reed had convinced himself it was dangerous to care too much.
Aah! She wanted to stomp her feet and wail and cry and have a toddler tantrum the likes that no person had ever seen. She wanted to throw pillows and break dishes because just a few minutes ago she’d had the sappy hope that she might coax the word “love” out of the man.
Instead she swallowed hard, and pushed back her chair to rise. “I choose just the plain goodbye then, thanks very much. No physical frills necessary.” She began repacking the food in the bag and tried pretending sending the love of her life away wasn’t tearing her up inside.
“Don’t you want to read your fortune cookie?” Reed pushed one toward her.
“No.” In sudden anger, Cleo smashed it with the flat of her fist. “I only want…I only want...” Then the temper evaporated and she spun away from him, wrapping her arms around her belly.
He was up from the table in an instant. His hand closed over her shoulder. She twitched.
His hold firmed. “Cleo…”
“Just go away.”
Instead of obeying, he turned her into him and brought her against his chest. She fought not to cling, but then she was doing just that, her arms around his back, her cheek against his heart.
Their bodies aligned so perfectly.
He ducked his head, his mouth moving against her cheek. “You want to hate me?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Yes.”
“I’m taking you to bed.” And then he swung her into his arms. “Okay?”
If only that would make her despise him. No, forget him. No. She never wanted to forget him.
He jiggled her. “Okay?”
“I do hate you,” she said, and fastened her mouth on his throat.
His laugh was low, the dark prince taking her to the underworld.
As if he thought the same, he left her bedroom darkened. Then he set her on the mattress and his hands were urgent as they undressed her. She cooperated, raising her arms, lifting her hips, as want and resentment twined inside of her.
When he came down beside her, both of them naked, she arched her neck as he kissed her there. “Aren’t you going to tell me a story?” she asked, her voice cross.
“It’s your turn,” he said, trailing his mouth toward her breast.
She moaned as he licked her nipple.
“Once upon a time…” he prompted.
Her hands dove into his hair, the short strands cool and silky. “Um…”
His head lifted. “Little Red Riding Hood came bearing treats.”
“Not to grandma. To the Big Bad Wolf.”
In the darkness, his teeth flashed white. “Now you’re getting the hang of this.” Growling, he gave a playful bite to her nipple.
Cleo squirmed. “And he…” A shiver worked down her body as he sucked at her breast. “What did he do?” she asked, plaintive, while his hand slid down her belly.
It stroked between her thighs. “He made Red, or in this case, Blonde, feel very happy,” Reed said.
Her hips arched into the touch. “She was supposed to hate him. No, I’m supposed to hate you.”
“That comes later,” he promised, and pressed kisses down the midline of her body. Settling between her legs, he rubbed his cheek against her inner thighs.
Tears pricked her eyes even as desire surged through her blood. Using his thumbs, he opened her for his mouth. Then he consumed her, feasting on her wet flesh, groaning.
Reaching down, she fisted her hand in his hair and hung on as he took her over a hard edge. The drop was abrupt, but then he rose to catch her, his mouth on hers.
They shared her taste in a salacious kiss.
“Hurry,” she said, needing the emptiness inside her to be filled.
He slid inside her easy this time, she was so ready for him. Cleo lifted into the thrust, desperate to have him, even if she couldn’t hold him.
His body surged against hers like heavy waves, the ocean breaking on the shore. She pushed her head into the pillow and reveled in the sweet, dirty ride of it, his words electrifying her. That’s it. Squeeze down. Oh, God. You’re a hot fist. Never better. Never this good.
Then he reached between their bodies, timing his touch to nudge her over just as he drove one final time. They shuddered in each other’s arms.
Sometime later, he left her body and went into the bathroom, presumably to dispose of the condom. On his return, he carried a damp, warm washcloth. He touched it to her belly. “Too hot?”
“No,” she said, unsure.
Then he used it to soothe her, pressing it to her swollen folds. He was so gentle she didn’t even twitch, and
the intimacy of the act…
Well, no one had ever tended to her like this.
Again, tears pricked her eyes and any self-defensive barrier she had left was shattered.
In the darkness, she watched him. “I wouldn’t break your heart. Go away like Ben. Turn a cold shoulder like your father.”
Reed’s hand stilled. “I’m not going to deny those things have a lot to do with who I am. But it’s…more than that.”
“I don’t know why.”
He leaned close and kissed her belly. “Do you know what a mondegreen is?”
“No.”
“A relative of our eggcorns. Misheard song lyrics.”
“Eli used to think it went ‘Head, shoulders, cheese on toast.’”
He laughed a little. “Exactly. For me, you know the song ‘When a Man Loves a Woman’?”
“Of course.”
“I thought it was ‘When a Man Loves a Walnut’.”
She would have laughed if she didn’t foresee the point he was about to make.
“That’s how out of touch I am, how foreign that idea is to me.”
“Oh, Reed.”
He moved up to kiss her throat, and then her mouth. “I swear, Cleo, if I had it in me to love I’d give it all to you.”
On Halloween Day, Reed visited the recuperating Payne in the hospital. This time he found the patient alone, a surprise.
“Where’s your entourage?” Reed asked, glancing at the dick-shaped helium balloon tied to the foot of the bed. Every time he’d visited before there’d been a gaggle of female admirers in the room.
Payne opened his eyes. There were bruises on his face and a sling kept his arm immobile due to a healing collarbone. There were other injuries but none of them showed above the white hospital blanket. “I think they’re in the cafeteria hoping to attract the attention of rich young doctors.”
“Consolation prize then,” Reed said, and pushed aside three flower arrangements and an ugly plant to place a plastic, pumpkin-shaped bucket on the table beside the bed. “Candy and everything.”
“Yeah?” Payne shifted on the bed, winced. “What kind of candy?”
“What’s your favorite?”
“Snickers.”
“Sorry,” Reed said. “Ate all those myself.”
“Fucker.” Payne scowled.
Dropping into the chair beside the bed, Reed smirked. “I’m kidding.”
“Yeah?” the other man reached for the bucket to paw through the contents. “And Tootsie Pops.”
“I kept the M & M’s, though.”
Payne popped a sucker into his mouth. “You look like shit,” he said around the candy.
“Thanks. You glimpsed yourself in a mirror lately?”
“I have a legit reason for appearing like I went under a bus. How about you?”
Reed rubbed at his chest. He missed Cleo. There, he admitted it. He missed Cleo and he missed her kids. The ache would go away. Soon.
Eventually.
Maybe when he was dead.
“What’s up with you and the beautiful neighbor lady?”
“I’ve moved on.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” Payne said. “When I do my ribs hurt like the devil.”
“Okay. I haven’t moved on. But I broke it off.”
“Why?”
Reed vaulted out of the chair and made for the window. The view was freeway and blue sky.
“I heard you were planning my funeral before I was even out of surgery,” Payne said.
It was Reed’s turn to wince and he glanced over his shoulder at the man in the bed. “Sorry about that. Cami called me a ghoul.”
“I told her it was because you love me. You were that distraught.”
Reed snorted. “In your dreams.”
“Don’t you have any?” Payne asked. “Dreams?”
Frowning, Reed turned toward him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t you want those things we never saw at the compound? A healthy relationship with a woman? A strong family? Good, wholesome stuff like that?”
“I—”
“Don’t bother denying it. Take that house of yours. It’s screaming for a wife and kids and a dog or two or three.”
Reed rubbed his chest again. “I’m better off alone.”
“You suck at alone. It makes you grouchy.”
“What?” Reed choked out a laugh.
“Chicken or the egg, dumbass. You think you’re cranky so you have to be alone. I say being alone makes you cranky.” He pointed the sucker at Reed. “You seemed happy around Cleo and those kids of hers.”
“I…” He looked down. Of course he’d been happy. The sex was off-the-charts. Cleo, Eli, and Obie were funny and smart. “I have, you know, the creepy imagination,” he said lamely.
“So you’ll tell the best stories to the boys and their little friends. That’s a feature, not a bug.”
Reed ran two fingers along his hairline at the back of his neck, touching his tattoo. Ben. “If you start to care and then something happens—”
“Jesus, Reed, you already care,” Payne said, all impatience. “That ship has sailed. So pull your head out of your ass and take the wheel. Steer toward calm, bright waters.”
He stared at the blond man. “Where’s all this come from?”
“The other side, dude. I almost died on that operating table.”
As it neared dark, Reed brooded inside his house, going over and over his visit with Payne. I almost died on that operating table. Every time the phrase echoed in his head, his gut clenched and he felt a sharp twinge in his chest. The other man would laugh if he knew, because it turned out he was right.
He loved the guy.
And the other members of the Rock Royalty tribe, too.
He loved the fucking lot of them.
Groaning, he threw himself onto his couch and rubbed his face with his hands.
“I love Cleo,” he said aloud. “I love Eli and I love Obie.”
Shoving off the cushions, he paced about the room. So what, though? So what? That didn’t mean he could give them what they needed. His growing-up years had stunted him, hadn’t it? He wouldn’t know how to…to create a family with them, no matter how much he wanted that.
And, he admitted to himself now, he wanted that very, very much.
In need of fresh air, he walked out his front door. The winds had come up, blowing hot air off the desert. His lawn was littered with leaves. A palm frond from someone else’s tree came sailing through the air, almost like a witch’s broom.
Spooky.
It made him think of zombies, and of Eli and Obie trick-or-treating. Without permission, his feet headed for his front gate.
It creaked as he opened it and he inspected the bowl of candy he’d left by the mailbox, as he’d been in no mood to greet trick-or-treaters.
Grouchy, he thought.
Maybe if he caught a glimpse of Cleo and her kids his mood would lift. He didn’t have to talk to them or anything. Observing from a distance would be enough.
The neighborhood was teeming with cartoon characters, superheroes, pop stars, and mini-soldiers dressed in camouflage. Parents trailed, or carried the very littlest in their arms. He saw a baby angel and a tiny clown. A mom had dressed up her very pregnant belly as a basketball.
For an instant an image blazed in his brain. Cleo, pregnant with his child. A little sister or a little brother for Eli and Obie. Take that house of yours. It’s screaming for a wife and kids and a dog or two or three.
Fucking Payne.
Reed continued walking, and then, half a block away, he saw a knot of children, one wrapped with something that looked…noodle-ish.
Kelp.
Staying on the opposite side of the street, he trailed a different group, but kept his gaze on the one he was interested in. Cleo was there, following behind her boys, her blonde hair unmistakable. It looked as if she wore a fishing net as a cape. Narrowing his eyes, he picked out Eli as he passed beneath
a street lamp. His costume was a shark.
They’d taken his advice and dressed to throw the zombies off the scent.
You’ll tell the best stories to the boys and their little friends. That’s a feature, not a bug.
Remembering that made him smile.
And then it died, as he saw another lone man up ahead, half-hidden by a lamppost, watching the same group of trick-or-treaters. His instincts went on high alert. Every muscle tensed.
How he knew, he couldn’t say for sure. But the other observer, he was certain of it, was Cleo’s ex-husband, Pete.
Reed moved forward. The ex remained in position, even as Eli, Obie, and Cleo traveled ahead. Just as Reed reached him, the other man straightened as if to follow.
“I don’t think so,” Reed said quietly.
The man whirled. He was thin and sandy-haired. “What?”
“You told Cleo you were going to leave her and the boys alone.”
“Who are you?” Pete demanded.
“Their neighbor. Their friend.” He shifted to block the ex’s view of the group. “The man who loves them.”
Pete twitched. “Cleo—”
“Loves me too.” She’d not said it in so many words, but he knew it to be true.
“I was only looking—”
“What’s your end game, Pete? Are you hoping to start over with them?” Not that Reed would let that happen, not after he’d seen the bruises on Cleo and the fear on her boys’ faces.
“I…I can’t.” He hung his head. “I know I can’t.”
“Then go, work on yourself. Get well.”
“What the hell do you know about it?”
“I don’t,” Reed acknowledged. “But I know that woman and those boys deserve happiness and a healthy mind and heart.”
“You got that?” Pete asked. “You can make them happy?”
“I’m going to try,” Reed said, now sure of that to his very bones. “I’m going to do all that I can.”
The other man narrowed his eyes. The wind came up, hot, like a monster’s breath. It plastered their clothes to their bodies and picked up leaves from the sidewalk and whirled them in the air.
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