Both of them.
I never thought I’d like Shane. Imperious was how I best described him. But while here, in my house, I don’t recognize the man he’s become. He’s… different. And I hate how much I’m thinking of him when his brother is sitting so close to me. His brother, who I know I’m attracted to and like. His brother who is a confirmed, wonderful man. Well, at least in the twenty-four hours or so since I’ve known him he seems like a really good guy.
God, what am I thinking? And what have I done? With Joe?
Shane shakes his head, and it’s then that I realize both of them, essentially, have their arms around me.
“We should go.” Shane sniffs. “Let Moira catch up on her sleep while her kids are away.”
“I suppose,” Joe agrees, and I wonder what the hell that means.
Yes, I asked him to keep our sex life a secret, even from his brother, but isn’t he going to make up some excuse to stay?
I blink and glance at him, wondering if maybe—just maybe I had been played.
Well, best to find out early, right? But it feels like I’m taking a knife to carve into my sternum. He’ll more than likely keep what we did a secret from his mom, even if he doesn’t want me anymore. So that’s good. I’m carving deeper and deeper, straight into my heart with my thoughts.
Somehow we’re all shuffling through my house, walking to the front door, and Joe still hasn’t come up with an excuse. Maybe I should come up with one for him to stay behind. But what if having sex with me was a one-night thing?
Shane opens the front door, turning to me. “Thanks for the movies and pizza.”
“You paid for the pizza.”
He smiles and shrugs. “You ordered it, so thanks.”
I nod, smiling, wondering if my heart is really breaking from a one-night stand who’s already standing me up. Or does Joe want to be with me?
“Yeah, thanks, Moira.” Joe smiles, looking at me as nonchalantly as a stranger might.
God, my heart. My stupid heart is fracturing in a thousand different places.
“Sure.” I slap a hand on my hip, trying to act casual. “Anytime.”
Shane arches a brow. “Anytime? Be careful saying things like that. We just might take you up on it.”
I grin. “Well, I mean it.” And I do. To you, Joe. Damn it, why isn’t he making an excuse to stay behind? Why aren’t I?
Shane looks at his brother. “You want to stay the night at my place?”
Joe shrugs, stuffing his big hands in his jeans pockets. “Don’t know. Maybe. All my stuff’s at mom’s.”
Shane nods. “Sure.” He smiles at me. “Sorry, you’ve probably had enough of us. We’ll figure it out, where Joe’s staying.”
This is my chance. I should say something about Joe staying here, sleep on my couch, but I’m suddenly terrified that Joe only wanted last night. I mean, yes, he said many things contrary to that—like that I’m his girl and he wants to know everything about me, including my kids. But he’s young. Besides, don’t many young men, especially at twenty-five, think with their dicks? Well, my ex-husband did. Does.
And Joe, from what it sounds like, had a past with many girls. So…maybe I was a one-night fling. God, I had a one-night affair. That’s kind of crazy for me, and a part of me is proud of myself for stepping outside of my usual box. But mainly, my heart hurts. I like Joe. A lot.
I try to keep my smile in place. But I’m tired of forcing myself to grin. “Well, my house is always open.” I swallow and try to calm my shaky voice. “Always. If you need anything, I’m here.” I can’t look at either man, wondering if I’m too apparent. If Joe will laugh at me for saying something so obvious.
I’m surprised to feel whiskers rake against my face. It’s Shane, kissing my cheek.
“Thanks,” he says, leaning away quickly. “That’s sweet. And we just might take you up on that.”
I nod. “I hope you do.”
Joe is suddenly there, kissing my cheek too. His whiskers are longer than Shane’s, seeming to be a tad softer. And his cheek against mine hesitates. But then he’s quickly straightening, looking down at me.
“Good night, Moira,” he says, and I can’t see if he means anything other than what he’s saying. “Thanks for a perfect day.”
I swallow yet again, nodding, and try to shut the door on them, my pride wounded and my heart bleeding because I’m pretty sure Joe’s leaving. For good. I’ll probably see him again, from time to time, and it will be awkward, but we’ll pretend nothing happened.
I am the pretender. The liar. I’m good at it. So you’d think I could take on this act with relish. But I just want the men out so I can go and cry.
Fuck, I don’t have any fucking alcohol in my fucking house. I need something right fucking now. I’m dying.
“Good night, Moira,” Shane says softly.
“Good night, you Whitaker boys.”
They laugh and I close the door, instantly turning and leaning against it because otherwise I’ll fall. God, I already did. I fell for Joe’s lines, like an idiot.
I tiptoe into my living room where we never live. The room is dark, but my blinds are open and I can see Shane and Joe walking away. I hear their deep voices murmuring to each other. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but I love their voices. Similar but different.
Why did I throw away all my wine? I even got rid of the vodka I save for emergencies.
I’ll wait until they leave then I’ll go to the twenty-four-hour grocery store. I’ll get a few boxes of wine and I’ll drink until I find my numb. I’ll be fine when I find my numb. I’ll be fucking fine.
The men just stand on my sidewalk, talking.
Fuck, just leave, so I can go buy my wine. Maybe tonight I’ll buy champagne too. Celebrate the fact that I had sex. And not with Tony. I had sex with a man. And it’s not like I can celebrate that kind of thing with Eva.
Maybe I’m not an alcoholic. Because, I promise myself, I’ll stop drinking after tonight. I don’t need those AA meetings. I’d be too embarrassed to see Bit anyway after I start drinking again. And she did try to warn me about Joe.
The truly ironic thing was that I believed Joe and I worried he was going too fast. God, how silly was I?
Why aren’t they fucking leaving already so I can buy some goddamned wine?
Shane laughs at something Joe says. It’s probably something at my expense. God, what if it was?
I’m spiraling bad. And something within me has the wherewithal to know it.
I should call Bit instead of going to the store. I really should.
But she can’t help me find my numb. And I need to feel numb from this shame. I slept with a man who only wanted one night with me. That’s all he wanted. That’s all he thought I was good for.
Fuck, just leave my fucking sidewalk already.
Finally, they hug and it’s cute, sweet even, and I’m not so crazy for half a second. Then Shane turns and walks across the street to a motorcycle and Joe heads in the direction of his mother’s house. Good. Okay. I can leave soon for the wine.
No, I should call Bit.
I don’t want to call her.
Shane’s motorcycle rumbles through the night and he rides off without a helmet. I should tell him to buy a helmet. Silly man, not taking care of himself. Maybe I’ll buy him a helmet.
Jesus, why am I so insane?
I take a deep breath and draw the blinds.
I wish I could talk to Eva about my heartache. I wish I could talk to someone. Bit would probably tell me she told me so.
For a moment as I’m opening windows throughout my house and letting the evening summer breeze waft through, I think of my brother. But that would be stupid to call him. He lives in California now. It’s not so late there. However, he wouldn’t care about my problems. He never has before. We’ve always had such an awkward relationship. He would tease me to the point of tears and my mother would tell me I was too sensitive. My father, though, would defend me, making it much worse w
hen my da was gone to his job, and he was at the grocery store so much.
My brother and I never really talked. We never joked around like Shane and Joe do. I remember in junior high school, finally being old enough to sit with him in the same bus to school, but he’d try to gain as much distance as possible. When one of his friends snapped my bra strap, making my eyes water and my skin welted, my brother did nothing.
Tomorrow’s Sunday, the day I visit my mother. If she remembers me, then she’ll ask about my brother. I’ll lie and tell her he’s fine. If she doesn’t remember me, she sometimes turns combative, accusing me of stealing from her. Or she’ll call me Margaret.
Fuck it. I’m going to the store to buy some wine. Why bother with sobriety when my kids are gone? I don’t have to be responsible while they’re not here. I can probably stop drinking when they come home. Besides, my mother drank like this while raising me. Mummy’s little helper, she’d say with a wide smile, raising her brandy.
I halt in the middle of the hallway as I’m heading to my bedroom to find my shoes to go to the store. I’ve turned into my mother. And, yes, I love my mother, but I hated when she’d drink. I hate that my son worried I was dead on the couch because he’d caught me while I numbed myself.
I take a shaky breath, insisting I get through tonight without drinking. I can get through this heartache. Alone. I’ve done it before. I can get through any heartache. And this isn’t that bad when compared to getting a divorce and my mother’s dementia. This was a one-night stand. It’s just my ego hurting. Or is it? Shit, I hate being alone yet again.
Maybe I should call Bit.
I take off my t-shirt as I stumble my way into my bedroom, thinking maybe I should just try to sleep. I didn’t get a lot last night because I was an idiot who thought Joe liked me. Why do women—well, me—need to be coddled and told we’re likable and worth more than just sex? Why don’t I feel the freedom to just fuck? Do any women feel that free without some kind of terrible label attached to it? Did Eva when she was cheating on her husband?
I throw my t-shirt on the bed, reaching behind me to unfasten my bra, when a huge hulking form is suddenly walking toward me. And I scream.
12
Joe’s laughing while covering my mouth with his palm. “Shh, shh.”
I slap his hand away. “You scared the crap out of me!” I glance at my windows, and one is now open. I point to it. “How did you—”
“I had to see you again.”
I glance up. He’s smiling and whatever fear I had from the invasion, whatever was going through my head, is gone with his grin.
“I’m so glad.” I reach out and almost embrace him but then look again at my window. “How did you get in here?”
He shrugs, grabbing my jeans’ waistband and pulling me against him. “Easy. I just waited for Shane to leave. By laying on top of the Schneider’s house, I watched to make sure he really headed home. Then I scaled down, climbed a few fences, walked on your house’s roof, which no one looks at, so I doubt anyone saw me, then popped your window’s screen and jimmied the window to get in. I put the screen back when you were undressing yourself, which was—can I just say?—so nice.”
My mouth is open. I know it is and I can’t seem to close it. “Can you tell me anything about what you did for your counterintelligence unit in the Army?”
He shrugs. “Nope. Well, maybe in a few decades. Or if the Senate tells me I can. We were one of the units under strict rules not to blab.”
I nod. “Did you learn how to break into my house from the Army?”
He smiles. “Actually, most of that I learned way before the Army.”
I laugh and finally place my hands on his chest. “You’re amazing. Kind of scary, but mostly amazing.”
He chuckles but after a beat his grin fades. “I—I was scared you’d think I’m a stalker. And I might be now. Jesus. Sorry. But I wanted to find out—I didn’t know if you wanted me to be here or if you thought it was over.”
“I thought you wanted it over. I thought…you just got out of the Army, maybe I was a wild oat.”
“Is that still an expression?”
I smack him on his chest. “You’ll have to get over my ancient expressions if you want to stay the night again.”
Joe rolls his eyes. “The things I do for you.”
“Yeah, you’re a real saint to put up with me.”
He shakes his head. “No, you are…Jennifer. I really like that. Does your son have other names to call people, like Ashley or maybe Tom?”
“So far, it’s mainly Jennifer because it makes Liv scream, ‘I not Jennifer. I Liv. I Liv.’ Which I think is adorable, but I do make Jamie stop calling her Jennifer.”
“That is adorable.” His hands sweep up my waist on both sides, causing goose bumps in his wake. “Can I meet them? I mean, maybe not tomorrow when they come back, but…maybe sooner than later?”
Perhaps I should think more; however, I instantly nod. “Yeah, but—”
“But you want time with them first. I get it.”
I shake my head. “No, I was going to say that tomorrow, usually in the morning, I visit my mother.”
“Oh, nice.” He pulls me a little closer, my stomach nestling against his erection. Oh god, I love that erection. He nods. “She live here too?”
“She does now. She—” I have to take in a huge breath, which shakes a little. “She lives at Swaying Pines. She has dementia.”
Joe’s face falls. “God, Moira, I’m sorry. That’s got to be tough.”
I try to put on my brave face, the one I make in front of strangers when I talk about my mom. But I can’t quite hold that mask up when looking at Joe, when he’s touching me. My mask shatters.
“Yeah, it is. She often doesn’t remember who I am. She started calling me Margaret. I don’t know who that is. None of my mom’s sisters or friends’ names were Margaret. My aunts, who are still in Belfast, don’t know or can’t remember anyone by that name. And then one day we visit and she’ll know not just who I am but even Liv. She’ll call my children her grand babies. But the next time…nothing. I—” My voice breaks off because of my throat tightening unbearably.
Joe holds me close, his chin on the top of my head. His arms around me feel safe. Oh, safety. It’s luxurious. It’s better than silk or mansions. It’s so beautiful it’s ineffable. And after feeling stuck in a continual hailstorm of emotional events, it feels more like heaven than anything else I’ve ever known.
“I wish I knew what to say right now,” Joe whispers.
I snuggle my head against his chest. “No, this is perfect.”
“I’m so sorry, Mo.”
I look up at him, smiling. “I’ve never been called Mo before.”
He squints one eye. “Like it? Or shortening names isn’t your thing?”
I lean my head against his massive chest again, feeling his heart beat. “I love it.”
We stay that way for long moments. Joe’s holding me, sometimes rocking our bodies side to side. He caresses my hair from my cheek. Just holding me tight.
And it happens. The main reason why I turn to drinking happens. I feel everything. I feel the pain of losing my mother. It’s hard and ugly and there’s a part of me that wants my mummy back so much. But I’m glad I can take care of her, and I’d much rather pretend to be Margaret than the alternative. And I feel the pain of missing my children. It might always feel like I’m not complete when they’re gone, but…in Joe’s arms, in the silence of the night, I can handle it. I don’t need to go numb.
And not needing to go numb feels fucking fantastic.
I glance up, smiling at him coyly. “Did you know…that…you’re kind of hard?”
He winks. “I work out.”
I chuckle. “No, I mean—well, yes, you have a very hard body. Everywhere. But you’re…there are other parts of you that seem very happy to see me.”
He gives me an adorably goofy grin that’s a slight wince too. “You noticed?”
“A
little bit.”
He grabs my arms. “A little bit? Are you sure it’s all that little?”
I laugh even more. “Joe, baby, you have a serious monster in your pants. There’s nothing little about that.” I point down with my eyes but then glance up at him again. “Were you planning to use your monster on me?”
“The monster. I shouldn’t like that so much.” He shakes his head. “I was going to wait.”
“Until…?”
“Until you begged me. And maybe swore a little. I like when you swear. You do blush, like Shane says. It’s cute. And such a fucking turn on.”
I hate that he’s said Shane’s name. I don’t know why, but I absolutely hate it. And I do my best to ignore the odd sensation fluttering through my body.
Placing my palms against Joe’s chest, I sidle close, swaying up and down his erection. He reaches down and cups my ass.
“You want me to say how much I crave for that monster in your pants…your cock?”
“Fuck, yeah.” He blinks and pushes me away a little. “But that’s cheating. You already said cock last night. A lot. You have to use a new swearword tonight.”
I’m starting to shake, feeling sweat glisten under my arms, down my back, hopefully not too much on my face. God, I want him. I want Joe so much. And I love this game we play.
“Joe?”
“Yes, Mo. My Moira.”
I smile. “Do you want to fuck me?”
He squeezes my butt, shuttering his eyes closed. “Such a good swearword.”
“I did good?”
“Baby.” He opens his eyes—they’re dark and full of desire—and pulls my body against his again. “You fucking hit jackpot.” Then he grimaces and pushes me away, again. This time a whole arm-length away. “Just one problem.”
I reach out for him, making a whining noise when he won’t let me near. “There’s no problem. We can do this. We’ve done it before. I’ll show you how.”
He smiles. “Ah, my naughty girl. I love it when you want me.”
“I do, Joe. I want you so bad.”
“Moira? Can—can—I want it to be my turn. I want to rip those fucking shorts off your gorgeous ass.”
Awake: Book 3 of the Wild Love Series Page 11