by Marie Harte
“Whatever. Point is, it’s confusing.”
“I know.” She sighed.
Which seemed to please him. He hugged her, then pushed her toward the door. “Yeah, yeah. No skimping on the lemon things. See you at six, okay?”
“If I can get them done by then.” She frowned. “How come this dinner comes with strings attached?”
“Because I said so.” He smiled and shut the door in her face.
“Huh.” I must be insane to spend more time with a man who makes me lose all control. But then, she’d never felt this way before. Free and uncertain and attracted to a man who clearly wanted her.
“I could do worse.” She had—Cody.
But Smith was nothing like her ex. He didn’t lie. He said what he thought, maybe a little too much. And he hadn’t liked her avoiding him.
She smiled as she went back into her apartment and brought out the ingredients for her lemon meltaways. He liked her. She liked him.
Now what to do about that?
Chapter Seven
Smith didn’t know what had come over him. He didn’t cater to women much. He was pleasant, polite. And he was an unselfish lover. Why should he care so damn much that Erin had ignored him? She seemed embarrassed to admit she’d thought he was avoiding her. Had he been? He’d been waiting for her to come to him, and perhaps she’d done the same.
She had a point. But Smith wasn’t used to having to pursue women. They came to him. At his size, he was difficult to miss. His muscles and looks were enough to lure potential bedmates. Yet he’d been the one chasing a lover this time. Hell. Every time he saw her, he wanted her a little bit more.
Erin’s smile made her entire face light up, and he could stare at her for hours and not grow bored. He wanted to do something for her, anything, to hear her laugh again.
Knowing Brad had had her all to himself annoyed the shit out of Smith, and that bothered him too. Because he felt…jealous.
Fuck. What the hell was the matter with him?
It didn’t help that his new brothers seemed way too happy with the women in their lives. And now even Hector and Lafayette, twin coworkers, had also paired up. Every damn body he knew seemed to have found love and come out the better for it. Which showed him how jacked up his life was that he had no one and never had.
But things were different now. He knew Meg wasn’t his mom. Angela had died. He had brothers. A cousin. Hell, even Aunt Jane. He had only to accept them and let them in.
A familiar tension gripped him. He hated being afraid, worried that he’d open himself up and get stepped on all over again. No matter how many times he tried, the results had always been the same.
“You’re my penance, boy.” Momma frowned at him. Slight, blond, and blue-eyed, his beautiful mother looked nothing like him.
Five-year-old Smith asked, “What’s penance, Momma?”
“Atonement. A need to do right. I’m being punished because of you.”
He started to cry, not wanting to get her in trouble. “I’m sorry.”
“You can’t even stop from pissing in your pants.”
Shame filled him. But he hated the dark, and being shoved in the closet for hours on end scared him so much.
“I won’t do it again if you put a light on.”
“You’ll do it again because you hate me.” She sighed and straightened his shirt. “God hates me too. Because she can do nothing wrong, and I can do nothing right.”
“Momma?” He tugged her arm, already tall and spindly, and constantly hungry. “I love you.”
“I know you do.” She seemed to soften. The doorbell rang, and her expression turned glacial. “But you don’t matter.” She answered the door, and Uncle Allen entered, all smiles as he saw Smith standing there.
The visit went as it always did. Uncle Allen asked him questions. They played blocks and cars together. Then he went into the back to talk to Momma. Smith watched TV, away from Momma’s room. But he heard the moans and grunts and things banging anyway, things he was supposed to ignore.
Allen would appear, ruffle Smith’s hair and smile, then leave with promises to return the next month.
For a long time he did. Until he didn’t. And Momma grew angrier and meaner, because she deserved so much more out of life than him. She wanted good little boys like his cousins who didn’t wet their pants or their bed and weren’t hungry or scared or needy.
But poor Momma had nothing else but a waste of a child. So, he’d do his best to make it up to her. He tried so hard, but he never could measure up.
“And now I know why. She wasn’t my mother, and I’m not her son.” But good old Uncle Allen must have known. And he hadn’t cared enough to stay.
The memories left a bad taste in his mouth, as they always did. Smith wondered what he thought he was doing with Erin, a decent woman too sweet for her own good. Then he told himself to stop being a drama queen. Hell, it was just pizza and lemon bars. And if he were lucky, some quality sack time with the beauty next door.
Why make a big deal of it?
He scrolled through his phone, clearing out old messages and emails, and realized he had tomorrow off thanks to Cash making up for the weekend.
Smith hadn’t talked to his brothers in more than one-word sentences since that dinner almost two weeks ago. They tiptoed around his growls and brusque attitude. But he didn’t care, still so angry about things beyond everyone’s control. He knew he shouldn’t blame them for growing up with their mother. They hadn’t had an easy time of it either.
But fuck, at least Angela hadn’t raised them to believe they had nothing going for them. Meg still fucked with his head, hearing her in his dreams and at times like this, when he should have been stoked about sharing a meal with Erin. Smith instead wondered why Erin wanted to be with him. For what she might get out of him? Money? Favors? Sex? That seemed to be her only interest. Yet she’d had time to hang with perfect Brad Battle, a fucking fireman no less. Pussy magnets, those firefighters.
But Erin had told him no. Or so she’d said.
What if she’d been lying?
He ordered their pizza and tried to control his thoughts, ignoring the notion he’d never be good enough for anyone or anything, wrestling familiar demons a constant trial. He tried to distract himself with a book and finally lost himself in a wizarding world far away, where evil wore black and the white knights won in the end.
If only life were that simple.
Someone knocked at the door.
His palms felt damp. Smith wiped them on his jeans, conscious he wore a form-fitting Tee-shirt on purpose. Hell, if Erin only wanted him for his body, he could handle that. As long as they could be honest with each other, he could deal with all his emotional bullshit, shoving it behind simple pleasure.
Feeling better about things and knowing he could please a woman, no question, he took back some well-deserved arrogance and opened the door.
The pizza guy stood there with two pies. Disappointed it wasn’t Erin, Smith paid the guy and stepped back inside.
Fifteen minutes later, she still hadn’t shown up.
When she finally knocked, he opened the door and snarled, “You’re late.”
She shoved the plate of goodies at him and snarled back, “You’re welcome.”
His ire faded, the sight of Erin in a mad was nothing compared to the sight of her bare legs. She wore shorts and a sweatshirt with butterflies on it.
“It’s October, and you’re wearing shorts?” Not that he was complaining. Though he’d seen her bare legs before, he’d been focused on other parts of her. But now, seeing those toned thighs and calves, her smooth skin so close, he wanted to touch her.
She blew out a breath, and her hair flipped up. “Something’s wrong with the heat in my apartment. It feels like a sauna in there. And my oven was acting weird. This is the second batch. The first one burned.”
“I’ll take a look at it.” He started to move past her, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Can we please just relax? I’m frazzled.”
He took a good look at her and nodded, now feeling bad about needling her. “Sure. Come on.” He led her to the kitchen island where two plates sat. “Extra cheese or the works?”
“One of each.” She smiled.
His surly mood vanished as if it had never been. Funny how her happiness seemed contagious, especially to a guy who didn’t usually have much to smile about. He served up the pie, giving himself the same. “Beer? Soda? Water?”
“Beer would be good. And don’t even think of calling me a lightweight,” she growled.
He held his hands up in surrender, trying not to smile at her. “No problem. You want an ale or a lager?”
“Something light.”
He handed her a pale ale and took a lager for himself. Then he stood across from her and watched her gobble down her pizza. He ate with her, and for a time, they didn’t talk, too full of cheese and dough.
“Sorry if I was crabby,” Erin apologized first.
“Me too.”
“What? You’re sorry I was crabby?” She grinned. “Or you’re sorry you answered the door like a jerk?”
“Both.” He chuckled. Something about Erin brought out laughter. “What’s up with your apartment?”
“No idea. I haven’t fiddled with the thermostat at all, but suddenly it got super-hot inside. Then my oven went on the fritz.”
“Since the heat and the gas oven aren’t related, you have an unhappy coincidence.”
“Great,” she groaned. “Now how am I going to prep Tilly’s meals?”
“You can use my place if you need to,” popped out before he could catch it. Her smile of thanks erased any hint of unease.
“Thanks. I can make them in her house too. I just like to make her food ahead of time, so I know if I need to buy groceries or to plan around her tastes. Tilly’s a little picky.”
“Who would have guessed?”
He ate more pizza before he realized Erin was watching him with wide eyes. “What?”
“You really put a lot away.” Her gaze wandered the breadth of his chest, and it was all he could do not to perk up and flex for her. “Where does it go? Not to fat, that’s for sure.” She sighed and looked down at her stomach. “You’re so lucky.”
“What are you talking about?” He drained the rest of his beer and got another, then grabbed her a water when she asked for it. “You’re tiny.”
“I could lose five pounds.”
He rolled his eyes. “From your feet? Gimme a break.”
She frowned. “Guys have no idea how hard it is to be a girl. Everyone expects you to be so skinny.”
“Yeah? Well you have no idea how tough it is to keep a girl interested without muscle.”
“What are you talking about?”
He flushed. “I don’t mean me. I’ve been into lifting since I first tried it in high school. It helped with my aggression problems.”
“Aggressive? You?” she teased. “No way.”
“I know. What a shock.” He glanced at his weight bench, and his smile faded as he remembered trying so hard to be strong to impress Meg. When that had failed, he’d stuck with it because it made him feel better. “Sometimes you think the only thing you have going for you is on the outside, because the inside sucks. But then you get big, and it still doesn’t matter.”
He saw her watching him with keen eyes and flushed. “I mean, that’s what I heard. A few friends in the Corps use to share stories. It’s not easy when you’re naturally small as a guy. Women can be just as superficial, you know.”
“I believe you.” She sighed. “But men only care about boobs and butts. Cody liked me thinner.”
“Cody is a horse’s ass. I thought we established that.”
She smiled. “We did.”
“Besides, where the hell could you lose five pounds from? Not your ass, which is perfect. Or your belly, which I happen to know is nice and firm.” He drank more beer, staring at her perfect breasts. To his satisfaction, her nipples beaded through the material. He decided to make his move. He put the beer down and rounded the island to stand directly in front of her. “And not those pretty breasts. They’re perfect.” He watched her and raised a hand, seeing her eyes wide, her breath coming faster. She made no move to stop him. He put a hand on her breast and cupped the mound.
“Oh, that feels good.”
“Yeah?” He molded her flesh, then teased her nipple, loving how she responded to him. “You want more?”
“I, I… I don’t know.” She clearly wanted him, but now she played hard to get? She pushed his hand from her. “We need to talk.”
He was so stupid. Why had he been teasing her when he could have kissed her into saying yes from the get-go? He’d lost his moment, and now she wanted “to talk.” He groaned, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned against the island. “Fine. So talk.”
* * *
Erin felt three kinds of foolish as she tried to calm her raging body. She had no idea how to act with Smith, confused at her feelings and at a loss as to how to control her body around the man. She also wasn’t very good at playing games and never had been.
“Look, I’m just going to be honest with you.” She noted the narrowing of his gaze, but he only nodded. “You confuse me.”
“I confuse you?” He barked out a laugh. “I think it’s the other way around.”
“Would you hush up?” she snapped. “I’m trying to explain.”
His lips tightened, but she thought she saw amusement in his eyes.
“Are you laughing at me?”
He coughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Okay. Look. I’m not good at this.” She pointed to him and her. “At relationships. I obviously misread signals. Look at Cody. Before him, I had two boyfriends in college. Neither lasted long, but that might have been my fault because I just grew bored with trying to make them happy. I’m done pleasing other people. This is the new me. It’s my life, and I plan on living it the way I want to.”
She felt emboldened confessing her need to be strong. “I don’t owe anyone anything. I’m doing it all on my own. No help from Mom or Dad or Joy—my sister,” she explained, reassured that he seemed to hang on every word. “I could have dated Brad, but I don’t want to. And I don’t feel guilty about that. Just because he asked doesn’t mean I had to say yes.”
Smith stiffened. “Is he giving you a hard time?”
She blinked. “What? Oh, no. He was super nice. When I told him I just wanted to be friends, he was fine with it.”
Smith relaxed. “Good.”
“But you confuse me,” she continued. “I feel different with you. And I don’t know why.”
His intense stare made her want to squirm. Smith listened to her with his entire being.
“I’m not playing games with you,” she told him. “Heck, if you want the truth, I’ve never done stuff with a guy the way I did with you. Especially not after just meeting you.” She hated that her cheeks heated.
He nodded. “I believe you.”
She blew out a breath. “I don’t care if you believe me. I’m just saying you make me do things I don’t do with other people. Oh, stop frowning. I don’t mean you made me do something against my will. I mean you make me forget myself. When you touch me I…”
He stepped closer and tilted her chin up. His voice soft, he said, “You what? You lose control? You want to touch and be touched? You want to feel closer?”
“Yes, all that.” She gripped his beltloop and tugged on it, frustrated he seemed so far away. Afraid he was growing too close too fast. And she didn’t really know him that well. “I want to be the new me, but I’m afraid I’m falling into an old pattern. I like you, Smith. A lot. But I don’t really know you. And I…”
His face grew guarded. “And you what?”
“And I want to get to know you,” she whispered, unable to look away from him. “I love your body, okay? You’re sexy. You know it, so don’t act surprised. But
I like when you laugh, and I have no idea what you like to eat or drink or do.”
He looked confused for a moment then pleasantly surprised. “Oh, well.” He leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek. When he straightened, he looked…happy. Which for Smith was saying a lot. The man always wore such an intense look—of frustration, annoyance, even desire. But happiness appeared rarely, in Erin’s experience.
His eyes looked soft, his mouth curled up in a half smile. “I actually have tomorrow off since I worked all day yesterday. Would you, I don’t know, like to go out?” He shrugged, his movements stiff. “I could show you parts of the city you haven’t seen yet. Some cool stuff around here that you could walk to if you wanted.”
She couldn’t look away from this vulnerable side of Smith. Good Lord, he seemed almost shy as he asked her out, and she couldn’t have said why that charmed her.
Erin smiled. “I’d love that. Do you think we could go downtown to Pike Place Market too? I’ve seen it on TV and want to see if they really do throw fish around.”
“Sure.” He took a step back. “I should probably be honest with you as well.”
“If this is the part where you have a girlfriend, I’m going to brain you with your own beer bottle.”
He didn’t seem to know how to handle her laughing at herself. “Um, no. I’m not the cheating kind.”
That’s what they all say.
“I like you, and I want to fuck you. So much, in a whole lot of different ways.”
She gaped, not sure she’d heard him right. But he was still talking, his cheeks pink, and she wanted him to have his say.
“The choice to be with me or not is yours. I’m just being honest. I like you telling it to me straight. I want that. From you. Honesty, I mean. I want you. I think you’re hot, and you’re cute. I still dream about going down on you.” He blew out a breath. “But I’d like to know more than your body. And that’s weird to me.”
“It is?”
He nodded. “Being with you is…different. You make me laugh. I don’t laugh a lot. My life hasn’t always been great. I’m good now. But I’m messed up when it comes to people.” His expression turned flat, and she hated that he seemed down on himself