by Devney Perry
“No.” Not with half the damn town staring. And not before I had a discussion with Wyatt.
I reached past her and opened the truck’s door. Londyn climbed in, letting me shut her in, before I rounded the tailgate for my own side.
I frowned at the people in the diner, still staring, then started up the engine and backed away. Hell, I hadn’t kissed her, but just taking her to the motel would probably stir the rumor mill.
“Why do I have a feeling that after tonight, a lot more people will know my name?” she asked.
I chuckled. “Small-town life.”
She hummed.
Was that a good hum? Or a bad? She seemed to like this small town, for the time being. But I wasn’t going to get my hopes up that Londyn would stay.
“What are we doing tomorrow?” she asked as the motel’s sign came into view down the street.
“You assume we’ll be doing something together?” I teased.
“Yes.”
I shot her a wink. “I like that.”
I had ideas for tomorrow night. Wyatt had football practice twice, once in the morning and another late afternoon. Then he’d be rushing off to work until the five restaurants in town that used him and a couple other kids to deliver were closed. My ideas for Londyn involved a repeat of that kiss we’d had in the shop, this time in a place where we could make it last.
“How about we start off with dinner?” That seemed to be working well for us.
“A restaurant or the rock?”
The rock. I wanted time alone with her, not with the town of Summers watching. “Your choice.”
She flashed me that sexy smile. “The rock.”
Chapter Eight
Londyn
“Goddamn, you can kiss,” Brooks panted as he hovered above me. His lips were flushed and swollen. His hair was disheveled from where I’d had it between my fingers. Twilight danced around us and the fading light brought out the darker blue striations in his eyes. He’d gone from gorgeous to fucking magnificent.
The most handsome man on earth wasn’t a Times Square model or a Hollywood dreamboat. He was a mechanic in West Virginia.
And for the time being, he was mine.
Maybe if I had three more nights like this, I’d have his features memorized for life.
Brooks rolled away, lying flat on his back at my side. Our hands were nearly touching, but not quite.
My chest heaved as my shoulders pressed into the hard rock. I gazed up into the sky, bringing a hand to my lips. Three nights of making out like teenagers and they’d been rubbed raw.
All we’d done was kiss. Brooks always stopped us before we could go too far. So I had chapped lips and an ache in my core that hurt.
This kissing was taking a toll on Brooks too. He shifted uncomfortably, cocking a knee to hide the bulge in his jeans. An impressive bulge at that, especially when it was digging into my hip.
We’d both be going to sleep frustrated tonight. I refused to release some of the tension on my own. If and when Brooks decided to let go of the ironclad grip he had on his control, I wanted this eager desire burning hot under the surface. For once, I was letting the foreplay drive me wild.
With other men, Thomas included, kissing had become a boring preview to a boring feature title. But damn, it was fun with Brooks. I’d forgotten how fun kissing could be on its own.
Something told me that even after we had sex—if we had sex—kissing would always be an event of its own.
Well, for the days I was here.
Lying by his side, it was easy to forget this situation was temporary. Brooks erased the future with his lips. All that mattered was now. Here. My future was on this rock with nature’s symphony drowning out reality.
Brooks stretched a finger to touch one of mine. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Yeah.” He covered my hand with his. “But not yet.”
I smiled, turning my head to look at him. His grin was waiting. “No, not yet.”
My car was at the body shop and the crew there hadn’t even started on it yet. They could take their time. If it was done tomorrow, I doubted I’d leave anyway.
I wasn’t done with Summers yet. I wasn’t done kissing Brooks.
He raised his left hand, taking a glance at his watch. “I’d better get on home soon.”
Brooks had sent me on my way before ten each night. The stars were barely coming alive as I sulked to my motel room. He claimed it was because he had an early morning ahead. Really, I think he worried we’d lose control.
“Okay.” I sat up, but instead of standing and collecting my trash from dinner, I came down on top of him, pressing my chest to his. My lips brushed his mouth, placing a kiss at the corner.
He groaned, bringing a hand to my hair. He threaded his fingers into the strands, then tightened his stinging grip.
“Brooks,” I hissed, my core tightening. Pulling against his hold, I puckered my lips, trying to reach his. But he held me tight, keeping our mouths from touching.
“If you kiss me again, I’ll fuck you on this rock.”
My breath caught. “What if I want you to fuck me on this rock?”
“Not tonight.”
“Tomorrow?” I cocked an eyebrow.
He laughed. “No.”
“Then the day after.”
“Maybe.”
“I can work with maybe.” I smiled and pushed up.
I took a few deep breaths, orienting myself to the real world and blinking the dizzy haze of lust away. When I went to stand, Brooks’s hand was waiting.
He helped me down from the rock and then we walked across the grass. I’d followed his lead tonight and skipped shoes. The grass was a thick, soft carpet between my toes. The last time I remembered walking barefoot in grass was as a little kid, when my mom had taken me to a park on one of her rare sober days.
“Tomorrow?” I asked.
He nodded. “Tomorrow.”
I stayed still, wondering if he’d kiss me good night. He never did. When we were off the rock, there was no kissing. The only exception had been that first kiss in the garage.
Was he nervous about someone seeing us together? Unless someone was looking for us or had parked in his driveway, we were fairly well hidden and private. The rock sat far enough away from the motel that not even a guest taking a stroll on the sidewalk would notice.
Maybe he was still concerned about Moira. I’d already told him I wasn’t scared of his ex-wife. But I could see why he’d want to protect me from her jealousy.
Or maybe he didn’t want to be seen with a woman whose stay in Summers was as short-lived as a shooting star against the midnight sky.
“Thanks for dinner.”
He tipped his invisible hat. “Night, Londyn.”
My cheeks flushed. He treated me like I was a queen. Thomas had tried to do the same, showering me with gifts and luxuries. But Brooks was different. All he’d bought me was takeout. But that tip of the hat made me feel respected—admired even.
Brooks remained where I’d left him as I crossed the lawn to the motel. Every time I glanced back, he was there. His shoulders had slumped. The smile on his face had dropped. He stood like a sullen statue.
Watching me walk away.
Restless energy invaded my bones the next morning. I went about my normal routine, getting ready for the day before wandering to the office for an iced coffee and whatever pastry they had for purchase. Today’s were blueberry crumb muffins—I ate two.
The past few days, I’d entertained myself by reading. I’d wander to a park about six blocks away, take up a bench and disappear into a fictional world. Meggie had let me borrow her stack of tattered thrillers and I’d already devoured two. They were the perfect distraction to keep me from watching the clock, counting down the minutes until dinner with Brooks.
But today, as I stared at the words on the cream page, I couldn’t make any of them connect. After reading the same paragraph three times, I toss
ed the book aside and flopped onto my bench. I stared at the blue sky without focusing, much like I had at my ceiling last night after leaving Brooks on the lawn.
The image of him standing stoically as I walked away had haunted my sleep.
Except he wasn’t on a lawn, but a sidewalk. And I was looking at him through my rearview mirror.
Just over a week ago, I’d been more excited about this trip to California than I’d been about anything in years. I’d been energized by the open road. I’d been at peace driving the Cadillac. And I’d been happily anxious at the prospect of seeing Karson’s face after all this time.
I still wanted to get to California, didn’t I? Yes. But not with the same desperation I’d had a week ago. I was embracing my days here, holding nothing back.
A flat tire and Brooks Cohen had thwarted my plans. His long, wet kisses and the slow strokes of his tongue had taken priority over my road trip.
The dull throb in my center pulsed. This anticipation was torture. Delicious, excruciating torture. Would tonight be the night? Would either of us be able to stop at a kiss? My fingers fidgeted on my stomach. My feet tapped on the bench.
I sat up and slid on my flip-flops, hoping the walk back to the motel under the shade of the serene trees would settle some of this anxiety.
It didn’t. I was still flustered, brimming with sexual tension, when my temporary home came into view.
The parking lot of the motel was busier than it had been earlier. Inside the office, most of the chairs were taken, the local crew enjoying their midmorning coffee and gossip.
The warm and humid morning air filled my lungs. I’d be begging for the air conditioning later in the day, but no matter how hot and muggy it got by dinner, I wasn’t missing time on that rock with Brooks.
It hadn’t been bad the past few nights, but I was considerably stickier than I had been other mornings this week. Meggie had mentioned something about a heat wave coming. If it was too hot, maybe Brooks would invite me into his house tonight. Or I could invite him into my room for a motel picnic.
Thinking about the two of us kissing on a bed wasn’t helping the tightening ache in my core.
“Londyn.”
That voice was an ice bucket dumped over my head. I turned slowly on the sidewalk and came face-to-face with my ex-husband.
Goddamn it. I should have known he wouldn’t let our last phone call be the end.
Thomas strode over from a black sedan with tinted windows. His dark hair didn’t move as he walked. It was trimmed short except for the stylish swoop on top. Only when he was close could I make out the grays threaded through his temples.
“What are you doing here?” I fisted my hands on my hips. “And how did you find me?”
He frowned, looking me up and down. I was in a pair of boyfriend jeans, the holes at the knees bigger than a baseball. “I’m glad to see you’re all right.”
I was more than all right. Or I had been before he’d shown up. “Answer me. How did you find me, and what are you doing here?”
Thomas narrowed his boring, betraying brown eyes. “When you didn’t return my calls, I reached out to Gemma.”
“I heard.”
Thomas’s mouth thinned into an annoying line. “You found the time to call her but couldn’t let me know you were alive.”
“She’s my friend. You are not.” What the hell did he expect? We were divorced. And there was no way I was keeping in touch to see if junior was a boy or a girl.
“She mentioned you didn’t take your phone.”
“Nope.”
He cringed. Thomas hated the word nope. He hated the word yep. When we’d been married, I’d used yes or no in place of their more casual counterparts so as not to irritate him.
“Londyn, be reasonable.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We need to be able to get in touch with you.”
“For what? And you still haven’t answered my question. How did you find me?” Even Gemma didn’t know I was in West Virginia.
“You left me no choice.”
Ah, yes. This was my fault. “Uh-huh.”
“I hired a private investigator.”
My body went rigid and I stood taller. Thomas was tall, standing just over six feet. He had inches on me and a lot of bulk. He’d always kept in shape by running and lifting weights at our home gym. But as I straightened, he went back on his heels.
“That is a gross invasion of my privacy, Thomas.” I poked a finger into his chest.
“What was I supposed to do, Londyn? Let my ex-wife drive across the country?”
“Yes!” I threw up my hands.
“I’m try—”
“Everything all right here?” Brooks’s deep voice sank into my bones as he stepped up to my side.
“It’s fine.” Thomas waved Brooks along. “We’re having a private conversation.”
“What are you doing here?” I looked up at Brooks. Shouldn’t he be at work already?
“I had a tow call at six this morning. Once I got the car to the shop, I came home to shower and get some coffee.”
The strands of his golden hair were loose and damp. My fingers itched to dive in and twist a lock around my finger.
“You know each other?” Thomas narrowed his eyes as he looked between us.
“Yep.” I smiled as he cringed again.
“Here.” Thomas dug into the pockets of his slacks. They were navy and the seam was perfectly creased down the center. He’d probably flown to the airport and rented that sedan this morning. From his pocket, he pulled out a phone.
My phone, to be exact.
“How did you get that? I gave it to Gemma.” And she never would have given it to him.
“My PI retrieved it for me.”
“What?” I shrieked. “You mean he stole it from her.”
Thomas shrugged, shaking the phone at me. “I need to be able to reach you.”
“For what?” I swiped the phone from his grip and immediately threw it on the sidewalk. The screen didn’t even crack. Damn it.
“Londyn, what the fuck?” Thomas bent for the phone but it was too late.
I raised my knee above my waist and brought my heel down onto the phone. The screen cracked, but it wasn’t the utter destruction I’d been after. So I tried again, still not achieving total annihilation and now my heel hurt. Flip-flops weren’t exactly practical for phone obliteration.
“Grr.” I stomped again, no doubt looking like a toddler having a tantrum, only to catch the edge of the phone.
“Let me.” Brooks took my elbow, easing me aside. Then with one step, he shattered my phone to pieces.
“Ha!” I giggled. “Thanks. I should have done that in Boston.”
“Anytime.” He smiled.
Thomas stared at us both, his mouth agape.
“Was there something else you needed, Thomas? I imagine Secretary would prefer it if you scurried back to the city. Does she know you’re stalking your ex-wife? Oh, and should I start referring to her as Baby Mama now?”
“She was a mistake, Londyn. I made a mistake.”
“So did I,” I admitted. “Somewhere along the way, I forgot who I was.”
“And you’ve remembered?”
I’d run away from home to find a better life all those years ago. I was doing the same now. “I’m not coming back to Boston, Thomas. That part of my life is over.”
He stared at me for a long moment. His silence grew and stretched until the heat surrounded us, making it uncomfortably hot. Beside me, Brooks stood perfectly still. Most men would leave me here alone with Thomas, not wanting to intrude on a personal conversation.
Not Brooks.
He was here as the protector. The man who’d already bought me a phone, not stolen the one I’d chosen to leave behind. He wouldn’t leave me alone with Thomas, maybe because he sensed I didn’t want him to go.
“I can’t change your mind,” Thomas said.
I shook my head. “No.”
Thomas studied my face, his g
aze drifting over my mouth and up my nose. Then across my forehead and down my cheek. What was he doing? Was he memorizing me?
Maybe he finally understood this was the end.
“Goodbye, Thomas.”
“If you change your mind—”
“I won’t.”
He dropped his chin, then looked up with a familiar, hardened stare. That shrewd, calculating gaze I’d seen so often at his office was fixed firmly in place. Without another word, Thomas shot a glare at Brooks, then strode to his car.
I held my breath, waiting until the vehicle’s red taillights flashed and sped away from the curb. Then when I blew out all the air from my lungs, the weight of our divorce lifted.
Done. It was finally done.
My foot bumped the broken phone on the concrete. I bent and picked up the shattered pieces.
“So that’s the ex?” Brooks asked.
“That’s him.”
“I’m starting to see why you ran away.”
I smiled. “We weren’t a good fit. I tried to fit into his life for a while, but . . .”
“You need to be free.”
How was it that a man I’d known for a week knew me better than the man I’d lived with for years? This stunning, bold man saw me for who I was, not who I’d been pretending to be.
I’d tried so hard to fit into Thomas’s life. But we were from different worlds. Thomas wore his wealth like a second skin. Even today, dressed in slacks and a light blue dress shirt, he exuded a level of class that was in his blood. He’d gone to a private school and his family spent Christmas in Fiji. His first car had been a Mercedes. He had two private planes.
I didn’t want to fit into that world, where I was expected to act and speak a certain way.
I needed to be free.
“Thanks.” I smiled at Brooks, admiring his clean-shaven face.
“For what?”
“For getting it. Not many do.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “You’re one of a kind, Londyn McCormack. I’ve never met another person like you.”
Thomas had said something similar when we’d met. Yet he’d tried to change me anyway. And shame on me, I’d let him. But not Brooks. He said those words with so much appreciation, I had a hard time breathing.