Dumpster Fire (Life Sucks Book 3)

by Elise Faber

  “What?” she repeated.

  He tried to pull back but couldn’t, and this time she must have realized his predicament because she exclaimed, “Oh my God. You’re stuck.”

  The only thing he could manage was a tiny nod.

  She started giggling.

  “It’s not funny,” he grumbled. Except, it sounded like “Shits snot shunny.”

  Giggles erupted into full-blown laughter, which felt quite lovely, since it had the result of bringing her breasts against his face. The only difficulty was that he was stuck and couldn’t lavish them with the attention he wanted.

  The material grew tighter, her laughter still tinkling through the air, and she wiggled against him.

  Then the lace loosened, coming free from her body.

  He managed to unhook it from his ear, but it was firmly entrenched in his hair. “This thing is a menace.”

  Her lips twitched, eyes dancing with mirth. “I’ve had my fair share of men try to get me out of my bra.”

  He growled, not because of the bra, but because he couldn’t bear the idea of her with anyone else.

  That lip twitch grew into a full-blown smile. “Not literally, of course. Just in the proverbial trying-to-get-in-my-pants sense.” Her expression went serious. “The truth is I’ve never trusted anyone but you to see me completely naked. Until you.” That possessive part of him settled, especially when she smiled down at him and cupped his cheek. “I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust you, but this particular maneuver of yours takes the cake.”

  Then her hand slipped away, her fingers working at the hook stuck in his hair.

  A moment later he was free, and he’d shifted them, pinning her to the carpet beneath him. “You’re beautiful.”

  She moaned when he bent and lavished her breasts with the attention he’d been desperate to give while entrapped in the evil bear trap that was the contraption of black lace and bands.

  But when he moved back up to take her lips, she pressed a finger to his, stretching up to whisper in his ear. “So know, you’re the only one I’ve been comfortable enough with to be charmed—or tangled—out of my lingerie.” He grinned as her eyes came back to his, but her next words slayed him. “And you’re the only one who’s seen all of me—inside and out.”

  Heart thumping, he peeled her finger away from his lips. “I love you, Soph.”

  She froze, arms going limp to thump down on the carpet.

  Oh, shit. He’d broken her.

  He began to shift his weight off her, had opened his mouth to . . . what? Not apologize. No fucking way. He wanted her to know how he felt about her, needed her to understand this wasn’t something short term, especially with her leaving in a week.

  But before the words—whatever they might have turned out to be—could emerge, she was reaching for him, eyes glittering with tears.

  “Rob,” she whispered. “I—”

  “Don’t,” he told her. “You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t tell you to rush you or—”

  “I love you.”

  His mouth dropped open. “What?”

  Her mouth curved up. “I love you, Rob Hansen. I never thought it would be possible to have someone like you in my life, and I certainly never expected to find a wonderful man like you while I was on vacation.” Her breathing hitched. “But you helped me see me, and in return, you gave me you, and . . . I love you. God, how I love you.”

  How was it possible to feel this much?

  Love bursting out of him making him feel like he was floating up to the sky, emotion and care for this woman tying him back down to Earth.

  And desire.

  Drawing his mouth back to hers, his body over hers, and long moments later, inside of hers. They fit perfectly and that utter sense of rightness swelled within him again, filling him up, until it exploded outward.

  Until she exploded right alongside him.

  “Ugh,” Soph muttered, tossing the knitting onto the table on her deck.

  “Trouble?” he asked, coming out of the house, two mugs of tea in his hand.

  “Yes.” She shoved the knitting to the side, made a face.

  Smiling at the grumpy expression, he set the mugs on the table, scooped her up into his arms, and set her on the railing of the deck. Then he stepped between her thighs and kissed her until her eyes went soft. “What’s the problem?”

  She sighed. “Nothing, I’m just being ridiculous.”

  He lifted one brow. “Why are you being ridiculous?”

  Silence, her lips mutinously flat.

  “Tempest,” he warned.

  “You never did tell me why you call me that.”

  “I didn’t?” A brush of his fingers over her cheek, her jaw, down her throat, her scent drawing him close. “God, I love the way you smell.”

  “Rob,” she grumbled, though her fingers clenched in his hair when he tasted the sensitive spot behind her ear.

  “I call you Tempest because you swept into my life like a storm,” he said, pulling back, so he could meet her eyes. “You wrecked me utterly, devastated me like a ship trapped in the middle of a hurricane.” Her face clouded. “Not in a bad way, sweetheart. But in the absolute best way. I needed that storm, I needed to be swept from shore and out into the sea, out into the land of the living, because until I met you, I was just merely existing.”

  Breath shuddering out, she whispered his name again.

  “But then you came along and tried to run me over”—her brows drew together in a mock-glare, though her eyes were twinkling—“and you brought me tea, and you gave me the strength to jump into that ocean, rather than just be swept along by the winds.”

  Her hand lifted to his cheek, cupping it. “So, the key to your heart was nearly running you over and bringing you tea?”

  He grinned, smoothed his hand over the silk of her hair. “Precisely.”

  “I love you,” she whispered, and fuck if his heart didn’t skip a beat every time she said that.

  The waves crashed in the background, the sky grew dark overhead, stars glimmering in the distance, and the fog crawling in. It was beautiful, but not as gorgeous as the woman in front of him. Nothing could compare to her courage, to her warmth, to her bruised and battered and somehow whole heart. “I love you.” Salt in the air, the sweet scent of her in his nose. “Now, tell me why you say you’re being ridiculous.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to go.”

  His heart skipped another beat. No, it skipped several beats as it squeezed tightly. “I don’t want you to go, either,” he said. “But we’ll talk as often as we can, and”—he laced their fingers together—“you’ll visit when you get a break.”

  “Which will be in forever,” she moaned. “I have all of these shoots scheduled and then promotions. We’ll be lucky to get a couple days together a month, maybe even less, since my house is in L.A. and—”

  “So, move here.”

  Her mouth opened and closed. “What?”

  Earnest now, he drew her off the railing and into his arms. “Stay with me, move in with me. Or if that’s too much too soon, then rent a place of your own.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d offer to sell the business, to move to where you are, but it doesn’t seem like you’ll be in your house all that much anyway, and—”

  “No,” she said. “I would never ask that of you.”

  “Then make Stoneybrook your home. Come home to me, to this town when you have a break,” he said, the words heartfelt. He wanted her here. Forever.

  “But . . .” She bit her bottom lip.

  Gently, he released that lip from the prison of her teeth. “If you want to make the most of our time together, then make a place for yourself in this town. They’d welcome you. I’d welcome you.”

  “I—um . . .” Her gaze darted away from his, and he could see her pulse pounding in her throat. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” she whispered. “I just . . .”

  Shit. She was near panic.


  He needed to back off, to tread carefully.

  “Just think about it, Tempest,” he said. “There’s no pressure. I want you here, of course. I want to spend as much time together as possible. But it’s your choice, honey. Just know you have options, okay?”

  She nodded, eyes still not meeting his, and he kicked himself for pushing. They’d both made leaps and bounds in the last month, had pushed beyond many barriers of their past. But he knew that she didn’t have his personality, just as he knew that his brain was such that once he’d made his mind up on something, he didn’t let it go. A dog to a bone. Focused and set on his course.

  He was the ship navigating the tempest, bringing it safely to shore.

  He would find a way to keep them together.

  But she was still cautious, and rightfully so. They were new, not even a month old, and this was a big change for both of them, there were bound to be growing pains and fears. Which meant he needed to tread carefully.

  Push, but in slow, steady increments.

  “Come on,” he said, stepping back and picking up her knitting from the table. “I’ll show you this stitch again”—she’d begun a new project—“and then I’ll let you choose what we watch tonight.”

  She relaxed, drifted toward him. “Even if it’s Star Trek?”

  Groaning good-naturedly, he snagged the mugs of tea then led the way back into her rental.

  “Even if it’s Star Trek, Tempest.”

  He could be a patient navigator through the storm.

  Especially when he knew that the destination would be worth it in the end.

  He just had to believe that he could coax her to come along with him.

  Twenty-Four

  Walls Closing In

  Soph

  She sighed in pleasure, the sand shifting between her toes, the breeze blowing through her hair, feeling absolutely content.

  And absolutely miserable, seeing as she was leaving in two days.

  Why had she agreed to do this film?

  She should have cried off, pretended to never know anything about acting, and imagined she was on vacation. Permanently. Or maybe she could change careers and just become a small-town girl with small-town dreams. Have a family. Friends. Peace. Maybe open a tiny bookshop downtown.

  Or maybe a wine and bookstore.

  With equal parts of each.

  Yeah, that was the perfect business model.

  But, unfortunately, she couldn’t cry off the movie. Not only because she’d promised to make this film, but because it was written in her contract—or at least, there was a clause in her contract that made her financially responsible if the studio wasn’t willing to let her go.

  And considering she was the headliner, she didn’t think they would be happy for her to jump ship, especially so close to the start of shooting.

  But the hardest part was that this was just the beginning of her crazy schedule, of all those back-to-back productions without a break, and then cramming publicity somewhere into the mix, finding time during those breaks-that-weren’t-really-a-break because she was supposed to be learning her next script or taking classes to prepare for the role.

  There wasn’t any space for anyone else in her life.

  Because she’d made it so.

  Because she’d preferred it that way.

  It was just . . . not anymore, not since this town, not since Rob, not since she’d finally found a way to be happy without her past drawing her down.

  Now she worried that it would be short-lived, that she would drift back into her old patterns, that she would lose the happy, lose Rob, lose the peace she’d found in this little town.

  And the thought of that trifecta disappearing made her beyond sad.

  So sad, in fact, that she’d struggled to hold on to the three during her last few days here.

  So, why hadn’t she jumped at Rob’s offer to move in with him?

  She didn’t want to go, didn’t want to leave him or this town. And she’d all but run screaming from his offer to make something permanent. For the first time in her life she loved someone, and he loved her back, and the relationship was healthy and fulfilling.

  And she’d panicked when he’d wanted to make it more.

  Why?

  Why, when she’d pushed through all the rest of it, was she petrified to make that final step?

  Because that would make it real.

  Her breath caught, knowing that was the underlying fear. Because if she made plans with Rob, figured out their future together . . . then it would no longer be this fantasy.

  And she might fuck it up.

  “You don’t have to go, you know,” Finn said, startling her out of her thoughts, reminding her that she was supposed to be spending time with her friend, with Shannon and Rylie, and not morosely pondering all the ways she was sure to mess this thing up with Rob, how she was going to miss Finn and company, along with this magical little town.

  “I have to work,” she told him, clinging to the convenient excuse.

  Finn stopped, drawing her to a halt, the basket of sandwiches she’d brought to share swinging on her arm.

  “Look,” he said, nodding toward Shannon and Rylie as they played in the surf. “And ask yourself if that’s really true.”

  She paused, heart thudding in her throat.

  “I know you don’t need the money,” he said, smiling at her. “Especially since you’re using the financial guy I set you up with, and aside from those heels”—his eyes went to the pair of strappy and obscenely expensive sandals dangling from her fingers—“you don’t spend your money. So, if it’s a work thing, you’re set. You’ll be able to pick your projects, to make sure your time away is only for something you feel passionate about.”

  “I—” She shook her head. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It is easy.” Finn nodded at his little family. “I made a decision. I made them and my life here my number one priority, and I’ve never regretted it or looked back.” He tugged a lock of her hair. “When you find someone who fits you, who fills in the cracks and helps you grow instead of burying you deeply beneath the shit, you grab on to that person.” His eyes fixed onto hers. “Whether it’s a friend or a lover.”

  Her breath caught. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be like you.”

  But that was an easy excuse, and she knew it. Because she was like Finn—at least in this one small way. She’d found the courage to step away from her past because she’d decided to take a chance with Rob.

  “Shan’s pregnant.”

  Soph’s eyes flew to the horizon, to the lovely woman who had so thoroughly stolen Finn’s heart. “Congratulations,” she said. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “You can have your own happy, too,” he said. “And you deserve to have it.”

  “Dad!” Rylie shouted, running toward them. “Look at this shell I found.”

  Finn smiled, moving toward her, but before the tiny tornado of energy reached them, he glanced back over his shoulder. “Grab on, Soph. Grab on tight when you’ve found that person and don’t let go.”

  Her lips parted, words on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t get them out because Rylie closed the distance between her and her dad, wrapping her arms around his waist and knocking him back a pace. Finn smiled down at her.

  “Hi, sunshine,” he said to his daughter before looking over Ry’s head and meeting Sophie’s gaze, voice soft but firm. “Take that chance, and I promise you won’t regret it.”

  She didn’t get a chance to reply because he was swept away into conversation with Rylie about her seashell, but she didn’t have to. Because she heard his reply to whatever words she might have summoned in her head.

  “Put your fear aside and take that chance,” he would say. “Because the one thing you will absolutely regret is not doing it.”

  As she watched the little group at the shoreline, watched her friend enveloped in the happiness of his family, in their love for him in return, she knew she wanted that. So badly, the
longing was a sharp spike in her heart.

  And she’d only ever wanted it with one person.

  Finn swooped Rylie in the air and ran through the waves, Shannon laughing behind them as she snapped pictures with her cell. They were a family. They’d found their way.

  That fear gripping her disappeared.

  Because she knew she could have that—if only she found the courage.

  “I’m going to fucking find the courage,” she whispered. “I’m going to do it.”

  Dropping the basket of sandwiches to the sand, she turned away from the shore and hurried back to her cottage to get her car keys.

  She needed to talk to Rob.

  Twenty-Five

  Unlocked Doors Part Three

  Rob

  He finished mowing the lawn—a task he hated with the passion of replacing sewer lines. But it was a task that needed to be done, so he’d done it.

  Glamorous life.

  No wonder Soph hadn’t jumped into moving in with him.

  She probably wanted to live somewhere bigger and more luxurious. Or maybe with a gate to keep the persistent fans out.

  Not that she’d given him any indication of not liking his place.

  In fact, nonstop heels aside, she fit right in with the vibe of Stoneybrook. Calm and chill and sweet. She liked being here with him and in the town. Her resistance must have come from being surprised by his offer—or perhaps, plea was a better term. Either way, he knew that if he were just patient and persistent, they would find a way to their future together.

  Because he loved her too much to let something like an intense work schedule drive them apart.

  But in the back of his mind was a kernel of insecurity.

  Would he be able to convince her to give them time? Or when she went back to her real life, would she move on?

  Funny how he’d been so confident, able to ignore any uncertainty so long as he didn’t actually put it into words or into thoughts anyway. But giving it substance made that worry somehow grow larger.