With my admission, her hand slowed its movements for a beat. “Well, I guess I wasn’t as smart as you think. I didn’t finish either of those degrees,” she said, resuming speed.
“Why not?”
Her left shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Being on the road wasn’t conducive to studying.” She paused a moment, that doubt setting back into the features of her face. I hated seeing her like that. It made me wonder when she’d first started to doubt herself. The Conley I’d known had always been full of confidence. “Enough about me…” She set aside the knife, leaving the chopped vegetables in a pile on the cutting board. “What about you?” She moved on from the veggies to throwing the raw cubed chicken into the oversized pan on the stove. It sizzled on contact with the thin layer of hot oil she’d been preheating.
“What about me?” I asked as she stirred around the chicken, getting a good sear on all sides.
“Do you ever miss it?” Conley’s eyes flashed over at the guitar leaning against the couch.
I followed her gaze and then shook my head. “I miss writing the music more.”
She paused, and then her head swiveled to face me with a look of surprise. “I didn’t realize you wrote.”
Of course she didn’t. My guess was Bobby kept that to himself or took the credit in his conversations with Conley. It hadn’t ever bothered me much until now. It’s probably why she’d assumed I’d made a good living from Dudley’s. She didn’t know about the royalties I still received from the songs I’d written for Augustine’s debut record. All but two on the album had been my work. The others were by a songwriter their label had hooked them up with. To this day, I was sure that’s who they still used to write many of their newer songs.
“I used to. Not so much anymore.”
“Why did you stop?”
Because I’d lost my muse. Today was the first time in years I felt the urge to compose my own music, and I knew that had to do with the woman standing in my kitchen, interrogating me as she cooked me dinner.
She narrowed her eyes playfully when I took too long to answer. “I can see it in your eyes and all over your face.” She pointed the metal spatula in my direction. “You’re hiding something.”
“Am I that transparent?” I smirked.
“Not always…” she muttered under her breath, turning back to the stove.
I ignored her retort and answered with half of the truth. “I guess I just haven’t had a lot of time to. Running the bar keeps me busy.”
“Well, aren’t we two peas in a pod,” she mused. “We both had huge dreams when we were kids. What happened?”
“Life,” I said, taking the few steps to her back and snaking my arms around her waist.
“That pesky thing. It’s always getting in the way,” she murmured, leaning into me as I dotted gentle kisses along her shoulder.
As if we’d summoned it by name, life intervened once again with the back door flying open. My pops stepped through and Conley and I broke apart as if we were teenagers that had been caught.
The look of surprise, followed by relief on his face, had me narrowing my brows. “Pops? Everything okay?”
He glanced from me to Conley and back to me. “Yeah… Fine, fine.” He waved me off and closed the door before turning back toward us. Although some tension seemed to have left his body, I could tell there was something on his mind that he wasn’t saying. “Just had me worried is all. I heard you weren’t working tonight or tomorrow and I thought maybe something was wrong.” He smiled over at Conley. “But I see now what’s been keeping you home. How are you, Conley?”
“I’m good, Mr. Hudson. And yourself?” she replied with a genuine smile.
“Oh, you know… What ya got cooking?” Pops’ eyes flashed to the stove where Conley had returned to cooking, adding in the vegetables and drizzling soy sauce all over.
“A chicken stir-fry. It’s about ready. Would you like to join us?” Conley asked.
“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he replied, yet he was already moving deeper into the room to pull out a seat at the bar.
“Not at all. There’s plenty,” Conley insisted before I could object. The old man wasn’t going anywhere, whether or not I wanted him to.
“You need help with anything?” Pops asked.
“I could use some help setting the table, if you’re offering. We were thinking about eating out back.”
“Sure thing,” he said as he stood again. He didn’t need to be told where everything was. The man knew this kitchen as well as I did. He grabbed plates and silverware before heading out the back door he’d entered through.
I moved closer to Conley again, sneaking a quick kiss to her neck as an apology. “I’m sorry. It seems if it’s not your family, it’s mine showing up unannounced.”
“It’s fine. Really. He looks like he could use the company.”
She was right. Something was up with Pops. As much as I wanted to know what that was, I also wanted time with Conley. Preferably alone. “You sure? I can talk to him, make him leave.”
“Yes, I’m sure. Don’t you dare kick him out. Now, go help your dad.” She swatted me away.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said and snuck in one more quick kiss before selecting a bottle of wine from the rack and glasses to carry outside.
17
Conley
“Well, considering there isn’t anything left on your plates, I’m hoping that means you enjoyed it,” I said, looking between Tim and his dad. The evening weather had been so beautiful, we’d eaten under the pergola lit with string lights in Tim’s backyard. Between the lights, the weather, the beautiful manicured yard, and the long wooden table we were seated at, it was easy to relax into our serene surroundings.
“Beats the hell out of the old man’s cooking,” Tim quipped with a good-natured jab toward his father.
“Hey now,” his dad huffed and then grumbled, “see if I ever make you another meal.”
“Last I checked, you stopped doing that the day I graduated high school. Now you come here and eat all my food,” Tim replied. The exchange between the two of them had me grinning over the rim of my wine glass as I took a sip.
“Figured it was time you repaid the favor,” Jim Hudson replied and then looked over at me. “But he still makes me cook my own meals.” He jabbed an accusing thumb in Tim’s direction.
Tim shook his head, chuckling. “Don’t listen. That’s his very twisted version of the truth.”
“I believe it,” I told Jim as I set my glass back on the table and leaned in conspiratorially. “I mean after all, I had to cook my own meal tonight, too.”
“I see how it is.” Tim squeezed my thigh under the table, where his hand had been resting most of the meal. He stood from his seat, gathering up all our plates. “I guess I’ll just take care of these while you two continue to gang up on me with your disillusioned versions of reality.”
We both snickered and watched Tim until he disappeared into the house. A silence fell between the two of us for a beat before Jim cleared his throat, garnering my attention. “I see you two are getting along like old times.”
I blushed, unable to hide my smile. It wasn’t exactly like old times… It was better. “We are.”
“I’m glad. For a minute there, I was worried something might’ve changed that.”
“Oh? What do you mean?”
“Nothing really…” he trailed off, no longer able to meet my eyes. “I just heard some things is all.” He hesitated once again.
My back teeth ground together. After a deep inhale through my nose, I asked, “Is there something I should know?”
He glanced at the back door, before returning his eyes to me. “I just don’t want to see my boy get hurt. He’s lost a lot of the things and people he’s cared about in his life. He may seem closed off at times, but he has a big heart. And not that I want to speak out of turn, but for better or worse, I believe that heart may belong to you. I just ask you don’t go accepting it if you can’t give him the same
in return.”
I relaxed slightly. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, Mr. Hudson, but I have no intentions of hurting him,” I assured him as the back door opened and Tim stepped outside again.
“I hope that’s true,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear.
“Everything all right?” Tim asked, having sensed the change in the air.
“Fine,” I replied, attempting a smile.
Even though I’d still felt irritated by the conversation that his father and I just had, it wasn’t directed toward Jim. He was a concerned father, and I understood that. My frustration was purely for whatever things were being said to him to make him doubt that I cared for his son.
“Everything’s good, son,” Jim confirmed. “But I think I should get home before I overstay my welcome.”
“Never stopped you before,” Tim goaded, the corner of his mouth twisting into a grin.
Jim stood with ease, but the smile on his face didn’t come as easily. It was tight, false, only there for his son’s benefit. I stood with him and waited as Tim gave his father a manly hug before he stepped away to stand beside me.
“Conley. It was great seeing you. Thank you for the delicious dinner,” Jim said.
“Anytime. I’m always happy to cook for you, even if your son isn’t.” I winked.
Tim gently pinched my side. I giggled, leaning into him to give him a slight nudge with my shoulder.
Jim chuckled, and I was glad to see there were no hard feelings from him either. He stepped forward, giving me a quick hug. “Tell your folks hello for me.”
“Will do,” I replied just as Tim’s arm came down over my shoulders, pulling me into his side. Without thought, I lifted my hand, intertwining my fingers with his that dangled over my shoulder.
Jim watched the two of us with interest, then nodded his head and raised his arm as if tilting an invisible hat before he made to leave.
“I’ll walk you out, Pops,” Tim said, dropping a quick kiss on my head before he moved to follow.
His father waved him off, halting Tim. “No need. I know my way,” he said, heading for the side gate that led to the driveway. Tim’s slight hesitation was enough for his father to make it halfway across the yard. Relenting, Tim put an arm back around me, though this time, his body felt a little stiffer.
I placed a palm on his chest as I stared up at his face. “What’s on your mind?”
“Just wondering what was on his,’” he said, keeping his eyes on his father’s back until the man disappeared from view.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I said, even though I knew it wasn’t. Jim Hudson had shown up here worried about his son. And finding me with him hadn’t put him any more at ease, it seemed. He’d heard something around town and my imagination was running wild with what that might be. It was obviously damning enough to make him distrust my intentions with his son. I didn’t like it one bit, but I would not let rumors and lies come between what was growing here. I’d ignore the gossip the way I had for most of my life.
“You’re probably right,” Tim said, though there was little confidence behind his words. He glanced down at me and whatever worried thoughts he was having slowly dissolved as a glint in his eyes grew. “Come on. Let’s go inside.” With his arm still around me, he walked us toward the house.
“What’s the rush?” I asked, biting down a giggle.
“You’ve got dishes to do.”
I gave him a full body shove, causing him to misstep, and the warmth from his laughter heated me from inside out.
“I’m kidding,” he quickly said. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Does this surprise require clothes to be on or off?” I asked, then tucked my smiling lips between my teeth.
“Your choice. I won’t argue either way.”
I peeked up at him, intrigued. His expression gave away nothing as he opened the door for me to go inside first. Once inside, he led me to the living room. Turning to me, he planted a quick kiss on my lips before saying, “Wait here.” Then he disappeared down the hallway toward his bedroom. I took a seat on the edge of the couch, kicked off my converse once again, and drummed my fingertips on my knees as I idly scanned my surroundings.
Before my thoughts could get carried away, he sauntered back into the room, one arm behind his back. His smile was a mixture of excitement and nerves as he took the seat beside me. “It isn’t much,” he warned, keeping whatever ‘it’ was hidden at his back. “And, I hope you don’t mind that I got it… If you don’t like it and don’t want to use—”
“Enough already! Just show me,” I said through a small giggle. My imagination was running wild between his earlier response and current nervousness. The anticipation was killing me. I’d never been much good at waiting to open gifts. My parents could account for that. I’m positive I made their job as Santa much harder around Christmas time, when I’d wake up in the middle of the night multiple times to see if there were gifts under the tree yet.
He nodded and slowly revealed the surprise by placing it in my lap. I stared at it in silent shock.
“You don’t like it,” he said immediately at my response.
I covered my mouth, trying to stifle my laugh.
“What? Why are you laughing?”
I shook my head, unable to speak through the hysteria that was growing and boiling over. “I was assuming it was something crazy, like some kind of sex toy,” I finally sputtered out between chuckles, my belly aching. It would have been presumptuous of him for sure, but with the way he’d been acting I’d never expected this.
His eyes widened in momentary shock before he fell into his own fit of laughter. “Why on earth would I do that? Am I that bad in bed?” he pretended to be affronted, but the gleam in his eye told me he already knew the answer to that. He had complete confidence in himself, as he should. I may have only been with one other man, but Tim definitely was the best I’d had. He knew how to please a woman for sure.
“Oh my gosh, nooooo! I just—with the way you were acting, I never thought you’d gotten me a new sketch book,” I said, holding it up.
He shrugged, both of our laughter subsiding. “I noticed the other day at Kathy’s yours was almost full. I figured you might want a new one. But I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about me picking it out.”
His words sobered me—the thought he’d put into the smallest thing. My heart fell deeper than I could’ve ever imagined.
“I love it. Thank you.” I set the sketch book aside on the coffee table and straddled his lap. Cupping each side of his face, I pressed my lips against his. As he drew me closer, his fingers digging into my hips, I slid my hands from his face toward the back of his head, running my fingers through his hair.
As he lifted us both from the couch, I twisted my legs around his waist, not leaving an ounce of space between us while he carried me to his bedroom. My phone vibrated in my back pocket, causing Tim’s lips to leave mine. “Do you need to get that?”
“No,” I said in a rush, pulling his mouth back to mine.
Whoever was calling didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing other than this moment with this man who had spent the last few weeks showing me he cared the way I needed.
He laid me on the bed, kissing me one more time before sitting back on his knees. He reached behind his head, gathering his shirt at the back collar and shrugging out of it as he pulled it over his head in one swoop. The shirt was tossed to the floor. His shoes, socks, and pants were quick to follow.
One of his hands started at my ankle, making a slow ascent up my calves and between my thighs as he crawled over me, eyes on mine. With a flick of his thumb, he had my jeans undone. I lifted my hips for him as he tugged them down my legs along with my panties and discarded them in the growing pile on the floor. I lifted my hands over my head and he used the same painstakingly slow process—a sensual glide of his hand, the slow drugging kisses of his lips—to remove my tank and bra.
I waited for him to spe
ed it up, to take me fast and hard. But he was apparently in no hurry this time around. His fingertips ran lovingly along my side and over my hip, then his palm cupped my breast. I closed my eyes and arched into his touch, a silent order.
“Con,” he said my name.
The way he said it had me opening my eyes to stare at him. My heart dropped a mile as I saw it in his eyes. This time was different. This time wasn’t a frenzied fuck. I reached up, placing my hand on his cheek. His eyes closed briefly as he let out a shuddering breath.
A warm hand slid under my back, his gentle palm pressing at the hollow of my spine, tilting me up to him. That simplest touch gave me the inexplicable urge to cry. The stinging tears were ones of happiness. In this single moment, I’d never felt so cherished, so cared for.
I grabbed his hair, pulling his mouth to mine before I destroyed everything by shedding the gathering tears.
“I want to make love to you,” he whispered against my lips.
I nodded, because I wanted that too. I wanted to know him this way—slow and sweet. I wanted to learn what made his breath catch, what drove him wild from pleasure.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “So damn perfect.”
I wasn’t, but I wouldn’t argue. I’d take every compliment he gave me and tuck them away like little treasures. He lowered his head and with the same leisurely pace, swiped the flat of his tongue over my nipple, making me gasp. He gave my other breast the same treatment. Back and forth, he continued to torture me with his tongue, licking and nibbling until I was sure I couldn’t take much more. I moaned, and he glanced up, waiting until I met his eyes. Then he closed his lips around my nipple and sucked hard.
I bucked my hips, desperately. “Tim,” I begged, breathlessly.
“Again. Say my name again with those tempting lips,” he said, then raked his teeth over my other nipple.
“Tim,” my voice cracked slightly as I threaded my fingers in his hair.
He smiled in gratification, then moved down my body, kissing over my stomach. My legs fell apart, and Tim pushed them open wider. Then his mouth was on me, sucking, stroking, and licking in exactly the right way.
Tempting Tim: A Small Town Friends to Lovers Romance (Billingsley Book 4) Page 16