She placed a finger on his lips as he formed the next words. “No. Please no. Not tonight. Let’s not ruin this.”
His chest moved in and out. “I have to take the chance on ruining it, so I can have a shot at making it better.”
“Later please?”
He sighed, whisper soft in the night air.
She asked, “How could this be any better?”
His chest froze. His hands tightened on her shoulders. All the night symphony seemed to fade until it was just background noise and the only things alive in the universe were Turbo and herself. Her senses were hyperaware of him—his breath, his scent, his warmth through the t-shirt under her hand.
His words seemed drawn from the depths of his soul. “I want to kiss you. That would make it a million times better. For me.”
“Me too,” her mouth said before her brain had a chance to stop it. Had she just said she wanted to kiss Turbo? She could hardly believe it was true.
His head lowered just a little. “But I promised myself I wouldn’t. Not until you know something about me. Something that matters. Something that no one else in the world knows, but it will make a difference, I promise.”
She’d read enough books in the library to know what would come next if this were a paranormal romance. “You’re a werewolf.”
He snorted then laughed out loud, pulling her to him, setting his chin on her head, and wrapping his arms around her.
“Nothing as easy as that,” he said, still chuckling.
“You’re a serial killer?” That’d be a book in a different genre but still something the hero would hide for a big reveal at the middle of the book. She was a librarian; she ought to know.
“No.”
“My life’s not in danger?”
His arms tightened, making her feel safe and protected. “No. Never.”
“You’re married.”
“Frig, no.” He sounded aghast, and she smiled at the outrage in his voice.
“Okay. Sorry.”
“I’ll think about forgiving you for that one.”
“I was just trying to think of things that would be a deal-breaker for me. If you were dangerous.” She humphed. “I mean more than your constant pranks, dangerous. Or if you were married. Gay?”
His hands slid up and down her back, and he groaned a little. “No.”
“Not married, not secretly a woman.”
“Ugh. You have really low standards.”
“Do you have a gambling problem?” she asked, only half joking.
“No. No gambling. No liquor. No porn.”
“Gosh, you’re practically perfect.”
He laughed again. “Like I said, low standards.”
She leaned back in his embrace, and he loosened his arms, letting her go. The darkness and the night noises felt comfortable now. She would forever associate night in the woods with this night and this man and these feelings. Peace and rightness. But desire lay there as well. She had to be careful.
“Then it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it won’t matter.”
He took a breath through his nose. She couldn’t see his face, but she’d be willing to bet the laughter was missing from his eyes. Sadness seemed to pour off him. She wanted to fix it.
“It will. I know it will.”
“I want you to kiss me, Turbo.” She shouldn’t say it. She shouldn’t go there, but the words were already out. She didn’t try to take them back. They were, after all, the truth. But kissing wasn’t the same as liking. Although, to her surprise, she realized she actually did like Turbo. A lot.
He didn’t move. But his breathing stopped again. She smiled, that little detail somehow making her feel powerful and beautiful and desirable all at once. It wasn’t a power she wanted to use against him, though, so she waited, comfortable with allowing him to decide.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he finally said, his tone subdued.
“You aren’t the only one with a secret,” she returned.
“You have no secret that could make me not want to kiss you.” His hands spread out over her back. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of Turbo holding her, relishing his strength.
“I might believe that. But a kiss on top of secrets could complicate everything.” She paused, an idea coming to her. “How about this?”
“Yeah?”
“What if we just forget about all that. Forget your secret and mine. Forget that we’re really not suited for each other anyway, and we definitely ought not to be standing here in the dark even contemplating the idea of kissing, let alone longing for it, as I am.” She ended the last sentence on a breathless whisper.
“You sound like me. Aren’t I the one that’s supposed to say throw caution to the wind and just enjoy the moment?”
“You’ve already rubbed off on me. We’ll have to stop seeing each other so much.”
He laughed. “I think you just said I’m off the hook for Daddy Warbucks.”
“No. I just said shut up and kiss me, darn it.”
His hands came up and pushed into her hair. He sighed. “I’m not much for going slow, but there’s so much about this that I want to just stop and savor. You realize how soft your hair is?” His thumbs brushed her cheeks, and his fingers slid down her neck. She shivered. “And your skin. I live in a rough world. I can’t even think of anything to compare it to. Polished aluminum, maybe, but that’s not romantic. It’s just all I know.”
Harris’s throat had closed, and she fought to breathe. Every time he moved his hands, he sent fresh tingles down her spine. Her skin felt hot and cold, and her knees weak. He hadn’t even kissed her yet, and she could barely stand.
“I want to see you. If I’m only getting one kiss, I don’t want to waste it in the dark where I can’t see your eyes darken or your face flush, can’t see your lips glisten with my mark on them.” He swallowed. “I’m waiting. You said I could kiss you, and I’m going to, I want to, I can hardly think of doing anything else. But not tonight.”
Disappointment warred with admiration in her chest. If he wanted to kiss her as badly as she wanted to kiss him, yet he was waiting, he had some serious self-control muscles. It only made her love him more.
Whoa.
No, she didn’t mean that. She didn’t actually love him; she hardly knew him. She wasn’t sure she even liked him all that much. Well, some.
His hands cupped her face. “What? What made your whole body freeze just now? Have you changed your mind?”
“What? Oh, no. No, I haven’t. I didn’t freeze.” Her voice sounded high and squeaky, like an eighty-year-old sucking helium.
“Frig it.” He lowered his head, and before she realized, his lips were touching hers. Soft, the tiniest of brushes. But it electrified her whole body, and she groaned, reaching up and gripping the back of his neck.
Her groan acted on him like spurs on a horse, and he crushed her to him, lifting her off her feet, one hand in her hair, one arm wrapped around her waist. Lights exploded behind her eyes, and she couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t get enough at all. She met his velocity, maybe exceeded it, until it was no longer who was kissing and who was being kissed. All she knew was she didn’t want it to end, didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to face all the obstacles that would reemerge when they finally pulled apart.
Turbo was the one who eventually pulled back, allowing her to slide to the ground. “I know why people do this lying down, now. It’s because my freaking legs are shaking so hard I’m not sure I’m going to be able to keep standing.”
She laughed, her head lying on Turbo’s chest, his heart beating hard and fast in her ear, and her own legs trembling. His arms were warm and hard around her.
“I’d say let’s stay here. We could make a pretty comfortable bed in the back of my truck and could lie there and watch the sunrise, but I don’t want you to have your neighbors whispering behind your back when I bring you home tomorrow.”
“That doesn’t have the stigma it used to.”
“I don’t want there to be any stigma attached to you being with me.” She loved the care and protection he showed. His hand ran down over her hair. He seemed fascinated with it. “I suppose you hear this all the time, but you’re one hen of a kisser.”
“I don’t hear that all the time.” Especially since he was the first man she’d kissed in forever. “And I don’t think hens have lips, actually.”
She heard his smile. She could almost imagine the laughter back in his eyes. Her heart swelled, filling her chest until she felt like she could float.
“Come on, hon. You just rocked my whole world, and I’d better get you home before you jump me again and I end up comatose on the ground and you have to drag me back by my hair.” He kept his arm around her as he walked her to his pickup and opened the door for her.
“I didn’t jump you.”
“I know.” The dome light illuminated his smile. “You’d better not, either. I don’t think I could handle it.”
“Turbo?” She reached over and slid her hand against his cheek. He paused with one hand on the door, ready to shut it. “Thanks.”
He put his hand over hers, turning his face and kissing her palm. “For what?”
“I’ve never been in the woods at night. It’s wonderful.” She met his eyes. “I’ve never been kissed like that. It was better than wonderful.”
He closed his eyes and kissed her palm again, holding it tight to his face before he pulled it away. “I just want you to remember that I warned you. I don’t want you resenting me.”
“I would never resent you.”
He gave her a look she couldn’t figure out, before stepping back. “I hope you remember that.” He closed her door and walked around his truck, and for an instant, she wished she would have allowed him to tell her what his “secret” was. He seemed to think it would really matter to her. It definitely mattered to him.
Chapter 10
TURBO WOKE AT TWENTY after four the next morning, ten minutes before his alarm was set to go off. He didn’t wake up very well to alarms anyway. Understatement. He didn’t wake up to alarms. He had to set his head to wake up. Otherwise, it took a massive amount of effort to wake him up. But he didn’t want to miss his “date” with Harris. Even though he’d just dropped her off less than four hours ago.
He turned the hot water on in his shower and laughed at himself. This must be what being in love was like. An almost-obsession with someone. Couldn’t stop thinking about her. Couldn’t stop wondering where she was, what she was doing. Couldn’t stop wanting to be with her. Couldn’t stop hoping that somehow he could tell her his secret and she wouldn’t be appalled. Or, the thought that was really going through his mind was that he could fake it, and she’d never know. That sat wrong on his shoulders. Heavy. But it was the only sure way. The other way opened him up to her rejection, which more and more was becoming something that would be unbearable.
At the least, she’d want to fix him. Maybe she wouldn’t hate him, but she’d pity him and see him as someone that needed fixing. That would be worse.
Ten minutes later, he was out of the shower and dressed. He picked his phone up from the nightstand and was about to shove it into his pocket when a text from a number he didn’t recognize lit up. It had come at one a.m., which was about twenty minutes after he got home after taking Harris home.
He tapped on the message, clicking until he got to where his phone would read it to him. Turning his bedroom light off, he walked out, listening. “Hey, Turbo. This is Harris. I got your number from Cassidy a while ago. I think it’d be best if I don’t go with you tomorrow to cut wood. Thanks for inviting me.”
By the second sentence, Turbo had paused in the dark hallway. His good mood and afterglow from last night evaporated.
She hadn’t said why, just that it would be best. He listened to the message again, his chest roiling. He’d had an amazing time last night. He’d begun to think of Harris and himself as a couple. He’d even tried to figure out ways for them to be together.
Seemed like her thoughts had gone in the opposite direction.
Did this mean that she hadn’t been blown away by their kiss? Had she been faking her enthusiastic response? Maybe she hadn’t been able to find a nice way to tell him to get lost. He laughed without humor. Maybe she actually was afraid he’d leave her in the woods.
He shoved those thoughts aside. He’d see her tonight, since it was the first practice, and in the meantime, he still had firewood to get for the Smiths and a truck that needed to be completed and gotten back on the road. And if this was the way the wind was blowing, he’d be dipped if he’d allow her to see any weakness in him. He had to figure out a way to, one, not have to read his lines and, two, to memorize them without reading them. How hard could it be?
Chapter 11
DESPITE THE FALL CHILL, Turbo wore only a wifebeater with his jeans and boots as he chopped wood in the Smiths’ side yard. Harris pulled in their drive, staring at the play of muscles as he lifted the splitting maul above his head and brought it down, making a clean cut as the piece of wood broke apart on either side. Harris swallowed, determined in her resolve to put distance between them. They were not compatible, no matter how much she was attracted to him. Yeah, she’d discovered that under his goofy exterior, Turbo was actually a nice man. A man of character and honor. But not for her.
She had simply decided to drive out before work to make sure there were no awkward hard feelings since Turbo had never texted her back. At all.
She picked up the angel food cake she’d made. After all, she couldn’t just show up at the Smiths without an excuse. Turbo would never believe that she wanted distance if he thought she followed him around.
Another split rang out as she opened her car door and stepped out. Comfortable clothes were the order of the day since she expected to go straight to play practice from work, so she wore slim dress pants and a comfortable sweater under her coat along with flats.
Turbo’s pile of split wood was much bigger than his unsplit pile. She assumed he was probably almost done. She kept an eye on him as she moseyed up the walk, hoping to snag a glance, so she wouldn’t have to walk over and interrupt him. The maul came down, and another piece broke apart cleanly. He reached over, grabbing a new piece with one hand, his fingers splayed wide over the end.
She wished she hadn’t cancelled. It wouldn’t have been torture to watch him all day. She’d have enjoyed it. Every second.
He looked up as he swung the wood onto the stump he was splitting on. His body froze before he slowly straightened. He nodded at her, his eyes wary, the normal laughter just a dim light. It made her heart twist to know she was most likely the reason for it.
“Harris.”
“Turbo.” With the cake in her hand, she walked a little closer, still leaving plenty of distance between them. She stopped and tilted her head. “You never texted me back.”
He shrugged, standing the wood up on the stump and propping one leg beside it. He leaned an elbow on his knee. “Didn’t realize you expected me to.”
He didn’t sound angry. She tried to decide how to approach him.
He spoke before she had a chance to. “I know I like to joke and goof off, and that can be annoying to people. But I shoot straight. I like you. I’m not pretending not to. I see a few things that might be roadblocks for us, and I want to face those things.” His gaze was direct. His words even more so. “I got the impression last night from you that you felt the same way I did.” He studied her, as though daring her to try to tell him that her reaction to his kiss had been faked.
She couldn’t and looked away.
“I want to spend more time with you.” He grunted and looked away. “Heck, I want to spend all my time with you, and I thought we were on the same page. Your text threw me, and I don’t know what to think about it, didn’t know what to say or how to respond. So I didn’t.” He waited until she looked at him. “There’s no pressure. I don’t want you to do anything that makes
you uncomfortable or that you don’t want to do. But I’m not going to lie, and I’m not going to pretend. Does that sound fair?”
Harris closed her eyes, fighting the feelings that rose in her chest and threatened to balloon up her tight throat. “I just don’t want to make it awkward for the play. If there’s some kind of,” she took one hand from the cake and waved it in the air, searching for the right word.
“Romance?” he supplied with one corner of his mouth tilted up.
“Okay,” she said. “Romance. If there’s some kind of romance between us, it’s going to complicate our relationship at play practice, it’s going to make everyone uncomfortable. They’ll think I’m playing favorites, or you’ll think I’m picking on you, or you might...” She stopped without completing the thought.
“Go ahead,” Turbo urged. “What are you afraid I’ll do?” He waited. When she dropped her eyes and turned away, he spoke again. “You’re afraid I’ll sabotage the play somehow? That I’ll get mad at you and take it out in my performance?”
“Or you’ll prank it. Or not take it seriously. Or take advantage of me and my feelings for you.”
He straightened and stepped away from the stump. “So you do have feelings for me?”
She sighed. All her life, she’d denied any romantic feelings. After her childhood cancer, not only could she not have children, but the chance of her dying from a reoccurrence was high. She hadn’t gone searching for anyone, not wanting to put them through the possibility. If Turbo were different, maybe they could make it work. But she couldn’t lie. Especially not to Turbo. Especially not after last night. “Yes.”
“Don’t sound so freaking happy about it,” he said.
She smiled sadly. “I don’t see it working.”
He grunted. “You don’t even know the half of it.”
She whipped her head up. “Neither do you.”
He left his splitting maul handle up on the ground and walked over to her. “I’ll fight for you, Harris. I’ll fight for us. Because you’re worth it. So don’t give me crap about what I don’t know.”
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