Broken in Love (Studs in Stetsons Book 2)

by Megan Hetherington

  For a heartbeat I wonder if I’ve missed an opportunity, then she twirls on her foot and drags me toward the house.

  “The bathroom’s just down the hall.” She points with a brightly painted fingernail. “I’ll have coffee waiting for you when you’re done.”

  In Lemon’s bathroom, I strip off my shirt, wishing I had a spare in my truck. I glare at myself in the mirror. Everything’s so awkward. Usually, when I hook up, it flows beautifully. Conversation, flirting, touching, and then bam. And if we hit if off then there are more dates until I call a halt before it gets too serious. But this? This is awkward as fuck.

  There’s a tap on the door. “Carson, honey.”

  “Yeah, come right in.” I swipe a towel from the cabinet and step toward the door as she opens it.

  She skims from my eyes down to my waist. “Oh.” She pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth. “You’ve grown.”

  I chuckle. “Of course I have, we’re not kids anymore, Lemon.”

  As if her ogling allows me to do the same, I lower my gaze to her breasts. They’re shapely and full against her tight tank top. As we stand for an awkward minute devouring each other with our eyes, my cock stiffens in my jeans. Just one move from her and I’ll push my reservations aside and indulge in my ultimate fantasy.

  She purses her lips and whistles; her gaze dropping brashly to my groin. “No, we’re certainly not, Carson.”

  I follow her gaze and in that split second of breaking eye contact she turns on her heels. “Just came to tell you there are fresh towels in the cabinet. But you’re good.” She shouts over her shoulder.

  I sink onto the toilet and bury my face into the towel. I have to slow things down a little here and read the signs better. I can’t afford to fuck this up.

  When I join her outside, she’s stacked wood in the burner I spotted in the long grass and is trying to set it on fire with a cigarette lighter.

  “Ow.” She flicks her wrist then sucks her finger into her mouth. Damn. Those lips.

  I pull my shirt onto my arms and button it as I walk toward her. Her eyes watch my every move.

  “Need some help?”

  “Sure.” She stretches her arm and I grab hold of the lighter; our fingers touch and I restrain from grabbing and pulling her in to me. This is more difficult than I imagined. Every opportunity that presents itself twists in my anxious mind to be too risky.

  “I’m not sure if the wood is dry enough,” she says in a low voice.

  “It looks dry enough to self-combust,” I say without pulling my eyes away from hers.

  She slides her fingers from mine, leaving me with the cold metal lighter. I snap out of my trance and light the fire, while she disappears into the kitchen and wrangles out a chair.

  “Let me.” I stride to help her, and she fetches another from inside.

  “These old yard chairs need dumping, they’re rotten.”

  “I can chop them up, if you want, and we can burn them?”

  “Maybe next time. You’ve only just cleaned up.”

  I shrug. “Sure.” If that’s a promise for a next time, I’ll leave it be.

  She brings a tray with coffee and ingredients for s’mores and settles it on the grass. “These marshmallows are from the grocery box you sent. I’ve been dying to do this with them. I haven’t had s’mores since…” She smiles and her blue eyes twinkle. “Since we were kids.”

  I don’t want to go back to being kids. I want to us move on as adults.

  “Do you want some help around here, fixing anything else?”

  She tips the graham crackers out of the box onto the tray. “I’d like to say no, I’ve got it covered. But I don’t.”

  “It’s not a failure to ask for help, Lemon.”

  “I know. It’s only… I…” She stops arranging the graham crackers and marshmallows and takes a big sigh. “Oh, darn it, Carson. I know I can speak honestly to you. The truth is I suppose I was always hoping Blue would come and fix it for me. For us.”

  I take a sip of my coffee, which is cooling quickly in the night air. I hope it will mask the wild doglike growl brewing inside. I hate that she waited for Blue to do anything for her. Even a damn gate.

  “It’s pathetic, I know, but I kinda slipped myself to a low in the hope he would pick me up.” Her leg drops and she leans forward to scoop up her coffee cup. “And I know that’s not how it works with you guys, is it?”

  “I don’t know.” It’s the truth. I haven’t had a serious relationship that ever sunk to that level, but know I’m not too comfortable with thinking how that might work. It doesn’t sound too attractive, that’s for sure.

  “So, if you wouldn’t mind helping me with some of this shit, I’d be mighty grateful.”

  “Okay, you’re on,” I say with more eagerness than I feel. Lemon moving on from Blue will be a challenge.

  She angles toward me and taps her coffee cup against mine. A whiff of bourbon rises in the steam. “And by the way, that’s not a warning. I’ve learned my lesson and will never be so stupid again.”

  Really? My mind screams. “So, you getting your head around Blue and Josie?” I need to test how deep this issue is. Because this is the one thing that will stop me from pursuing my dream. If we are to be together then it will be just the two of us. There’s no room for another person in our relationship.

  “Sure. As soon as Josie came back on the scene and I realized what was happening between them, I backed off. I should have done it sooner, years ago, even. But you know, better late than never.” Her voice has a lightness to it that drives me to believe her.

  “You’re not just saying that?”

  “Nope. That period in my life is firmly, and finally, in my past. Thank goodness.” She rolls her eyes.

  Hearing her admit that makes me happier. “Divorces are never easy, I suppose.”

  “Hah.” She spurts coffee and wipes the back of her hand over her lips. “Divorce is easy, honey, it’s marriage that’s tough.”

  I don’t laugh with her. “Only if you marry the wrong guy, Lemon.”

  “Oh?” She cocks her head to one side, her mind chewing over what I’ve just said as she runs her eyes over my face.

  And I can tell she is still lost in that thought as she pushes marshmallows on to a wire skewer and roasts them over the flames. Suddenly her face turns to me with childish excitement.

  The orange flames dancing across her face brings memories that slam into my chest.

  Fuck, this is everything. Every. Damn. Thing.

  Being with her is more important to me than any part of the rest of my life and probably the whole sum of it too.

  Breath builds inside my chest cavity and I’m afraid to let it out in case it takes the feeling with it. I smash the Hershey bar with my fist and flap open the wrapper.

  “Here.” She squidges a marshmallow from the skewer and a square of chocolate in between two crackers and tosses the s’more from one hand to another as she passes it over to me. The smell is incredible. It brings back our innocent childhood and once again I worry we’re stuck in that time. Reliving what we did all those years go.

  She bites into hers. Sticky, gooey, chocolatey, marshmallow smudges out onto her full lips. Then she scoops the errant goo with a finger and sucks on the goddamn digit. My eyelids half close and my dick throbs.

  “Go on. Your turn.” She nods toward the treat I’ve cracked with pent up pressure wrestling to burst free. I stuff it into my mouth whole and after a couple of chews I swallow it, washing it down with the last of my coffee. Her eyes grow and she gesticulates excitedly. “That’s exactly what you used to do. You’re still an animal.”

  I waggle my eyebrows, and she laughs. I love that I make her laugh.

  She gasps and bobs on her knees. “D’ya remember, to stop you from doing that, I used to feed you small pieces, so you’d savor it.”

  “Uhuh.” Of course, I remember. I’ve relived every memory of being with Lemon a thousand times already. It’s only her rec
alling these small things for the first time. I’ve remembered them, relived them, and am now ready to move on.

  I suppose I need to be patient. Let her catch up.

  “Wait.” She shouts and pushes off her knees; the blanket slides from her shoulders onto the ground. She quickly makes another round of s’mores, repeatedly looking at me with a wicked grin. If I’m honest, I’m not sure I can keep control as she feeds it to me.

  The first piece is just how I remember, her fingertip brushes my lip as she teases me with it, the taste of her skin mixed with the sweet marshmallow. The second time around I’m ready for her and I take a playful bite of her finger. She squeals with fake pain. I’m so screwed. The third she deals with swiftly, so I can’t suck on her finger the way I want.

  And that act of feeding me s’mores, pretty much sums us up.

  Lemon teases me in a way no other woman has. Just being herself with no false pretenses. Licking her lips, because they needed licking. Sucking on her finger because it needed sucking. Squealing with pleasure because that’s how she felt. She’s not doing any of this to purposely turn me on.

  But it does. And right now, I’m turned on like a fucking dog.

  Everything tenses as I battle with the urge to grab her. But reasoning prevails in my mind. She’s flirting with me but it’s like we’re still friends. And to make a move now would be awkward. A monumental shift in our relationship.

  Fuck, I feel fifteen again.

  I have to take this at a pace she is more comfortable with. Yet time is moving on and I can’t leave what I came here for until another time. And now she’s freely admitted that her time with Blue is behind her, then I’ve got to ask.

  “So, are you gonna accept my invitation for a date?” I ask in a firm tone.

  She flashes a wide-eyed look at me and the corner of her mouth curls into a wicked grin. “Yeah, why not?”

  Game on. I roll my lips and nod. I shouldn’t sound too eager but inside I’m doing fist pumps. “Where do you wanna go?”

  Her eyes widen and without hesitation she replies, “To a club.”

  I swallow deeply. “Do you mean that? You would go on a date if I took you to a club?”

  “Sure. I wouldn’t say I would if I wouldn’t, would I?” She laughs.

  I laugh at her silly response and latch onto her face. There’s a sincerity to her expression. She’s not covering up all the hurt she usually seems to want to hide all of the time.

  “Good. Which club?”

  “Lime and Stardust in Visalia.”

  Not the greatest of venues for me, having spent a good amount of time in that area when I was certified, but as her immediate answer it shows how much it would mean to her. “Okay, why not? Next Friday?”

  “Yes.” Eagerly, she reaches for another marshmallow, sans cracker, and I notice a white indentation where her wedding band once sat. I trail up to her eyes and study her face; a glimpse of the old Lemon is back and hopefully to stay. She smiles. And that’s that. Lemon Gillespie has agreed to go on a date and the earth didn’t open up and swallow me whole.

  Then she settles on a chair, kicks off her flip-flops and draws her legs onto the seat. It’s as if she’s dealt with me asking her out on a date like it’s an obvious thing to do.

  I feel light inside. This is really happening and it takes away any pressure about what might or might not happen tonight.

  She shivers, so I snap more lengths of wood over my thigh and throw them on the fire. Then I pull the chair with her on it nearer to the fire, and me.

  We spend the next hour chatting about life and reminiscing about childhood, while she picks out a wood splinter on the heel of my palm. She presses me to admit I graduated top of the class and went into the Police Academy as the rising star. I was certified with honors and achieved the highest overall score of any cadet. Ever. I’m proud, but I don’t need to brag to Lemon. Only occasionally does she mention Blue and what went on between them. I’d rather not know any of that shit and would be quite happy to forget he existed, or at least that they ever had a relationship.

  “Here.” Lemon passes over a portion of the blanket, so we’re both snuggled underneath it and she lets out a long yawn. I slide my arm up on to the back of her chair and she rests her head on my shoulder, her other arm reaching over my chest. There’s a familiar warmth that wraps around me and I like it. As teenagers, we’d regularly lay on each other and I’ve missed that so bad. Softly, she squeezes the muscle that runs along the top of my shoulders until her hand goes lax and my whole body shakes from her touch.

  Small twitches and jittery breaths indicate she’s asleep and I stay put until my arm goes numb. My heart beats in time with hers and my breaths rise and fall with hers. How can such a simple act have been missing from my life for so long?

  Eventually, when the fire has died and the blanket isn’t enough, I stand and scoop her up in my arms. Her long legs dangle from my forearm and she snuggles into my chest. She stirs slightly as I kick open the screen at the back door and carry her through the dark house to her bedroom.

  Gently, I lay her on the bed and take in the dim view of her body stretched out, and before my mind wanders, I cover her over with a comforter. I go to close the drapes and halt by a photo of Blue and Lemon getting married. Another reminder that this was their house and she’s still not over him. I lift the photo up until I can see the expression on her face. And a sharp pain of realization stabs at my heart. I’ve never seen that smile before. I can almost see her heart soaring up to the sky.

  Although I was invited to their wedding, I said I was in the middle of exams for the police. Actually, I didn’t have anything on that day and would never have been able to focus on any exam if I did. But I’d rather have done anything else than watch the two of them tie the knot.

  Lemon murmurs and shifts in her sleep, so I put the photo down so I can take a look. She’s fine. I sigh, not ready to leave her but I must.

  I lock up and creep the truck away from the house. I’m anticipating a sleepless night where all I can think of is her and whether she has really let Blue go like she said she has. Because although she’s agreed to a date, that is a deal breaker for me.

  Ten

  Lemon

  So full disclosure, I’ve had a drink. Just three fingers of bourbon, and while I could have drunk more, I didn’t. But man, I needed it. For some stupid reason my stomach churns with the thought of this date with Carson. Pathetic, I know. I’ve known the guy since I was barely out of diapers. I’m safe with him. He will ensure I come to no harm. But all the same, I’m chewed up inside.

  There are huge stakes attached to this date. If we fuck this up—if I fuck this up—then our friendship is over. Just at the point where I’ve found Carson again. The person I missed most in my recent life.

  Is it because I’m not sure if I’m good enough for him? What he told me when he brought that picnic around to my house filled in the gaps. He’s a high achiever and his ambition has no bounds. And he has this unbelievable attraction to me that I don’t deserve. Probably wrapped in a childhood fantasy, and a bubble that I no doubt will burst.

  We’ve spoken every day since he spent time here last weekend. And he fills my life in the best way.

  I roll the gloss over my lips and adjust my bra under my top. We’re going to a club. My choice. Sat across from Carson would seem too staid and I’m at my most relaxed when I dance anyway. He seemed eager enough. A date in Gunner Ridge is a no-no for either of us.

  It’s not that I haven’t dated guys in Gunner Ridge, because I have. But usually the date would end when either the guy concerned realized I was still married to Blue Corrigan, or I wouldn’t shut up about him. But I’m over all that. Blue’s moved on and so have I.

  Which reminds me. I push a large onyx dress ring over the white mark where my wedding band sat. With nothing to cover it up, it looks odd. And sad.

  Carson’s truck rolls to a stop outside my home and I inspect my face once more before leaving to g
reet him. He’s already out of the truck and strides up the driveway. He’s dressed in blue jeans and a tight Henley shirt.

  I practically skip out of the door.

  “You look mighty fine tonight, Lemon.”

  I suck in a breath and grin at his polite comment, said with only a hint of a joke.

  “Why, thank you, kind sir.” I mimic. “Hope you’ve brought your dancing shoes.”

  He laughs and twizzles his boots at me; the muscles in his thigh pop against the sturdy denim as he twists his leg.

  “I brought you these.” He produces a beautiful spray of sunflowers from behind his back; accompanied by a shy yet playful expression. “They reminded me of you.”

  “Aw, that’s so sweet.” I sniff in the center of the gorgeous yellow flowers as I go inside to arrange them in a vase. They smell of buttery sunshine and bee pollen. They’re such a cheery flower and I hope he meant what he said, because I’m happier now.

  Less nervous than I was earlier, I hop up into the pickup. He’s relaxed and that helps, too. I offer over some gum before curling a strip into my mouth. I don’t want him to notice alcohol on my breath, he probably has a nose for that considering the line of work he’s in.

  We sing along to the county radio station. “One Beer” by Hardy. It’s fun and by the time we reach Visalia, I’m desperate to dance.

  Carson parks the pickup in a public parking lot and we head toward the strip lined with bars and clubs. As we near Lime and Stardust, a security guard steps toward us.

  “Hey.” He plants a meaty palm on Carson’s chest and for a hot second I worry there’s trouble, but swiftly the two men clasp hands in a tugging embrace. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” The guard glances at me and raises his eyebrows. I furrow my brow, not clear on the meaning behind it.

  “This is Lemon. We’re here socially.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  My face screws up with disbelief. Did this guy assume I’m an undercover cop or something? Please.

  We’re ushered straight into a sultry, vaulted principal room. There’re a few guys in the bar area, but the dance floor is dead. I chew on my lip while Carson grabs us some drinks. I’m dying to dance and usually would be right on it. I wait patiently while Carson chats to the barman, although I can’t help but bounce on my heels when “Nobody But You” by Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani booms out of the speakers. The sound system is far better than the one at the Green Parrot. The simmering beat fizzes up from my toes until I have to sway my hips and nod my head.