The struggle between wanting to be invited but not wanting to actually go . . .
Mark drove Lanie to the grocery store because by the time they dried off and got into the truck, it was nearly midnight and the bakery was long closed. He’d wanted to get her home and in a hot shower to warm up first, but she’d accused him of reneging on a bet, so here they were, cookie shopping.
He watched as she stood there considering her choices very seriously. She’d pulled her clothes back on and then a jacket of his that he’d given her from his backseat. Her hair had been twisted and piled wet on top of her head, held there by some mysterious woman magic.
Her teeth were chattering.
And damn if he didn’t want to warm her in the one way that would heat them both up. But he had a rule. He’d picked badly with his wife and was in no hurry to love again. He meant what he’d told Alyssa—he wouldn’t even consider trying until the girls were grown.
But lust was different. And there was lust with Lanie, lots of it.
She shivered again and he shook his head. “Just pick one.”
This had her looking up at him incredulously. All of her makeup had washed off in the ocean and she could’ve passed for a teenager, which made him feel like a complete perv, since all he could think about was how she’d looked in her sheer bra and those eye-popping DayGlo pink undies that had done some amazing things for her first-class ass.
“I can’t just pick one,” she said. “Picking out the right cookies takes a minute. Dessert doesn’t go to the stomach, dessert goes to the heart.”
He was baffled. “You’re freezing, and cookies are cookies.”
“I beg your pardon, but you are dead wrong. There’re things to consider here. For instance, do I want double fudge, chocolate chip, or maybe lemon—”
He reached past her and grabbed one of each, adding several other boxes as well. Five in total, all different, and dumped them into the cart.
“Seriously?” she asked.
“Just covering all the bases. Let’s go.”
A stoner standing in front of the chips display shook his head at Mark. “Dude. It takes balls of steel to get between a woman and her cookies.”
Lanie went hands on hips. “Why does having ‘balls’ equate to toughness?”
The stoner blinked. “Uh . . .”
“And in the same vein,” she said, “why does the word ‘pussy’ equate to weakness, when even the slightest flick to a guy’s ‘balls of steel’ sends him to his knees—but vaginas can push out an entire human being?”
Both men just stared at her. Stoner Dude covered his crotch with his hands. “Man, you’re harsh. You’re harshing my buzz.”
Mark took Lanie by the hand, pushing the cart with the other. Since her fingers were ice, he tucked them into his pocket. “You’re frozen.”
“But at least I have cookies,” she said happily, and he had to laugh.
At the cash register, he paid and once they were in his truck, he cranked the heater on high, aiming all the vents at her.
“You ever going to tell me what tonight’s about?” she asked after they’d been driving a few minutes. “I mean, I wasn’t even sure we liked each other.”
“I like you,” he said. He liked how quietly smart she was, how creative too. She’d come from what sounded like a hell of a beginning and she’d made something of herself.
On her own.
He admired that. He also really liked watching her with Sam and Sierra. She didn’t treat them like babies. She didn’t patronize and she didn’t try to be something she wasn’t. She spoke to them like they were people. She was a whole lot nicer and kinder to them than anyone had asked her to be, but she wasn’t putting on an act. When she was with them, he could see her real self, and he knew it was because she felt safe enough with them to let her guard down.
He couldn’t help but want to see more of that Lanie, but she didn’t like him as much as she did the twins, although he thought maybe that was changing a little bit. It was probably a good thing she was a temp. Two months total with three weeks already down. He didn’t see her sticking around after the job was done, and that meant they had an expiration date.
A comfort zone in which to explore their chemistry within their own boundaries.
He drove past the turnoff for the winery, up a narrow, windy road, and parked at the end of it.
Lanie stared through the windshield at the woods in front of them. “I’m finally dry and warm and now you’re going to murder me?”
“Not before cookies,” he said.
She snorted and got out, slipping her hand in his as they took the trail. Not, he was sure, out of affection, but because the trail was dark and he supposed also a little intimidating if she didn’t know where she was going. Whatever the reason, the connection was nice. And there was a connection. It was in the zing of awareness that vibrated up his arm and spread throughout his chest.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Favorite escape place number two. I grew up exploring these hills. With two sisters and way too many other family members, all with eyes in the back of their heads, I disappeared a lot up here too. Had a tree fort when I was young.”
“Is that where we’re going? To a tree fort?”
“Better,” he said.
They got through the trees and came to a clearing on a bluff. In the center of the clearing sat an RV trailer. He led her toward it but instead of opening the door, he gestured to the ladder leaning against it.
She gave him a raised brow.
“You have a heights problem?” he asked.
“Nope,” she said and shimmied up the ladder. He did his best not to peek under her skirt. Besides, he didn’t have to. Those DayGlo pink panties were burned into his brain and were sure to be the highlight of his fantasies for weeks to come.
He met her at the top, where she was staring at the two beach chairs on a pad of synthetic turf grass. In daylight, one could see rolling hills and beyond them, the Pacific Ocean. In the middle of the night, like now, it was nothing but a blanket of black against a midnight sky littered with brilliantly shining stars. The only sounds were the winds whistling through the trees behind them and the faintest roar of the sea.
She sat in one of the chairs and leaned back, closing her eyes. “I can smell the ocean.”
“That’s us,” he said and sat next to her, handing her the very full bag from the store.
She rifled through it and pulled out a bag of chocolate chip cookies and the bottle of Jack he’d added at the checkout with a grin. “You’re right,” she said. “This is better.” She paused. “Do you do this a lot?”
“Kidnap a woman? Almost never.”
Laughing, she leaned back and closed her eyes, looking very relaxed. “Never have you ever, huh?”
“And you?” he asked. “What have you ‘never have I ever’?”
“That’s not how the game goes,” she said. “You have to ask a specific question.”
“Okay,” he said, willing to play in order to learn more about her. “Never have I ever . . . boogie boarded in my underwear before tonight.”
She drank, which meant she’d boogie boarded in her undies before, making him laugh. “Didn’t know you were a such a wild thing,” he said.
“Let’s just say I used to be an attention-seeker. Never have I ever . . .” She paused and then smiled. “Been tempted to kiss someone who wears a uniform—before tonight.”
He reached for the bottle.
“Reallllllly,” she murmured.
“Had a one-night fling with a fellow officer,” he said. “Her idea.”
“Didn’t go back for seconds?”
“No, I don’t do seconds.” He met her gaze, hoping she understood.
She nodded. “Me either, at least not anymore.”
Their gazes continued to hold for a long beat and then by mutual silent agreement, they went light and silly for a while with the game. Things like never have I ever . . . cried/flirted their way out of a ticket (her), and never have I ever made out with a stranger (him), and never have I ever repurposed a household item as a sex toy (her).
“One time!” she said, blushing when he nearly bust a gut laughing. “I got a neck massager at an office Christmas party and it didn’t look like a neck massager and it’d been a long dry spell . . .” She rolled her eyes when he only laughed harder.
When he got ahold of himself, her arms were crossed in mock annoyance, and he straightened. “Never have I ever,” he said, “ . . . brought someone here before.”
She looked pointedly at the trailer beneath them. “Is this the man cave?”
She was wearing a soft smile and a flush, clearly warmed up and possibly a little drunk, though she’d only taken a couple shots before switching to cookies. Seemed tyrant Lanie was a lightweight.
“Am not,” she said, making him realize he’d spoken out loud. “And I’m only a tyrant on the outside.”
This, he knew.
“So . . .” she said. “Tell me. Is this where you bring your women and have your way with them?”
He laughed.
She stared at his mouth for a beat and then smiled. “I hope you at least bring them inside the trailer to do the deed so no one gets mosquito bites in their secret places.”
“Secret places?”
She blushed and it was cute. “No,” he said. “This isn’t my sex den. I bought this land, which butts up against the winery. I’m saving to build a house out here for me and the girls.”
“Oh,” she breathed and then nodded. And then shook her head. “I’m . . . conflicted.”
“On the cookies? Open another pack. You’ve got four more.”
She snorted. “Not on the cookies.” She paused. “I wanted you to be an asshole, you know. A selfish dick who dumped his girls on his family so he didn’t have to be a dad.” She took another swig of the Jack and he gently took it from her.
“There were a few years that felt like that,” he admitted, “when I was overseas.”
“But when they needed you, you came back.” She pointed at him, misjudging the distance and nearly taking out one of his eyes. “You gave up a career. You gave up everything and had to start over. All for them.”
“It’s what dads do.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if your alpha-ness can register this, but it’s not true. Not all dads would do that. Mine wouldn’t.” She stared at him for a beat, let her gaze slide to his mouth, and then stood up abruptly.
He stood with her, righting her when she would’ve toppled.
“I’m not a very good drinker,” she whispered. “When I forget that, I tend to do things I shouldn’t.” She licked her lips. “The last time I drank too much, I went to Vegas with my boyfriend of six months and got married.”
He stilled. He could hold his liquor. Hell, he could drink his entire unit under the table, but this made his head spin. “You got married on a drunken whim?”
“Are you judging me?”
“Hell, no,” he said. “I married a woman who could walk away from her own kids.”
“And you,” she reminded him. “She walked away from you too.”
He shook his head. “I’m an adult, I can take it. But the girls . . .”
Her eyes softened. “Your girls are amazing. You’re enough for them, Mark.”
He wasn’t so sure about that, but the way Lanie was looking at him drained his tension. “Thanks,” he said quietly, unable to help being moved by her. “I’m sorry your husband was a dick too.”
She shook her head. “That’s the thing. After five years of being married and only the first two of them being good, I knew we weren’t right for each other. But I didn’t know Kyle was a dick until after he died. I can’t trust love to be good for me.” She hiccupped. “Sorry. I’m really not good at the Jack.”
Maybe Mark was the dick because he shouldn’t have let her have three shots. She never would’ve talked to him like this if he hadn’t. But there was no fucking way he was taking her home until he made her understand something. “Love can and should be good for you, Lanie. You just need to find the right person to trust, that’s all.”
“Shh.” Reaching up, she set a finger over his lips. “My inability to get love right is a secret about me. Don’t tell anyone, ’k?”
His heart ached and he opened his mouth to say something more, but she beat him to it.
“Never have I ever,” she said softly. “Wanted to kiss someone that I didn’t want to want to kiss.”
He groaned and slid his arms around her. “Lanie—”
“No falling,” she said. “And no going back for seconds. I know.” She added a nod and a sassy salute.
He met her gaze and saw her wounds just beneath the surface. He hated that and slowly slid a hand up her arm, her throat, then around to the back of her neck, his fingers burying themselves in her hair. With his other hand, he cupped her face, his thumb softly caressing the skin beneath her ear and over her jaw.
She shivered, and her hands came up to his wrists, her eyes fluttering closed as he brushed his lips over hers in a questing kiss before pulling back.
“More,” she breathed, eyes still shut, lips parted.
With a low groan, he covered her mouth with his and immediately lost himself in her. She wrapped her arms around him tight, pressing even closer, urging him on. He gave her what she wanted, what he wanted, kissing her slow and deliberate, teasing them both until she tore away and opened her eyes to stare up at him.
“Oh. Wow.”
Yeah.
She licked her lips like she needed that last taste of him. “I didn’t expect that,” she said.
No. He hadn’t expected it either. Not the explosive hunger between them and not the strength of the urge he had to take even more. Not trusting himself, he took her home after that and walked her to her cottage.
At the door, she hesitated, pressing her forehead to the wood. “Just go inside, Lanie,” she said out loud. And then didn’t move.
With a soft laugh, he reached past her to open the door for her. She turned and gripped his shirt in two fists, yanking him down to her. Then she planted her mouth on his and kissed every single thought right out of his head, and while he was trying to remember his name and why exactly she was such a bad idea, she pulled back and let out a breath. “Damn,” she whispered. “Still wow.”
He laughed again. Because yeah. Still wow.
She went inside without another word after that, shutting and locking the door behind her, and he walked away. Probably the smartest thing he’d done all night, but at the moment, it sure didn’t feel like it.