His outstretched hand beckons me like a sliver of light and hope, offering to drown out the darkness I have fought against for many years. I need to decline, but I can’t bring myself to voice “No.”
My eyes focus on his large, masculine hand, then slowly move up to his face. My heart skips a beat. He’s the perfect mixture of handsome and rugged. His dark brown eyes make sinful promises, and my stomach flutters in anticipation and fear. His full beard and mustache—neatly trimmed—seem at odds with the look he portrays to the world. Like me, he seems to be hiding… something because he’s just too perfectly put together, suave, and in control. But instead of the wild hair, tattoos that cover one arm, and the cold persona I present to the world, his disguise is a clean, business-like look—a look he wears so well.
His light-blue button down shirt—sleeves sexily rolled up—the light charcoal slacks, his tan socks peeking from between the hem of his pants and shoes, and his brown belt and shoes, bring something inside of me to life. The hardened armor I’ve built around me cracks. For that alone is reason to push him away because it reminds me of a time, long ago, when I let a certain boy into my heart. Nothing but heartache and resentment followed.
The word “No” is at the tip of my tongue, but some inexplicable force keeps it from falling from my lips. My eyes fall to his tie, weakening my resolve. His dark green tie with teeny-tiny light-blue poke-a-dots make my lips twitch, and I force myself to maintain a cool façade. That darn tie is a glimpse beyond the disguise. It is unique, daring, and not something I thought he would wear. The tie gives me the final push, but not in the direction I planned. It makes me curious to know the man, and before I realize, my hand is in his.
His tanned, calloused hand closes around mine. My breath hitches when our skin touches.
Gently, he pulls me to my feet then leads me to the dance floor. With a perfect executed twirl, he brings me into his arms.
And though it feels wonderful being in his arms, I can’t help but chuckle at the sight we must make. He, so dominate and perfect, so secure in himself. And me, so… lost. While he belongs in any world, I stick out like a sore thumb.
“What’s so funny?” His warm breath brushes against my ear sending delicious chills down my spine.
My eyes meet his. “I laugh at the sight we make. You in your business slacks and dress shoes, and me in my silk blouse and flats. Definitely not outfits people wear to bars.”
He lowers his head, brushing his lips against my ear—by accident or purpose, I know not. But I soak up the small touch like a stranded woman in the desert being offered water. It’s been so long since I allowed myself to feel anything, and with him so close, I can’t help but feel alive.
The heat of his hand pressing against my lower back sears into my skin.
“You will realize that it’s not how you dress but how you dance that matters.” He tightens his hold on me. “We’re gonna dance, and everyone else can go to hell. Now, hold on, angel.”
“Why do you call me that?”
“Because I want to,” he replies before taking off in a simple two-step that’s easy for me to follow. But as we dance, he gets more intricate, pushing me out and turning me this way and that, then maneuvering us around the other couples. Every move is an adventure, and before long, my laugh rings out loud and clear. Uninhibited because, for the first time in a long time, I allow myself to have fun.
“There”—he looks down at me with warmth in his eyes—“that’s what I want from you.”
“What?” Confused, I meet his gaze. The light crinkles around his eyes, caused by his smile, move something within me.
“Your laugh,” he answers. “I want you to forget about everything else and just focus on me. On us, on this very moment. I want you smiling, laughing, and having fun. With me.”
“You have my thanks. I haven’t had this much fun in ages.” I can’t help but smile.
“Good.” We continue dancing.
Before long, one song turns to two, then three, then four.
A slow dance song sounds, and our pace shifts. As the singer sings the first verse, Gunner mouths the words. Before long, he joins the artist in the refrain, no longer silent. Instead, his voice—low, husky, and in-tune—so near my ear, makes me feel like those words are meant for me. And only me.
Content, I sigh.
With every verse, he holds me closer, until I’m flush with his body. He’s hard, yet comfortable and warm. The mix of cologne and soap is enticing and natural with a hint of alcohol on his breath. My arm, with a will of its own, wraps around his neck, and brings his face closer to mine. Our bodies intertwined, we sway to the music.
In this moment, it is just the two of us. Everything else is forgotten.
His lips skim my right ear with a light kiss, and I shiver. His arms tighten around me, and he whispers, “Please…” so softly, I barely hear his plea.
I close my eyes and relax into his body.
For the first time in my life, I feel wanted… needed.
The song ends and another immediately follows. Slow-paced songs that keep my body close to his, and as each one ends and another begins, I forget everything but this moment. The feel, the yearning, us.
Our night continues until the bartender yells out the last call for alcohol. It jerks me out of my fantasy. I pull back, surprised so much time has passed.
“Oh my.” I sigh, my hand on my chest, feeling my fast-beating heart. “It’s almost closing time.”
“It sure is.” He grins down at me, his eyes devouring me.
“I… uh…” I stutter because this is not me. The losing track of time, being lost in him. I’m not like this. “I need to find Cassie. She’s my ride home, or I’m the designated driver, depending on how much she drank,” I add, flustered by the developments of the night.
“Cassie?” he drawls out the name. “You mean the woman who was sitting with you earlier?”
I nod.
“The woman wearing the white top?” His question causes my eyes to narrow. What is he up to?
“You mean the beautiful, strapless white lace corset,” I correct. How could he mistake the sexy corset for anything plain like a white top? That corset was meant to attack eyes, especially hot-blooded male eyes like his. It was a masterpiece of fabric that I covet, though I would never be confident enough to wear in public, or even in private for that matter.
“It’s white, and it’s a top.” He arches an eyebrow. “Now, if you were to wear it, I would definitely pay more attention. Especially how it would hug those curves of yours.”
“Why you—”
He places a finger on my lips to silence me.
“Yeah, I may have forgotten to mention she left while you were in my arms, flush against my body with your head on my chest.”
Frantic, I look around the bar, taking in the almost empty bar. Scouring every corner, I can’t find a trace of Cassie. I whip my gaze back to him. He’s smirking victoriously.
With no other option, I groan.
“Looks like you’ll be leaving this bar with me after all.” He leans down and kisses my forehead, taking my breath away with that simple gesture and stopping the protests bubbling in my throat.
“I can’t believe she left me,” I exclaim for the tenth time since I climbed into Gunner’s black truck. “Why? I mean, she left me. At the bar. All alone. With you.”
Gunner chuckles.
That chuckle of his turns into a full-blown laugh. The type of laugh that comes from the bottom of your stomach and is loud and free.
“You think this is funny?” Though there is humor in my situation, I can’t bring myself to find any just yet. And he really shouldn’t be laughing at my predicament. I expect him to take my side, seeing as his friends left him too. But he doesn’t seem to be as bothered by that as I am by my abandonment.
The expression on my face warns him of my unhappy mood. “N-no…?” His laughter slowly dies.
“Well, you were laughing just seconds ago,” I point out the obvious, a brow cocked with attitude.
He clears his throat and looks uneasy. “Heidi, I was laughing with you, not at you.” His face transforms into innocence with a boyish grin. The frequency in which he uses that grin assures me it’s gotten him out of a lot of scraps and melted even the coldest of hearts because, despite my foul mood, it almost makes me smile. He almost makes me smile.
“Uh-huh,” I mumble, not believing him for a second, and trying to remain firm against that grin.
“Look on the bright side, angel. You had the pleasure of leaving with me. You got me all to yourself. What could be better?” His grin turns devilish.
“Stop it.” My face heats with excitement and embarrassment at his innuendos because I can think of something better. Something that involves laying my head on his chest and pressing my body against his. Something that awakens all my dormant feelings. Aching sensations that have me stealthily squirming in my seat, trying to find relief.
I’m not used to the attention he pays me, much less the feelings.
“It’s going to be okay.” Gunner gives my hand a small, reassuring squeeze. “We’re here, by the way.” He stops the truck and shifts into park.
His announcement surprises me. During my tirade and his teasing, we arrived at my home. I look out and take comfort at the sight of my small white cottage—two bedrooms, two baths, with a cozy front porch and columns, and a dark green door and window panels. Located in the East Gate area of College Station in a quaint neighborhood, it is walking distance from my hair salon. A blessing because I dislike heavy traffic and driving in unfamiliar areas. To many, my cottage may not look like much, but to me, it is a symbol of how far I’ve come. It means stability, security, and the calm that comes with constancy. A place I can call home.
“What are you doing?” I ask when he turns off the engine.
“I’m gonna walk you to your front door. What?” He pauses at the shock on my face. “Did you think I was going to stop, kick you out, and drive off? That I was going to make you tuck and roll?”
At my slight one-shoulder shrug, he looks astounded.
“Hell no, sweetheart.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “That’s not the type of man that I am. You”—he points at me—“are going to sit your pretty little ass in the seat while I make my way to your side. You’ll take my hand, and I’ll help you out of the truck. Then, with your hand in mine, I’m gonna walk you to your front door and see you inside. I’ll stand with both of my hands on your doorframe while I ask you out for coffee, and hopefully, you’ll take pity on me and grant me a goodnight kiss.”
“A kiss?” I whisper breathlessly. His words wrap themselves around my heart. How I would love to have him walk me to my door every single night. To have that connection and feel his lips on mine. My eyes close, and I dare to imagine a world where he is mine.
“Yes,” he whispers, leaning in, his fingers under my chin lifting my face. “A kiss.”
My eyes open, and his gaze shocks me. Full of need, stealing my breath.
How can he look at me like that? He just met me.
“It can be a simple kiss on the cheek if that’s all you give me. All I want is the pleasure of having your lips on my skin. Okay?” His smile makes my heart skip a beat. “That, angel, is the type of man that I am.”
Stunned by his honesty, all I can do is nod. He’s just that type of man: caring, honest, a bit overpowering, and so virile.
The one boy I once knew made me feel cared for like I had a meaning other than being my father’s daughter, but his intentions were innocent. Those of a boy becoming a young man, and I was a part of his journey.
But that’s not the case with Gunner. He’s no boy. He’s no young man on a path of self-discovery. He’s a man. All man, and he wants me.
He turns away and exits the truck.
Just like he promised, he escorts me to my front door. His hand on the lower part of my back guides me.
I feel protected.
Cherished.
Wanted.
Yet I ache because I don’t deserve this: him, his touch, his wanting, or his kindness. But despite what my mind tells me, my body welcomes his possessive, caring touch.
My steps slow to a halt when we reach the top of the steps. I need to stop this and tell him to leave.
I need to let him go and not lead him on because I will only bring chaos and hurt into his world. It would be easier to grasp the stars in the sky than for us to be together.
“Heidi, we’re almost there. Just a few more steps.” He gently urges me forward.
With a traitorous mind of their own, my feet move and lead us to the door. My hands search for the keys inside of my purse, stalling.
With a mental chastise for putting off the inevitable, I allow myself in.
Like he promised, he grips the frame.
My head lowers, and I battle against my want of him. Against my need. But most importantly, against the necessity to turn him away permanently because some selfish part of me desires him. Wants that dream.
“Angel?” His caressing whisper makes me flinch. It’s time to hurt him, to make him leave. “Heidi, turn around.”
My body follows his command.
“Look at me, baby,” he whispers when I close my eyes. “Turn on the lights.”
My hand flicks on the lights, just like he asked.
I open my eyes and see his white-knuckle grip on the frame. His body is tense, and his eyes hungrily stare back at me. My eyes hold his for a second before he starts to blur. Tears fill my eyes, and I’m helpless to stop them from falling.
“You…” The words die on my lips. This is so hard. Why does life have to be so cruel?
“Heidi?”
With a deep breath, I compose myself. “Thank you, Gunner. For bringing me home.” The words seem forced even to my ears, but it’s the best I can do.
“Will you—”
I shake my head, cutting him off, not wanting to hear more. It’s already unbearable as it is. Me. Him. Us. Nothing can come of it.
“This can’t happen.”
“Yes, it can,” he refutes.
“Why?” Why can’t he just let things be? Accept what I say, walk away, and leave me alone, like I’ve always been.
“Because there’s something about you that calls to me.” Stunned by his response, my eyes focus on the way his throat moves as he speaks. “You don’t know me from Adam, and I apologize for coming on strong, but this is something I need to do. I can’t ignore this pull I feel toward you. In the past, I’ve missed out on things because I held back. I can’t do that with you, and I don’t want to.”
My gaze meets his.
He pauses and smiles a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. For a moment, he’s lost in thought before he shakes his head and chuckles humorlessly. “I don’t want to miss out on anything, angel, because I know what it’s like to have a what if,” he continues.
My breath hitches at the pain that flashes in his eyes.
“I want to hold you in my arms, just like I did while we danced. I want to go slow with you, and I want to go fast. I want to make you smile and hear your laughter. I want to make you feel the excitement I feel when I touch you. Most of all”—this time his eyes are pleading—“I need you to tell me you feel the same need. That you want me just as much I want you. Tell me I’m not crazy and imagining the look in your eyes.”
His words are beautiful and touching. A healing balm to my already battered heart.
“I… I can’t, Gunner.” Steeling myself, I force myself to meet his eyes as I repeat the words, “I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I can’t have a relationship. I can’t be what you want me to be, or need.” There are no lies, only truths because I can’t be that person for him. Fate has played us a crappy hand putting us in each other’s paths.
“Thank God.” He sighs as his eyes close and his body relaxes.
Thank God?
“What do you mean?” His reaction puzzles me.
“Do you feel anything for me?” He ignores my question.
“Gunner,” I sigh, “you know I do, but nothing can come of it. You’re you, and I’m me. Two people who met by chance, and that’s it. Two incredibly different people and nothing else.”
“You’re wrong,” he argues vehemently. “It’s something, and you know it because you haven’t told me to leave.”
“Because you won’t let me.”
“No, it’s because you don’t want me to leave. Something inside you recognizes me. Wants me. Because otherwise, you would have sent me packing when I asked you to dance.”
“No!” I heatedly deny it. Hardheaded man! “I’m not the person you need in your life. I’m a terrible person.” How do I make him understand?
He chuckles. “It’s okay. We’ve all done things we regret.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve done things—”
“So have I,” his voice rises to drown out mine. “I have a past as well. One I’m not proud of.” His voice is more controlled now. “But that is the past, Heidi. It’s something we can’t change but can only move forward from. The past is what has brought you to now. To you and me. To this crossroad in our lives.”
Stubborn man. He’s right, but it’s impossible to let go after what I’ve done. That would be a betrayal to my child. After everything I’ve done, how do I deserve a chance at happiness?
“Look at me, Heidi,” he orders, and my eyes reluctantly return to his. “If you’re going to deny me, at least tell me no to my very own eyes. Show me you mean what you say and that you’re not running scared.” His once relaxed face is now a mixture of frustration and pain. His jaw is clenched, and his knuckles are even whiter. “If you really want me to go, say the words. I’ll leave and never bother you again. But if you give me a chance, I’m not going to pussyfoot around. I’m ready. Are you?”
Silence follows his question. As much as I know that the right decision is to end it now before anything begins, I can’t bring myself to say the words. Something keeps me quiet as images of the boy I once loved go through my mind. The way he used to look at me—the loving emotion and then the anger. I hurt him beyond repair, teaching him to hate. I was young, weak, hopeless, and trapped.
Then I think back to all the years since. The reinvention, the traveling, the determination to make something of myself. Could I really have changed over the years? Can I be the woman Gunner needs? The woman he deserves? Am I strong enough for him?
Yes, a voice whispers in my mind. A voice I’m terrified to believe and hope is true. Because what happens when I finally tell him of my past? Will he hate me?
He chuckles, throwing me off guard. “You thought you wouldn’t leave the bar with me, but you did.”
His comment is absurd, so completely off topic from his question and my internal battle, that I answer without thought. “That was because I had no other choice, and you were gentlemanly enough to give me a ride.”
“But you left with me,” he points out. “That’s what counts. And there were other choices, you just didn’t take them.”
“No—”
“You know what? Forget about earlier. Forget everything I said. You’re right.” He backtracks so quickly, I can’t help but jerk back in surprise.
I’m right?
Is this it? Is he finally leaving? Was I too much?
Though, this is want I “wanted,” hearing his words sends a searing, disappointing pang through my heart.
“What do you mean?” I try to keep the pain from my whisper.
His attitude now is at odds with his earlier statement and actions. Statement and actions he was so adamant about. There is no anger or offense. Was I just a game?
“You’re completely right, Heidi.” He puts his hands up to further get his point across.
“I am?” There has to be something here. Something I’m not following.
“Absolutely.” He grins.
The pain it invokes is nauseating because this is it. This is the end. I’ll never have that grin flashed my way.
“Well… okay.” I swallow the hurt and step back to close the door. “Goodbye, Gunner.”
“We’ll just agree on friends.” He grabs the door handle on his side. “Goodnight, angel. Don’t let the bed bugs bite, and I’ll see you tomorrow for coffee.”
“Wait. Wha—”
He slams the door shut in my face.