Chapter 8

Stella stared at the pretty brunette, taking in her wide eyes, petite frame, and wary tension. So not Lou’s type. But she’d bet hard cash this was the reason Lou had kicked his own sister out of his house. A grieving, needy, lovely younger sister needing his attention outed over some petite bimbo with big brown eyes and tiny boobs.

Gimme a break.

“I’m sorry. What?”

Mierda. Even her voice sounded pleasant, kind. Stella pursed her lips, deciding not to make it easy. Lou might be hung up on her, because yeah, even Stella had noticed how evasive he’d been discussing the “phone chick.” Frankly, after dealing with Paul, she was soured on relationships. Her brother was the best guy she knew. Smart, loving, handsome, and worth ten of any number of the weak women constantly panting after him.

“I said, ‘Who the hell are you?’”

Phone Chick couldn’t be much older than Stella. She had a bright-eyed, wholesome appearance. Not some slutty female out to get a piece of her brother, which Stella knew should be a good thing. Lou could do with a little more substance to his women. But not too much substance. With Lou, family always came first. Not kicking out his poor, vulnerable sister for a piece of ass.

Stella grunted. This woman looked scared of her own shadow. Oh yeah. She’d last maybe a minute in Lou’s bed. Stella grinned and in Spanish said, “You think you can handle my brother? His last girlfriend had tits bigger than yours and a better ass, too.” Insulted, yet the puta had no idea.

Phone Chick stared at her with intensity, then gave a surprising smile. “You must be one of Lou’s sisters. You look like him, only a heck of a lot prettier. Which one are you?”

Stella unwillingly answered, “I’m Stella.”

“Oh. It’s so nice to meet you.” Phone Chick seemed to soften, then had the nerve to get right up in Stella’s personal space and…stick out a hand.

Stella grudgingly took it, surprised to feel calluses on the woman’s palms. Obviously no stranger to hard work. For some reason, she reminded Stella of Ivy, Sam’s girlfriend. She had the same wholesomeness, the same kindness in her eyes. The same way of making Stella want to rip her hair out by the roots while feeling bad for disliking her.

“Lou said you liked the flowers.”

“Huh?”

“The bouquet of flowers Lou gave you.”

“Oh. Those were nice.” Beautiful, actually.

Phone Chick nodded. “Good. You deserve nice.”

She did. Hmm. Stella was starting to understand what her brother saw in the woman. The warm compassion in her tone, the clear intelligence, the ability to recognize beauty when she saw it. “Why did Lou tell you about my flowers?”

“He bought them from me. I work at S&J Floral.” Phone Chick glanced at Lou’s front door, then back at Stella. “When he said his sister had had a hard day and needed something special, I knew just what to make. Men can be such assholes.”

Stella blinked, not having expected those words from such an innocent-looking face. “Ah, sí. I know.”

“You’re better off without him,” she said, a fierceness to her tone. “I’d be surprised if you don’t already have a dozen guys drooling at the thought of you being single.”

“You get the same thing, eh? Men all over you.” Stella could well understand it, even if she still didn’t all the way like the girl.

“Not me. I can’t tell you the last time I went out. Before your brother, I mean.” Phone Chick blushed. “But don’t tell Lou.”

“Yeah, mi hermano has a big head already. You should make him work for you.” Wait, what? She hadn’t meant to say that, but somehow the woman with the kind eyes had Stella blurting things she didn’t mean. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Oh, sorry. I’m Joey.”

“I’m Stella. But you know that.”

“Yeah.” Joey smiled.

And somehow Stella smiled back.

The door opened. “Hey, get lost, little sister. I have important company.” Lou’s dopey face looked different. Caring, almost gooey-eyed affectionate. What the hell? Hadn’t he just met this woman? “Hey, Joey.” His voice was deep, soft, gentle. So sweet, and so unlike the suave charmer with seduction tattooed to his tongue.

To Stella’s bemusement, Joey turned even more pink. She glanced from Stella to Lou. “Hi.” So shy, so quiet yet glowing under her brother’s appraisal.

Stella needed to get back to her sisters pronto. They had to hear about this. “Oh, hey, I have to go. See you later, Guapo.”

He barely waved, intent on greeting Joey and escorting her up the walk into the house. As if the woman couldn’t manage on her own two feet without macho badass Lou to help her carefully up four steps.

Stella didn’t know whether to be proud, worried, or ecstatic. Because she’d never, ever, seen her brother act so gone for a woman before. And the fact he’d been keeping this one secret? Hmm. Time to call in the big guns.

She drove away. “Lucia? It’s me. You would not believe what I just saw…”

* * *

Lou couldn’t look away from Joey’s smile. She’d worn her hair down in a soft brown wave over her shoulders. Her lips again looked rosy, and he leaned down to kiss her, absorbing the knowledge that the vibrant red was indeed all natural.

She blinked at him when he pulled back, looking as dazed as he felt. “Ah, hi.”

He grinned. “Come on in.”

The small white house had a lot more space than it seemed from the outside. Though the grass had been cut, the shrubs looked a bit untended, and he knew he needed some flowers. But once inside, many a guest had been pleasantly surprised to find it homey.

Old wooden floors lay between whitewashed walls decorated with art. Different kinds from portraits to abstracts to photographs decorated the space. He’d remodeled the older house to reflect an open floor plan, and his simple furnishings spoke more of comfort than class yet still complemented the decor.

“You want something to drink?” he asked and eased her jacket off her shoulders, concerned when she tensed. As if realizing it, she relaxed, and he took her coat and hung it over the back of a nearby chair.

“To drink? Oh. Yes, please.”

Lou drew her with him to the kitchen, which flowed directly from the living room. Bright and airy, the space was inviting. The lower cabinets had a dark finish, the top cabinets a lighter color. The counters were done in speckled black and looked cleaner than his mother’s, which gave him much pride. Even Abuela preferred his kitchen to his mama’s.

“Wow. Are you always this clean?”

“Sadly, yes.” He kissed the top of her head, and he swore she tensed again, so he subtly backed away, paying attention to her signals. He stepped to the fridge. “I have beer, lemonade, or water. Oh, and milk if you want some.”

“Lemonade is great, thanks.”

He fixed her a cup and took a beer for himself, then leaned against the V of the counter, watching her. “You look nervous, princesa. Don’t be.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I mean, I do. But I don’t know where we go from…you know. Before.”

“You can be so direct one minute and shy the next. You want to talk about what happened?”

Talk about turning pink. She was so cute in her nerves. Her gaze darted everywhere but at him as she nursed her lemonade. “No. Yes. We probably should, but not right now, okay?”

“No problem.” He’d play it cool, not seduce her or anything. Instead, he’d ease her into trusting him, like a skittish colt needing a firm but gentle hand. The thought had him grinning, because he knew being compared to a horse would turn the shy woman before him into an ass-kicking florist who knew how to use shears.

“What’s so funny?” Her eyes narrowed.

“Nothing. Just glad to see you again.”

She bit her lip then gave a slow smile that turned him inside out. To his chagrin, he had to wipe his sweating palms on his jeans, surreptitiously, one a time.

“I thought we could”—fuck through to tomorrow—“hang out and watch TV or play some cards. Just chill out together.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Oh, sure. But I can’t stay too late.”

“Your carriage going to turn back into a pumpkin?”

“Something like that.”

“So then, you know how to play gin?”

She grinned. “I’m actually pretty good.”

And so Lou, once a sought-after bachelor and all-around ladies’ man, spent his Saturday evening playing cards with a woman he wanted with his next breath. Every hand she won, every spark of merriment in her eyes, the husky joy in her laugh, shot him further into no-man’s land, a bad place where he had no leverage and she held all the cards.

Or rather he did, because she just went out again. The cardsharp.

“I win.” She grinned.

“Do you play darts?”

“No, why?”

“That’s what we’re playing next time.” A man could only handle so much humiliation.

“Darts, huh? Sure, why not?”

“And no more sugar for you,” he groused. “You’re downright perky.”

She snickered. “Oh? I was going to get another glass.”

“Go ahead.” He sighed then couldn’t help smiling at her chipper dance from the dining room. He followed her into the kitchen to grab some water. Beer was all well and good, but a guy needed to hydrate with the real stuff.

He saw her leaning over, her ass out as she rummaged in the refrigerator.

His throat went dry, recalling another time when she’d been bent over. “It’s in the back.”

She bumped her head and said something he couldn’t make out. Then she straightened with the jug of lemonade in hand and closed the fridge. She refilled her glass and moved to put the jug away, but he took it from her and set it aside.

“Lou?”

He crowded her until he’d backed her against the counter. This time he had her chest to chest. Damn, she was fine.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” He leaned close and gave her a barely there peck on the lips, pulled back, then waited.

Just the touch of her shocked his body into being fully alive and ready for her.

He watched the confusion, the lust darken her eyes. Joey didn’t hide much, her expressive face telling him all he needed to know.

Filled with tenderness for the woman he was by all accounts coming to care for, deeply, he leaned in and kissed her again. This time he cupped her cheeks, stroking her soft skin, the line of her jaw, as he showed her how he felt. Taking his time, drawing back to look in her eyes, he dove back in when she tugged him by the shoulder.

The heat in that small palm did him in.

He continued to touch her with care, molding his hands to her slight shoulders, her thin arms and hands. He put her hands on his hips then grabbed her narrow waist as well and plastered them together, pelvis to pelvis.

She had to feel what she did to him, but he couldn’t stop from wanting that connection. To let her see how she affected him.

So attuned to their shared attraction, he needed a moment to realize her responses had cooled. The kiss went from hot to awkward, her lips trembling under his.

He immediately pulled back and stroked her hair, so as not to spook her. “I’m sorry. I went too fast, didn’t I?”

A glance into her tear-filled eyes struck him to the quick. He ached at the thought of causing her harm. But from a kiss she’d more than been a part of? “Joey, it’s okay.”

“No. It’s not.” She pushed at his chest, but her pathetic attempt at distance didn’t move him. Her tears did.

He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest to keep from reaching for her and offering the comfort she clearly didn’t want.

“I’m so sorry. I knew this was a mistake.” Her breath hitched, and she wiped away a stray tear.

“Fuck, Joey. What’s wrong, baby? Did I push you into something you didn’t want? I swear I didn’t mean to.”

“The kiss, I…” She stopped speaking.

“Talk to me.”

More tears spilled, and she shook her head.

He could do nothing but follow her as she hurried back into the living room, grabbed her jacket, and tore out of his house.

“Joey, wait.”

“I have to go,” she mumbled and raced away.

Leaving him still hard, confused, and terrified he’d lost her before he’d had a chance to love her.

* * *

Joey spent Sunday morning awake and miserable, staring at her ceiling when she should have been sleeping in. Last night could not have been more humiliating.

She’d been wrong to think she could have a normal relationship when she was anything but normal.

Once again, she’d kissed a man and felt nothing. Oh, at first Lou had been warm and sexy, his entire body smelling so good and feeling the way a man ought to feel. But the gentle way he’d touched her, treating her like a fragile creature unable to handle a little passion, had thrown her. He’d been so unlike the out-of-control sexual dynamo from the flower shop.

She had to write off Friday night as a fluke. Great sex would apparently never be in the cards for her again. If she couldn’t get hot over a guy like Lou, she was doomed. Crap. She could never go to NCB or the garage again or hang out with Del.

Joey sighed. So much potential. Then she’d thought too hard, allowed her worries about her possible performance to ruin it all, and left in tears.

In tears. How much more non-sexy could she be? God. A real woman would have either taken Lou up on his generous offer or said no thanks and left. Not run away crying. She continued to behave like the irresponsible little girl her parents thought her to be. No wonder she got no respect from her father. She wasn’t worthy of it.

Bad enough she’d had sex with Lou once. She’d thought about doing it again. And then her father’s face had entered her mind’s eye, that sad look of disappointment. Her mother’s frown of worry, then the disillusioned sigh and quiet acceptance that her daughter had screwed up yet again.

A normal woman didn’t think about her father when with a sexy man. Joey typically did nothing but obsess over making the wrong choices and dealing with unintended consequences. She’d have thought that nearly a decade of repentance should have cured her of any need to please her father.

Yet whenever it came to sex, she had a difficult time dealing. Dating was one thing. Playing cards, having dinner, enjoying time with Lou had been wonderful. And the sex before—fast and hot and out of this world. But tonight, instead of getting turned on again, she’d turned cold.

She should see someone to talk about her issues. Maybe she was frigid. Unable to get past disappointing lovers, inured to bad sex when she had it. But Reeveses didn’t do therapy, and she didn’t have the money for it anyway.

She shoved a pillow over her face and screamed.

Then she did what she always did. Joey soldiered on. She got up, made her bed, cleaned her tiny apartment, and did her laundry, keeping well away from her parents unless putting in or changing a load.

Once she’d finished everything, she called to check on Brandon while avoiding texts and calls from Lou. By ten, after she’d been up for four hours, she knew she had to put an end to it to be fair to them both, and she texted him back.

Lou. You were so sweet to me. I’m sorry I left the way I did. But we’re too different anyway. Thanks for the cards and the kiss. I hope we can still be friends. Joey.

There. That said “broken up” better than anything could, if they’d even been going out in the first place. A coffee date, dinner, and sexy encounter did not make a relationship. Heck. For all she knew, Lou had another date on standby and two more in the wings.

By three, she’d resolved herself to going back to being Andrew and Amy’s daughter. Brandon’s mother.

A woman with little hope for a future with a man and even less desire to have one.

Or so she kept telling herself.