by Crowe, Liz
“Sir, we need your statement.” An officer not occupied with placating Jack, stood in front of him. Sara sunk back to the steps. He convinced her to let the EMT’s check her out then spoke in short, clipped, to-the-point sentences, keeping the corner of his eye trained on her to make sure she was okay.
Finally, he was alone on the step. Jack appeared, held out a hand. “Thanks man. I’m told if it weren’t for you…” The guy swallowed hard. Craig didn’t blame him but a loud claxon of anger was sounding in his ears. He didn’t like the tall, compelling guy standing in front of him, not one bit. And something told him he should walk away from this whole thing, fast.
“Of course,” he said quickly, giving Sara a hug and feeling the man’s angry gaze boring a hole in his back.
Craig fired up his motorcycle, watched as Jack helped her into the passenger’s side of his car, then stood eyes closed for a split second. Craig realized it then, but chose to ignore the nearly visible connection Jack and Sara shared. It was a brick wall he’d pound his head against again and again, but he was willing to do it. The whole way back he let a mantra play through his brain—the renewed focus he had on himself which he was absolutely going to turn on her, and make her his.
* * *
The next morning he swam, as usual, although his raw knuckles smarted in the chlorine. He kept his brain calm, climbed out, showered off and stared at his phone a while. Finally, he pulled up a text Sara had sent him a few weeks ago that included her brother’s name and phone number for “emergencies.”
He hit the call button and put the device to his ear, blocking the voice that reminded him it was not his business. That she was likely with Gordon. Of course, letting her make mistakes with a guy like that was part of his plan. She’d figure out what an asshole he was, and Craig would be there to sort it all out for her. He wanted her so badly it had become a scary obsession for him.
“Oh, hi there,” some other guy answered the phone. “Blake’s in the shower. What’s up?”
“Oh, uh, this is Craig. Robinson. From Sara’s office. I’m um, just checking on her.” He tossed a tennis ball up and caught it, deflecting his own nervous energy.
“Oh, okay. I’m Rob. Blake told me about you.” There was an awkward pause. “She’s good. Home now though.”
“Oh?” he left the question unasked.
“Yeah, she stayed with Jack last night apparently. Blake’s apoplectic. Jesus. I can’t win with this whole fucking mess.”
Craig frowned. This “whole fucking mess” comment threw him off. “Well, anyway, I thought I’d go by and check on her. What’s your take on that?”
“Well, I can tell you I’ve been Jack’s friend a good long time, and I know how he gets. He may fuck it up a time or two but nothing gets between him and what he wants. Just fair warning, since you seem to be asking me for it.”
Craig’s words died on his lips.
“But,” Rob went on. “If you do go check on her, stop by The Local and have them box up a peach pie. She loves those. Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”
Craig stared at the phone a minute, then changed clothes and headed out, his mind on one thing—Sara.
* * *
By the time he got to her place bearing the pie, she was huddled into a giant, ratty looking robe and looked utterly devastating, devoid of makeup, her hair wet from a shower. He made his way to her cluttered kitchen and set the pie on the counter. She brushed past him, and then started to shake. He grabbed her, held on and let her cry it out. “Shh, it’s okay. Just relax.”
She had his shirt bunched between her hands. Her body pressed into his. He ran his hand down her hair, made more soothing noises, then, without even thinking about it tilted her chin up and gazed at her streaming eyes. He slid his hand around to the back of her neck, and covered her lips with his.
The kiss was slow, easy, and perfect. She arched into him and had started to wrap her arms around his neck when he broke the kiss and stepped away, not even sure why. He could have had her right then, right there, and he knew it. It was well within his skill set, but it felt off, wrong somehow. He let the moment spin itself out.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. The doorbell rang and she ran out leaving him clutching the countertop. Kathy and Val from the office came in clutching a wine bottle and pizza. They eyeballed him as he ate, calmly, willing his cock soft so he could walk out from behind the counter.
When he left them to their girl power session he stopped at the door, kissed her once more, lightly. “I’m not sorry I kissed you. Can I call you?” She nodded then ducked back inside to her friends. He drove home in a daze, ever closer to his goal, but unsure of what he would do when he attained it.
Chapter Seven
Craig looked around the party and wondered not for the first time what the hell he was doing here. He’d been strong and true to his word on many fronts. Lindsay had begged him to fuck her, once leaning on his condo door weeping and wailing until he threatened to call the cops. It hurt. He hated it when women cried, but he knew she was playing him. After that incident, she had left him alone.
He’d gone on a few dates, even gotten his first listing and was presiding over his first successful buyer’s agency transaction. Things were generally looking up, but his obsession with Sara had taken on frightening proportions in his head. He used every excuse to be around her, talk to her, and loved how close their tiny workspaces were in the back of the downtown office.
She was an incorrigible flirt, which didn’t really help, but he worked it and listened to her rant and rave about Jack enough that he felt as dialed into that guy as he did to himself. But the memory of her lips, and her body, pressed against his would simply not fade.
“Come out Saturday to Blake and Rob’s party,” she’d said. “Allie will be there,” she batted her eyes.
He’d rolled his. He had gone out once with Allison, from the Stewart administration office. A fairly forgettable night and one he ended with a chaste kiss. She did nothing for him. Besides, he was bound and determined not to get into another meaningless physical relationship, unless, of course, that was what Sara wanted.
He’d accepted an invite to the cookout at Sara’s brother’s place with trepidation. But now here he was, parking his bike, waving to a few people he knew, although there were plenty he didn’t, and trying to blend in. He grabbed a beer, let Allie hug and kiss him, then chatted a while, ever watchful for Sara. He spotted her when she rolled up with Gordon in some amazing over-the-top convertible.
She bounded up the steps to greet her brother and Rob. Craig observed Gordon sauntering up and noted the somewhat pensive look in Jack’s eyes. Jack talked with some friends, including a very attractive-looking red-head. Craig sipped, letting the party flow around him.
Sara’s brother and his partner owned a brew pub downtown. The tall one, Rob, was a French-trained chef so the offerings were plentiful and delicious. Two more beers in and he was starting to relax, but switched to water knowing he had to make the trek back to his condo. A shout caught his ear and he went around the corner into the living room of the small house nearly stumbling as Sara flew by him.
He wanted to grab her arm, but decided to let her pass. Gordon followed her out, his face a mask of frustration. On his heels was a tall woman who looked enough like Lindsay to make Craig blink, until he realized it wasn’t her. Intrigued, a protective feeling rising in his gut, he followed the crowd.
Sara stomped down the steps. Craig waited long enough to note her brother’s angry words thrown in Gordon’s direction before Rob pulled him inside. Then he grabbed a couple of waters and found Sara sitting against a giant tree in the front yard. He crouched down beside her.
Within fifteen minutes, she was on the back of his bike, hanging on tight, as he sped towards Ann Arbor. The forty-some minute ride was pleasant, and he had high hopes for the evening. His body was revving on all cylinders and by the time they got to her place, his mind was sharp, the rest of him more than ready. He helpe
d her off, took the helmet and walked her to the door.
“Coming in?” she asked. She looked utterly undone—miserable, really. He forced himself to take a mental step away. This was totally the wrong moment. She loved Jack. What would he be but yet another tool, another boy toy in the life a woman who didn’t give two shits about him? Fury made him look away.
“What?” she asked turning his face around to hers. “Here’s your shot, Craig.” Her voice was sharp, unhappy.
“My shot at what, exactly,” he whispered. He forced himself to stay calm. He had a temper but kept it well hidden and under control mostly, but it pounded through him now, and he wasn’t quite sure how to channel it. One thing was clear—he had serious competition on his hands. He pulled Sara close, kissed her hair, but grabbed her hands when she started to run them down his back to his ass. “You know what? No.” he held her at arm's length. “Not now.”
“Fine,” she said, opening to door. “I get it. You don’t want me. Jack can’t stand me. I’m kryptonite.”
“Sara,” he grabbed her arm. “Don’t whine. It’s a drag. You know damn good and well I want you. Problem is, so does he.”
She cocked her head to the side and shot him a look that went directly to his raging libido. He shut his eyes. “Don’t,” he said, stepping back. “I’ll call you.” He turned and ran down the steps without a backward look, his heart pounding, but his mind clear. He was going to win this.
* * *
“I need some advice,” he asked Grace the next night. “Girl advice.”
“Oh goodie,” his sister-in-law said.
“No, I mean it. There’s this woman and I…she’s in a relationship, kind of, but he’s an asshole and I…I don’t know how to proceed, exactly.”
“Take her with you to one of your gigs. You know, pull the rock star thing on her. She’ll be a quivering puddle of goo by the time you’re done singing. But…” she stopped.
He smiled. “Not a bad idea. What comes after the ‘but?’ ”
“We all know how you get. You fall head over heels at the slightest provocation. Don’t put more weight into this one than any other.”
He sat a minute contemplating her words. He honestly was infatuated with Sara, of that he had no doubt. The more he saw her and Jack together, the more he truly doubted his odds with her. Still, for some reason that light-bulb style realization only served to ramp up his need, his infatuation, and he was starting to dislike that about himself, a lot.
“Yeah, well, so you’re right again. Big deal.” He was quiet a minute, and she left him to it. “I want her. Bad. I want to jump in with both feet and drag her the hell away from this guy, Grace. Cave man style. I’m…it’s weird.”
She laughed and he relaxed. He loved his family and was grateful to them for everything, even for all the spoiling and enabling of his innate laziness. “Craig Tyler Robinson,” she started, making him wince. “You had better treat her right, you got me? Don’t be an ass. Don’t force her to make a choice. That will backfire on you. We taught you how to treat a lady. Now use it. And Craig….”
He stood and paced his condo, already contemplating how he’d ask her out and if she’d even go.
“Huh?” he said finally, realizing she had stopped talking. “Sorry.” He sat, knowing he was being rude and prepping himself for the lecture.
“Craig, honey. Please just…guard your heart. It’s important to us. We’re worried about you. Do you want to talk to Brian?”
“Well, I’m the little brother. So I guess you are stuck with that. And no, I don’t.”
She laughed. But something about the conversation was making him nervous. “Grace, listen. I know I’m being selfish, calling you all the time and stuff. How are Rick and Lil’s wedding plans coming?”
“You don’t really care, so don’t ask.”
“Sure I do. I mean, sort of.”
“I gotta go. The boys are about to rip each other’s heads off. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Too late.” He grinned. “And tell my nephews I’ll see them soon and teach them how to really get under each other’s skin.”
“I figured. Love you little brother.”
“Love you back.”
Chapter Eight
They had a great time when Sara saw his band play for the first time. They laughed and joked their way through a late night Coney dog fix. Then, the moment of truth, a kiss in the parking lot. He’d cradled her face and said words he knew he would regret, but needed her to hear. “I have no intention of serving as a distraction, although I’m sure that would be fun.”
Because deep down, the more he got to know her, the more he realized that is exactly what he would be and nothing more. While part of him still was willing to go there with her, was still desperate enough to have her that he’d be that Jack Gordon filler for her, the rest of him—a rapidly maturing part he felt—simply would not. Holding back was the exact opposite of the Craig Robinson M.O., and he while he was causing himself a fair bit of blue ball pain, he’d never felt stronger otherwise.
The evening had been promising, without a doubt. And by the time he dropped her off with a chaste kiss he felt on top of the situation, that the whole thing was heading in a positive direction for them. He honestly felt for the first time since laying eyes on her that it might work out.
* * *
The morning of their monthly Stewart Realty Company meeting dawned bright, clear and promising. No matter how strong was his desire for the lovely Sara, he was damn proud of himself for being so mature. He was kicking ass at work too, having had two great closings and a full pipeline of buyers and a few sellers. Yep, this was going well, and he sensed a sea change in himself—one that he would ride along with Sara, if she would let him.
He swam early, showered, grabbed a granola bar, and headed out on his bike. He didn’t have clients today, so the used SUV he’d bought to lug people around in stayed parked. He preferred the bike anyway and had plenty of months of forced separation from it in the wintertime. He pulled off his helmet and waved to a few colleagues walking towards the doors of the Ann Arbor Marriott.
The room was packed. Jack was giving his first official all-company pitch and update for his downtown development. He’d done a great job on it. Taking a ten-year abandoned former newspaper building and gutting it for mixed retail and luxury condos was ballsy as hell in the middle of a recession, but that was one thing Gordon didn’t lack- and everyone knew it.
He looked around, looking for her. “Save me a seat, running late,” she’d texted him earlier. He grabbed some coffee, noted Sara’s brother was standing at the back of the room for some reason, then found a bunch of downtown agents at a table with some free seats and headed for it.
He sat, shot the shit, flirted, the usual, but on edge the second he sensed Gordon nearby. The guy sucked up all the energy in a room without a doubt. Craig was getting used to it, but still didn't like it.
The room got louder, then quiet, and Craig looked to the back when the door opened, and Sara finally entered surprising no one as she was chronically late to group meetings. He smiled at the sight of her in a trim white skirt and blouse, her hair flowing around her shoulders. He made up his mind to ask her out on a real date for the weekend. He didn’t want to wait anymore and had a weird vibe about the setup of this meeting for some reason. He needed to make his move. He wanted to do it now, today, this minute.
She snagged yogurt and coffee and made her way over to him. He pulled out her chair, enduring the funny looks of the table. The whole company knew she and Gordon had been fucking around. Rumor had it they’d done it at an open house, in the hall of her office, and right in his office practically in the middle of the afternoon once. He had to hand it to the guy. He would give grudging credit, given his own open house shenanigans. He smiled at Sara, and she shot him a sidelong look.
The room dimmed. Jack made his way up to the front. He stood to his full six-foot whatever-the-fuck-it-was, smiled around the room, sho
t his cuffs, and pulled something from his pocket. Craig’s heart pounded but he forced himself to sit back, cross his ankle over the other knee and drape his arm over the back of the chair, prepared for whatever over the top drama he’d prepared.
He saw it on the screen and had to blink. Right up there where he expected to see floor plans, interior decorator renderings and pricing were the words:
“Sara Jane Thornton. Will You Marry Me? Jack”
The entire room sucked in a collective breath. Sara looked up, saw it and put her hand over her mouth. A quick flicker of frustration lit her eyes. When the entire room of one-hundred-plus agents turned to look at her she smiled, and her face flushed. As she rose and made her way to the front, Craig stood, unwilling to watch any more, and walked out. His ears burned; his chest ached. Day late, dollar short. Figures.
Chapter Nine
Six Months Later
By the time the power couple engagement had run its course, Sara had broken everything off and Craig was an expert at ignoring the rumor mill. Blake kept calling him throughout the early spring drama, after the equally traumatic breakup. It was obvious Sara’s brother wanted Craig to move in, to scoop his sister up and save her from herself. It was also infuriating but he kept his focus, sold houses, went home and stared at walls. A lot. He jacked-off about the same amount because he was resolute. He kept his distance from his usual haunts—bars where he knew he could get picked up with very little effort. And he waited for Sara to come to him.
He swam more than usual and continued to ignore her, while his bank account grew since he was putting the full force of his energy towards the job. He even turned down band gigs, figuring it to be a more mature response. Whenever he played late into the night, he was useless the next day. And his business had grown to the point where he had to stay sharp pretty much every day.
