by G. K. Brady
“To a storage unit.”
“Huh. You know, I’m kinda partial to this couch.” He pictured some of the things they’d done on that couch, and his fondness for the thing grew. “Bet we could find room for it at my place, if you’re okay with storing it there.”
Her expression suddenly turned shy. “Yeah, I guess that would be okay. Think you can unwedge it from the door? Owen got it stuck pretty good.”
“It’s what Owen does best. But between the two of us, we’ll figure it out.” He slid his bag off his shoulder. “Is this the part where I pull off my shirt?”
Chapter 37
Kissing Lessons on a Red Couch
If Blake kept wiggling his stupid eyebrows and kept that cocky grin plastered on his chiseled, unshaven face, Michaela wouldn’t be able to stand up. Her knees were the consistency of aspic as it was, not helped by her rapid-firing heart and her somersaulting stomach. Damn near an entire cheer squad had apparently taken up residence in her belly.
“No, please keep the shirt on. One Owen is enough.” Him, I can resist. You, not so much.
Blake’s smile slid from his face. “Don’t tell me he pulled that stunt again just now.”
“Okay. I won’t.” Because he didn’t. She pushed up to her feet and steadied herself, resting her hand on the couch. “Did you know that Hugh Jackman wouldn’t consume any liquids for thirty-six hours before filming his shirtless scenes in Logan?”
Blake’s gaze flickered as though he was processing this bit of trivia. “So you’ve been studying up on trivia?”
“Well, it’s Hugh Jackman, so …”
“Huh. Why did he do that?”
She shrugged, feigning a nonchalance completely opposite to her jangling nerves. Picturing him—Blake, not Hugh Jackman—in person these last few weeks was one thing. The real deal took her breath away, and no amount of ogling him on TV could have prepared her for six-two, blond, green-eyed perfection. She’d given devil girl the heave-ho in favor of her more responsible, boring side, but somehow the girl was back, whispering all kinds of inappropriate suggestions in her ear that made her blood come alive for the first time since she and Blake had split up.
Her mind was made up of cottonwood fuzz, causing her to question why she’d stayed away for so long. Pride. Confusion. Fury and hurt had driven her decision-making at first, and by the time the anger had fizzled, she’d been neck-deep in survivor mode, shut down to the point where she could barely tie her shoelaces. What mental capacity she’d possessed had all been thrown at navigating the debris that had been her career, leaving the other big stuff—like how to handle Blake reaching out to her—beyond her scope. It had been easier to tell herself she’d confront her feelings and unravel her tangled emotions the next day and the next and the next. By the time that altered reality had worn off, she’d been at a loss.
And now here she stood, staring at the man who owned her heart. Emotions were still a jumble, but her excuses for avoiding him had slipped through her fingers like fine grains of sand, and she was primed to take her life—and him—back.
He tilted his head, reminding her he’d hung a question out there. She curled her fist and dug her nails into her palm to keep from getting swept up in his gaze before she could say what she wanted to say to him. God, he had beautiful eyes!
“It had to do with wanting to look really ripped for the scenes,” she croaked, “so he used some bodybuilder dehydration diet.” Which you definitely do not need.
“Huh. Thought he was some big-time dancer?”
“Wolverine?”
Blake let out the warm, lusty laugh she craved hearing, and it uncoiled an overly tight spring inside her. “No, I was talking about Hugh Jackman,” he said casually. “Got his start in song and dance. Did you know he graduated with a BA in Communications? He needed more credits, so he took a drama course in his last year of college. The class put on a production, and he was the lead. And did you know he was a last-minute addition to the cast of X-Men?”
His rambling gave her courage. She wasn’t the only one whose nerves were fraying in this hallway. “I did not know that.”
“Here’s something else you might not know. It takes between ninety seconds and four minutes for someone to make up their mind whether they’re attracted to someone else. And men typically fall in love faster than women. They’re usually the ones who say ‘I love you’ first.”
Hope popped and fizzed in her bloodstream. She let go of the sofa and took a step toward him, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “And have you found somebody lately that you were attracted to in less than four minutes?” Please say no.
He shook his head vigorously. “I did go on a date last week, though.”
Oh. There was a jab to the solar plexus, and she couldn’t breathe. She took the same step back.
“In case you’re wondering,” he ran on, “I spent nearly three hours trying to make myself attracted to her, but I failed. Miserably.”
A silent breath left her body, but jealousy collected in her gut like bubbling green acid. The thought of another woman spending time with her man …
“No? Wasn’t she pretty?” She forced the words from her mouth.
“She was really pretty.”
Oh God, not helping, big guy! The jealousy inside her heated and fanned out, pricking every nerve in her body like a bad rash. Michaela frowned at him, though deep down she admitted she might deserve the medicine he was spooning out.
Before she registered what was happening, he closed the distance between them and leaned down, his face mere inches from hers. Pulling in citrus and spice and him, she resisted the urge to stick her nose in the crook of his neck and inhale his skin. A corner of his mouth hitched, and he murmured, “She wasn’t as pretty as you—no one is—but what she really had going against her was she wasn’t you.” He straightened, widening the space between them.
“Oh. So why did you go out with her?”
“Because the woman I wanted to go out with hasn’t called or texted me back in weeks, and Ferguson was being a pain in my ass about taking out his girlfriend’s BFF, so I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone: shut him up and try to forget you. I shut him up all right, but the other part? Didn’t work. How about you? Done any speed dating lately?” His fern-green eyes gave absolutely nothing away.
The quick shift threw her off guard, but relief flowed through her body nonetheless, and she released a shaky breath. “I don’t have time for dating, even the speedy kind, because I’m building a new practice of my own.” Although I had plenty of time to mope. “Besides, I’m not so sure I buy that whole ‘the one’ business anymore. I’m beginning to believe it’s all fairy-tale tripe.”
He swiped his thumb across his lip and gave her a thoughtful look. “Really? That’s just downright sad because I’ve come around to the opposite way of thinking. Unfortunately, though, it’s really fucking up my game.”
Confusion shrouded her partially functioning brain once more. “Are you talking about hockey?”
“Hockey, my personal life. Everything,” he chuffed. “They’re tied together. Have you watched any of our games lately?”
“All of them.”
Surprise flitted across his features. “All of them? Then you know how much my game sucks. I need to get it back on track, but I can’t do that if I’m distracted.”
“Distracted?”
He answered her by way of a pointed look.
Make your mouth move, Michaela. “So this woman who wouldn’t call you back … you said you wanted to go out with her, past tense?”
“Did I? Huh. Didn’t even realize I’d done that. Must be a Freudian thing.” His eyes bored into hers with heat and intensity, making her squirm as though a swarm of eels had been let loose inside her. Not a good kind of squirm.
When it became obvious he wasn’t going to rush in to placate the raging doubts she’d just stupidly stirred inside herself, her heart sank. Until that moment, she hadn’t even realized how badly she�
��d been hoping he’d say a present and a future were still possible. The precarious house of cards she’d built for herself was upended, and merely looking at him made her unable to distinguish top from bottom, wreaking havoc inside her.
“Here’s the thing, M. This one’s on you,” he murmured, “because I let myself get out of control.”
“I-I’m not sure I understand.” She wasn’t doing a good job reading between his cryptic lines because emotion continued gunking up her synapses.
He puffed out a breath and darted his eyes to the ceiling before leveling them back at her. Hope for a happy outcome was fading faster than a plucked wildflower as more realization dawned and her eyes opened wider. What they now clearly saw was pain and frustration in her future, and her heart verged on splintering.
“You’re dancing around this thing, and you’re killing me here. Just come out and tell me what a bastard I am and get it over with. I know I was out of line. So out of line. I’ve been trying to apologize for weeks, but you’ve avoided me at every turn, and that’s not fair to either of us. If you’re asking if I still want to be with you, the answer is God, yes. But am I going to keep chasing you when you don’t want to be caught? Or twist your arm into saying you want to be with me too? My life’s fucked up enough as it is, and I can’t keep beating my head against a wall if I want to hang on to a shred of sanity.” He let out a mirthless laugh. “Then again, I can’t focus on anything but you, so I may not have a choice.” He paused, shaking his head. “I know I’m supposed to come up with some grand gesture, but I’m not sure what I can do to prove to you that you’re more important to me than anything. How do I convince you to give me another chance? I love you, M, with my heart and soul. You’re holding them both captive in the palm of your hand, and I’m kinda stuck until you let them—and me—go.”
His unexpected speech nearly knocked her ass back on the couch again. “Do you want me to let them, um, you go?”
“No. I want you to hold them forever.” A bright sheen coated his eyes, and he looked at her with such sadness that tears welled up and jammed her throat. At the same time, her heart grew wings, ready to soar out of her chest. Jumbled emotions be damned! What mattered most crystallized.
Swiping at her wet cheeks, she whispered, “As grand gestures go, that ranked right up there.”
His eyebrows crept up his forehead. “What grand gesture?”
“Everything you just said. You bared your soul—that was a grand gesture.”
“It was? Here in the hallway? I had a little different setting in mind.” He looked utterly dumbfounded, which only made her want to hug him more.
She nodded, and her tears fell freely down her cheeks. “It came from your heart, so yeah, it’s an epically grand gesture. Especially for a skeptic leery of having his heart broken like his father’s.” She covered her heart with her hand.
“Yeah, well, being with you these last few months has helped me learn a few things.”
“Like?”
“Like, where did your glasses go?”
The surprising question didn’t slow her stride. “Don’t need them anymore. My new boss thinks I rock without them.”
He nodded. “That’s a smart new boss you’ve got. Want to know what else I have on my mind?”
She nodded a little too eagerly and held her breath.
Reaching out, he toyed with her hair. “Your curls. They’re pure satin. I think about wrapping them around my fingers.” Running a finger along the side of her face, he paused by her eye. “And your eyes are … they’re … Every time I look at them, I think of a moonlit lake. People with gray eyes are supposed to be strong, creative, and flexible. Just like you. Did you know that gray eyes are most common in Northern, Western, and Central Europe?” he rambled. “And they’re similar to blue eyes, only there’s something in them that reflects the light differently.
“And God, your skin. It’s so fucking soft. I can’t get enough of it.” He cleared his throat. “Well, that’s some of what’s on my mind.”
Wow. Okay. Just wow. She gaped at him for an instant, fresh tears rimming her lower lashes and threatening to spill over before she gave herself an inner slap to rattle loose the speech she’d been turning over and polishing in her head. The speech was lost, but words began filtering through.
“Killing me here,” he prodded.
“I’ve had a lot of time to think—too much time. I’ve missed you so much,” she burst, not censoring what she said before it tumbled from her mouth. “I love being with you. I love talking to you. I love your trivia, and I love how you make me laugh and how you make me feel. I love watching you play hockey. I’m so sorry I missed your birthday and Christmas and New Year’s. I was mad, but then I wasn’t, and I didn’t know what to do or if you’d still want to be with me. None of this is a good reason to have shut you out the way I did, and I’m so sorry. I hope I’m not too late and that you can forgive me for the stupid—”
He pulled her against him, and she tightened her arms around his waist resting her cheek against his chest. For a frozen moment, neither of them uttered a word, and she soaked in his familiar scent and the wonderful feel of his hard planes. Home. Safe. Warm.
“Shh,” he murmured against her hair, “there’s nothing to forgive. You had every right to be mad about the things I said to you. I was wrong. You scared the shit out of me for weeks when I thought I’d lost you. I don’t ever want to go through that again.”
She cried into his T-shirt, hiccupping, “You never lost me. I thought I’d lost you. I love you, Blake.”
He kissed her head, her temple, and banded his arms around her. “God, M, I love you so much. Never knew I could love anyone like this.”
She’d never felt safer. This is where I belong.
He lifted her chin with his knuckle and cradled her face, scanning it, as though he wanted to reassure himself she was real. His mouth hitched in a half-smile. “Michaela Wagner, I am … dazzled. I am a believer of ‘the one’ because against all odds, I found my one. And I am not letting you go, so you’d better get used to having me around.”
Now she was a blubbering, running faucet of happy tears. She buried her head against his chest once more. “I don’t want to be a distraction. I want to make your life better, add to it. Not take away anything.”
“Just being around you adds to it, more than I could have ever expected. And I want that for you too.” He grasped her shoulders and set her apart, drilling into her eyes. “I want to make your goals easier to reach, take away whatever stands in your way. Will you let me do that?”
“I’m open to negotiation.”
“Speaking of negotiation …”
She giggled through her tears. “We’re negotiating now?”
“I know. Never negotiate with an attorney. But I’m kinda rusty on the kissing thing. I think I need lessons.” He wrinkled his nose, and she melted a little more.
Still giggling—she was having trouble stopping now—she dried her eyes on her sleeve and crooked her finger at him. “I’d be happy to help. Maybe you should show me what you got first, sailor.”
A laugh rumbled through his chest, brightening his entire face, stoking a riot of joy inside her.
“Don’t laugh,” she fake-scolded while she struggled to corral her laughter. “This isn’t middle school. It’s a clinical lesson, not a make-out session.”
“Well, that’s all kinds of disappointing.” Grinning, he narrowed his eyes. “Are you gonna pull your pepper spray on me too?”
“I don’t know. Are you going to misbehave?”
“Probably.”
“Good. In that case, I will not pull pepper spray on you.” Surging up on her toes, she cupped the back of his head and pulled his mouth to hers, leading him in a tender, languid kiss he took without hesitation. He quickly seized control and deepened the kiss, turning it into something filled with need and want and love so exquisite it scorched her from her scalp to her toes. Before she knew what had happened, he’d maneu
vered them to the couch and had her flat on her back, the comforting weight and warmth of his big body settled on top of hers. She hitched a leg over his hip and kissed him back with everything she’d held back these excruciatingly long weeks.
Breathing nearly as heavily as she was, Blake broke the kiss and looked down at her with a tenderness that made her heart open like a blossom in the spring sun. He wrapped a curl around his index finger. “What do you say, Curly? Ready to move this into my place and continue our, ah, lessons before we embarrass ourselves out here in the hallway?”
“Ready. But I want to make one thing clear.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“You absolutely do not need kissing lessons or any other kind of lessons.” She pulled him back down, nipped his earlobe, and whispered, “I have heard, however, that practice makes perfect.”
“Then we’d better start practicing. Now.”
Hours later, Blake lay in bed, on his back, drifting blissfully with his arms encircling M as she snuggled against him. She drew lazy circles on his skin, her curls tickling his jaw. His world was right-side up again. The couch sat at a cockeyed angle in the entryway, where they’d scooted it in just far enough to close the front door.
A laugh rolled through him, and M kissed his neck. “What are you chuckling about?”
He craned his head and peered at her. “You went to a lot of trouble setting up this couch-moving scenario. I had no idea you could pull off something so sneaky.”
She grinned wide. “I guess when it truly matters, I’m capable of getting my sneaky on. And it worked.”
“True, but now you have me worried what else you’re capable of.” His eyebrows arched.
“Don’t worry. It was more Fiona than me, and besides, the sneak factor only came into play because I was desperate.”
He hugged her to him. “I guess I’m glad you have a latent sneaky streak, then.” His shoulders shook with laughter.
“And this is funny why?”
“That’s not what I’m laughing about. I can’t believe you actually like my stupid-ass trivia.”
