Totally Inevitable Intent

by Michele Lenard

  “You’re right, I don’t. But I do know what it’s like to watch people you care about make bad choices.”

  Now it’s Sawyer’s turn to snort. “Come on. You don’t have feelings for Dad.”

  “Not romantic feelings, no. But he’s still family and he’s still confused about what it means to really care about people. I’m sure that’s hard to watch.”

  “Lucky you, you don’t have a front row seat to that anymore.”

  I know better than to tell her my seat is just as difficult, since watching her hurt is equally painful, especially because that pain could be avoided if Colt would just learn that it’s time, not things or trips, that Sawyer wants from him.

  “By the way, he’s now decided he wants to make up for spring break by taking me on a trip this summer. I think, really, he just wants to get away from his house since he’s doing some big project in the back yard and it’s a mess. We have to go before training camp starts, of course, because he can’t miss that.”

  “It is his job, Sawyer,” I remind her. “It might seem unfair, but it’s the reason we’re able to live here and you’re able to go to such a great school.”

  “There’s other kids whose parents are pro athletes at school, and they aren’t MIA all the time.”

  “Look, Sawyer, I know your dad’s lifestyle and choices aren’t ideal, but we both know they aren’t going to change. We have to accept what he’s able to give, so let’s focus on the positive. Where does he want to take you this summer?”

  “He said I can pick.” She shrugs.

  “Any thoughts?”

  “Not really. I said I wasn’t going with his girlfriend, though, so we’ll see if he still wants to go knowing he can’t take her.”

  “Why wouldn’t he want to go just the two of you? You usually have a trip together once a year.”

  “I don’t think this one likes the idea of being left behind. As if he’d find her replacement while he’s on vacation with me. Actually,” she chews on her lip, “maybe this one is smarter than I give her credit for. Just because he’s traveling with me doesn’t mean he’ll be with me the whole time.”

  I mentally curse Colt for putting our fifteen-year-old daughter in a position to think that way. “He’s never done that before, has he?” I feel my momma bear coming out.

  “No, he hasn’t. He wouldn’t. I guess I’m still mad about spring break. Maybe it will all be fine.”

  “So, where would you like to go?”

  “I don’t know. Costa Rica?”

  “Really? How come?”

  “A few kids went there for spring break and said it was pretty cool. There’s beaches and jungles and stuff. Think he’d take me there?” She looks at me hopefully.

  “I’m sure he would,” I tell her, knowing full well that he’ll do it, as long as it doesn’t interfere with anything else. Colt really does have the best of intentions, even if his execution falls flat. “Why don’t you tell him that’s what you pick so he can plan it? Or better yet, you figure out what you want to do and send it to him.”

  “Okay. Yeah.” I see a hint of a smile, so rare when it comes to her father, though she’d be willing to give them freely if he earned them. So help me, if Colt messes this trip up, I will castrate him.

  “Um, when is a good time to go? I mean, if he has camp and I’m sure I’ll have cross country practice over the summer.”

  “Well, I know it’s short notice, but if he can do it in two weeks, that’d be ideal. That way you’re back in plenty of time for training camp.”

  “Okay. I’ll start looking at places to stay.” She grabs her laptop and races upstairs, and I say a silent prayer that she won’t be disappointed this time.

  ***

  I’m grouchy. It’s hot, I’m tired, and I haven’t seen or spoken to Anthony in three days. Not that I’m counting or anything, but he’s hard to miss, and I’ve been deliberately trying not to miss him. I think he’s been deliberately trying to miss me, though.

  He’s been here and gone by the time I get to the house every morning, and it’s not like I’m rolling in whenever it suits me. I get here right at eight - we can’t start work before that because of a noise ordinance or something - so why he has to be here and gone before we can technically start work, I don’t know. It makes me think he’s dodging me.

  Wes says he isn’t. I didn't ask, but I think Wes knows I wanted to so he told me the other project his dad is working on has a super-tight schedule in the beginning, since it’s so big in scope. Anthony wants to get as much under way as he possibly can while the weather is cooperating, since you can never count on the perfect weather, and this project is entirely outdoors. Or so Wes says.

  I grimace and look away. Why can’t I be honest with myself? Not seeing Anthony is starting to crush me, because he really does make me tingly when he’s around, and I’m starting to think he likes seeing me just as much as I do him. I should’ve known, two steps forward and one back, but I had hoped things would be different after the other night. Oh well, like I told Anthony, I’m a big girl, and I’ve got other things to do besides mope about him avoiding me. Like working on my cabinets, which are coming along nicely without him to distract me.

  I’ve already sanded down the base units still inside the house, and now that the last of the doors have been sanded as well, they’re ready for primer. Of course, they’ll need two coats of primer and two coats of paint with sanding in between, so I’m far from done, but to have a surface ready to work with is exciting.

  I stand and stretch, feeling my muscles protest at being moved in the direction opposite of the one they’ve been hunched in all day, but as I move, they gradually give over to the relief I offer them, and it feels glorious. Not as good as a hot tub, but since I don’t have one of those, some stretches will have to do. I roll my neck, lift my arms above my head, and tip over at the waist to touch the floor, pressing my palms flat on the ground. Heaven. I lift my arms back to the sky and arch my back, and it feels so good I moan, which is when I notice I have company.

  Anthony stands in the open doorway, jaw clamped tight, but instead of indifference or fear in his dark eyes, I see heat. Desire. I drop my arms to my sides as a gasp escapes my mouth, but apparently time freezes after that because all I can do is stare.

  At the way his shirt stretches across his chest and hangs loose over his stomach.

  At the strong jaw shadowed by his customary stubble.

  At his full lips, which are slightly parted.

  I take a shaky breath, willing myself to move or to pull words from my mind, but I’m pinned by the dark, hungry eyes that are locked on me. Oh. My. God.

  “Hey, Pop, the guys and I are done for the day,” Wes calls as he jogs up to join his dad in the doorway. And just like that, the spell is broken.

  Anthony turns to talk to Wes, reviewing what's been done for the day and what’s on the agenda for tomorrow, and with his gaze averted, I regain the ability to move. I start putting tools away and sweeping up the dust from my sanding marathon, trying to ignore my heart’s pounding and the disappointment that sent it plummeting to my stomach.

  “See you tomorrow, Jen,” Wes hollers as he turns to leave.

  “Okay,” I shout back, too afraid to look toward the door.

  And then he’s there. Anthony. Standing right next to me.

  He runs his hand along the front of the cabinets. “These look good,” he says, his voice raspier than normal.

  “Thanks,” I utter cautiously. “I think they’re ready for primer tomorrow.”

  Anthony just nods, eyes focused on the cabinet in front of him. “I think these will be great when they’re done.”

  “Me, too,” I agree. Dammit, this is awkward. I’m not usually at a loss for words, but the intensity of what happened not two minutes ago has me rattled. I mean, my heart is still racing.

  “Are you done for the day?” he asks.

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, well
, I’m just going to put this broom away.” I turn toward the wall where I store the broom just as Anthony steps forward to help me, and I find myself pressed against his firm chest. I gasp, seemingly the only sound I can make around him today, and try to take a step back. But his hand shoots out and grips my arm, holding me to him. I chance a look at his face and feel as much as see the heat overtake him, right before he presses his lips to mine.

  My breath catches in my chest as he gently, almost tentatively, makes contact. He traces his mouth across mine, and I melt into him, drinking in the feel of his soft lips, the scrape of stubble, the subtle scent of the outdoors that lingers on him after a day’s work. His is the most chaste kiss I’ve ever experienced and yet the most passionate. I can feel his desire, tempered somewhat by his hesitation, but urging him forward nonetheless.

  His hand slips up my arm and over my shoulder to cup my chin, tilting it to give him better access. He coaxes my mouth open and strokes his tongue along mine, so tender I sigh and drop the broom. The crash shatters the silence, and we jerk apart, stunned. Anthony stares at me, mouth open, breathing heavily, overcome with the same mix of awe and excitement I feel. That kiss might have been tender, but it was not without desire. Then, without warning, he crushes his lips to mine with an almost desperate intensity.

  He pushes me back until I hit the wall, kissing me as if a dam has burst, and everything that was once been trapped behind it can no longer be contained. Once unleashed, he tastes me with fervor, groaning as his body presses against mine. Gone is the uncertainty, the cautious exploration, replaced with unrestrained need. And wow. Just wow. Between the gentle exploration and this urgent possession, I have never been so thoroughly kissed.

  I feel his hands tunneling in my hair, and I set my hands on his hips, feeling the muscles of his stomach flex as those hips press closer. My whole body is on fire, deliciously primed, and I know in that moment I will do anything this man asks of me, anything he desires, if it leaves me feeling as good as I do right now. I can’t help it, I moan, not some soft little sob but a full-on, guttural moan, and Anthony growls in return.

  “I like that sound.” He traces my bottom lip with his thumb.

  “Keep this up, and you’ll hear it again,” I murmur, not in the least bit concerned that I basically just invited him to take it all the way. My body is too far gone for restraint, and by the feel of him, he is, too.

  “I’d like that.” He kisses me again, softer this time, then leans his forehead against mine. “But not here. Not now.”

  “When?” I breathe.

  I feel him smile. “When I can take my time. When I don’t have to push you up against a wall.”

  “I like walls.”

  “You’re not making this easy.” He grits his teeth.

  “You haven’t exactly been easy yourself."

  “I know,” he says softly. “I’ve…I mean…it’s a long story.” He exhales.

  “I know,” I whisper. “Wes told me.”

  Anthony’s eyes shoot to mine, betraying a mixture of fear and regret. “He should have let me tell you.”

  “Maybe one day you will,” I say. “But until then, maybe you can tell me what just happened.” I let my fingers trail over his hipbones, causing him to shiver. “I mean, I haven’t seen or spoken to you in three days, now this?”

  “Is this bad?” He studies me.

  “No. Just…unexpected.”

  “I…” He fingers a strand of hair from my ponytail. “I just can’t fight it anymore.” He bends forward slowly and presses his lips to mine in a sweet, slow kiss.

  “So you haven’t been avoiding me these past few days?” I sigh.

  “No, I was swamped with work. And I was trying to work up the courage to do this,” he admits, still playing with my hair.

  “Am I that intimidating?”

  “For a guy who swore never to get involved with a woman again, yeah, you are.”

  “Wait, you mean…” I study him. “You haven’t been with a woman since…”

  “I have, but not like this.” He kisses me softly. “When I say involved, I mean getting to know or just liking someone. Not, you know…” he says sheepishly.

  “I understand. I actually haven’t done…this since my divorce. You’re kind of a first for me, too.”

  Anthony just stares at me, dumbfounded, and for a moment I regret telling him that I haven’t dated or even been with a man in years. Then he laughs, actually laughs, from deep inside himself. It’s the first time I’ve heard him truly sound happy, and that warms my heart. But it also pisses me off and wounds me, because he’s laughing at me. I raise my hand to swat his arm, but before I can do it, he pulls me in for a hug.

  “I didn’t think it was possible for such a beautiful woman to be as out of practice as I am. It’s kind of a relief, actually.”

  My hurt abruptly turns to confusion. He isn’t laughing at me? “How so?” I ask.

  “Well, hopefully, it means you won’t be offended or upset when I don’t know what to do or I do the wrong thing.”

  “And if you do the right thing?”

  “Lots of praise,” he says without skipping a beat, “so I can be sure to do it again.”

  “So lots of patience and lots of praise. You want me to treat you like a dog, then?” I smirk. That gets me a genuine smile.

  “Yeah, I guess I do.” He gives me another sweet kiss then focuses his dark eyes on mine. “Seriously, I have no idea what to do, and I have no idea what I’m even capable of doing, because for nearly ten years, I’ve avoided any situation where I might feel something, and up until a few days ago, I was still doing that. I’m scared shitless of getting close to you, and I’m scared shitless of not getting close to you. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know that I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  I run my hands up his side and settle them on his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath my palms. “I don’t have the answers, either. Let’s just do what feels right,” I say, going on my toes to kiss him again. He responds instantly, guiding my mouth open and stroking his tongue against mine in a frenzy of lust. I can feel the sweet burn of need between my legs and press my body against his. He abruptly pulls away.

  “I’m sorry,” he heaves. “Fucking you against a wall doesn’t feel right. Not yet anyway.”

  “Not yet?” I pant.

  “Not the same day I kiss you for the first time or before I take you out.”

  “So you didn’t come here for this?” I breathe, caught between desire and common sense. Part of me is excited that he isn’t just looking for a hook-up, because despite the drought I desperately want to end, I’m not, either. But the other part of me is riled up and wants to get straight to the hooking-up part, especially after he gave me visions of being fucked against a wall, something I imagine would be spectacular.

  “No, I actually came to show you some sketches of the arbor,” he says softly, and I can tell he’s trying just as hard to fight the lust as I am. “But then I saw you standing there with your back arched and your head tipped back, and I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you.”

  “Oh.”

  He gives me a long, lingering kiss then pulls away and takes my hand. “They’re in my truck. Come on.”

  We lock the garage and make our way down to his truck where he pulls out a sketchbook and flips to a page with several drawings of arbors.

  “You drew all these? They’re beautiful.”

  “Thanks.” He rubs his jaw, almost like he’s embarrassed.

  “I thought you weren’t going to have time to work on this for a while?”

  “Well, I didn’t really have time, but you kept popping into my head, and I couldn’t concentrate on spreadsheets and invoices and stuff. So I drew these.” His discomfort is cute.

  “Wow.” I trace my fingers over the drawings. They’re all incredible. “I don’t know how to pick. Do I need to do that right now?”

  “No.” He shakes his head.

  “Can I kee
p this?” I gesture to the book. The request seems to startle him, and I immediately regret asking. Of course he wouldn’t want to share his entire sketchbook. “Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked that,” I backtrack.

  “It’s not that,” he assures me. “I just have all my work in there, stuff for clients. I may need that to make bids. I can give it to you for a night, but I don’t know if that gives you enough time.”

  “I’ll make it work. Can I look at your other drawings, or would that be too much?”

  Anthony shrugs. “They’re just for work, so it’s fine. Besides, I don’t see you having the restraint not to look.” He smiles.

  “You don’t think I have restraint?”

  “Not a bit.” He laughs. “I have to get going. I really do have a ton of work I need to catch up on tonight. But I’ll stop by tomorrow.” He reaches behind my head and pulls me in for one last, lingering kiss. “Bye,” he whispers.

  I make my way to my car, noticing that Anthony waits until I’m situated before driving away himself, but I’m still too wired to drive, so I sit in the car flipping through the pages of his sketchbook. Never in a million years would I have predicted what just happened. I mean, I knew there was something between us, but I didn’t realize it was as monumental for him to take an interest in someone as it was for me. No wonder Wes told me not to give up. Anthony clearly has a lot of pain left over from his wife’s passing and is understandably conflicted about relationships as a result, but he’s decided to take a step. With me.

  That’s flattering to my ego, but it’s also a lot of responsibility. The guy is fragile, and since I’m not exactly on steady ground when it comes to the opposite sex, fragile is a little scary. But Anthony is kind, considerate, genuine, and he has respect for me, and being around him these past several weeks has made me realize how much I missed that. How much I want it again. Looks like this shaky gal is going to give fragile a whirl.

  Chapter 12

  Anthony

  I did it. Twelve hours or so later and I still can’t quite believe it. I finally gave over to the pull I feel toward Jen and kissed her, the most erotic kiss I’ve ever experienced, which I can almost still feel if I close my eyes. Yeah, I know, it was just a kiss. Except it wasn’t. Not for me. I really haven’t kissed anyone since Katie - I’d convinced myself sex was less personal than kissing - and while I used that as an excuse before, I think it actually has some merit.