“You gotta little…” I moved to wipe it away with my fingers but changed my mind at the last second. I lowered my head and flicked my tongue over the corner of his mouth to capture the drop of milkshake.
Chaz gasped, and I expected him to pull back, but instead he surprised me by pressing his mouth fully against mine. Even more surprising was the way he fisted my hair in his hands like he was afraid I would try to escape. Fat fucking chance of that.
I set the milkshake beside me and slid both hands into Chaz’s hair. He wasn’t the only one clinging to the moment and praying it would last. Our kiss wasn’t tentative and exploring; it was scorching heat, bumping teeth, and hungry tongues right from the start. I drank from him like a starving man and didn’t let up until the explosion in the sky startled me. At first, I thought it was the sound of my heart bursting in my chest, but I caught the fading flickers of blue, green, and white fire in the sky.
Chaz looked surprised, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of his action or my reaction. Technically, I started it by licking the corner of his mouth, but he was the one who kissed me. Damn, it was the most amazing kiss I’d ever had. I couldn’t tell by his wide-eyed expression if it was something that he wanted to happen again or not.
“That’s been a long time coming,” I said huskily.
Chaz closed his eyes and swallowed hard. When he reopened them, the look of surprise was replaced by regret. “I need to go.”
“What?” I asked. Running from me wasn’t the reaction I wanted from him.
“Um, I just remembered that I need to go. I… uh, forgot something at home. I mean, I think I left my oven on. Yeah, that sounds right.” He was babbling again, which meant I struck a nerve. I just hoped once he calmed down he would realize it was a good nerve.
“Can I call you later?” I asked, not willing to give up too easily.
“Um, yeah,” he said as he slid off my tailgate.
“But will you answer?” My question seemed to penetrate whatever thoughts had sent him into a panic. Chaz almost looked sad, and I worried that I sounded too pathetic or needy. “Never mind, I…”
“I’ll answer.”
“Okay.”
“Goodnight,” he said then offered me a sweet smile before he got into his car and drove away.
I sat on the bed of my truck and watched the rest of the firework display by myself, which was what I had intended all along. Somehow it wasn’t good enough after sharing a few minutes with Chaz. The fireworks weren’t as vibrant, and the silence after they were over was deafening. It was then that I realized just how much trouble Chaz Hamilton could cause me.
I drove home in a daze after Kyle kissed me beneath the stars and fireworks. Okay, technically I kissed him, but he started it when he licked the corner of my mouth. We’d been circling each other for months, both obviously attracted to the other but neither willing to make a move. Well, someone finally made a move, and then I ran for my life. The confusion on Kyle’s face over my reaction and the wariness in his voice when he asked if I would answer his call was a knife to my heart.
I was the one who put doubt in his mind when I, acting as Drew, pulled a disappearing act without any explanation. That was a cruel thing to do, and I didn’t know I had it in me to treat someone like that, especially someone as good as Kyle. At the time, I was too wrapped up in how wrong my behavior had been and worried that Kyle had become an addiction I couldn’t overcome. I thought a clean break was the only way, but I saw the error of my ways when confronted with the results of my actions.
But surely a guy as handsome and confident as Kyle Vaughn wasn’t thrown by one stranger’s rejection. Right? He had everything going for him, so what if one guy didn’t return his affection. What would a guy like me have to offer him? That was if he could get past my deception because there was no way in hell I could start something with Kyle with the truth hanging over my head like an ugly cloud. I wasn’t good at living a lie, just ask my friends.
I felt like a metric ton of guilt had been lifted from my shoulders when I came clean to them about my secret life as a writer and confessed that I had indeed been the one playing games with Kyle. They didn’t understand why I didn’t tell Kyle the truth, but of course, I didn’t give them all the details either. Regardless, they supported my decision, and I knew they’d take my secret to the grave if asked. I just hoped that wasn’t necessary because I couldn’t let go of the idea that Kyle was meant to be mine. I knew it was probably my inner romance writer taking over my brain when those thoughts occurred, but following that guy’s intuition led me to the best thing to ever happen to me in my adult life.
I wasn’t ready for Kyle to know either thing about me. If I told him that I wrote a book the chances were high that he’d want to read it. If he read the book, it was possible he might recognize some of the interactions the characters had. It wasn’t that I included our conversations in the book, but some of the activities might raise a red flag for him. If I told him about my Drew alias, then he’d want to know why the hell I did something like that, and I’d be forced to tell him I wrote the book. If he didn’t want to read the book under the first circumstance then he definitely would with the second. He’d probably want royalty payments for inspiring my character. I felt trapped with no good way out of the situation.
I had so many emotions churning inside my brain when I got home. I knew I’d never sleep in that condition, so I did what always made me feel better. I got into bed, propped myself up on the headboard, and opened my laptop. Harry curled up into a purring ball on the pillow next to mine, and I lost myself in my latest story. A kissing scene between my two protagonists hadn’t been in my outline for my current chapter, but I decided to go with my gut again. Gideon had a carefully crafted plan for Jamie, but sweet Jamie wasn’t following the plotline. His desire for Gideon was raging out of control and he decided that waiting around wasn’t going to get him what he wanted. So, beneath the fireworks at a lavish Fourth of July party in the Hamptons, the jaded, serial seducer was seduced by the shy, virginal man.
My fingers flew over the keyboard as I channeled everything I had into the scene I wrote for Jamie and Gideon. The intensity of their kiss stole my breath, the way they battled their feelings for one another made my heart ache, but I smiled when I finished because I knew my readers would feel how close the characters were to taking that leap. I knew they’d be as breathless as I was at that moment and no feeling in the world was greater than that one, except maybe an orgasm or the taste of Kyle on my lips.
I closed my laptop and set it on the nightstand beside my bed. I saw that it was almost two o’clock in the morning and knew I’d be dragging ass again the next day. Luckily, the salon was closed, and I could sleep late.
What’s that saying about best-laid plans and things going awry? Someone pounding on my front door woke me hours before I was ready to climb out of my sheets. I didn’t even have to ask who it was because I could hear them arguing through the door when I walked into the living room in the small two bedroom I rented on Maple Lane. I knew that ignoring them wouldn’t do any good because they’d just use a key and let themselves in.
“Good morning, ladies,” I said when I opened the door to my mother, grandmother, and aunt. I stood rubbing the sleep from my eyes while they looked me up and down in judgment.
“Charles Bailey,” my mother said irritably, “it’s nearly ten o’clock, and you’re still in bed. I didn’t raise you to be this lazy.”
“It’s not lazy, Mama,” I replied. “I stayed up too late writing.”
“Baby boy, I hope you’re not running yourself too ragged,” Grandma Gertie said.
“The only good reason for staying up until wee hours of the morning is for great sex,” Aunt Sandra said. I tried hard not to shiver at the thought of my aunt tearing it up in the sheets. “But I guess writing about it is almost as good.”
My mother tilted her head to the side and thought for a second before she said, “Writing the sex is probably be
tter than the real thing. At least both parties have orgasms in literature.”
“Mom, please stop!” I covered my ears so I wouldn’t have to listen anymore.
“Step aside, young man,” Grandma Gertie said forcefully. “We’ve brought you a coffee cake that’s fresh out of the oven.”
“Okay,” I agreed then stepped back so they could enter. “Why don’t you start a pot of coffee while I go brush my teeth.”
“And your hair,” my mother said. “If I didn’t know better I’d say someone had been running their fingers through it.”
“His lips look a little puffy too,” Aunt Sandra said. “He looks like he’s done more than write about sexy times.”
I declined to comment because I was certain they were exaggerating, but then I got a look at my reflection in the mirror. “Holy shit!” My lips were a darker pink and puffier than normal. I touched them with a finger and discovered they were tender too. I smiled at my reflection then got busy brushing my teeth and grooming the wayward strands of my hair that had been ruffled by eager fingers. I replayed the encounter from the previous night as I got dressed and noticed that my hands shook and my pulse raced at the memory. Damn, if a single kiss could cause me to shake so bad, then what would happen when Kyle pinned me beneath him?
If, I reminded myself. Not when.
I forced all thoughts of Kyle, both innocent and naughty, out of my mind so I could use my energy for the visit from three of my favorite people in my life. I referred to them as the Matrons of Maple Lane. Our lane wasn’t very long and three houses in the cul-de-sac were owned by the three women presently taking up space in my kitchen. My grandmother’s house was in the middle with her daughters’ homes flanking hers on both sides—well, that was until Aunt Sandra’s husband passed away and she moved back in with Grandma, who was also a widow.
I rented the house from Aunt Sandra so we could “keep it in the family” like we were some small-town mafia. I loved the cheap rent she charged, but I hated the lack of privacy. I thought that I’d have a little more when I moved out of my parents’ house, but it seemed like they were at my place more than their own when I was home.
My father, Denver Bailey Hamilton, was a living, breathing saint. I had never in my life witnessed a man with so much patience as my father. He was surrounded and fussed over constantly but never seemed to complain. “What’s to be upset about?” he asked when I mentioned it once. “They like to nurture.” Nurturing is one thing, but I thought my mother, aunt, and grandmother resembled hyperactive hummingbirds hovering around a flower with juicy… ew, never mind. That visual was quickly shifting to something too disgusting to contemplate.
“So, what’s going on today?” I asked when I returned to the kitchen where the Matrons sat around the table.
“We have a book idea for you, dear,” Grandma said. “We want you to write a story about a small-town guy who really likes the town vet but is too afraid to act on it. You see, this small-town guy—let’s name him Chad—thinks that the vet is out of his reach, but everyone around them can see that the vet returns Chad’s interest.”
“Chad, huh?” I asked like I was playing along. “What do you think I should name the town vet?”
“Kurt,” Sandra suggested.
“You don’t say?” I asked.
“It was the first name that popped into my mind,” she said with a casual shrug. My aunt did nothing casually, and she didn’t fool me. In fact, the entire conversation seemed rehearsed.
“Chad and Kurt,” I said as if I was mulling it over. Little did they know that I already based one of my first books on Kyle. Of course, Kyle was book hero material, and pieces of him would probably always appear in my writing projects. “What else should I know about either of the men that would make a story entertaining?”
“Well,” my mother said, “Chad is quite a few years younger than Kurt, so he probably doesn’t remember much about the older man from their childhood. I think it’s possible he’s too caught up in the perfection of Kurt as an adult.” What the hell did that mean?
“Huh,” I said. “You know what would make it interesting? What if Chad was friends with Kurt’s younger sister, Bridget? If that were the case, Chad would’ve been a guest at the Vance’s house.”
“True,” Sandra said, “but by then Kurt had already started coming out of his cocoon.”
“What?” I asked because she had lost me. While it was true that I didn’t remember a lot about Kyle, I did recall a tall, handsome kid who always seemed serious. Of course, he was eighteen to my ten and probably wasn’t very excited about chaperoning Brittney’s birthday pool party. Even then, I knew that Kyle Vaughn was a beautiful specimen.
“What Sandra is trying to say is that Ky-Kurt was a late bloomer in life,” Grandma said. “He was an obese boy until he was fourteen or fifteen. I don’t know what motivated him to change, but he started eating better and got involved in sports. It didn’t happen fast, but he had fully transformed himself into a stud by the time you would remember him.”
Kyle had been an obese kid? It was hard to imagine because he was so fit, I mean perfectly so. He must’ve spent countless hours developing those muscles. “Yeah, I don’t know if Chad remembers that or not.”
“The lonely look in Kurt’s eyes is the same one he had when he was bullied in school or picked last to be on a team in gym. I think people no longer see the obese kid when they look at Kurt but I wonder if that’s all he sees,” Sandra said. I hated the thought of Kyle being picked on and overlooked. I hated it so much my heart squeezed painfully in my chest.
“Oh, were you Kurt’s teacher too?” I asked my aunt.
“Don’t get smart with me or I’ll crack you with a ruler,” she replied.
I released a breath slowly as I dug deep for patience over their meddling in my business. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but…”
“There is no buts about it, young man,” Grandma said forcefully. “I’m not getting any younger, and you’re my only hope for great-grandbabies.” Wow, Nan was bringing out the big guns before I had my first cup of coffee.
“Who are you trying to fool?” I asked her. “You’re going to outlive us all.”
“Be that as it may,” she said seriously, “I want to see you happy, Chaz. You’re finally coming into your own with your writing, and I want to see you happy in your personal life too. I want you to have what Josh has.” I wanted that too, but I knew it wasn’t something you just dialed up and had delivered to your house like a pizza.
“It’ll happen for me when the time is right,” I told them. “Please don’t worry about me.”
“It’s our job to worry,” my mother said. “We can’t just turn it off like a switch.”
“Okay, what if I tell you that I’m working harder at making something happen between Chad and Kurt?” I asked, hoping they’d back off if I threw them a little bone.
The three women smiled brightly at me, and I knew I’d said the right thing. Besides, once the words left my mouth, I realized how right they felt. Wasn’t there a little truth in them? I had taken the initiative and kissed him the night before, and we both liked it a lot before I went tearing out of there like a scared punk.
I could make it right easily enough. Kyle said he would call me and I promised him that I’d answer. When he did, I’d apologize for running out on him and ask for a do-over. If he agreed, I would have to find a way to tell him that I was Drew.
I shared my coffee cake with the Matrons then decided to revise my project outline to factor in the rogue changes from the previous night. As always, I got lost in the details of my story and lost track of time until two noises caught my attention: the growling of my stomach and the pinging that I had a message on my phone. My appetite disappeared in a flash when I recognized the ping as the one I designated for my gamer messaging app. There was only one person who had ever contacted me through the app. Kyle.
Kyle indicated that he would call me, but instead, he reached out
to Drew. Damn, it hurt more than it should after nothing more than a kiss. I told myself to just delete the app without reading his message, but I was a glutton for punishment and opened it.
Hey.
Kyle shared a steamy kiss with me, but Drew was the one on his mind? As sick as the thought made me, it was better that I found out sooner rather than later. Okay, maybe I was overreacting to the one-word message, but I didn’t think so. The last thing I needed was to give my heart to a guy who was pining after someone else, even if that someone else was technically me. Damn, I’d made a huge fucking mess of my life and wasn’t sure how to fix it beyond deleting the gamer messaging app.
Kyle finally got around to calling me a few days later like he said he would, but I didn’t keep my end of the bargain. I closed my eyes and tried to block the image of sadness I imagined in his eyes when I hit the button to decline his call.
The situation with Chaz confounded me. I didn’t understand him. One minute we were kissing and the next he was running away from me. One minute he was telling me he’d answer if I called and the next he ignored me when I did. He didn’t even pretend to miss it; he hit the decline button and sent my ass to voicemail before the second ring. What the hell had I done to him? Or Drew for that matter? The only two men who held my interest since my breakup with Gabe didn’t seem to want anything to do with me. What was it about me that sent men fleeing?
I had a lot of free time on my hands—too much if I’m honest—to reflect on my life. I was happy to be home in Blissville with my family and loved my career. Being a vet was more than a career to me; it was a calling. I knew that I wanted to follow my grandfather’s footsteps since he took me to work with him the first time when I was six. I was grateful every day that I could make a living from my passion for veterinary medicine. It wasn’t enough to make me truly happy because in the still of the night I missed the warm body of a man who belonged only to me. I wanted to be able to reach out and touch his back or spoon in behind him. I craved the feel of my leg bumping into his—whoever he might be.
Welcome to Blissville Page 97
