by Murphy,Misti
“Right.” He moves to the steps, motioning me to join him on them. “I told Rush to give you a couple minutes. Poor bastard is probably pacing the kitchen wondering what the hell happened.”
“That’s not his style.” Unless of course he somehow managed a glimpse inside my insanity, or caught a look at my feelings on my face. Oh God, they were probably plastered over my face like some kind of concert poster on a lamp pole. I want to be your girl. I think I’m in love with you. Shit.
But I’m not. I can’t be. I’m the freaking ice queen when it comes to men like him, or at least I’m supposed to be. Except he’s not like men like him, is he? Rush isn’t like anyone.
Sure, he’s arrogant and bull headed, but he’s also nice, and genuine, and caring. Crap on a cracker. And he’s probably going to burst out the door behind us any second and tell me I broke our deal. “Besides, nothing happened. I needed some air. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” He gives me the side eye and grins easily. “I mean I’ve seen you go into your head a few times since you got here, but this was something else. Toe tapping, and the look on your face.” He clasps his hands together between his knees. “You stared at nothing for five minutes straight.”
Maybe I’m already on that bus, and I don’t know it yet, because of this whole situation. This entire thing with the Hadleys and with Rush is in my head. Yep, that’s probably it, right? I pinch the skin on the inside of my arm and give a surprised yelp when it hurts. Nope, this is real, and I can feel the awkward heat and the irregular rhythm of my heart at the idea that Rush is pacing the kitchen because I’m falling for him.
Falling, not fallen. I refuse to believe I’m already in love with him. It’s not too late. I can still salvage my pride. Oh hell, it’s not like I had any dignity to begin with. “It was nothing.”
“Ah, shut up. You’re a Hadley now whether you like it or not. Time to air your shit. What were you thinking?”
I was imagining your brother wants more than in my panties. I cover my face. Come on, my thoughts have to be written all over it in bright red scrawl. But I’m not going to admit it. I’m not that crazy. What would his family think of me?
Tommy would probably laugh. “You silly girl. Rush isn’t going to develop feelings for you. You’re just a distraction.”
Knowing that doesn’t seem to be of any help, though, does it? I’m still sitting here, pretty certain it’s going to hurt like hell when I leave Rush. What else can I tell him? What can I say to hide my shame? “It was Mia.”
Yeah, blame the baby. She can’t defend herself. I am such a monster.
“What was Mia?” He jiggles a leg. “You’re going to have to explain yourself a bit more.”
Right. Okay. I can do this. I’ve committed to the baby path. Maybe I can still recover from this. “Not Mia exactly. Babies. Sarah. Do you know about Sarah?” I glance at the door behind us. No one comes barging out. At least I’ve got that going for me. “The rest of them seem to.”
“Your niece? You’re her guardian?”
“Yep.”
“Does that make her your niece, or your daughter? Are you her mom, since you’re the only parent she has?”
Is he kidding? How am I supposed to know the answer to that? I gulp, choke when it goes down wrong. “I-I’m not sure. Maybe I’m her montie.”
“Montie?”
“Yeah, auntie and mom all rolled into one.” I juggle my hands, pretending to put together an invisible ball from the mess of who the hell I am. Because I don’t know. I really don’t have any clue anymore. “I mean, I don’t want her not knowing about Adelaide, her real mom, but I’m going to be her mom for as long as I live.”
Slumping back, I deflate like a popped balloon. Not because I have a little girl who depends on me for everything. That part is actually pretty amazing. It makes me ache to get home and start really being that person she needs. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore. I can’t be an entertainment journalist. Out at all hours and away for potentially long periods of time. Coming here, doing this was ridiculous.”
“Ah.” He nods. “How long have you wanted to be a reporter?”
“Always. My mother has pictures of me at five, waving a microphone around and interviewing anyone who paused long enough for me to grab onto.”
“It was your dream.” He says it so matter of fact as he gets up off the steps.
“Yeah, I guess. But it’s not anymore.”
Offering me his hand, he pulls me up. “Let’s take a walk.”
I dust myself off, slanting another glance at the door. “What about the others? What about Rush?”
Grinning, he leads the way through the backyard and around the side of the house. “Let him stew in it for a bit. It’ll be good for him.”
I have no idea what he thinks Rush is stewing in. Other than his need to get this lovesick little fool away from him. But I can put off the mortification of him telling me my feelings are showing and to leave a little while longer. Or forever.
Forever would be preferable. Maybe if I don’t think about them these feelings won’t exist.
We walk for a little while. A couple blocks and around the edge of the lake. Mostly in quiet, which is really great when I don’t want to think about the fact that my heart freaking smiles at the thought of Rush. Seriously. It smiles. This warm, fuzzy smile over his violet eyes or his touch, or even a few words. Shut up heart, stop grinning like that.
“So how much do you know about me?” Tommy asks. “You’re a reporter, so I assume you must have done your homework.”
I did. On all of the Hadleys. “You were a boxer. You did it competitively for a while. The articles from that time suggested you could have gone a long way before the accident. That you floated over the canvas, that you had a style and agility most couldn’t live up to.”
“Yeah.” He taps a fist to his hip bone. “I probably could have gone far until the hit and run. That kind of put a kink in my aspirations.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he hunkers his shoulders as we climb a grassy embankment. “I could have continued after I recovered, but with the metal in my hip and everything it took to get back on my feet, I don’t think I would ever have gotten back into form. Not the way I was before.”
“So you moved back to Reverence?”
“Correct. I moved home and wondered what the hell I was supposed to do with myself now that I was giving up my dreams. A little like you are at the moment.”
“I’m not sure it’s the same thing.” I follow him through a carpark to a building that has his name on it. I’d seen it before while wandering around the town, but never gone in. “My goals in life are nothing compared to what you lost out on.”
“Not really.” He shrugs and holds the door open for me to enter first. “Different goals, same driving force, right?”
“I guess.” We step into the main room of the fight gym. Even early on a Sunday morning there are people hitting bags, sparring, skipping rope. It’s startlingly noisy, with the constant thump, thump, thump of fists hitting bags.
“So what do you see here?” He leans against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his face full of pride.
“People boxing?” I glance at him for confirmation. Is he going to tell me I should be seeing something else, because I’m pretty sure that’s what they are doing.
“Right. And this is my place. I help those that need to finesse their style so they can compete, teach self-defense classes, spar.”
I nod. Nope, I don’t get what he’s trying to point out at all. But it’s definitely awesome that he’s built this business.
Leaning closer, he whispers conspiratorially, “I still box. I’m still a fighter. I didn’t give up anything, really. I changed the venue.”
“You don’t box competitively, though.”
“So?” He shrugs. “Did you always want to interview celebrities? Or did you want to interview interesting people? Did you want to write gossip? Or did you want to write articles to inform
the people who read them?”
“I was curious, I suppose. I wanted to know things, write about it, share it. I chose entertainment for the concerts, mostly.”
“Right. So maybe you still know who you are and what you want to do. It hasn’t changed, but maybe you need to consider a new arena. One that will free you up to spend more time with your daughter.”
Daughter? Such a weird word to apply to Sarah, and yet it feels oddly right. “So you’re saying I should consider another form of journalism. I just don’t want to miss any more time with her, and doing what I do—”
“Another form, perhaps another media?” Straightening up, he leads me back the way we came. “Think about it. You’ll work it out. But we better get back before Rush blows a gasket.”
Oh yeah, that whole my heart beats funny for the boy thing I don’t want to face is waiting for me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rush
I’ve seen her do some weird things. Gotten used to them in a way. Hell, come to enjoy them to a degree. But this morning took the cake. She went so far into her head I’m amazed she wasn’t staring out the back of it. And she looked so freaked out when she realized whatever she’d been thinking had only been in her hyperactive imagination. Instead of the cute red she normally goes, she went snow white and gaped like a fish.
So it has to be bad, right? Whatever she’s thinking, it can’t be good.
I stalk to the arch leading into the rest of the house. Tommy told me to stay put, but I’m not good at taking direction from a sibling, especially when it comes to Maxi being okay. I’d given her the couple minutes he suggested, two actually, staring at my watch, counting each second, and then I went to find her, but she wasn’t in the bathroom.
Storming back around, I’d figured I’d go outside and get some air. There is nothing quite as irritating as a brick shithouse of a brother standing right in front of the exit, telling me I’m not going anywhere. To sit my ass down and insert a caffeine drip before I do something stupid.
Me, do something stupid? Like what? I only wanted to make sure she was okay. I sure as hell have no idea what happened, but she didn’t look good, and I don’t ever want to see her like that again. Not when I can put a smile on her face. Mace doesn’t move, staring me down until I relent and take the coffee Chels is pushing at me. “I want to make sure she’s okay.”
“Your girl is fine. Tommy has her,” Mace grumbles. “She’s better than you are.”
I’m not sure that’s true. It used to be she went red and she’d avoid me for days. How much worse could going sheet white be? And she’s only here for a couple more weeks. I don’t want to spend that time trying to work out what the hell happened. I need to spend it with her being her, cuddled up to me, talking shit, arguing the virtues of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which she still refuses to try.
“She’s not my girl, dickhead.” She isn’t and she won’t be, but right now, it kind of feels like she is my girl, at least as far as I should be the one she’s talking to about what’s bothering her. Not Tommy. “And I am going to go through you. You know I can.”
“Sure.” He shrugs.
Am I the only one who has Jet’s ‘Are You Gonna Be My Girl’, playing in my head like an earworm? Probably. Weird song to be thinking of, except that everyone keeps referencing Maxi as ‘my girl.’ That’s all it is. “Now.”
Glancing behind him he hesitates for another moment, and then moves out of the way with a grin. “Go on then.”
Finally. I push through the door, making sure to give him a little shove on the way past and then I hurtle out into the sunshine. No Tommy, no Maxi. No wonder Mace was so happy to move. Asshole.
I entertain the idea of storming out of there. Of going home and doing some work. Maxi was supposed to distract me from girls, not everything else, and I should get some more work done for the upcoming show. At least then I can block her out of my mind for a bit. Like I hadn’t been able to last night. Perhaps that’s why I have this song stuck in my head. Because for a few minutes there I was thinking about what it would be like if she was mine.
Cinching my hands behind my head, I exhale. It’s the last thing I want. Her. I’m on the road all the time. I don’t need some girl waiting in the wings. I don’t want to have to think about someone else when I’m working 24/7, or when temptation is being thrown in my face and at my dick. I want to enjoy it for what it is, like I’m enjoying my time with her for what it is.
And she knows that. I’ve made it clear. I don’t think I could have been blunter about it if I tried. Even if I wanted more with her, which I don’t, she wouldn’t give it a second thought. That’s something I liked about her from the start.
The prickling energy in my limbs starts to seep away, which is good, because I can’t up and leave. I have to wait for her to get back from wherever Tommy took her.
***
The walk home from Tommy’s is quiet. We’d left as soon as they’d gotten back from wherever he took her. She’s quiet as we eat up the pavement. Although she told me she was all right, she’s yet to make eye contact with me. I don’t like that she’s hiding. We’d gotten past that, or so I thought, but right now it feels like we’re back at the beginning. It’s a disappointing sensation that makes me want to do anything to have my sexy little nun back to her usual self.
“What’s on your mind?” Catching her hand, I squeeze it.
“Nothing.” Her hair is in her face, and as much as I like that shiny waterfall, I want to scrape it away from her eyes, grasp her chin, and make her look at me.
“Try again. What are you thinking?”
“I miss Sarah. I miss home.” She skips a step, pulling at my arm a little, and she sounds exhausted. “I’m ready to leave.”
When I do catch her gaze she looks more nervous than I’ve ever seen her. My heart drops a beat. We’re both the strange ones in our own lives, both different, but I get her. And she gets me, perhaps more than she realizes. And I am not ready to let her go yet. “That isn’t the deal.”
I probably sound harsher than I mean to, but I still plan on spending the next two weeks with her. I still want that time, even if I’m being completely selfish like she’s told me I am from time to time.
“I remember,” she says, sounding resigned to the fact that she’s not leaving yet. “And I won’t renege, but you wanted to know what I was thinking.”
“Yep.” Why couldn’t she have been thinking about riding my dick? At least that would make some sense out of her strange behavior. A full on sex fantasy while seated among my siblings would have explained the sheer humiliation I glimpsed before she bolted. “And what else? Were you thinking about my cock over bacon and eggs at Tommy’s kitchen table? About how enormous it is? Is that why you freaked out?”
She lets out a strangled little laugh. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?”
“Have you got a better explanation?” Pulling her closer, I lay an arm over her shoulders and grin. I may never know what went on in that brain of hers today, but if I can make her smile that has to count for something. “Admit it, little nun, you can’t get enough of my giant boner and the way I can make it disappear into your tight wet pussy.”
“Jesus, Rush.” But she’s lost that quiet nervous edge that’s been weighing her down as she darts her tongue along her lip and inhales.
“Just Rush, sweet cheeks. Like the mad-dash ride you’re going to take on my dick as soon as we get inside.” I pick her up off her feet, and she winds her legs around my waist as the house comes into view. I want her to stop thinking about how much she wants to leave. I need her to want to be here with me, and see that glow on her skin, those heavy glazed eyes that make me feel like she’d rather be with me than anywhere else.
At least for a little while longer. It’s just that she’s such a high, and I’m a bit of a junkie when it comes to that feeling I get from her and the stage. I march right up to the door pressing her back to it as I drag my mouth over hers. “You like b
eing on my cock, don’t you, little nun? You like when I’m pumping into you, your pussy tightening on me as you cum?”
Her hand grasps mine, lifting it to her breast and covering it while she arches into my palm. “Yes, I like it. I want it, your cock filling me. You filling me. So much.”
Somehow, I get the door open and stumble inside before kicking it shut. We barely make it across the rug in the foyer and into the living room with her hands in my hair and my mouth locked on hers. She’s bouncing in my arms, almost frantic with desire. So fucking needy and unrestrained. My chest might puff up a little at the fact that it’s for me she’s like this. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. The way you take me, shit, it’s perfect.”
We fall in a tangle on the couch, her knees cradling my hips as she struggles with my shirt. Reaching behind me, I fist the material and yank it up over my head. Her wide sex-filled gaze drags over my torso to my crotch. “It’s a magic wand that grants orgasms. I don’t think I could ever get enough.”
If I wasn’t so ready to disrobe her of the rest of her clothes, I might chuckle at her describing my dick like that, but honestly I’m pretty chuffed that she sees it that way, and far too light headed with all the blood rushing down to care what she calls my dick as long as she screams my name when she orgasms.
“That was weird, wasn’t it?” She groans as I yank her dress up over her head.
A little, but I’m used to her now. I enjoy the strange and wonderful that she is. I relish the way she grips tight on my cock and bites her lip before she cries out for me.
“Perfect.” I push a slate colored bra cup up over her breast and pinch her nipple while I spread her thighs. She whimpers at the touch, her ass rising off the couch as I slide my palm to cup her pussy. Hot, wet and barely covered by a cute thong that does little to dull the sensation of my fingers stroking over it. “Let’s see what kind of magic I can grant with my fingers.”
Dipping underneath the thin material, I slide a digit through her wetness from her clit and down the length of her slit. The heat of her coating my fingers makes my dick twitch and grow harder. With a groan, I skim my fingers up and down, over and over, each time pressing into her entrance a little more as she bucks to me.
