Why Not? (Love Riddles Book 3)

by Carey Heywood

  The last time I was this close to him he was dropping me off after one insane night of sex. How do I act around him?

  “I hear this is a celebratory dinner. Are you cool with me crashing?”

  Words fail me, so I nod.

  I’m still staring at him when Jake surprises me by leaning down and kissing my temple. “I’m proud of you, Reils.”

  Twisting, I throw my arms around his neck, and he wraps me in a tight hug. “Best big brother a girl could have.”

  There were times before he moved back that I was angry at him for leaving. I didn’t understand what compelled him to isolate himself the way he did. He lived and worked on an oil rig off the coast of Santa Barbara. It wasn’t until he got with Kacey that he finally shared how bad our grandparents’ finances were when they died. He worked on that rig so he could shield me from that and shoulder the burden all on his own.

  Even miles away, he was taking care of me. Our grandparents’ house was the final piece of debt hanging over his head. He came back to town to sell it, but had to stay and fix it up after some dickheads trashed the place.

  Him staying might have been the best thing that ever happened to us. It made him finally hook up with Kacey, and he’s going to ask her to marry him soon.

  I love seeing the people I love most in the world happy and getting settled. I’ll focus on that instead of how awkward this dinner will be.

  I give Jake one more squeeze before letting him go. Working as a contractor might not be glamorous, but I’m grateful it’s safe work in comparison to working on that rig.

  “Love you,” he murmurs before letting me go.

  Then he moves to open the door for us. Trip guides me through it, his hand hot on the small of my back.

  He leaves it there when we stop at the hostess stand.

  “How many?” A teenage girl asks, her eyes roaming up and down Trip.

  The nerve. I’m standing right here, and she’s all of twelve years old. Okay, more like sixteen but still. We aren’t blind; I can see her checking him out.

  “Four,” he replies in his annoyingly sexy voice.

  Her eyes go half-mast, and I add, “A booth would be great if you have one.”

  Her eyes flick to mine and she plucks four menus off her stand before huffing, “Follow me.”

  My eyes go squinty but my annoyance doesn’t last long when Trip moves his hand from my back to reach for my hand. That’s public hand holding, in front of my brother.

  That is most certainly a declaration of something, and while I’m on board with it, I’m curious as to what he would have done if I weren’t.

  I could have easily pulled my hand away, instead of letting his long strong fingers wrap around mine. As we move through the restaurant, it strikes me that not only is Jake witness to this, but given the opening night crowd, half the town as well.

  I hope Trip understands what he’s done.

  Jake doesn’t mince words once we’re all seated and the hostess is gone. “What’s going on with you two?”

  “We’re seeing each other,” Trip replies.

  Kacey’s jaw drops. “Since when?”

  My cheeks redden. There are not many things I’ve ever kept from her.

  “It’s new, very new,” I explain.

  She does not look convinced.

  “Do we need to have a conversation as to what your intentions are with my baby sister?” Jake asks.

  My brother does not look pleased, which makes absolutely no sense because he likes Trip. Granted, he’s never liked any guy I’ve dated. Not that Trip said we’re dating, he said we’re seeing each other. I’m going to need to find out exactly what that means to him.

  “Like she said, it’s new,” he answers nonchalantly.

  This is great, absolutely my worst nightmare. He’s never going to talk to me again because my brother, who I loved five minutes ago, is going to scare him off.

  The tension eases after we order and our drinks come.

  “To the best reporter I’ve ever seen,” Trip says, lifting his glass.

  Thankfully, neither Jake nor Kacey hesitate to lift theirs in agreement.

  The awkwardness returns when the bill comes and Trip and Jake argue over who is paying.

  “At least let me pay half,” Trip grumbles.

  “But that would mean I’m only paying for Kacey and me when treating Reilly to dinner was my idea,” Jake argues.

  “Fine, then imagine I paid for Kacey,” Trip fires back.

  Jake stiffens. “No one pays for Kacey but me.”

  “Alright you manly men settle down,” I snap. Then, turning to Trip I say, “Will you let Jake pay?”

  He looks at me then back at Jake. “How about I cover Reilly and my drinks?”

  Jake’s mouth twitches. “Deal.”

  Kacey rolls her eyes.

  After we’re all paid up, we say our goodbyes in the parking lot. Jake and Kacey take off in his truck while Trip, my hand in his, walks me to my Jeep.

  When we get there, I lift our joined hands and point to them. “What’s this all about?”

  He shrugs, “You pissed?”

  I shake my head. “It was unexpected.”

  He tilts his head to the restaurant. “It’ll be all around town by tomorrow.”

  “And?” I ask.

  His hands slide around my waist. “Means we don’t need to sneak around anymore.”

  Then, in the parking lot of the pizza place, he kisses me.

  I’m breaking all of my rules with her. I’m not sure what made me do it. A guy was staring at her and I grabbed her hand. He needed to understand he had no chance with her, and that was my way of getting my point across.

  I have been out with women before who other men have noticed and it never bothered me. The way he watched her unnerved me. There was a possessive quality to his stare. I haven’t been back in Ferncliff long. It’s possible that I stumbled onto a jealous ex. Either way, I needed it to be clear to him that she is unavailable.

  Now, I’m following her back to her place. Now, I won’t be waiting by the curb for her to sneak out so I can take her back to the inn. Now, she’s going to invite me in, and I’m not leaving until tomorrow morning.

  Their driveway is big enough for both of our cars and her roommates to fit. Reilly is already out of her car and smirking at me as I pull in.

  I’m curious about her space. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I’ve wanted to be here.

  As soon as I park, she turns and walks to the front door. She’s holding it open for me by the time I reach her.

  When she told me she shared a place with someone, I figured the inside would look like a regular house. It’s a surprise to see that while it looks like that on the outside, it’s clearly split into two separate spaces on the inside.

  “I’m upstairs,” she murmurs, moving to shut and lock the front door behind me.

  She then unlocks another door that opens onto a staircase. Once I’m on the stairs with her, she closes and locks that door behind us as well.

  Her keys jingle in her hand as she fidgets with them.

  She’s nervous.

  What the hell is she nervous for?

  “You okay?” I ask.

  She gives me a jerky nod, but her body language says otherwise. I don’t press her on it and follow her up the stairs.

  The space opens up into a big living room with a kitchenette along one wall. There are wood floors throughout which, considering I’ve been looking at rentals recently, is a nice touch. By the lack of artwork on the walls, I can’t tell if she’s lived here long or not.

  Part of my job is reading people. Never in a million years would I picture Reilly living like this.

  It’s not the place itself; it’s the cluttered mess. Her eyes flitter over the tower of dirty dishes in the sink and her overflowing trash can.

  This is what she was nervous about. On TV and around town, she looks put together. At home, she’s a mess.

  She sets her purse an
d keys on a table that is somewhat uncluttered and turns to face me. Her fingers twist as she clasps her hands in front of herself.

  I close the distance between us and pull her into my arms. Before I cover her mouth with mine, I mutter, “You need a maid.”

  She laughs against my lips and I taste her relief. Her arms loop around my neck, and I lift her.

  Breaking our kiss, I gaze into her eyes, “Which door is your room?”

  She points to a half-opened door.

  “Is your bed covered with shit?”

  Her laughter comes back and she does it shaking her head.

  With my hands on her ass, her legs circling my hips, I carry her into her room. When I pause by the door, she reaches out to flip the switch.

  I’m grateful for light once it’s on. “Do you ever do laundry or do you just buy new clothes?”

  She glowers at me; a reaction I would normally find annoying is somehow cute on her. “I’m a little behind on laundry.”

  There are piles of clothes everywhere but the bed.

  My eyes move over her bed. The sheets are rumpled, but otherwise it looks clean. Putting a knee to it, I lower her to the mattress. She presses her lips together, her eyes an invitation I do not decline.

  I cover her, pressing my body against hers. She squirms beneath me, tugging at my shirt. We work together even when we’re at odds. She’s inpatient tonight, but I’m in the mood to play. Pushing off her, I stand.

  She reaches for me, but I evade her grasp.

  “I want to watch you.”

  “What?” she breathes.

  Leaning against her dresser, I press my palm to my already hardening dick. “You heard me.”

  She scoots back further onto her bed, not stopping until her back hits the pile of pillows at the head. “You want to watch me what?”

  “Make yourself come,” I reply.

  Her eyes flick to the ceiling fan light above her bed. This nuance, her privately being so shy even though she lives such a public life, excites me. She lets go when we’re together but I’m forced to pull it from her.

  She’s so different from what people who watch her on TV would assume. The confident mask she wears slips when it’s just the two of us.

  From her fidgeting on the stairs, to the way her eyes traveled over the mess of her place, was unexpected. At any point tonight, she could have suggested we go back to the inn and not come here.

  She didn’t do that. In the restaurant, I took her hand and that got her letting me in here.

  “Take off your clothes, and show me how you get yourself off,” I command.

  She gulps, her chest rising with her swift intake of air. Trembling fingers move to the hem of her shirt. My body reacts.

  She turns me on in ways I’ve never imagined. It’s like I’m a teenager again with how obsessed with having her I’ve become. She invades my errant thoughts.

  Her shirt lands on top of the nearest pile of clothes. My eyes linger on her breasts. Her skin calls out for my touch.

  Looking up at me, she drags her fingertips across the swell of flesh exposed above the cup of her Kelly green bra.

  Clearly bent on tormenting me, she leaves her bra on and eases her fingers toward the fly of her jeans.

  Is it nerves or to draw out my anticipation that has her moving as slow as she is? Outside of the gentle rush of air from her ceiling fan, the room is silent.

  She pops open the button and lowers the zipper. Shifting onto her back, she tugs off her jeans leaving her matching panties on.

  She surprises me by not taking them off. Instead, she caresses herself over them. Her other hand squeezes her breast, and I’m mesmerized.

  I have seen and touched just about every inch of her skin. In our short time together, we’ve covered a lot of ground sexually. She must do yoga or some Pilates shit, because some of the positions I’ve taken her in require serious flexibility.

  With that, it’s a shock that watching her touch herself, over her panties, is as erotic as it is.

  Is it the promise of what’s to come that is turning me on? I’m torn between watching her fingers or her face. It’s the action versus reaction, and both are compelling.

  Her eyes call out to me, demanding my attention. Her public face is not just lifted, it’s gone. She’s giving me something I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for.

  I took a step tonight taking her hand. She took her own in trusting me in her space. I don’t need to ask her, I’m certain I’m the only man who has ever been in this room with her like this.

  The prospect is both thrilling and daunting. She’s already giving more than I’m prepared to take. I’m caught though, in her gaze, in her web of a cluttered-ass house.

  If she was as perfect as everyone assumes, it would have been easier to walk away from her.

  The tempo of her strokes increases, my eyes flicking down to her hand before coming back to her face. She gulps; there is a satisfied quality to it like she’s a cat about to dive into a bowl of cream.

  Her nerves have faded, her gaze not wavering from mine. She is stunning. Her lips part, and her breath quickens. She’s close.

  I move to the edge of the bed, dropping to my knees and leaning over closer to her as I watch.

  Her toes flex and then curl. My hands are tense; they want to grab her by the ankles and pull her to me. I will, but not yet, not until she’s finished.

  Her breath comes out in pants as her hips flex upward.

  “What are you thinking of?” I ask.

  Her voice is raspy. “I don’t have to think. I’m looking at you.”

  Any other woman said that, my flight instinct would kick in. Reilly says it and I want to howl in victory.

  Reaching over my head, I tug my shirt off. Her eyes flash when they land on my bare skin. With a soft whimper, she gets herself there. That sound is so sexy it’s a miracle I don’t come hearing it.

  Now it’s my turn.

  She watches me with a lazy smile as I undress. I don’t make her wait long.

  “Lose the bra and panties,” I order, before I pounce.

  A muffled cry wakes me. Blinking into the darkness, I lift my head.

  Reilly is out, her naked body curved into mine. Whatever that noise was, it didn’t wake her. I sit up, my movement causing her to blink up at me.

  “You don’t have to go,” she murmurs, reaching for me.

  Warmth from her words precedes her touch. “I wasn’t going. I heard something.”

  The noise comes again, quieter this time.

  “Did you hear that?” I ask.

  Sleepily, she nods. “It sounds like Dylan. He has nightmares sometimes.”

  “Another reason to never have kids,” I grunt, falling back against the pillow.

  She stiffens beside me and stays that way even after I pull her back into my arms.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “Ah, I guess,” she mumbles.

  She guesses? What the fuck does that mean?

  “You guess?” I press.

  “Mmhmm,” she replies, but is still rigid as all hell against me so she’s full of it.

  “Reilly, cut the bullshit and tell me what tweaked you.”

  “Nothing tweaked me,” she argues.

  I sit back up and reach over to turn on her bedside light. “Reilly, one second you were relaxed, and the next you were freaked. What is it?”

  She looks away. “Can we just go back to sleep?”

  My brows furrow, “I’m not letting this go.”

  She pulls away, pressing the sheet to her chest as she wipes sleep from her eyes. She is so effortlessly beautiful. I can’t let that make me ignore the red flag she’s giving off.

  She won’t meet my eyes as she replies, “You said something about never having kids. It caught me off guard because someday I do want a family.”

  It’s my turn to tense. Fuck. All I did was hold her hand in public, and now she’s telling me she wants kids someday. Proof that she was too good to be
true.

  I slide out from under the sheets and reach for my jeans.

  “You’re leaving?” she gasps.

  “Listen, Reilly. I’m not that guy.”

  She comes up onto her knees still clutching the sheet to her chest, her caramel hair falling around her face. “I know you’re not that guy. Why the hell do you think I didn’t want to tell you?”

  I pause once my jeans are over my hips, leaving them undone. “Then why are you even thinking about kids?”

  Her eyes narrow. “You brought them up.”

  Okay, she has a point there.

  I lift my hands to placate her, but she shakes her head. “No, you pushed me and then didn’t like it. You’ve been crystal clear about what we aren’t, and that is a couple. All we are is sex, so now that you’ve fucked me, you can finish getting dressed and go.”

  It’s back, her reporter shield.

  All right, I may have overreacted. “Reilly.”

  “You can leave.”

  I reach for her, and she flinches. Fuck.

  “Look. I was a dick. I’m sorry.”

  Her shoulders sag. “It’s fine.”

  Fine. That word from a pissed off woman means it’s anything but.

  She proves this when I go to push down my jeans, lifting her hand palm toward me and she says, “Please go.”

  “Reilly.”

  She shifts further away. “Go.”

  If that’s how she wants it to be, I don’t have time for this shit. I bend down to grab my shirt and yank it on. Without looking back, I leave her room, zipping up my jeans as I go.

  Pausing at her door, I wait to see if she’ll call me back. I want her to call me back, to give me a chance to explain. My eyes travel over her space again.

  When I walked into this house, it was like I was being let in on a secret. Now I’m being pushed from it, no longer trustworthy.

  She doesn’t call me back.

  I fucked tonight up. Hopefully, she’ll be over it by the next time I see her, and I won’t have permanently fucked things up with her. All I can do now is go back to the inn and give her space.

  I lock her doors behind me, kicking myself. Here I am, leaving a warm bed in the middle of the night because I was an asshole. There goes my plan of waking up with her in my arms.