Crazy, Hot Love

by K. L. Grayson

  Standing up, I band my arm around her back and hold her to me. The last thing she needs to see is my erection, which is growing by the second with her tight little body writhing against mine.

  “I’m fine,” I answer, realizing that rather than seeing it, she’s now likely feeling it.

  Screw it.

  I refuse to apologize for the way my body reacts to hers. Oddly enough, she doesn’t seem affected by it.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” I drop my head to her shoulder, needing a moment to catch my breath and process these…these strange feelings coursing through me.

  Claire Daniels is the only woman in this town who gets my blood pumping. I’ve been lusting after her since the fifth grade when she showed up at the rock quarry in a purple bikini. Until tonight, I thought she looked at me as nothing but a distant friend, which worked perfectly, because if that’s all I was to her, there was no reason to tell her my secret, a secret I’ve carried around for thirteen years. But clearly, I was wrong. It’s one thing to watch Claire from afar, but it’s entirely different having her in my arms and knowing that the giant secret I’ve kept for so long could ruin us before we’ve even started.

  I want to blurt it out right now just so we can move forward without anything between us, but I’m not ready for that—and I’m not sure Claire is ready for that. I’m not even sure there’d be anything left between us after I spoke. But my only other option is to walk away now, and after getting a taste of her, I’m not sure that’s an option.

  You have to, I remind myself. Something between Claire and me could never work. There are too many things working against us, too much history between us—history she doesn’t even know about.

  But I’m a selfish bastard, and even though I know I should climb in my truck and never look back, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to do.

  When I look up, she smiles. Her green eyes are shining with a brightness I haven’t seen in far too long, and I’ll be damned if that doesn’t make me feel ten feet tall.

  “Hi,” she says.

  “Hi.”

  “We were talking about that kiss,” she adds, softly.

  “Best damn kiss I’ve ever had.”

  Claire’s cheeks turn pink. She rests her forehead to my chest and laughs.

  “Most women don’t laugh when I compliment them.”

  My words only make her laugh harder, and after a couple of seconds I find myself laughing along with her.

  “Why are you laughing?” I ask.

  She looks up, her eyes wet with tears. I sweep a stray hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

  “Because I finally get you in my arms, and I knee you in the balls. Only I would do something like that.”

  The smile falls from my face. This is another reason I find Claire so incredibly attractive. She’s honest to a fault. But that’s not what has all coherent thought flying from my brain—it’s the other thing. The really important and shocking thing.

  “Finally?”

  She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and watches me. Lifting my hand, I tug on her chin until her lip pops free.

  “I sort of, maybe have a thing for you,” she whispers.

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “Figured it out when you attacked my mouth.”

  “What?” Her jaw drops, and when I smile, she punches me in the shoulder. “You attacked my mouth first, mister.”

  Wrapping my fingers around her wrist, I hold her in place. I shouldn’t tell her I feel the same way. It’ll only make what I have to do that much harder, but I’ll be damned if I let her share her feelings and walk away thinking I don’t feel the same.

  “You’re damn right I did, because I sort of, maybe have a thing for you too.”

  Claire’s lips fall open. “You do?”

  I laugh. “Why do you find that so hard to believe? You’re a beautiful woman, Claire. You’re smart, funny—”

  “Old,” she inserts.

  “Old? You are not old.”

  “I’m four years older than you.”

  “Are you serious right now?”

  She pinches her lips together and glares at me. This is the first time I’ve seen her flustered, and I like it.

  “When I was twenty, you were only sixteen.”

  “Well, you’re not twenty anymore, and while I still have the stamina of my sixteen-year-old self, I assure you I’ve matured physically and emotionally.”

  She swallows, all humor gone from her face as she looks down at my erection nestled between her legs. “I know.”

  I’ve never seen nervous Claire either, and I like her just as well—although the last thing I want Claire to be around me is nervous.

  “Is that why you never told me? Because of our age difference?” Not that it matters, but I want to know.

  “Mostly that—and because you’re Rhett and Coop’s little brother.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’ll want to kill me when they find out about this.”

  “You don’t look too worried.”

  I grin. “I’m not.”

  “What now?”

  Now comes the hard part, sweetheart—the words that will likely kill me to say. “Despite how both of us feel, we can’t act on it.”

  She blinks, and then blinks again. “We can’t?”

  I shake my head. Pressing my palm against her cheek, I move my fingers through her hair and curl them around her head. Slowly, gently, I pull her face to mine. Her eyes dart to my lips, and the need to taste her, one last time, is too strong. My lips find hers, and Claire’s eyes flutter closed as she falls against me. Her lips are soft, and she tastes so damn good, but that’s all this is—all it can be—a taste.

  Claire peels her eyes open when I pull back. “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind? Because I’d really like to explore that a little more.”

  I groan, pressing my lips to hers again, wanting her to feel how hard this is for me, to know that walking away from her is the hardest thing I’ve had to do in a damn long time. She opens to me on a sigh, and I stroke her tongue with mine until her body relaxes against me.

  “I’ve got to admit, Trevor, I’m not sure where you’re coming from,” she mumbles against my lips.

  I place my forehead to hers and smile. “You’re making this so hard.”

  Her body wriggles against mine. “That’s not a bad thing.”

  “It’s a very bad thing,” I say, watching her smile die. “Because we can’t be together.”

  “Remind me again why that is.”

  Because I’m a coward. Because I don’t deserve your attention, let alone your affection, although I crave it more than you’ll ever know. “There are so many reasons I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Humor me.”

  “There’s Rhett and Coop for one.”

  “I can handle them.”

  “How about the fact that you’re relationship material, and I’m the farthest thing from it.”

  “Who said anything about a relationship?”

  “Come on, Claire, you’re a relationship kind of girl, and that’s not a bad thing. And what about your rule? You don’t date firefighters, remember?” And for a damn good reason.

  “Oh, right.” The hope drains from her face. “That pesky little occupation.” She worries her bottom lip for a few seconds. “I’m starting to wonder if my rules are stupid.”

  “Your rules aren’t stupid. They’re logical, and you have them in place for a reason, and while I believe that someday you will move past them, I don’t think today is that day. And I’m not sure I want to be the test dummy.”

  Her cheeks flush, and she looks down. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Small steps, Claire. Maybe you should start with Milo.”

  “So where do we go from here?” she asks, looking up.

  “We go back to doing what we’ve always done.”

  “And what’s that?”

&nb
sp; “I flirt and annoy you, and call you Red, and you ignore me. It’s our thing.”

  “I’ve never been able to ignore you.”

  “Pretend.”

  “So, we just forget tonight happened? I’m not sure I can do that.”

  “I hope you don’t forget it, because I sure as hell won’t. Tonight becomes a fond memory—one of many between us—that we’ll file away like all the others.”

  She nods, her wistful smile transforming into a yawn.

  “It’s been a long day.” I brush a thumb across her plump bottom lip. “It’s getting late. You should head home and get some sleep. You’re probably going to be sore tomorrow.”

  Claire slides off the bathroom counter. She’s halfway out the door when she turns around. “Tonight wasn’t a mistake, right?”

  “Not at all.” I’m protecting you, Red. I’m protecting both of us. Because losing Claire over what I did would be far worse than never having her at all. “It just can’t happen again.”

  She flashes me her beautiful smile one last time. “See you around, Trevor.”

  8

  Claire

  “What are you doing here? You do realize you aren’t on the schedule to volunteer tonight, right?” Mo says, swirling in her seat when I blow by her.

  “I know.” I disappear into the back room where Mo keeps the animal supplies she gives away with an adoption. Doggie bed. Check. Food bowl. Check. Adoption blanket. Check. Treats. Check.

  “Would you like a box for all of that?” Mo asks.

  “That would be great. Thank you.”

  She looks at me strangely and then disappears, returning a couple of seconds later with a cardboard box. I dump everything in my arms into the box and take it from her.

  “Um…Claire?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What are you doing with all of that?”

  “I’ve decided to adopt Milo.”

  Mo furrows her brow, but I don’t have time to stop and explain because I have a million things to do today, and I still need to go buy a collar and a leash.

  “Who’s Milo again?” she asks, following me out to my car.

  I put the box in the back seat. “The blind Pomeranian.”

  I’ve thought about Milo several times over the last week. Trevor’s encouraging words about getting her have been ringing in my head, and I think maybe he’s right. Maybe I need to start with something small like adopting a dog—which I’ve always wanted to do—before I go rearranging all of my well-laid plans about life and love and who I’ll date. I finally figured, why not? What am I waiting for? My life to get on track? Because it’s about as on track as it’s going to get.

  Sure, Trevor derailed me a little bit with those sinful lips of his, but ever since that encounter, I’ve felt rejuvenated and ready to take on the world.

  “Wait a minute. You want to adopt the blind Pomeranian?”

  I nod.

  “And you named her Milo?” Mo asks.

  What about this is so hard to understand? I nod again.

  “You do realize Milo is a boy’s name, right? And she’s a girl.”

  “Yes, Mo, I know. Trevor made a big spectacle of pointing that out.” I step around her, intent on getting Milo and taking her to her new home. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a million things to do today.”

  I can hear Mo’s footsteps behind me as I walk into the kennel, but they’re quickly drowned out by the ear-piercing sound of a dog’s cry.

  “Is that Milo?” I ask, rushing toward her cage.

  “She’s been crying for days, and nothing I do makes her better. I’ve changed her bedding, tried different foods, taken her to the vet…I have no idea what’s wrong with her.”

  I flick the lock and fling the door open. Milo is sitting in the corner, her little body shaking as she howls blindly at the ceiling. It’s as though she trying to get someone’s attention, and I think I know who that someone is.

  Squatting down, I call out to her. “Milo, come here, girl.”

  Milo stops howling at the sound of her name. With her nose in the air, she angles her face toward my voice.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Mo looks at me. “That’s the first time she’s stopped crying in a week.”

  “Because she missed me.” Milo inches toward me, veering off to the side, but rather than pick her up, I let her find her way to me, and she does. Her tongue darts out, tasting the tip of my finger, and then she spins in a circle and barks.

  “That’s right. You remember me,” I say, picking her up. She nuzzles her wet nose to the side of my neck. “You missed me, didn’t you, girl?”

  “Arf.”

  “That’s what I thought.” With Milo against my chest, I step out of the cage. “We bonded last Monday.”

  Mo is smiling. “I can see that.”

  “I want her, Mo.”

  Mo’s smile wanes. “Are you sure? Because I’ve tried to get you to adopt a dog before, and you’ve always resisted. I just don’t want you to get her home and change your mind; that would break her little heart.”

  “I’m positive, and I won’t change my mind.”

  “Then I guess she’s yours.”

  “Did you hear that?” I coo. “You’re officially mine. Milo Daniels. Has a nice ring to it.”

  “It’s not official yet. I still need you to sign some paperwork.”

  “Absolutely. And I’ll pay the adoption fee.”

  Mo waves me off. “You help me out so much around here, I could never take your money. Consider Milo an early birthday gift.”

  My birthday isn’t for months, but I’ll take it. “Thank you, Mo.”

  Mo gathers all of the appropriate paperwork, which I fill out and sign, and then we redo the paperwork for Milo’s chip, assigning me as her owner and contact if it ever gets scanned.

  “That’s it.” Mo shuts the manila envelope. “Milo is officially yours.”

  I look down at Milo, who is sleeping comfortably in my lap, and scratch the top of her head. “I think we’re going to do great together.”

  “I think you will too. Is there anything else you need before you go? Any supplies to get you started?”

  “I don’t think so. I’ve got what I stole from your supply cabinet, and that should get me going until we get settled.”

  Milo doesn’t move a muscle when I stand. She’s limp in my arms as I carry her to the car, but when my step falters at the big truck parked next to mine, her head pops up.

  Trevor climbs out of his truck, tucks his hands in his pockets, and leans a hip against the driver’s door. “Whatcha got there?”

  “I took your advice. As of sixty seconds ago, Milo is mine.”

  A knowing smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. Pushing away from his truck, Trevor walks over to me and pets Milo. She licks frantically at his hand but can’t quite catch a finger before he pulls back.

  “Good choice.” His eyes sweep the length of my body. “Lookin’ good, Red.”

  “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  I hear Mo gasp beside me as Trevor does one of those sexy nods that men do. He walks away, and I can’t help but call out to him, needing to see that sexy smirk one more time.

  “Hey, Trevor?”

  He turns around and grins but keeps walking backward.

  “I got my tetanus shot.”

  His grin stretches across his face. “Good girl. Would you like some sort of prize?”

  I shrug, feeling bold and beautiful in his presence. “You could do us all a favor and take your shirt off.”

  “You first, sweetheart.”

  “In your dreams.”

  “Don’t I know it.” He laughs and steps into the barn.

  I look at Mo, and her jaw is practically dragging the ground.

  “Umm…what was that?” she asks, putting her hand on my forehead.

  I swat her hand away. “What?”

  “First the dog and then whatever that was between you and Trevor. Are you feeling okay?”


  “I’m fine, and that was nothing.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Try again.”

  Laughing, I open my car door and climb in. “Goodbye, Mo.”

  “You’re really not going to tell me? Come on, Claire, we’re best friends. You can tell me if there’s something going on between you and Trevor.”

  “There’s nothing to tell. I’ll call you later.”

  I shut the door, set Milo in the front seat, and check my rearview mirror as I pull out of Animal Haven. Sure enough, Mo is still standing there, hands on her hips, but it’s Trevor’s eyes I catch a glimpse of, and they hold mine as I drive away.

  9

  Claire

  “Knock, knock.” I push open the front door at my mom and Phil’s house and poke my head around the corner. She’s standing at the sink doing dishes, but as soon as she hears my voice she turns around.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” Tossing the rag over her shoulder, she walks into the living room and pulls me into a warm embrace.

  Sharon Daniels is the best mother a girl could ask for. After Daddy passed away, our lives weren’t easy, but you’d never know it. She pulled up her pants—figuratively, of course—and despite her grief, fell easily into the dual role of mom and dad. And I sure as hell didn’t make it easy on her. To say that I handled my father’s passing poorly is a huge understatement.

  The denial stage didn’t last long for me—a few days tops. And not long after Dad’s funeral came the anger. I was angry at him for going back into that building. Angry at myself for being angry at him. Angry at Mom for being seemingly unaffected by the whole thing—although I know now she was putting on a front to stay strong for me. I spent days in bed, crying my eyes out, and then throwing things around my room. But Mom was always right there with a gentle touch and enough encouraging words to coax me into the shower or to eat a hot meal.

  The bargaining and depression phase was nothing but a big blur of emotional mess. Tears. Crying. Screaming. Sleeping for days. Refusing to go to school. Refusing to see my friends. Refusing to live. Not even Mo could get through to me.

  And then, somehow, came the acceptance. It took years, but with my mother’s unwavering support and love—and her example of bravery and perseverance—I finally came to accept that my father was gone. Some days—especially holidays or birthdays—I still expect to see the fire truck pull up in front of the house. I’m not sure that’ll ever go away. I’m not sure I want it to. Because unlike when I was younger, I can look back on those memories—the memories of my father dressed in his turnouts barging through the door, scooping me up, and tossing me over his shoulder while he gave my mother a kiss; Mom and me taking Christmas cookies to the firehouse and listening to the guys all fawn over my mother’s baking skills—and feel something other than devastating emptiness. I can feel the joy I had in those moments, though they’re long past, and they remind me of the duty I have to be the woman my father would have wanted me to be. Careful, loyal, brave, strong.