For the first time, Aaron didn’t feel cornered by his family, even knowing Chase’s hand had to be in this. He’d call Chase after, maybe head over to McDermitt and stop in to see him, Rose, and Billy Jo—check up on him for a change. That brought another smile to his face. It would throw Chase off a bit, rattle him. Good!
“Hey, they’re ready for you,” Jim popped in to say and rested the robe over Aaron’s shoulders just as he closed up his locker.
He shoved his arms in the sleeves and walked out of the locker room, pulling his hood up, seeing the lights, the security, feeling the buzz all around him. It was different this time, because her face was different, her image had changed. Then she was right in front of him, and a security dude was shaking his head and holding his arm up, but she was standing her ground, arguing.
“Wait, let her through,” Aaron said, seeing her face, her eyes, her determination. There was chanting, and Jim was on his other side.
“Aaron, got to go,” Jim said. “Leave the babe. They’re calling you.”
He heard the announcer, who was gearing up with an explosion over the mic.
“Aaron, I’m sorry,” Mary said. “I’m here. I had to come.” Her hands were on him, touching his arm from behind.
“I thought you left,” he said. He wasn’t sure what to make of this, what to think, but he had to be up there on stage. He had to go.
Then she had both hands on his face, his cheeks, right against him, and she pressed a kiss to his lips that rocked him and jolted right though to his toes. He heard the fans. The energy spiked, and people were cheering with all manner of emotion. She had her tongue in his mouth, holding him and kissing him as if he were her only breath. His hands were on her ass, and then she pulled away and down.
They were walking, and he slung his arm around her, pulling her down the aisle. The cheering fans that he’d never seen before reached out to him, touching him and her as he guided her, his arm around her waist so she wouldn’t get ripped away in the crowd. They headed to the front, where he spotted Luc and went to him, grabbed him, and hugged him. He didn’t miss Luc’s shocked look.
He grabbed Mary’s arm, leaned in close to his brother’s ear, and said, “My girl, Mary…”
“Brittany,” she shouted.
“Brittany.” He couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at the corners of his lips. “My girl, Brittany. Look after her.”
Then Jim pulled him away, and his robe was gone, and he climbed into the ring. The announcer called out his name and his opponent’s, weighing them both in, and the crowd was going wild.
Before, when he had seen Brittany’s face, it had been through a haze of rage and hurt and pain, but as he looked over in the seconds before the match and took in Brittany with Luc, he saw a different face, though her eyes and something else about her were the same.
Then the bell dinged, and his opponent was on him. Wherever he had fought from before, the hate, the anger, the betrayal, now he felt something he’d never felt in his life as he pounded at Harris, who had his hands up, blocking his head, taking the blows one after the other. Aaron had him down on the ground, and then he was pulled off. The ref was there, and his arm was up again. The crowd was going wild.
“McCabe does it again!” he heard the announcer yell. The microphone was in his face, and this time he took it instead of pushing it away.
“This is for you, Brittany.” He pointed at her. The crowd was going wild, and she smiled that sweet smile, her dimples popping, and it was all for him. He handed the mic to someone and was out of the ring. He didn’t see the screaming, crazed women with signs and banners of undying love, jumping and shouting for him.
He put his arms around Brittany and lifted her, kissed her, tasted her, hearing the crazy cheering and feeling the return of something he’d thought was lost forever.
21
Aaron had a suite at the Hermitage, and he climbed into the shower to rinse off the sweat and the blood from the cut below his eye, which he hadn’t felt.
Luc was still shell-shocked, as no one had filled him in. Leave it to Vic not to share the story with anyone. At one time he’d have appreciated it, but right now he took exception, considering Luc didn’t handle this kind of drama well. He had actually cried when he found out who Brittany was, and he’d pulled her from Aaron and hugged her. She’d laughed at his emotion.
Jim and Trey had ridden back with Luc to the hotel while Aaron took a black town car with Brittany. They had arrived first, and he’d lifted Brittany in his arms as he opened the door to his suite and then rested her on the sofa, which had earned him a squeal.
He heard the door to the shower open and looked down at the girl he loved, who was naked and a beautiful woman now. She had a scar under her ribs as well as the one on her leg, and she walked into the water against him. Her hands went around his waist and held him, and he slid his hands over her cheeks to see her. She was so close.
“You came back. Why, how?” he asked, wanting to know everything, but he couldn’t get it all out.
Maybe she knew, as she nodded, reaching up and gripping his wrists, holding him. “I finally found her,” she said. “She didn’t disappear.”
Maybe the expression on his face told her that he wasn’t sure he got what she was saying, as she nodded. “Brittany, I found her.” She rose up on her toes and touched her lips to his, and he took his time kissing her, feeling her hands slide around him and feel him, touch him as if remembering every part of him.
He remembered his first time with Brittany, the first time he’d loved her, and he remembered every curve of her body, where she loved to be touched, what brought from her the sounds she shared only with him.
He lifted her against the shower wall. Her legs wrapped around him as if they remembered where they belonged, how they fit, and he just looked at her face, her lips, her eyes as he settled inside her, taking in the fire and the right color of hazel that made up Brittany.
He pulled back and moved inside her again, her hands on his face and shoulders, touching him anywhere and everywhere. He moved faster, feeling something he’d thought he’d never feel again. Her eyes flared the way they did when she was close, and then she slipped her arm around his neck, touching him, holding him as if she needed to get closer still. He slowed his movement as she kissed him again, her lips running over his, her nose touching his tenderly, looking at him with a depth he couldn’t remember ever seeing, and she whispered, “I love you, Aaron McCabe.”
* * *
He was asleep. Brittany was on her side, spooned against him, skin to skin, his one hand on her breast, his other on her hip, holding her. He didn’t snore, but he breathed deeply, and she remembered how he’d murmur at times when he was stuck in a dream, deep in sleep. He wasn’t yet, though. He’d just drifted off after making love to her again on the bed, and that was after he’d taken her against the door of the bathroom. If he was anything like he had been before when they travelled the world, she knew he had an appetite for sex that only she could sate.
She didn’t remember it being this good, though. She could still feel everything about him inside her. He’d given her all of himself, and she could no longer hold back or whither under a cloud of guilt.
She could no longer hide who she really was.
She hadn’t gone back to her sister. She had emailed her and her dad with an apology, thanking them for trying to protect her, but they had been wrong. She knew it, and they had to know it. She had signed it as Brittany, not Mary. Of course they hadn’t answered. They were probably still in shock.
She wouldn’t leave Aaron. She had lost him once and couldn’t survive it again.
She intended to give everything to this man, to spend a lifetime making up for being so scared. He’d never failed her, but she’d failed him.
He was the strong one. She’d thought she was weak, but it was funny the people who had stepped into her life and reminded her of who she was.
His hand slid over her other breast, and he k
issed her shoulder. “I can hear your mind turning,” he muttered.
She rolled over onto her back and looked up into his eyes as he leaned over her. His eyelids were heavy with sleep and desire. He’d patched the cut below his eye, but the right side of his jaw was still purple. “Sorry, was just thinking,” she said, taking in the deep brown and deep love of his eyes. He never did anything halfway. He was always all in.
“About?” he said before he lowered his head and kissed her chest.
“You,” she said.
This time he pulled back and really looked at her. He said nothing—but with Aaron, that meant everything.
Family Matters
22
The air conditioning blasted as Aaron drove down the back-country road to his home. He’d been quiet all through the flight back and since grabbing their bags and climbing into his truck for the drive back to his place. It wasn’t lost on Brittany that this was the first time he had driven her anywhere. There had been a lot of firsts for both of them since she’d shown up at his fight, digging deep and finding the courage she needed to finally start living.
“Are you regretting something?” she asked as he pulled into his driveway.
When they reached his house, he jammed the brakes, threw the truck in park, and turned off the engine. Everything was neat, quiet, and seemed locked up tight. He unfastened his belt and said nothing as he slid around to face her. “Not sure I quite understand what you’re asking. Maybe be a little more specific.”
His face had some bruising this morning, a bandage over the cut under his eye, and she supposed she’d have to get used to being with a fighter. This was the norm, being battered and bruised after every fight. He opened his door and stepped out, still wearing his dark shades, and it wasn’t lost on her how jacked he was—his chest, his shoulders. He made the black T-shirt that fit him like a second skin look sexy. Even his jeans hugged his hips low. The man was a piece of art, sexy, solid. Nothing would get past him to her.
He was already around the front of the truck by the time she opened the door. His hand was there as she stepped out, and he appeared distracted, looking around. What was up?
“Aaron, is something wrong?”
He turned to her and then looked around again. “Two times I’ve come back to find that someone broke into the barn, stole some of my gear. Just making sure everything is as I left it.” He was looking at her again through his shades, and a smile touched the corners of his lips. Good Lord, she was in trouble, as that simple look as he slid off his glasses and tucked them in his shirtfront had her melting in front of him—aware that the heat outside was in no way responsible for her condition.
She was stuck on where he’d put his mouth on her, touching her, tasting her, and driving her to madness just that morning before they had raced for their flight. She squeezed her legs together, and her heart kicked up a beat. Maybe he knew, as he was smiling wider. He leaned in, and her arms lifted around his shoulders, linking together as his lips touched hers, his hands sliding around her, lifting her pale cotton dress, running over her back, her ass, and pulling her to him. She was lost in the kiss, which had gone from light to passionate in less than a second. When he pulled his lips away, his forehead resting against hers still, his breath warm on her face, she realized he didn’t need to answer. He’d just shown her, in a manner of speaking.
He walked to the back of the pickup, pulled the tailgate down, and lifted out the bags. She went to grab hers, but he was already shaking his head and instead tossed his keys to her. “Open the front door,” he said. “I’ll grab the bags.”
She fumbled with the keys, climbing the front steps. He was right behind her. “Which key?” she asked as she stopped at the door and pulled open the screen, leaning back into his heat.
“The big silver one,” he said.
She slipped it into the lock and opened the door, met with stuffy warmth from a house that had been closed up for days in the Alabama summer.
He dropped the bags just inside the door and slid his hands around her waist, touching her intimately as he walked past. “Let’s open some windows, get some air in here,” he said. He was in the kitchen and then down the hall, she presumed, to the bedroom, and she could hear him cracking windows open as she took in the bare-bones living room with nothing on the walls. The furniture was pricey: a gold and red stuffed sofa and matching chair, a white granite sofa table and end table, and one small and stylish lamp. That was it for furnishings. The dining room was bare, and the kitchen had the basics on the counter, a toaster, a coffeemaker, and a spotless center island. That was it.
“You hungry? Not sure what there is. Will have to make a store run, anyway, as there isn’t much in here to eat. There’s chicken and steak in the freezer, but I tend not to keep the fridge stocked when I’m not here long enough…” He was still talking and was in the kitchen, but she wasn’t really listening. Instead, she was trying to figure out why he hadn’t settled into his home after all these years.
“Britt, didn’t you hear me?” He was there in her face, and his expression was puzzled. She noticed the way he looked at the room she was taking in. “Something wrong?” he asked.
“How come you don’t have pictures on the walls or more stuff?”
He was looking again and then shrugged as if this wasn’t a big deal, and he walked back into the kitchen. The fridge door was open, and he had two water bottles. He handed one to her. “Here, stay hydrated,” he said. “There was no need before. I wasn’t really here.”
He untwisted the cap and chugged half the bottle, and she was mesmerized by the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, his head back and sweat running down his throat. He sighed and then gestured to her. “But go for it. You can pick what you want to go where. Buy some pictures, plants, whatever when we’re in town. Just name it.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, flipped it open, and set his water bottle on the counter. Then he pulled out a black credit card and held it between his fingers. “Use it for whatever you think we’ll need.”
Then he was gone to the front door, grabbing the bags and taking them past her around the corner. She could see a laundry room there off the kitchen. She held the black plastic card, staring at his name, Aaron McCabe.
“You’re giving me your credit card?” She was confused and panicked. There was still so much between them that they needed to talk about and settle. She could hear a dial and then water running as he started the washer before he appeared again in the kitchen.
“Of course,” he said. “I don’t expect you to pay. Use it for what you need, whatever touches you want to add. Go for it.”
“But, Aaron, this is ridiculous. You can’t just hand me your credit card after I comment on your lack of interior design and say, ‘Here, go buy what you need.’” She was following him down the hall, taking in the large bathroom, an open bedroom door.
Aaron walked into a room at the end of the hall and turned on the light to reveal a huge master suite. The bed was king size, with a deep green cover. He had the walk-in closet open, and she took in the large en suite, with a sunken tub and separate walk-in shower. The blinds were closed, and Aaron walked over and opened them, then cracked open the window to let in a nice breeze. Light spilled into the room.
“Of course I can,” he said. “Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, we need to talk about getting your things out here. Was thinking about it on the way back, and I think it would be best if we have everything shipped here. Whatever other things you need now, just buy them.”
Then she realized what he was doing in the closet as he made space, moving his clothes to one side. He was making room for her things.
“Aaron, that wouldn’t be right. I need to go back and pack everything up, and I eventually have to face my sister and my dad. Sooner would be better,” she said.
Aaron stopped what he was doing, and his expression, which had been light and happy moments before, had suddenly changed to that of a man quickly becoming quite unreasonabl
e.
23
She wasn’t the same. Maybe that was one of the things he was struggling with, one of the things that had settled into his mind. He was pounding his heavy bag with gloved hands, sweat pouring off him. He could hear the rhythmic squeak of the bag hanging from the chain and hooked to a bolt from the wooded beamed ceiling. There were times he could still smell the fresh wood. The scent, he found, was pleasing.
“You’re back,” Madison said from behind him. “Beau said he was pretty sure he saw you drive through town.”
He grabbed the bag, stopping the swing, and lifted his arm to wipe the sweat dripping from his forehead. His sister Madison had such a welcoming presence. The plainness he had first noticed about her had evolved into something lovely, and her smile came from something deep inside her and reached out to him every time he was around her. “Sorry, meant to let you know. We just got back a few hours ago,” he said.
Her brow quirked as she stepped inside the barn, wearing black cotton shorts and a rose tank top. “We?”
He could see the mischief and nosiness in the way her eyes lit up. “Yes,” he said. “Brittany surprised the hell out of me in Nashville.” He stopped himself from saying more. Everything else was too personal.
She took another step closer, nodding, “I was hoping she would. Wasn’t sure I reached her.”
What the fuck?
She gestured. “Sorry, I just couldn’t not interfere. I stopped at her motel and had a talk with her. Wasn’t sure I got her attention or even got through to her. I saw how confused and scared she was. I’m glad she reached out. So she’s here, staying? Please tell me this is you and her, together forever?”
Don't Run From Me Page 9
