by Lauren Dane
She’d never been so attracted to another person. Not in the whole of her life, which also made her uncomfortable and feeling as if she was being disloyal to Eric even though he’d been dead four years. It wasn’t like she’d achieved expert-level widow status or anything. Nope, she had zero idea of how to begin to think about it.
Thank goodness Ezra spoke to pull her out of that particular self-punishing reverie. “It felt right. Tonight I mean. There’s a rhythm onstage. It’s different than anything else you do as a band. I’ve been off tour for years now. Enough that my brothers have a timing that’s apart from me at this point.
“In the studio, well, that’s one thing. Out on the road they’re working with tour musicians, who are really good, no lie, but it’s about the three of them. The club shows were more like jamming in the studio. Tonight, that unit of three opened up and I fit where I had belonged at one time when there were four of us in Sweet Hollow Ranch.”
She wondered if it was hard to see that they’d moved on without him. Or if he was tempted to go back out on tour after tonight’s performance. But she didn’t know him well enough to delve deeper. Not without knowing if she’d make it worse.
She liked Ezra a lot and she didn’t want to screw things up, but she wanted to know him better.
“Do you find yourself, you know, wishing you’d be able to go back out on tour? I mean... I don’t know what I mean. I mean, I do, but in my head it sounded better than it does out loud.”
He snorted. “It’s fine. I’m not sure how to feel about it. Not yet. Not entirely.” He paused and she left it, hoping he’d elaborate but knowing he might not.
“The album just dropped. Mary and Damien are about to have a baby and of course they’ll want to be home, close to family. Paddy and Natalie are going to be intertwined for a while—it’s not like he’ll be willing to leave her behind. It’s time to put our lives first. Take care of what’s important.”
Tuesday didn’t miss the way he referred to the band as we.
“We should have done it for Vaughan,” he muttered.
“Do you want to elaborate?”
“You’re not just going to insist I share?”
She waved a hand. “Who am I to do that? I say things out loud sometimes that I may not mean to. Or maybe I do, but I’m just tossing it out to talk about it later.”
“I suppose with Vaughan it’s more a tossing the idea out there and maybe we can chew over it later.”
“Okay.”
Things settled into an easy silence for a while. Tuesday liked quiet. She grew up in an insanely loud house. Always alive with kids, family and friends. It meant she cherished silence and guarded her life zealously, keeping the number of people who didn’t appreciate the same to a bare minimum.
Except her family. They were loud and crazy and there was no changing that.
“So tell me what you’re thinking right now,” Ezra coaxed in his supersexy voice.
“You really want to know?”
“I’m a grown man, Tuesday. I say what I mean.”
Okay then. Why was that so hot? Why did he make her itchy and sweaty and a little lonely after they parted?
“I was thinking about quiet. About how I like it and how we’d been sharing a nice quiet moment. I wish more people liked it.”
“Quiet amplifies loneliness for some people. Maybe for most people.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being lonely sometimes.”
He hummed. A sound of agreement and approval and it, too, was hot. God, everything about him was hot. How did that even happen? How did one person come with so much on every damned level? What sort of cosmic Scooby Snack was Ezra Hurley anyway?
“I didn’t come to appreciate silence until I was in rehab.”
* * *
TUESDAY SETTLED INTO the seat, looking out the window as he spoke. Ezra had a gut feeling it was because she knew he’d prefer she not watch him as he revealed himself.
He didn’t know why he was sharing this stuff. Other than he liked her. He liked being with her and the slow getting to know one another thing was new. And slightly disconcerting because she was such a stupid choice for him to make and he was going to make it anyway.
“They sent me to this place in the middle of nowhere. Just trees and fresh air and mountains in the distance.” He’d gone straight into their detox unit for the first week. “Rehab is loud. I mean, and look, I know how lucky I was that the place I went was as great as it was. But there’s a lot of crying in rehab.” Puking, too. He hated that part worse than all the crying.
“The rehab was on acres of land and the main house and the outer cabins were fenced off. It was, I remember even now, a three-mile circuit and I’d walk it like four times a day just to go be alone.”
“Did you feel lonely?”
“Yes.” He’d alienated everyone who’d ever mattered to him. He’d fallen so low and had hurt so many people the loneliness had nearly drowned him.
“When it’s quiet you can’t avoid it.” Her words, the tone in her voice, told him she knew this firsthand.
“No. No matter how much it hurts. No matter how much of it is your own fault.” He shook it off. “Anyway, I had to find better ways to process all my shit. What I’d been doing was killing me.” It wasn’t in a group when he’d first been able to say he was a fucking heroin addict out loud. It was under a tree, by himself at that fence line. It had been Ezra who needed to say it. Needed to hear it. Needed to believe it.
Her head moved in a slow nod. “I do think sometimes that it’s when I’m avoiding being alone that I need it most. I can’t lie to myself with the same ease I can to other people.”
“It’s pretty badass to be so—what do you call it? Self-aware?”
“Ha!” She laughed. “My mother is a hippie disguised as an engineer. She made us keep dream journals when we were growing up. She’s really into speaking the truth and shaming the devil.”
“Is it as annoying as I’m imagining it to be or am I seeing it wrong?”
She started to giggle. First a tiny burst and another and one more until she’d erupted into a full-on fit and he couldn’t really do anything but smile.
And want more.
“It’s totally annoying. She’s all woo-woo and hippie-dippy and she’s an engineer, too. So imagine organized woo-woo. Anyway, she still goes once a year to a holistic healing retreat where they do yoga for fun and eat loaves of mung beans or whatever. Makes her happy, which is the point of such things. Essentially, I was raised to face the unpleasant stuff. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do.”
He’d bet her mom was pretty fantastic. “You mentioned your dad is a roofer?”
“You were telling me about rehab and silence. Then it’s my turn.”
He sighed. “I guess I used the chaos and the noise to keep from confronting my shit. And then I had so much noise and nothing but time so I found some silence and it wasn’t until then that I could really do the work.”
“Talk about self-aware.”
“Therapy.”
“Ah. Well.”
“I see you know what I mean.” The moment he said it he wished he could recall the words immediately.
“I’m sorry. I forgot. It was careless.”
She blew out a breath. “It’s all right. I promise. In this case, though, I had therapy when I was a kid. Before I knew Eric even existed. I was nine. There was an accident on a field trip. Our van flipped and ended up in a river.”
Her voice had gone faraway.
“Two of my classmates and one of my teachers died. I’d been motion sick and the window had been open so I wouldn’t throw up. It’s how I got out so fast. Anyway, my parents made me go to a psychologist to deal with the nightmares and the grief counseling stuff. Wow, I’ve made this rather heavy. I’m sorry to be a buzzkill.”
Buzzkill his ass. She was incredible. He made a disapproving sound as he pulled up the drive to the large Victorian Tuesday shared with Natalie. The motion senso
r lights flooded the front of the house, exposing pretty front gardens and a porch with furniture that invited you to sit.
He keyed the car off and turned to her. “So we both found our silence it looks like.”
She nodded. A shadow across her features meant he couldn’t see her expression very well. “And owned our loneliness, huh?”
Maybe so, but he didn’t have to be alone right then and neither did she.
He ignored her rhetorical question. “Let me walk you in. Make sure everything is all right.”
“Is this a pity good-night hand squeeze for the widow?”
Holding back an annoyed snarl, he got out and circled to her side, opening the door and helping her to her feet.
He moved in close. “Is that what you want from me, Tuesday? Pity? I can give you pity at a coffee shop in broad daylight. I can send you a book about grief but I’m betting you’ve written one of your own.”
Her gaze flicked up, snagging on his. Defiant. Good. He didn’t want her afraid or cowed; he wanted her to know who he was and want him anyway.
She licked her lips and then shrugged. “I want you to touch me and never make me think you feel sorry for me. People die, Ezra. It happened. It happened when I was nine and it happened four years ago. I’ll die. You’ll die. It’s what we’re born to do. I don’t need your pity. I need your dick.”
He barked a laugh, surprised. She clearly didn’t want to go into it any deeper right then so he let it go because he knew what that felt like. “I think I can manage that.”
“All right then.” She linked her arm through his and walked, her heels dangling from a fingertip as they headed up her front porch steps.
Ezra was sure the house was fine; they had good locks and security. It wasn’t really that he had to walk her in, or that he was concerned for her safety. Sharon Hurley’s sons might have been an unruly handful at school, but they always opened doors for people; they said please, thank you, sir and ma’am; and they walked their dates to the door. Hurleys had a protective streak when it came to people they considered theirs.
Theirs. She was his brother’s girlfriend’s best friend. And he considered Tuesday a friend. So that’s what it was. Nothing more.
Ezra paused at that for a moment but let it pass.
He wanted to be with her. Alone in a place he could lay her out and enjoy her awhile. Natalie would be with Paddy so they’d have the house all to themselves where they’d be far less likely to be interrupted by someone whose last name ended in a Y.
Tuesday turned to him as he heard the snick of a lamp turning on. The main living area warmed with a golden glow. He’d been there before with Natalie, but this was the first time he’d been inside, alone with Tuesday. It was a nice enough place but he wasn’t there to look at the furniture.
“The smile on your face?” One of her brows slid up. “Should I be delighted or worried?”
“All my smiles when it comes to you are ones that should delight you.”
“Wow. That’s a really bold statement, Ezra.”
“I’m full of bold statements, beauty.”
She hummed as she dropped the shoes and then headed to him, not stopping until one of her hands rested on his chest. “I think I’m going to like finding out. Come upstairs. I’ll show you my side of the house.”
CHAPTER FOUR
SHE TOOK HIS hand and led him through the house and kitchen. “Nat and I each occupy half the upstairs. My entry is back here.”
Her stairs led up a spiral case that was mainly windows. Even better, he realized as he looked up and up, the highest panes were stained glass.
“Is that as pretty as I think it could be when the light hits it just right?”
She indicated the area with a wave of her hand. “Yes. It lights this whole space with blues and reds. Those panels were the original. The people who sold the house to Natalie had taken them out and replaced them with clear glass. We found the stained glass in the shed out back. Not even a hairline crack. It’s amazing but they were in perfect condition.”
Once they walked a few steps in, he slid into what was, without a doubt, Tuesday’s innermost world. Though the elegance and classic lines weren’t a surprise, he found this space—her private space— unexpectedly soft.
The furniture in her realm was more formal, in curves and swoops. He didn’t know what the style was called, but he liked it. Decorative moldings and a chair rail defined the walls without overtaking the space. Soft blues and yellows complemented a seating area with a small love seat and table. Bookshelves had been built along one wall, framing the window where a chaise sat with a throw tossed on the back and an e-reader on the side table.
The imagined peace one would feel just lying there reading on a lazy afternoon tugged at him, made him hungry for it. It had been way too long since being lazy had been a luxury he’d allowed himself.
“Reading nook?”
She nodded. “When I came up here the first time, this part of the house had been empty. Natalie didn’t have enough furniture to fill it up and she’d really only been living in her half of the upstairs. Anyway. I got up here and it was afternoon. The light slanted across the floors just right and I knew this was a place I should be. I read a lot. I like reading in bed but sometimes I want to sit in my window over there, cover my legs with a blanket and read while it rains.”
“I have a library at my house. It’s part of my home studio and practice space. But I’m with you—I like reading in bed.”
She cocked her head. “I have to admit, I so rarely see you still, I might be totally surprised to come upon you caught up in a book.”
“When I was in first grade, I still couldn’t read and my parents were dealing with the school back and forth. They said I wasn’t very smart and you’ve met my mother so you can imagine how well that went over. Anyway, finally my mom said, can he read something else? Something he picks? They agreed. Probably to get her to shut up and leave, but it works for her brilliantly.”
Tuesday’s laugh brought him a step closer.
“Let me guess how that ended. When you got to choose you loved reading. You just didn’t like anyone else making your choices.”
“It’s a flaw. I admit it.” He looked at her, letting her see what he was thinking. “I like being in control.”
She blinked a few times.
“Is this a sex reference? I’m sorry. Is it unsexy to have to ask? I probably shouldn’t have even asked.”
“Beauty, you have plenty of sexy. That’s not a worry. It’s a general comment that also happens to apply to sex.”
Watching this normally superconfident woman get a little flustered when it came to this—when he sure as hell felt a little flustered himself—filled him with tenderness he rarely felt for anyone outside his family.
She shrugged. “I suppose then, we’ll have to go along and see if your need to control and my need to lick you all over are compatible.”
* * *
TUESDAY KNEW SHE sounded a lot more confident than she felt. Sex with him? Yes. Yes and yes again. Control, though? What did that mean? Like something creepy? Or something hot? Sometimes people inexplicably found stuff like cell phone tracking and that sort of control to be superhot. She was not one of them.
She didn’t need a dad. Or a protector. Or a white knight. Or a stalker.
“That’s some conversation you’re having in your head, given the look on your face.” He fought a smile and she was charmed.
Ezra was out of her league. This pull between them had the potential to be overwhelming and end horribly.
But it felt so good she let herself do it anyway.
She was used to confident men, yes. Smart, too. But Ezra wasn’t just some dude she planned to fuck awhile.
“I was just weighing what you might mean by control.”
The gaze he raked over her was nearly physical. One of his brows went up and one corner of his mouth dented with a freaking dimple. A dimple. He was so ridiculously alluring at that momen
t, tousled, big and hearty.
Tuesday loved a big man. Some people liked brown eyes; she liked tall men with broad shoulders. The material of his shirt stretched over so much taut skin and work-strong muscle she couldn’t have stopped looking if she’d tried. Which she had no plans to do. If something broke, he’d know how to fix it. If something was heavy, he’d carry it.
More than being physically big, Ezra was big with his presence, as well. He seemed to radiate with energy and intensity.
It made her greedy because Ezra Hurley was like chocolate volcano cake. You knew it had the most calories on the menu and that it would be a gooey mess but you ordered it anyway because gooey, messy and high in calories usually meant a good time.
She was going to gorge herself on this man and she was going to do it without apology or second-guessing because she wanted him. She wanted him and he wanted her and this thing they shared was so hot and compelling and sexy that it made her drunk on his testosterone.
She groaned. “You have a really big dick, don’t you?”
He did a double take once he truly heard her question and it was so funny she nearly forgot she’d actually blurted out that thing about his dick.
See? Drunk. Like an amateur. She wasn’t an amateur, damn it! “Um.” She put her hands over her face, the skin hot against her palms.
“I didn’t actually mean to say that out loud.”
He stepped close enough to slide his arms around her waist. Now that she had her heels off, he was much taller and she had to look up a bit but he was smiling.
“Well, if you’re going to ask such a question at least your assumption that my cock is big is a good way to go about it. But you can just see for yourself. If you’re curious and all.”
She mirrored the way he held her. Though her hold on his waist was moot once he pulled her closer, arranging her the way he pleased before he turned his attention back to her face.
And then she sort of got the whole control thing in the way he’d meant it.
Ezra was in charge and she liked it just fine.
Ezra touched her like he meant it. The brief bite as his fingertips pressed into her upper arms as he shifted her did all sorts of things to her hormones. Rough, yes. But more because he wanted her so much, he had to have her.
