by Rhian Cahill
Looking around, she searched for a reason to stay.
“Let me show you the backyard, and you can tell me if I’ve got the grill and outdoor furniture in the right spot.” Rylan grabbed her hand and towed her toward the glass sliding doors leading to the large deck that spanned the back of his house.
She’d tried not to look out the windows while they put the food away, but the yard kept drawing her gaze, and she was afraid once she saw it, she’d never want to leave it.
And she was right. The second he pulled her outside, she knew why he’d bought this house. Or why she would have bought it.
Green grass stretched toward the back fence, a tall fence that flanked all sides and gave him privacy from the neighboring houses. There was a large, well-established tree in the far righthand corner, from which a two-seater porch swing hung. She liked that. Had always wanted a porch with a swing.
“I know it’s big, too much for just me, but the second I saw this place I knew I had to buy it,” he said, pulling her gaze from the yard to him.
Mazey watched Rylan survey his yard, a satisfied smile on his face. She swallowed. Her throat tight with longing. “It’s a great place.”
“Yeah. And this deck.” He swept his arm out to indicate the timber beneath their feet. “It’s one of the best parts of the house. I’ve sat on the steps at least once a day since I moved in. Sometimes it’s with my morning coffee, sometimes an afternoon beer. Speaking of, you want a drink?”
“Ah, sure, why not.” It would give her a reason to stay.
“Beer?”
She nodded.
Rylan grinned at her. “Wait here. No, wait over there. Try out the new furniture. Let me know what you think. I’ll be right back.”
Her gaze followed him as he darted into the house. When he was out of sight, she turned back to face the yard and sighed. She envied him. She hadn’t seen more than the kitchen and family room inside, but it didn’t matter.
She was in love with Rylan’s house.
It was everything she had imagined herself having with Stuart.
Rylan’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Here you go.” Rylan held out a bottle.
Taking the drink, she said, “Thank you,” and turned to face the table and chairs arranged at the far end of the deck. “So, this is all new?”
“Yeah. I didn’t have a need for anything like this before now,” he explained, leading the way across the deck. “But look around, you can’t have a set up like this and not have a grill.”
“Or outdoor furniture.” She smiled as he pulled out a chair for her. “Thanks.”
“Exactly.” He pulled the chair beside her out and sat. “Hey, this isn’t bad, not bad at all,” he said with a bounce in his seat.
Smiling, she asked, “You didn’t try it before you bought it?”
“Nope. I bought this and the grill online. They were delivered Wednesday. Took all day Thursday to put everything together, and we worked yesterday.”
“Still. You could have taken a seat to try it out before now.”
Rylan stared at her for a long moment, and she was on the verge of squirming in her seat from the intensity of his gaze when he said, “It’s kind of nice to try it out with someone.”
Mazey could understand that. One of the things she’d liked about being with Stuart was doing things together. Not that she’d had much say in what they did. Or bought. And he’d hated her cooking, preferred to go out to the best restaurants. “Yeah, it is nice to do things with other people.”
“Thanks again for helping me with tomorrow. It’s the first time I’ve ever hosted something like this.” He frowned. “Actually, I’ve never hosted anything.”
“Really? Never had the guys over for drinks to watch a ball game? Isn’t that the quintessential guy thing?”
“I don’t know about that. I’ve only ever hung out at a bar or a club or on base.”
“Wow. That surprises me.” She took a sip of beer and debated whether to be honest with him. After a second drink, she decided she wanted nothing but honesty in any of her relationships from now on. “You strike me as the social type. I would have thought you’d have always had a large group of friends to get together with.”
He shrugged. “I’ve had plenty of friends, but the majority of my life has been spent on a base somewhere. Here or overseas. So, I guess most of them were in the army. Pretty much all of those have gone the way of my army career.”
“Oh.” The idea of Rylan overseas, in a war zone, being shot at . . . “If I haven’t said it before, thank you for your service.”
His smile was small, his eyes dipping to her chest where his dog tags rested beneath her shirt. She’d continued to wear them when she wasn’t at work, but even then, she kept them in her backpack. She hadn’t said anything, and he hadn’t asked. They were a silent connection between them. One she hadn’t wanted to let go of though she thought she should.
They didn’t talk about it then either. They just sat in the quiet afternoon enjoying the company and the cool drink. It felt natural, comfortable, and Mazey wondered if they could continue to remain friends without taking it further.
She wasn’t stupid, she wasn’t ready to be in a relationship, but she also couldn’t deny that whatever was between them was already far deeper than any other friendship she’d had with a man. It was more solid, stronger than anything she’d had with Stuart.
If she kept Rylan firmly in the friend zone, would she come to regret it?
20
Sweat dripped down his back, coated his torso and his face. Jeez. He was a wreck.
Mazey would be here in fifteen minutes, and you’d think he was expecting the president.
Surveying the living room, he nodded. It had taken him hours, but he’d cleaned every room of his house. Even the ones he planned to keep the door closed on. The empty ones.
Which were far too many considering he’d moved in seven weeks ago.
He really needed to get around to buying more furniture.
Something held him back though.
He didn’t want to set up the rest of the bedrooms because he hoped to fill those with kid’s furniture. He’d even decided which of the rooms upstairs would be best for a nursery.
Groaning, he yanked the cord for the vacuum out of the wall.
He’d been in a state since Mazey had left yesterday.
Not even twenty-four hours had passed—hell, he hadn’t made it twelve—before he’d started to go crazy and scrubbed every surface in the house.
Rylan had to admit the place looked great.
Even with furniture that dated back to the last century.
None of his grandmother’s stuff suited his house. He’d have to decide what to do about that. Even though he didn’t want to make those decisions on his own.
With another groan, he dragged the vacuum toward the utility room off the kitchen. He had just enough time to—
The doorbell chime sounded through the house.
“Fuck.” He spun around and stared through the wall at the front door. “Of course, she’d be early.”
Glancing down, he shook his head. She’d have to take him as he was. No way around it now. He couldn’t leave her standing on his doorstep until he cleaned up. On the way to the door, he was reminded of the first time he’d been to Mazey’s house and the state he’d found her in.
The memory made him grin, so when he opened the door, his mouth was stretched wide, and he let out a chuckle when Mazey eyed him strangely.
“You’re either really happy to see me or . . .” She took in the length of him, her gaze skipping over his sweat-soaked body in a visceral caress. “What the hell have you been doing?”
“Cleaning.”
“What? The pool you don’t have? You’re soaked.” Her nose scrunched up. “And that’s not water.”
“Nope. Not water. But speaking of, do you need help bringing anything in? I can give you a hand before I jump in the shower.”
“Oh no.”
Waving her hand in front of her, she urged him back. “You go clean up. You’re not touching my pies smelling like a locker room.”
He grinned. Saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
Laughing, Mazey stepped inside. “Go on. I’ve got this”—this being a small wagon loaded with what had to be her pies although he couldn’t smell them—“and I’ll get started on the other stuff while you shower.”
“I already went out for ice and filled the coolers with it. I’ll put the drinks in after I shower,” Rylan told her as he headed for the stairs. “I’ll be five minutes, tops.”
“Take your time. It’s barely nine, and no one is going to arrive before noon.”
True. These monthly barbecues were a late lunch early dinner kind of thing. He loved them. This would be his eighth. Grayson had dragged him to the first one the day after he’d arrived in Sunnyville, and Rylan had to admit the once a month get-togethers were one of the best parts of being here. And he was really looking forward to hosting his first one.
The woman currently banging around in his kitchen—what the hell was she doing down there?—was another highlight.
She just might prove to be the best part of his move.
With a smile on his face, he stripped out of his sweaty clothes and jumped in the shower. Any thought of lingering to rid himself of the sexual tension Mazey evoked was quickly squashed by his need to get downstairs, back to her. Spending the next few hours with her would decide how he’d move forward.
After she’d left yesterday, he thought he’d seen longing in her gaze. He hadn’t a clue if it was longing for him or his house because once they’d finished that first beer, he’d finally convinced her to let him show her around, and he knew he’d seen longing then. And pleasure.
She really liked his house.
And he knew why that pleased him. It meant if—no, when— when they moved their relationship to a deeper level, and he really, really wanted to move it deeper, she’d be happy here.
In this house built for a family.
Rinsing off, Rylan thought about what it would be like for Mazey to live here. Would this be a regular day for them? Her in the kitchen, him showering off sweat from chores.
He grinned.
Yeah, he wanted that so bad he could taste it.
Now he had to convince her she wanted it too.
He had time. They had time. She’d only been in his life for seven weeks if he counted their encounter on the street, six if he didn’t. While his feelings took root, growing stronger by the day, he didn’t know where Mazey stood except she was skittish. She seemed to get close, remember she wasn’t interested in getting involved and pull back.
The last thing he wanted to do was spook her, so he’d be careful to keep his true feelings hidden. Reveal a bit at a time until she grew to trust him. Because that was the other thing he knew without her saying a word.
Whoever had put that look of pain in her gaze has stripped away her faith in others and maybe herself too.
Grabbing shorts and a T-shirt from his walk-in closet, he dragged them on and headed down to Mazey. The scent of baking pastry and potentially melted chocolate stopped him in his tracks at the top of the stairs. Was she making a chocolate pie?
Mouth watering, he took the steps two at a time and jogged back to the kitchen, and the woman who was making his house smell delicious.
What he found in the kitchen stretched his lips so wide he thought they’d split his face in two. “We really do need to set a date for the wedding,” he moaned. “I need this every day of my life. Wait. You’re baking here?”
Smiling at him over her shoulder she said, “Yeah, I prepared everything at home and figured I’d bake them here this morning so the house smells good and the pies and cookies are fresh.”
“Cookies? Chocolate chip cookies?” He skirted around the island and dropped to his knees at her feet. “Marry me today. Don’t tease me with heaven, then take it away,” he begged.
With a laugh, she pushed him out of the way and carried a tray of cookies fresh from the oven to the counter where she had a cooling rack waiting. “Hop up before I trip or drop something hot on your head.”
He didn’t want to get up. From this vantage point, he could take her in, and what he saw had his mouth watering more than what she was cooking.
She wore a pair of frayed denim shorts, her toned ass peeking out of the fringed edging that brushed the sleek muscles he itched to get his hands on again. The denim looked soft, well-worn, and faded to white in some places, and he imagined it would feel silky against his fingers. The beltless waistband rode low on her hips, leaving a strip of tantalizing tanned flesh on display beneath the hem of her tank top.
The breasts he’d barely gotten to appreciate were lovingly cupped by the stretch of her red tank and reminded him of what he was missing. What he missed. He needed to touch them, palm them, stroke the tips into hard points before he sucked them.
Fuck.
His blue balls were going to turn black.
He must have made a sound because Mazey spun around, her eyes wide, a hand reaching toward him. “What? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
Hurt him? Oh yeah, she was hurting him but not in the way she thought. Shaking his head, he got to his feet and turned away before she could see the bulge in his pants. “No. No. My stomach just reminded me I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”
“What?” She moved behind him. “Here, let me get you some of this bread I baked this morning.”
“You baked bread?” God, this woman. She was perfect. “This morning?”
Stepping beside him, she uncovered a sweet-smelling loaf of bread. The crust was golden brown, and the yeasty baked aroma had his stomach growling, turning his white lie into a reality.
He hadn’t eaten yet, but his stomach hadn’t made the pained sound moments ago. That had been those black balls pulsing between his legs. The throb only got stronger as he watched Mazey expertly cut a slice of bread.
How could such a simple act turn him on? Then again, the woman only had to breathe to get him wound up.
“Do you have something to put on it, or will butter do?” she asked, her head in his fridge.
He had to hold back another pained groan at the sight. Bent at the waist, her ass cheeks weren’t just peeking out of her shorts. They were flashing him fully, and if he didn’t distract himself quickly, he’d pick her up and toss her against the nearest flat surface so he could have his way with that lush body of hers.
“Ry?” She glanced over her shoulder, and he knew he had to get out of the kitchen because all he could see was her looking at him like that as he pounded into her from behind.
“Plain. Plain is fine. I need . . .” He searched for something to get him out of there. “Drinks. I need to get the drinks in the coolers out back.”
Before she could say another word, he took off for the garage and hoped he could find a sliver of sanity without her right in front of him.
21
Mazey was obsessed with Rylan’s kitchen. She wanted it.
When he’d given her a tour yesterday, she thought she’d fallen in love with his house. Today, it was official. She loved every part of it. There was nothing she’d change except maybe she’d take up some of that huge backyard with a pool.
Staring through the window above the sink while she washed the bowls she’d used making pies and cookies, she watched Rylan set up portable tables and chairs someone had dropped off after she’d left last night. He kept fussing with the layout, and she couldn’t help but smile at his antics.
He really wanted today to go well.
Not that she could fault him for that. She wanted today to go well too. Because even though this wasn’t her house, she kind of felt like a co-host.
She’d helped buy all the food, and they’d spent the morning making salads and sides while her pies and cookies cooked.
The kitchen smelled delicious. Actually, the whole house smelled fantastic. Every time she stepped outside, then
back in, she was hit by the wall of aroma that hung in the air. It was a tantalizing scent. Made her think about overindulging in the yummy treats. Speaking of tantalizing yummy treats . . .
Rylan had bent over to straighten a leg on one of the tables, and his tight butt was aimed right at her.
She’d had her hands on that ass. On the smooth skin and taut muscles currently hidden beneath his shorts. It should be illegal for a man to look that good. In or out of clothes.
Her eyes closed on a moan as her mind replayed their time together in the base’s bathroom. She hadn’t gotten a good look until after they’d had sex but after . . . Oh boy, the man did not have a modest bone in his body because he’d strutted around without a stitch of clothing on and hadn’t flinched at her perusal. She might have tried to be discreet in her inspection, although she had the impression he’d known she was looking and hadn’t cared.
Had wanted her to look at him.
He wasn’t overly muscled despite how much he worked out. Rylan’s body was the stuff of fantasies. At least it was hers. Tall and strong, he was physically perfect in her opinion. A light dusting of dark hair over his arms and legs, as well as his chest. And the trail that led to his magnificent cock should definitely be called the happy trail.
Her pussy clenched and wept with remembered pleasure when she thought about his cock. About it thrusting inside her. He’d given her more satisfaction in that fast fuck than she’d received from Stuart in the previous six years. She’d had no idea sex could be so good.
A groan squeezed from her throat.
“Are you okay?” Large, sun-warmed hands wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her around. “Maz? What is it? Did you cut yourself?”
She blinked up at him. “Huh?”
“The glass.” Rylan tipped his chin at the sink behind her. “It’s broken.” He slid his hands down her arms and cradled her wrists, his gaze scanning her finger and palms.
