by C. A. Harms
I hang up the phone and make the call I had been waiting to make. The job was complete.
I’d gotten so wrapped up in my day that when I finally slipped into the shower at a quarter after eight it finally dawned on me that I hadn't heard from Hope. Anxiety filled me like a rush of adrenaline and I wondered why. Had I done something wrong? Had I pushed too hard in regard to her life and her dreams?
The entire situation left me feeling as if a huge boulder had burrowed and lodged itself deep in my gut.
The idea of upsetting her or making things any harder for her than they already had been didn't sit well with me.
I quickly showered and gathered something to wear. This time I channeled my inner Tripp and threw on a t-shirt and a pair of running pants before slipping my feet into a pair of Nikes. Looking at the mirror in the hallway just to the left of the front door, I ran my fingers through my dark hair and shrugged as I hurried out the door with my keys in hand.
Again I jumped headfirst into creepy territory and drove toward Lenexa. With each mile my stomach grew a little more tense. The worst she was gonna say is that I needed to leave.
The thought made me feel sick.
Twenty minutes later I pull up just outside Hope’s house and put my truck in park. Lights were on inside her place and I remain in my truck for a few minutes trying to imagine what she may be doing inside. Maybe curled up on the couch watching a movie, lying in bed reading a book. Somehow the idea of either of those things makes me smile.
Turning off my ignition I crawl out of my truck and begin moving across her front lawn toward her door. The sound of my footsteps echo through the quiet night, and the boards crack with my weight. I find myself looking around, thinking of all the things I could do for her that would make this place appealing.
The sound of a door creaking open causes me to look up and I find Hope standing in the open doorway. “You lost?” She crosses her arms over her chest, and damn, if my eyes didn't drop to her breasts. It was her fault, damn it, she pushed them up.
“You get my note?” I step closer and almost on their own accord my eyes scan over her from head to toe. She wore pajamas, cute pink ones with what appeared to be hearts over the material of her pants. Fluffy socks cover her feet.
As I lift my eyes back to meet hers, I find her looking back me with her brow wrinkled. “Cute look,” I answer the question I assume is rolling around in her mind.
“What do you expect when you show up at my place in the late hours of the evening without warning?” She uncrosses her arms and looks down at her feet, before lifting her gaze to meet mine once more. “I like to hang out in my pajamas.”
“Me too.” I was going for flirtatious but when she laughs at me I wonder if I’m losing my skill. This woman makes me feel so unsure, unsettled, and absofuckinglutely amazing all at the same time.
“Sorry I didn’t call.” She regains my attention once she stops laughing at me. “I guess I just didn't know what to say.”
“Yes, maybe.” I shrug. “At least that’s what I was hoping for.” I close the distance between us, and she doesn't move away from me, only tilts her head back to look up at me. “I had a really nice time with you at Romano’s. It was the first time in a long time I enjoyed the company of another woman.”
“Liar.” Her words surprise me. “I’ve heard all about your long line of scorned women.”
“I said enjoyed the company of another woman.”
“From the stories I’ve heard, I’d say you enjoyed at least a small portion of the evenings you’ve spent with maybe half of those woman.”
Who the fuck had she been talking to?
“I’m just teasing.” Only she doesn't appear to be. “I just don't know what this is.”
“This?”
“Yes,” she motions between us with her finger, “this.”
“What do you want it to be?” My heart races with the idea that she might say she wants nothing. Call me a pussy, but that was the last thing I wanted her to say.
“You want the truth?” Her words are only a whisper.
“Always.” I reach out and trace her jaw with my fingertip. When her eyes close for a moment, my pulse quickens. “Even if it’s not want I want to hear, I only ever want the truth from you.”
After she takes in a deep breath, her eyes slowly open, and they appear glassy as she begins to speak. “I had an amazing time with you, too, but the truth is I don’t know if I’m ready for the things you make me feel.”
“What do I make you feel, Hope?”
Pushing her might have been the wrong thing to do, but I wanted to know. I had to know.
“Alive.” She tries to turn her head away, only I cup her jaw and refuse to allow it. “You make me feel alive.”
“What else?”
Our gazes lock and I can see the struggle within hers. I only hope she can see the struggle in mine, too. I wanted her to know this was not easy for me either. Yes, we were each battling two separate types of resistance but I need her to see that I’m here with her. I needed her to understand that this was so much more than just a physical connection for me. I could see the struggle within her and I wanted to heal it. I wanted to show her that what she was feeling, I was feeling too. I wanted her to give in to the temptation and allow herself to accept what was taking place between us. And that, that was okay.
“You make my heart race.” I could sense the words were hard for her to say. Like admitting she felt anything at all was destroying her. “You make me laugh, you make me want things I thought I never could again. You make me want to be more than I have in the last year, and you make me hope for a future I thought I no longer wanted.”
A tear slips from her eye, and without thinking I lean in and press a kiss to her cheek, tasting the saltiness. “It’s okay to feel those things.” I whisper the words against her cheek, and suddenly her body comes closer as she buries her face to my chest.
And I hold her.
Her body shakes as she cries, and I know it’s from the confessions she just made.
This beautiful girl had somehow convinced herself she deserved a life of solitude. A life of nothing special. She was punishing herself each day because someone she loved was robbed of their own happiness.
I made it my mission to show her it was okay to move on. Because a woman with such a beautiful heart shouldn't remain hidden.
Chapter 12
Hope
I knew already why it was so hard to accept that Travis made me feel so many great things. Those visions of me one day falling in love, having a family, living out the dreams I once had, was something I’d let go. Moving forward and allowing myself to give into desire, to act on the connection I’d begun to feel for him would mean letting go of Walker.
I guess somehow I allowed myself to feel as if that would be cheating. Foolish I know, but his memory, my love for him, was all I had left. I wasn’t sure I was fully ready to allow that to fade. I should feel foolish for falling apart the way I did. But Travis wouldn't let me feel as if it was wrong. He made my confessions, my emotional release, feel as if it were natural, as if it were just a simple conversation that two people share, without all the heavy. He soothingly rubbed my back and held me close. He whispered assuringly that everything would be okay. Even though I still wasn’t convinced what he’d said was entirely true, somehow he made it feel like it was a possibility.
I found it weird how a complete stranger could enter my life and make a year’s worth of sadness and worry feel a little less gloomy.
“You know what always makes me feel better when things seem like they’re falling apart?” His question, mixed in with the darkness of the night, made my tears seem so out of place. But I’ve come to learn this was Travis. He had this way about him that made things better.
“What?” I breathe him in deeply as my face still remains pressed to his chest. His recently showered scent filled my nostrils.
“Pancakes.” I am grateful my face is turned toward his che
st and I can attempt to hide my laughter. “Seriously, pancakes, I swear they have their own secret soothing power.”
“Have I told you how ridiculous you are?”
“Many times.”
Again I laugh.
“You have any mix and syrup?” I lift my head and look up at him, our faces only a small distance apart. Normally a man would take this as an opportunity to make a move, but instead Travis just smiles back at me and slowly lifts his hand to wipe away my tears.
“I do,” I say, without even the smallest amount of hesitation. Because in that moment I realize I trust him. I have no doubt in my mind that he had my best interest at heart. He wasn't looking for a vulnerable girl he could take advantage of, he was being a friend. I knew feelings were there, I could sense this the previous times we’d spent together. But now, in this moment, when what I truly needed was a friend, he was offering me that.
Libby was right, Travis was a good man.
“You gonna let me come inside so I can make you some of the best pancakes you’ll ever eat?”
“Confident, aren’t you?” I tease him as I step back and move into the house.
“You’ll see.” He offers a wink as I motion for him to enter, and close the door behind me.
I sat back and watched as Travis moves around my small kitchen, looking completely at home. I’ll admit watching a man cook is appealing. All he needed was an apron. I laughed to myself and cause him to look in my direction.
He arches his brow while whisking the batter.
“You need an apron.” He nods in agreement, and then an idea hits me. “I’m gonna get you one.”
“And I will wear it proudly.” He doesn't even hesitate.
I bet he’ll think twice when I hand him a pink apron with purple and yellow accents.
Fifteen minutes later he places a pile of fluffy pancakes on the counter between us and a bottle of syrup. I wait while he then grabs two more plates from the counter before opening three different drawers to find two forks.
He forks one pancake and places it on my plate before doing the same to a second one. “I can’t eat both of those.”
“I bet you do.”
Choosing to not argue, I grab the syrup, and load up my pancakes before digging in.
The sweet goodness fills my mouth and I close my eyes realizing in that instant just how hungry I had been.
“Good, huh?”
I open my eyes to find him staring at me. Actually he was staring at my mouth and almost instinctively I lick the syrup from my lips. His jaw tenses and a rush of satisfaction races through me. “Very good.” My confession regains his full attention, and his eyes lift to meet mine.
For a moment, an intense feeling of want washes over me, and I fight against it. Hell, only moments ago I was saying to myself how respectful he was for not taking advantage of my state, now I’m mentally molesting him. But he was just so undeniably attractive, and part of me wanted to touch him more than anything else. I sat there staring at him, almost able to feel that hard, firm chest of his beneath my fingers. Like touching him may be able to heal everything, just the simple contact alone could give me back the sense of stability I craved. But more than that, I’d come to realize that without actually touching him he was able to calm me. With one glance, or a smile he made me feel grounded.
“Soothing powers,” he says, his voice husky and warm.
“Something like that.” I was like an uncontrollable horny teenager.
I look away from him and concentrate on my food. Each time I was done chewing, I’d shove in another bite because if I didn't, I was fearful I’d say something I’d be unable to take back.
Somehow saying, I think you would taste better than these pancakes, or, you hovered above me would soothe me more, felt like the wrong thing in a time like this.
“Now that I’ve given you some sweet yummy goodness.” I lift my head and look at him, my eyes wide with, I don’t know, shock, maybe. Could he read my thoughts? “What do you say to dinner? My place maybe. I can cook for you again.”
“Never would have guessed you knew how to cook.” My throat felt raw, causing my voice to sound more like a croak. I was worried he’d catch on, but instead he turned around, found my cabinet that holds my glasses and retrieves one. Once again dominating my small kitchen, he grabs the milk from the refrigerator and pours me a glass before placing it on the counter before me.
Good, he must’ve taken my breathy croak as me being thirsty.
After placing the milk back in the fridge he walks toward me, leans over, and brings his upper body closer to mine. “I’m full of surprises. Just like this one.” He moves in a little more, and oh so delicately presses his lips to my own. It wasn’t anything more than a gentle kiss but very effective. “I’ve wanted to do that since the day I was here fixing your wiring.”
I open my eyes to find him still only a few inches away.
“I lied.” I wrinkled my nose in confusion and he grins. “That kiss is nothing like I imagined, but I’ll save that for another time.”
I was a sinking ship in this man’s presence.
“Another time?”
He nods.
More silence settles over us and I lick my lips wanting to taste them, or maybe wanting to taunt him.
“Let me make dinner for you.” The desire between us was so thick, I think it could be cut with a knife. “Friday night, I can pick you up.”
“I can drive.”
He smiles as if knowing that’s what I would say. “Whatever it takes to get you there.” He reaches out and picks up my fork. I watch as he pokes it through two pieces of pancake before lifting it to his mouth. The way his lips slide over the metal and his tongue rolls along his lips to catch the syrup left behind almost makes me groan.
“Okay,” I say. At this point, I think I would agree to just about anything.
Suddenly the small house I live in feels even smaller. Not to mention the temperature feels stifling.
“Text me so I have your number.” I blink, pulling out of my sexual haze, and realize Travis is now moving toward the door. “I’ll send you my address, and if you change your mind, I know where to find you.”
“Ridiculous man,” I say with a laugh.
“I know, but something tells me you like that about me.”
With that, he’s exiting my house and I’m left feeling as if I’m floating.
Chapter 13
Travis
“I have a proposition for you,” the stiff, pompous multi-million dollar man, Mr. Harland, says as he strolls around my office. I sit quietly as he overlooks my certificates for myself and each of my employees that are mounted on the wall. This was his game, intimidation, but he no longer got to me.
I had just been handed a check for thousands of dollars for a completed job, and I was riding a high I’d never felt before. So I just waited for him to step down off his imaginary throne he so proudly sits upon.
“Though I have had many offers and proposals submitted...” He finally turns to face me, crossing his arms over his chest. Did I mention the man is taller than Hank, and if you can believe it skinnier? “I think Donovan Electric and Harland Corporation work well together. We have an understanding.”
Again I wait, but I will admit, my pulse has quickened.
“I’ve just purchased three other properties in the surrounding areas. Not all will be apartment complexes, but they will be large projects.” He looks me straight in the eyes when he continues, and my heart fucking raced. “These jobs will make this one you just completed feel like pocket change to you.”
“Go on.” I know my voice must express my excitement because he smiles.
“Harris Drive will hold a second set of apartments, doubling the twenty-five units that Midland has. ”
Double units meant double the payout. The possibilities of what this meant for the future of the company were endless.
“I’ve also bought a large plot of land between the city and a smaller one cal
led Lenexa.” I instantly think of Hope. “That area is a development for a new neighborhood called Harland Estates.” The arrogant smirk that covers his lips doesn’t surprise me. I imagined this little prick to be the type of person that repeats his own name over and over while staring at himself in the mirror. Hell, the guy probably jacks-off to his own picture.
“The property will be divided into one hundred and ten foot by ninety foot lots, each holding three and four bedroom homes.” Mr. Harland continued to explain, and with each explanation I found myself liking the man a little more. We wouldn’t be hanging out having beers anytime soon, but I sure would smile and pretend we were friends if it helped. “The fourth property will be a strip mall, both upper and lower units, as well as a few restaurants, and a gas station.”
My head was spinning with all the information he just threw at me. I was never one to indulge. I’ve always been happy with the small things. “A roof over my head, a reliable vehicle, the name brand shit is good, but the store brand tastes just as good a type of guy. I won’t lie though, right now, I was picturing a big ass house with an in-ground pool. A huge kitchen because Hope’s is tiny as fuck, and mine isn’t much bigger. Somehow the idea of her cooking me breakfast standing in our kitchen while wearing my t-shirt was something I could almost picture.
Our kitchen, even that idea excited me.
“I was hoping we could follow on with the rate we agreed upon for Midland, and carry it throughout the next three projects. You see, when I find someone I work well with, I like to keep that person on my payroll.”
I let it go--the comment about being on his payroll. I wasn't on anyone’s payroll. I worked for me. But for now I left it alone.
“I think we can definitely work out a deal, Mr. Harland.” I stand from my chair, round my desk and then lean back on the opposite side. Crossing my arms over my chest, I immediately notice the way his gaze drops to the flex of my biceps. That’s right, asshole, I got a few sizes up on you.
