She tapped her fingernails—still the same deep burgundy she’d painted them to match their top-rated Cabernet for last weekend’s Festival—against the glass candleholders on the mantel. “This is a pop-in. Something universally frowned upon in polite society.”
“Come on.” Ward propped his sock feet on her coffee table. He looked utterly at home. Which was good. Except that for as comfortable as he seemed, Piper felt just as uncomfortable. Which wasn’t fair at all. “You, me, Ella, Casey...we don’t schedule a time to show up with beer and pizza after a tough day. We just do it.”
“Your point doesn’t apply to the current situation. My best friends have pop-in privileges. My boyfriend does not.”
“I don’t want the perfect girlfriend version of Piper. I want my best friend version of Piper.” A wicked wink. One that, with the dark beard and mussed hair, gave him the air of a pirate. Or at least a rogue. “With kissing privileges.”
Self-conscious, Piper tucked her hair behind her ears. Then changed her mind, pulled it forward and fluffed it instead. “What’s wrong with the other me?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on. Give it to me straight.” Otherwise she’d just panic and obsess all night. Or for the whole rest of the week. Piper had worked for years refining her image. Polishing it. What on earth could Ward find wrong with it?
Ward sighed. Sat up straight and put his feet back on the floor. “You were always beautiful. Insecure about it, because your parents have always ignored what a treasure you are. Now you’ve got this glossy sheen. Elegant. Sophisticated. A little too bright and shiny, like when the sun stabs off the lake and blinds you.”
“So I’m stabbingly unapproachable. Just what every girl longs to hear on a date.”
“You asked. I answered. Told you when we started this that I wouldn’t lie to you.”
True. Which she appreciated, and more important, believed. In theory. Piper crossed her arms over her loose cream shirt as she stalked closer to scowl at him. “Much like pop-in privileges, I think the lying rule needs to be amended.”
Ward stood. Reached out a hand to caress her cheek with the back of one finger. “Blinding beauty is not a bad thing. It’s just different. Really different than the last time we dated. What’s with the transformation?”
It was tempting to make a snarky comment about usually having the time to brush her hair before seeing people. Shrug it off as just part of growing up. Get all sultry, channel her inner sex kitten and tell him this is what a woman looked like. But in the spirit of their fresh start and all-honesty approach, Piper told him the truth.
“I stopped standing in your shadow.”
His hand dropped back down to his side as fast as if she’d burned him. “That’s harsh, Piper. I never put you down.”
“No, of course not. But you’re right about my parents. They made me horribly insecure.” Piper hugged herself even tighter. “They still do. You were the big, shining star of our high school. I didn’t bother trying to stand out at all, because no matter what, you’d eclipse me. That was fine. But once we split up, I had an epiphany.”
“Big word. Sounds like a big deal.”
She shook her head. Turned her back on him and walked over to the window to get some space. To not have to look at him through this conversation. Because staring out at Mrs. Brantley walking her cat down the sidewalk with that ridiculous turquoise sequined leash was better than facing Ward. Because apparently, for all her talk about being a strong, independent woman, Piper was a bit of a coward at her core. Oh well. Something to obsess about tomorrow. “You don’t want to talk about this now.”
“Sure I do.”
She flailed another attempt to go no further. Fisted her hand against the glossy white window frame. “We don’t need to get mired in the past.”
“Sounds like we already are to some extent. Spit it out.”
Okay. Fine. They’d be all mature, full-on adults about this. Time had passed. Wounds had healed over. Maybe this was one of those things they had to discuss in order to move forward. Piper had learned over the past eleven days of pseudo-dating Ward that he’d changed. Still not a talker. He’d never be that guy at the bar telling stories to everyone within earshot. But he was more...thoughtful in his responses. Delved deeper. They probably couldn’t have had this conversation a few years ago. But now, she thought they just might make it through.
“When you hooked up with that girl—”
He broke in swiftly. “I didn’t hook up with her. It was only one kiss. What you saw was all that ever happened.”
Piper whirled around. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
She’d always assumed that he’d had sex with that girl. Probably a ton of times. Because that was the sort of self-flagellation one indulged in after being cheated on. Piper had never come out and asked him. It didn’t matter how far they went. Cheating was cheating, to her mind.
Except...maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was a single slip. One Ward would’ve regretted and stopped all by himself. Without them ever breaking up. Maybe they could’ve been happy together for all these years. Sheesh. Talk about self-flagellation. Rewriting the past was impossible. Pointless to go there even in fantasy.
“She was pretty,” Piper said in a low voice. Pretty was an understatement. Big boobs. Waaay bigger than Piper’s. Blond hair that fell in perfect waves down to her ass. Angora sweater maybe two shades darker pink than her skirt. Above-the-knee boots to die for. The entire ensemble had burned itself onto Piper’s retinas and into her mind.
“So?” He looked genuinely confused. And she loved him a little more for it.
Forget the lingerie he hadn’t given her a chance to slip on. Piper was waving her emotional underwear in his face. With flaming cheeks, she continued. “So I was sure that you hooked up with her because she was prettier than me. Better than me.”
In a flash, he moved in on her. Grabbed her by the arms. Lifted her almost to her toes. “No—” It came out an anguished growl that Piper cut off with a palm against his lips.
“Let me finish. I was certain that you were in the market for an upgrade, all the way round. Believed it to the innermost part of me. And for that, I didn’t fault you. My own parents had shown me a hundred different ways that they wanted a better version. Why wouldn’t you?”
Ward gathered her in to an embrace so tight it puffed the air from her lips like a popped balloon. So tight that it squeezed all the old hurt and insecurity right out of her, too. “God, Piper,” he murmured against her neck. “There is no upgrade from you. You’re the top-of-the-line model, babe.”
Well, he’d have to say that now, wouldn’t he? “Thanks,” she said in a tone that would’ve been more appropriate to him telling her she had head lice.
“Don’t. I’m not feeding you a line.” His embrace loosened just enough for him to pull back and look her in the eyes. “I wouldn’t be right here, putting my heart out for you to stomp all over, if I didn’t mean it.”
“I know. Really.” With a fast dip of her head, Piper added, “That is, I know you mean it now. But you asked why I changed, and that’s the answer. I didn’t think I was good enough for you.”
Eyes narrowed, he asked, “We split up, though. Why would my supposed taste in girls matter enough after that to make you change?”
As if his opinion could ever stop mattering to Piper. “It planted a seed. Then, the more I thought about it, I didn’t think I was as good as I deserved to be. As I could be. I didn’t want there to ever be a situation where I felt that I didn’t measure up for lack of trying. So I made myself over. Subscribed to ten different fashion magazines. Got a makeup consultation from every counter in the department store.” Arms raised, she twirled away and chasséd over to the chaise. “Even took a semester of ballet to learn how to walk more gracefully.”
“I woul
d’ve liked to see you in a leotard and tutu. Was that fun?”
“No.” With a bitter laugh, Piper sank onto the velvety cushions. And grabbed the cream throw off the back to cradle against her stomach. Even revisiting the memory of the class required a little extra comfort. “It was horrible, actually. Madame Girard was old-school. She taught by demoralizing and yelling. I ached so much I had to soak in a tub after every class.”
“Why’d you stick it out?”
Ella and Casey had asked her the very same thing, on a nightly basis, as she moaned and whined her way through the class. “Because when a grudging très bien fait slipped out of her lips, I knew I’d rocked it. Felt like I’d earned a medal. Better, I’d earned her approval. After surviving Madame Girard? I’d never again wonder if I could be good enough.”
“You never needed polishing, to my eyes. But you sure as hell sparkle now, Piper.” Approval warmed his tone and heated his gaze. Heated her, straight through to her core.
It meant a lot that he’d noticed the difference. And that he didn’t seem put off at all by her current, un-sparkling state. Right now, Piper felt flatter than tap water. “I try.”
“You don’t have to. Not with me.”
“You’re saying you’re not worth my effort?”
“I’ll appreciate the effort. Don’t need it all the time, though.” Ward crossed to her bar setup. Picked up the corkscrew and grabbed a Cabernet Franc out of the back row. “You like your own wine, right?”
“Morrissey Vineyards wine? Of course. That cab franc in particular pairs equally well with pizza and steak—”
He cut her off. “Skip the sales pitch. It’s good. So good that it wins awards. How much does your most expensive bottle go for?”
“Our Reserve is forty dollars.”
“You enjoy the hell out of your forty-dollar wine. But once in a while, you like to live it up, hand over a Franklin and get a Châteauneuf-du-Pape, right?”
The cork popped out, punctuating his surprisingly on-target metaphor. Piper still wished that she’d gotten the chance to shave her legs. But she was much more relaxed about Ward seeing her in her comfily shapeless clothes. “Message received.”
“That’s sort of in the same ballpark as to why I came over tonight.”
“You wanted to raid my wine rack and open a really expensive bottle?”
Ward hooked a thumb at the foyer. “Please. I brought my own beer to drink with the pizza. This fermented grape juice is all for you.”
She tossed the blanket to the floor and sat up, curling her legs beneath her. “Then hand it over.”
“Dating’s a big deal. You try to come up with fun things to do together. Over-the-top special dates. Sort of like a divorced dad taking his kids to an amusement park every other weekend and stuffing them full of cotton candy until they puke.”
Piper froze, mid-reach for the glass. Looked down at her shining, immaculate floors and fluffy white area rug. “Coincidentally, two things definitely not allowed in this living room are cotton candy and vomit.”
“Hey, they’re not on my agenda for the night.” Ward retrieved his six-pack from the foyer and cracked a bottle open.
“So what is?”
“Being normal.” He sat on the end of the chaise, legs spread wide and looking eight hundred percent too masculine for such a girly piece of furniture. “After the first excitement wears off, most couples don’t twist themselves in knots trying to win the best date award. The real test of whether or not a relationship will last is how you hold up to the everyday stuff. We’ve only got nineteen days left in this experiment. I jumped ahead to what a normal Wednesday night will look like if we keep going. Two people, hanging out, sharing their day over pizza. No bells or whistles. Just us.”
It was exactly the element that reality dating shows always left out. Which was probably why most of those couples didn’t last. Without the distraction of fabulous trips, they discovered they had no framework to build a relationship on. It was a good reminder of Ward’s ability to see through all the bullshit and discern what really mattered.
“That’s rather brilliant, Ward.”
“I have my moments.” Running a hand over his forehead and down the side of his face, he continued, “All the suggestions in the journal were pissing me off, anyway.”
“What suggestions?” A horrible suspicion crept up on her. “You don’t mean you asked the town for advice on how to date me—in the mailbox journal? Do you?”
“Yeah.”
“Seriously?” Piper twisted around to kneel. “Why? Why on earth would you do that? What will everyone think?”
“Who cares what anyone thinks?”
Honestly, sometimes they might as well be speaking two different languages. His laissez-faire attitude toward public perception boggled her most of the time. “I do, of course!” Even if she did care twice as much as she probably should.
That netted her an eye-roll. “There’s a ticking clock on this whole thing we’re doing here. I don’t have time to fall into and then recover from the boneheaded mistakes guys always make. I’ve got to get this right. So, yeah, I asked for help. No stone unturned, blah, blah, blah.”
It was equal parts horrifying and romantic. Piper took a long gulp of wine while she figured out which way to lean. “I should be mad,” she said slowly. “That seems like an appropriate response to you opening up our lives to the entire town for a vote.”
“They didn’t know it was you. Or me. No names.”
Thank goodness. She never would’ve been able to stand the humiliation. Now Piper could relax and focus on how sweet it was that Ward was trying so hard. Harder, she realized, than she was. He deserved more of an effort from her. Something to ponder after he left tonight.
Leaning back to fully recline on the slanted chaise, she said, “Probably explains why the answers weren’t personalized to us at all.”
“Not one whit. You wouldn’t believe how many people suggested I take you to bingo. Or the Catholic Friday night fellowship potluck.”
“Um, neither of us are Catholic.”
“Neither of us looks for a good time in a church basement.” He pushed her skirt up over her knees. Quirked his eyebrows up in a sexy invitation. “Unless you want to put on a Catholic school girl uniform and get frisky after hours.”
“How about we save costumes and toys until we have just regular sex once?”
Ward slapped his hands together, as if wiping her request off of them. “Sorry. I can’t downgrade my performance to regular. Can’t dial it back to anything less than mind-blowing.”
“Big talk.”
“Big everything.”
Piper burst into laughter. They’d survived the serious talk, cleared the air and come out the other side. Ward definitely had the right idea for the evening. Relaxing with him was the perfect way to end the day. It didn’t take any effort at all to picture them just like this three months in the future. Or three years. It made for an enticing vision. An aborted dream come true. One she’d given up on, but always craved. “How about we start with a really big pizza, and go from there?”
“Already ordered on the way over here. Sausage, pepperoni and mushroom, like always.” He looked at his watch. “Should be here in ten minutes.”
Just enough time to put into action her put-more-effort-into-this-relationship plan. Well, it was more of a single bullet point at this moment, because she had no plan. Yet. But she had to start somewhere. So she crooked her foot around Ward’s hip and dug in, urging him closer. It didn’t take much. With one foot on the floor, he scooted up to prop himself alongside her. Propped his head on his fist and threw a leg across hers.
“Yes?”
“I’ve got an idea how we can kill those ten minutes.”
He rubbed the cold bottle down the length of her arm, sprouting
goose bumps in its path. “I’ve got one, too. Want to compare?”
“Not really. I’m not in a talking mood anymore.”
“Makes this a red-letter day.” The damp bottle moved to the sliver of belly exposed between her top and her skirt. Ward’s leg was the only thing that kept her from bowing off the cushions at the sensation. “Since when doesn’t Piper Morrissey have a stream of thoughts coming out of her mouth?”
“Since you drive them all out of my brain.” The sentence ended in a gasp as his tongue trailed across the line of condensation left by the bottle. “Ward, this isn’t fair. I’m trying to put the moves on you.”
“There’s time enough for you to get a turn. Later.”
He did some swirly thing with his tongue in her belly button that unfurled a coiled spring of lust that ran from between her legs out to the tips of all four of her limbs. Piper scratched her nails across his scalp. Clenched her hands in two fat fistfuls of hair and held on tight.
One more swirl. This time Ward paired it with a sweep of his hand up her torso to land on her breast. Well, she wished it was right on her breast. The layers of top and bra that separated her skin from his hand might as well have been the Berlin Wall. Impenetrable. Frustrating. Ten minutes was plenty of time, given how hot they both were for each other. Four freaking seconds of foreplay and Piper was ready to explode.
There was no reason to play coy. No reason to wait. No reason to drag out this sensual torture. Right now, Piper couldn’t think of a single reason why they’d even waited this long. Sex was a logical and normal thing for a couple to indulge in on a random Wednesday night, right? As obvious a next step in the evening as the pizza they were expecting.
“We should just do it,” she announced. “Take the edge off.”
He nipped at her waist with his teeth. “Nope.”
Back To Us (Shore Secrets 3) Page 19
