The wood was polished, the hearth stone scrubbed. The place was tidy, but not immaculate, which made it seem comfortable. Scents of fresh fruit and baked goods lingered, adding smell to the list of approving senses.
Yeah. I could definitely spend time here.
“You’re a good man, Travis Maxwell.” Hearing my name on her lips in that soft, low voice set off another completely foreign series of sensations in my chest. I looked up to find her staring at me.
I grunted, but inside I felt like the Grinch on Christmas morning, when his heart swelled to three times its normal size. I carried the heavily-sedated dog in her bedroom, determined not to look at anything in there. I kept my gaze focused on the cozy nest she had created next to her bed, and tried (unsuccessfully) not to think of her lying in that bed, naked and flushed and saying my name over and over. Loudly.
I’d been in combat situations that didn’t scare me half as much. Needless to say, I put the dog down and hauled my ass out of there as quickly as possible. I waited by the door, my need to escape as intense as my desire to stay. In two steps I could be outside, which made me feel slightly better. In an effort to calm the hell down, I drew in a deep breath, which only brought more of those mouth-watering scents back into my lungs. I was just about to say screw it and bolt for my place when she emerged.
Through the doorway, I could see the dog on the big cushion, wrapped in blankets and snoring loudly. Instead of remaining on the far side of the room – which would have been the prudent thing to do, given my current instability – she closed the distance between us.
My heart thumped in my chest, and I think I actually held my breath as she stepped damn close to my personal space. At this close range, it became clear just how much smaller than me she really was. I knew she was on the petite side, but Christ. The top of her head barely reached my shoulders. If she took one more step forward, her lips would brush my pecs. The urge to wrap my arms around her and pull her into me was visceral. For a few brief moments, I was overwhelmed by that and her soft heat and feminine fragrance wrapping around me.
Through the haze, I absently registered that she was pushing something into my palm. It wasn’t until I looked down and saw a couple of hundred-dollar bills there that I realized what she was doing.
I pushed it back at her. “I don’t want - ”
Her small fingers covered mine, closing my hand into a fist around the money. I was stricken by the contrast of soft, warm skin and the rough brush of callouses that spoke of the hard, manual labor she’d been doing. But that paled in comparison to the instant jolt of electricity and subsequent mild current flowing from her skin into mine. I’d never felt anything quite like it.
I couldn’t help but wonder - if just touching her hand felt like this, what would it feel like to kiss her? To hold her body against mine? To bury myself deep inside all that warm, fragrant heat?
Against my will, my cock hardened painfully, reminding me that I had failed in my earlier mission to work off some of this pent-up energy. I fought against the sudden, almost violent surge of lust, citing so many really good reasons why I could not seduce my neighbor, not the least of which was that this was a particularly bad time.
I met her eyes and what I saw there nearly stopped my heart. The same heat, the same desire I was feeling - as well as a healthy dose of fear. That fear, more than anything, cooled my jets. This woman should never, ever fear me.
Her fingers flexed slightly, reminding me of the paper I held. As much as I didn’t want to take her money, she needed me to. She didn’t want to owe me. I could understand that. Respect it, even. Didn’t mean I had to like it, especially since I was nearly overcome with the sudden and totally irrational need to take care of this woman.
“Is it okay if I stop over and see how he’s doing tomorrow?” I asked instead, ignoring every rule I’d set for myself.
I braced myself for her answer, almost certain to be a no. Several long moments passed before she surprised the hell out of me. My prickly little neighbor – who was no longer seeming prickly at all – pinned those swirls of blue and green on me and smiled.
“Yes. I think he’d like that.”
I’d been right. Her smile, when aimed at me, had the power to short-circuit every defense I had.
“And what about you?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Her dark chocolate lashes – Christ, had they always been that long? – fluttered a little. It was a wholly feminine response, one I doubted she was even aware of. “I think I’d like that, too.”
Reluctantly, I left them there, telling myself I was not at all envious of the mongrel who would be spending the night in her bedroom.
Safely back at my place, I laid in bed, but sleep wouldn’t be coming anytime soon. Not with Clarissa’s big eyes in my head and my dick at full staff pointing straight up to the ceiling, wishing I’d had the stones to take care of business with Sugar.
Who the hell was I kidding? Sex wasn’t going to relieve the deep-seated ache I was feeling these days, the one I fought tooth and nail, the one I had moved into the God-forsaken mountains to avoid ever feeling again.
I shut my eyes tight and fisted my cock, forcing Sugar’s image into my head. Long, flame red hair. Big breasts. Long powerful legs. Green eyes filled with wicked intent. A skilled mouth used in tandem with equally skilled hands...
My erection softened to half-staff. Not what we want, it said to me. I told it to shut the hell up.
I exhaled heavily and punched the mattress at my side, releasing Sugar’s image even as another came, unbidden. This one of a woman with light brown hair streaked liberally with golden highlights from hours in the sun. Light blue eyes, more of a turquoise, really, when she was feeling especially prickly. A small frame hidden beneath formless layers of cotton and denim.
Even dirty, rumpled, and covered in blood she had been beautiful.
Radiant, really.
I looked down and groaned. My cock was in full salute again. I was so screwed.
Chapter 5
Clarissa
I don’t know what I was thinking. Well, yes, I do. I was thinking that Travis Maxwell wanted to see me again.
Which was ridiculous, really. First, he was my neighbor. He could walk halfway across the field that separated our cabins and see me practically anytime he wanted. I had caught him ambling around enough times to know that he didn’t have a problem coming over without an express invitation.
Secondly, he hadn’t asked to see me, but to check on Ripper, meaning that either he, too, had a soft spot for the stray or he doubted my ability to care for him. I was fairly certain he was legitimately concerned for the dog who was now curled up at my feet.
It was obvious Travis cared for animals. Not only had he sprung into action and gotten the dog to the vet in record time, but he had also indulged in a doggie-centric shopping spree at the pet shop in town while I waited at the office.
Thinking of the vet’s office reminded me of the third reason Travis Maxwell couldn’t possibly want to see me – Red Sugar. That woman was gorgeous – tall and curvy with flame red hair and sultry green eyes. Everything about Red Sugar screamed hot, sweaty sex, and the tension in the room made it apparently to anyone paying attention that there was something going on between them.
I told myself that it was just as well because I wanted absolutely nothing to do with my neighbor beyond what we already had. That’s what my mind said, anyway. The rest of my body parts –both inside and out – teamed up and started chanting Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire.
So why had I taken a shower this morning when I just had one last night? Why was I wearing one of the few clean, unstained pair of jeans I had and my favorite vintage concert T – a black, lady-cut Cinderella shirt that made me look more like a woman than a lumberjack? Why had I chosen to leave my hair down, letting it cascade more than half-way down my back in natural waves?
Because I was a freaking idiot, that’s why.
I looked at the freshly
baked bread I’d cut into thick slabs in preparation for my special batter-dipped French toast and the pound of bacon I had draining on paper towels. At the bowl of homemade chunky peach syrup I had made as a topping. The full carafe of imported coffee beans, ground fresh this morning.
All because I thought Travis Maxwell might want to rush over here first thing this morning to check on the dog.
Yeah. Freaking. Idiot. I guess great-aunt Bea wasn’t the only delusional one in our family.
I blew out a breath in self-disgust and was just about to go back and change when I heard a knock on my front screen door.
I froze. I sucked in a breath and waited, just in case it had been my devious (and obviously sex-deprived) mind playing tricks on me.
The knock came again, this time accompanied by that low rumble that sent tremors through my lower core. “Hello?”
One word. That’s all it took for my nerves to fire up and my juices to start flowing. Ripper picked his head up and offered a soft woof of encouragement.
“Coming!” I called out, mortified to realize how close I was to doing just that. From one word.
I wasn’t the only one freshly showered. Travis’s hair was damp, too, and I got a whiff of shaving cream and some kind of manly deodorant soap when I opened the door. “Sorry,” I stammered. “I was in the kitchen. Making breakfast.”
It was impossible to miss the way he inhaled deeply or the look of longing on his face he tried so hard to hide. “Smells great.”
“It’s just about ready. Would you like to join me?”
I saw the indecision and appreciated that he worried about overstepping his bounds. “I don’t want to impose. I just wanted to check on the dog, see how he was doing.”
“No imposition, I ... made a lot. And you can come see Ripper for yourself.”
In the past two minutes I’d said more to this man than I had in the past six months, but now that the seal had been broken, I couldn’t seem to stop running off at the mouth.
“If you’re sure.” Doubt and – dare I say it – hope – etched his beautiful, masculine features.
“I’m sure.”
He followed me into the kitchen, where Ripper’s tail was soundly thumping the ancient linoleum-covered floor. He started to get up, but Travis was on his knee, petting him with one of those huge hands so he didn’t have to.
“He’s definitely looking better.”
I pulled two plates from the cupboard and started loading them up with the results of my morning’s efforts. When I turned back around, I was almost certain I’d caught Travis ogling my ass.
“He’s pretty tough.”
Travis stood and looked at the spread. It was so adorable, seeing that look on his grown-up face. Like a little boy staring at a plate full of cookies, right out of the oven. “You sure about this?”
I wondered if Red Sugar ever cooked for him, or if she just cooked for him. Was that even an acceptable euphemism for sex and related acts of an erotic nature? Given the current hormonal crisis his arrival seemed to have caused, I think I could have found a way to relate dryer lint to sex.
“Yes, why?”
“Well...” His eyes roamed over the heaping piles of food before landing on me. Hungry eyes. And that was an acceptable euphemism. “You know what they say about feeding strays.”
Was he calling himself a stray? “No. What do they say?”
His lips quirked a little. “Once you start, they keep coming back. You sure that’s what you want?”
Ah, yes. I was not the only one sensing potential here. I pretended to give it some thought. “Yeah. And if they become pests, I’ve always got the BB gun.”
Travis Maxwell decimated me with another full-wattage, bone-melting smile. “True. If you ever learn to hit what you’re aiming at.”
I knew a gauntlet thrown down when I saw one. “Maybe I need a better teacher.”
His eyes widened in surprise, then he laughed – a full, booming sound that filled my kitchen and made me feel incredibly feminine. “Oh, sweetheart, you did not just go there.”
I sat my butt down and pushed the bacon toward him, giving him what I hoped passed for a cheeky grin, praying that he couldn’t see my legs shaking (a result of the bones melting).
“Oh, I went there.”
Those steely gray eyes glowed silver. “You just got yourself an extra hour of target practice. Every day.”
I couldn’t completely hide my grin, so I settled for stuffing my mouth instead. The funniest part was, he thought he had just given me a punishment.
Travis
Christ, she was so cute, thinking she’d goaded me into that one. As if spending more time with her wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. Of course, I might have been envisioning other activities besides shooting, but I’d take it.
I bit into the thick, battered toast on my plate and nearly groaned in ecstasy. Goddamn but the woman could cook. Add that to her sexy little body, her big heart, and her stubborn independent streak, and was it any wonder I was fighting a losing battle to keep my distance?
In every life, there are always a couple of pivotal moments that change everything. Joining the Marines had been one for me. So had catching my girlfriend and my former best friend in bed together. I still can’t believe what a sucker I’d been – blowing off my rehab session to head into town and pick up an engagement ring, of all things. I was planning to surprise her at dinner later that night, a dinner to celebrate the fifth anniversary of our first date. Since my military career was over, and I was getting a fresh start, I thought it was the perfect time.
The kicker was, Cal knew about my plans to ask Sienna to marry me. I’d confided in him. Not the specific when’s and how’s, of course – but definitely the intention. While I was down at Litz’s picking out a rock, he was getting a little back-door action with my soon-to-be fiancé.
I guess, in retrospect, it was a good thing I decided not to wait till dinner and went over to her apartment early that day, though I didn’t see it that way at the time.
Talk about eye-openers. Most life-changers are like that – they cold-cock you upside the head and knock your ass onto a totally different path, and more often than not, involve something bad or tragic. But not always.
Sitting there with Clarissa in her kitchen, swallowing each orgasmic bite, I felt like my path had just altered dramatically. So where was the anger, the great sense of disquiet and tumult that should be accompanying this revelation? Why did I feel this totally unexpected and foreign sense of peace settle over me instead?
I glanced up at the chestnut-haired lovely licking a drop of syrup from the corner of her mouth while she sneakily added the horse-sized antibiotic and pain pills into bite-sized pieces of bread-wrapped bacon and fed them to Ripper. That dog hadn’t taken his eyes off of her the entire time I’d been here, except for those couple of minutes when I’d first arrived. Clearly, he and I were of similar mind, which made sense when you consider that Clarissa Sullivan had the power to influence both of our lives if we allowed it. I was pretty sure Ripper had already made his decision.
Me, I needed some time to process it all. I wasn’t a kid anymore, and I’d sure as hell learned my lesson about thinking with something other than my brain.
“You might not be able to shoot worth a shit, but this is by far the best breakfast I have ever had,” I said, just to see how she’d react. Would she hear the teasing insult or the compliment?
She didn’t directly acknowledge either. “I suppose it would seem that way to someone accustomed to cold cereal in the morning.”
My hand froze halfway to my mouth. I narrowed my eyes at her. “How do you know what I eat for breakfast?”
Her lips twitched even as a rosy flush colored her cheeks. “Educated guess. You’re a guy living alone, and I never smell anything cooking over your way before dinner time.”
She’d obviously been paying closer attention than I’d given her credit for. I tried not to be flattered by that. After all, I had be
en doing the same to her for some time.
“Any other thoughtful insights into my private life you’d like to share?”
The dusky rose in her cheeks darkened and she shifted uncomfortably. “No,” she lied.
This was new – Clarissa Sullivan displaying uncertainty. It made me feel more in control. I leaned back and pounced on it. “Oh, come on. You must have noticed other things.”
“I have,” she admitted, “but you asked me if I wanted to share them.”
Clever girl. “Fair enough. But I have to tell you, I’m feeling rather violated right now,” I said, grabbing another piece of bacon and waving it around in emphasis. “If this meal wasn’t so damn good, I’d so be out that door.” To punctuate that thought, I bit into the bacon and moaned, closing my eyes.
It had the intended effect. Clarissa couldn’t hold back her grin and her eyes were sparkling. She had some really beautiful eyes. I hadn’t noticed that they weren’t really one color before, but rather a progression. Really blue around the pupil, transitioning to a light green around the outside. Turquoise in between.
“You’re one to talk,” she said, sipping her coffee. “You’ve had me under surveillance since I moved in.”
I raised my eyebrows in mock surprise. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t even know you were here until about a week ago.”
That made her laugh, but she didn’t call me on it. I had suspected she knew I was looking out for her and she’d just confirmed it.
“Besides,” I said casually, “there’s nothing wrong with neighbors looking out for one another.”
She nodded, her face growing more serious. “You’re right. I’m sorry I haven’t been...more neighborly.”
I shrugged. “I’m sure you had your reasons, just as I had mine. You don’t live in a place like this if you want a lot of company, right?”
The Realist Page 5
