by Mary Calmes
“I’ll give your father a call, and maybe you can come out and see the treehouse I built for my mom. It has a room with a glass ceiling so you can look at the stars all night.”
“Really? Can I sleep over?”
It hit me then: Why was I rambling? Why was I telling Ryder all about my house while Mitch was right there… unless I did want Mitch to know that my house was a little kid’s dream come true.
“You can ask your dad,” I told him and wanted to die right there. Jesus Christ, could I stop fuckin’ talking?
“Can we all sleep over?” Mitch asked.
My breath caught. It wasn’t subtle, and holy God, I wanted to run. I should have given seminars on how to act like an ass in front of your ex. “Have you lost your—”
“I need to talk to you,” he insisted, stepping close, too close, swallowing hard, gaze locking with mine. “Soon.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but he took Ryder’s hand, told me he’d call, and returned to Brandon’s cubicle. He didn’t look back, but Ryder did and waved.
Glancing around, I saw four nurses leaning on the counter, smiling at me.
“Don’t you people have patients to see?”
“You and Mitch Thayer, huh, Hage?”
“Shut up,” I told Melinda Graves, my friend Sean’s wife.
Her sigh was loud.
Bolting for the door, I was down the front steps and outside just as my truck pulled up along beside me.
“Hey there, sexy, you want a ride?”
Ash looked very odd driving my baby, incongruous. Some things did not occur in nature, one of them being the millionaire actor in my beat-to-shit pickup.
“You should never be behind the wheel of my truck again.”
“This is the thank-you I get for coming all the way over here.”
My manners kicked in. “Thank you for coming,” I said robotically.
“That’s later,” he explained, smiling at me. “And when I offer you a ride, I mean—”
“Really? You’re doing jizz jokes?”
“Yes,” he teased. “I never fully evolved past twelve.”
He was being funny and charming, but I was prickly and on edge as I had not been before I spoke to Mitchell Thayer. But that made no sense. I was all grown up. I’d left him back in my childhood dreams a million years ago. But then why act like such a basket case in front of him? Why had I reverted to how I’d felt when he first left a million years ago?
“Hage?”
But it was like when you heard a song or caught a scent and you were instantly transported back in time, and for me, it was worse because if there was anyone in the world who could maybe restore normalcy to my life—it was him. My trust in Mitch, in who he was, how he knew me in ways only a lover did, had not changed. If only I could be sure my heart would be as safe with him as the rest of me.
“Hagen?”
But that was insane. It was too much pressure to put on anyone, and besides… if he wanted me, he would have come and found me the second he hit town and, really, before seventeen years had come and gone as well. I had romanticized the idea of him somewhere along the way without realizing it, and now, the thought of being with Mitch, of letting him back into my life, was much more than simply dangerous. I couldn’t be broken again. I had rebuilt my life. There was no way I would let it be torn down again just because I had a weakness for a man with killer blue eyes, a sinful smile, and a body I used to know as well as my own.
No. Never again.
Not that he even wanted me. I was probably hoping for the possibility of something that didn’t exist anyway.
The whole thing was a mindfuck and I needed to get off the merry-go-round before my brain exploded with what ifs. I needed to do something about the man in front of me not the one who inhabited my dreams.
Turning, I let out a quick breath. “You know what, fuck it. Let’s go get your car and you can take me to your place.”
“So, you’re done working for today?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Up for alcohol?”
“God, yes. Lots.”
“And a home-cooked meal?”
“Please.”
“Get in the truck, Hage.”
For once I did exactly as I was told.
Chapter Five
HE DROVE back to my house, and I took a shower as Ash made more phone calls guaranteed, he said, to be the last of the day.
“Why can’t I come in there with you?” he asked for the second time.
“I thought you wanted to take me to your place,” I reminded him.
He huffed, and when I laughed, he opened the shower door to look at me. He was still scowling for a moment but then it fell away and I got a full-on heated leer. “Man, you look good all wet.”
I smiled at him and saw his jaw clench.
“You know, honestly, if you break down all your features, you shouldn’t be this hot.”
I snorted before closing the door on him.
“You shouldn’t!”
After shutting off the water, I grabbed the towel draped over the top of the shower stall and dried off.
“You have slits for eyes,” he went on. “It’s like you’re squinting all the time.”
I ignored him as I got out of the stall and went to hunt for clothes.
“You’re never clean-shaven, you have those ridiculous lines around your mouth when you smile, and you’re—”
“Now you don’t like my face?” I yelled from the small walk-in closet.
“I’m crazy about it,” he assured me, striding up to me, having followed, stepping in close as I pulled on underwear and jeans. I turned after a moment, and he took my face in his hands. “I’m crazy about all of you, from your mop of hair to your veiny feet.”
“Mop?” I took offense, squinting at him.
He lunged at me, kissing me deep and hard, hands everywhere, but mostly on my fly.
And it was hot and I was into it until I realized that the shelves of the closet were at my back and he was between me and the door. I had no room to maneuver and no way out.
It was instinctive, the need to escape, and for a moment—just a fleeting second—a spike of panic drove through me. It happened so seldom, had not, in fact, been a front-and-center issue in a couple of years, but still, that fast, I was trembling.
“Get off me,” I rasped, hearing the fissure of dread in my voice, barely able to breathe.
“No way,” he teased, pushing me back, leveraging, pinning. “You’re shaking,” he murmured, like it was a good thing.
The air froze in my lungs, a chill rolled up my spine, and my heart started to pound like a drum. I shivered even as I flushed with heat. His knee parted my thighs as he pressed his advantage, bending me back as he tried to get into my jeans.
That was it.
I shoved firmly, knocking him off-balance, and moved quickly out of the confines of the space.
“What are you—”
He couldn’t finish his shout of outrage, though, because I pivoted and grabbed him and kissed him breathless to cover my panic.
“The hell was that?” he panted when I let him go.
I cocked an eyebrow. “I told you I’m claustrophobic,” I husked, hoping he didn’t hear the panting caused not by the mauling I’d given him but instead by time gone by.
“You’re in a big room!” Ash was indignant.
I shrugged. “Now I am.”
He stared at me as I moved around, grabbing a Henley and pulling it on before rushing back to the bathroom to put some product in my hair. I was surprised when I turned and he was in the doorway leaning on the frame.
“What?”
“Is this going to make you hyperventilate too?”
“I wasn’t—”
“That wasn’t claustrophobia,” he informed me, moving into the bathroom slowly, watching me. “You were scared.”
I scoffed even though it was the truth. “Yeah, of being in a small damn room,” I quipped, hoping he’d drop it.<
br />
He seemed puzzled. “So, you never go in that room?”
“Not with anyone else barring the exit,” I said nonchalantly. “Can we stop talking about this now?”
“I think… I’ve known other people who were claustrophobic, and it never presented like that,” he said clinically, concern there in his gentle tone.
“Oh really?” I baited him, irritated at myself for letting him see me panic and even angrier that now he was treating me like I was broken. “It never presented like that? Is that your professional opinion?”
He lifted his hand. “Don’t get all defensive and—”
“No, no,” I continued, crossing my arms, staring at him. “Please tell me, I’m sure it would be helpful to get the benefit of your many years of experience here.”
“Just—”
“I’d love to hear your insight into what you think it was that was going on with me since clearly I’m not claustrophobic one bit.”
“Hagen—”
“No, c’mon, I’m sure that everyone on the planet has the exact same symptoms of claustrophobia that manifest the exact same way, and since you’re a shrink and all, maybe you should write me out a prescription for some good drugs that’ll fix me right up since clearly I—”
“Okay!” he yelled, stalking over to me. “You’re annoyed, I got it.”
“What? Annoyed?”
He put up his hands. “Could you please—”
“Don’t act like you know more about me than I do,” I warned him. “I don’t do it to you.”
“The hell you don’t,” he groused, moving to stand beside me, leaning back on the counter, a hand braced on either side of him. “You’re always busy telling me that I don’t care about you when I clearly do, or that I’m not serious when I absolutely am.”
I did do that. I did it all the time.
“And I know I screwed up with that key,” he continued, “but—”
“No,” I said firmly. “We’re done with that. I understand what happened.”
He looked startled.
“What?”
“Nothing. I just—you believe me.”
And that fast, I changed my mind because of how touched he was. It actually meant something to him that I believed him, and I found myself moved by that. “Yeah.”
His smile was hesitant. “I’m really glad to hear it.”
We stood there staring at each other, both of us trying to take a read of the other.
“Also,” he said, clearing his throat, “I had the locks changed.”
“Oh?”
“Just in case copies were made that I wasn’t aware of. I would have gone with an all keyless entry, but there’s no company here that monitors alarms at all or that could reset the locks or open the house remotely.”
I chuckled. “The only alarm system here is your neighbors.”
“Yes, I got that.”
“And you don’t have any,” I reminded him.
“Neither do you.”
“I have Mal and Preston. They live just around the bend.”
“You make it sound like such a short distance, when in actuality, they would have no clue if you were home or not, being robbed or not, if they didn’t drive over.”
I turned my head to him. “You’re right.”
He clutched his heart, and I couldn’t help the smile because the relief was instantaneous. He was dropping his interrogation about the cause of my panic, and God, did I appreciate it. I wasn’t ready to cut him out of my life, and it seemed like—if he wasn’t pushing—I wouldn’t have to.
“I mean,” I teased him, grinning, “about this one thing.”
He sighed, levering off the counter to face me, placing a hand on either side of my neck, his thumbs smoothing over my jaw.
“But that’s it. I don’t want you to get a big head.”
“Heaven forbid,” he whispered, continuing to stare at me.
To return us to normalcy, I puckered up for a kiss.
His snicker of laughter made me smile.
“What?” I blinked innocently.
“Just hurry up already,” he grumbled, leaning in to kiss me before letting go and striding back to the door. “I want to feed you so I can get laid.”
“You romantic you,” I said, laughing at him, teasing, calming, finding my footing, the banter with him welcome.
He charged back over, but I was too quick and feinted left, then right and outmaneuvered him on the way to the door.
“You have the best smile, you know that?” he said from behind me as we reentered my bedroom.
I grinned at him.
“Do you have any idea how wicked you look? You’re utterly decadent.”
My grunt was loud.
“People have been throwing themselves at you your whole life.”
“Not so much,” I apprised him. “I’m not the walking, talking wet dream come to life.”
“The what?”
“Oh please,” I replied, smirking at him. “You’re so pretty, and with your thousand-dollar suits and your perfect everything, I get why men try an’ dive dick-first into your bed.”
“You don’t get anything,” he assured me, fisting his hand in my hair and yanking me forward, to him, into another kiss.
I liked being manhandled, I did, but so close on the heels of the surge of panic, I eased free even as I ordered him to his car. I wasn’t ready to have any soul-bearing conversations with him. I just wanted to steer him out of the house.
He laughed, clearly thinking we were still playing, and did as directed. When I reached the car minutes after him, he looked confused as I got in.
“What?”
“I don’t see a bag,” he informed me.
“I’m blowing off work today, but that means I have to get things done tomorrow.”
“No,” he argued, pointing at my house. “Pack a bag.”
“I’m gonna go back in and stay there if you don’t let this go,” I said flatly, wanting to decompress with him but not about to let him tell me what to do. I had responsibilities, and one thing I didn’t do was let people down. It was drilled into me in the military, that my actions affected others. It was engrained too deep to ignore.
We fell silent, just staring at each other.
“I want you to stay with me.”
“I’ll stay the night, but you’re gonna have to bring me back early in the morning.”
“God, you’re a pain in the ass,” he grumbled, grabbing hold of my bicep to ease me sideways so he could get his mouth on mine.
I chuckled when he leaned back. “You can’t kiss me into submission.”
“I’ll bring you back Monday morning.”
“Nope. Tomorrow morning or I’m getting out.”
He growled. “Fine. But if you oversleep, that’s your own fault.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to do what I ask.”
“It might,” I teased.
“Put your damn seat belt on.”
“You’re awful bossy.”
“Shut up,” he snapped.
I did as I was told, and he whipped the car out of my driveway and gunned it so we flew down the mountain.
“You should watch out for deer,” I reminded him before I closed my eyes and leaned back, settling, letting the final bit of panic seep out of me.
“The wind feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled wearily, opening my eyes. “God, I should just stay home and go to bed.”
It had been a day—working on the sets this morning, the adrenaline rush of saving Brandon, the emotional punch in the gut of seeing Mitch, and then the unexpected panic attack.
“Not yet.” He smiled, put the car into second, and released the gearshift to put his hand on my thigh.
“Hey, both hands on the wheel.” I laughed softly.
He shifted hard and took a left down a side street. We came to stop, and I was confused as to why as we were nowhere near his plac
e.
“What are we doing?”
He turned and put a hand on the back of my neck.
“Oh,” I said as he leaned over the emergency brake.
“Don’t be difficult all right? Just give in.”
It was easier said than done, but I would try. “Okay.”
He looked like he was in pain. “Thank you,” he breathed, pulling me close, his mouth slanting over mine, his tongue thrusting inside. I wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, and there was a little blood on his chin when he pulled away to look at me. “Sorry.”
“For what?” I asked, dabbing at my lip with the back of my hand.
“I bit you.”
I shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“I just—sometimes I want to eat you.”
I grinned. “That’s kinda hot, huh?”
“I think it’s a little scary that you bring out this side of me.”
“Don’t get like this with Stone?” I said before I thought better of it.
He fell back into his seat. “I thought we were done with that.”
“We are,” I soothed. “I’m sorry, it just came out. Forgive me.”
The way he was looking at me made me feel like a specimen under a microscope.
“Please just let it go.”
“I could say the same to you.”
“I swear, last time.”
“That really hurt you.”
I turned to look out at the sidewalk. It had hurt because I was blindsided, not for any other reason. When I knew what to expect, I was always okay.
“Hagen?”
The parking meter outside the car had all my interest.
“You’re more attached than you like to let on.”
Blurting things out without thinking—there was nothing worse. It gave people insight about things they should never know.
“Tell me.”
“You don’t answer to me,” I mumbled, turning back to him slowly. “And I really am past it. It just came out and… it’s just stupid.”
The way he was looking at me, almost pitying? I hated it because it was giving him power he didn’t have. Because it was the idea of us being more that I was mourning, and not what we actually were to each other.
“It’s not stupid.”
But it was. I was an idiot and a sap, and it was all my fault and none of his because he’d made no promises to me, ever. It had been a dalliance from the start, not serious for even a moment, no matter what he’d said earlier in the day. Even buying the B and B I had always found kind of romantic was still simply an investment.
