by Amy Knupp
“Seven years later, my mom suffered a massive heart attack.” She kept control of her composure, but he could see it was a fight. “Charlie came back for the funeral. She stayed for a week then went back to New York.”
It all clicked into place for him at that moment. “She left you then, at an awful time. So you’re worried she would do the same again.”
Mercedes pressed her lips together. Nodded. “It’s stupid, I know. I’m an adult. It’s been just Gram and me for years.”
“It’s not stupid. What about the rest of what she said? That you don’t let Charlie get close to you. Where’d that come from?”
Mercedes became pensive. “Maybe she’s right about that. Kind of goes together with expecting her to leave, I guess. Why put myself out there if she’s going to leave again? I’d love for our family of three to be tighter, but I’m not the one who moved thousands of miles away.”
She seemed to have run out of steam and he lost track of how long they sat there in the near dark, not speaking, his fingers gently playing in her hair. Her breathing deepened, evened out. That she trusted him enough to first open up about her past and then to fall asleep on him had an inexplicably profound effect on him. On several levels. The first was a sort of awed humility. Though he’d been with plenty of women in his life, he’d never let himself experience this. Beyond that, well…he was a male. She was a beautiful woman with a sexy body, one that he’d been lucky enough to explore in detail. One that had been etched into his consciousness.
One that was stretched out across him so that he could feel every breath and see the subtle shifts—the rise of her breasts with each inhale, the vague shifting of her abdomen as she exhaled.
His own body responded to the sight of hers. The need to show her what she did to him pounded through his veins. But he wouldn’t let himself go there. Not only was she upset and in need of something besides a lover tonight, but he’d promised himself. He wasn’t going to get any closer. He could listen, but he couldn’t touch.
Scott leaned his head back on the top of the couch cushion and forced his brain to other things. Baseball had never worked for him as a distraction because he had a hard time giving a damn about the game. Instead, he systematically went through the procedures for every emergency-medical situation he could think of, mentally listing every painstaking step.
Aeons later, when he heard Gemma make a bathroom run and return to her bedroom, his body and thoughts were under control. Maybe he’d dozed off himself. He checked his watch. Ten after one. Mercedes seemed to have settled in and, though he loved the idea of her on top of him, his neck was stiff from his position.
He slid out from under her without waking her, then bent to pick her up in a cradle hold. If she was going to stay overnight, she was going to be in his bed. No matter how hard it would be to keep his hands and other parts to himself.
Once he had her settled under his blankets, he crawled in beside her and put his arm around her possessively. He settled in to watch the minutes on the digital clock change.
Though he had to get up for work at six, it was going to be one hell of a long night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
MERCEDES AWOKE TO the sound of a door closing. It took a few moments for her to realize where she was—Scott’s bedroom. By herself. It must have been the front door, because this one was slightly ajar. The clock said it was just after six-thirty in the morning. He probably had to work today.
But back to Scott’s bedroom. She relaxed into the pillow and breathed in the scent of him, smiling. She’d spent the night in his arms.
Glancing down at her body, she verified her next realization—fully clothed. Her work clothes from yesterday were twisted around her and extra wrinkled, but fully intact.
She drowsily hugged his pillow to her and something in her gut did a light little spin move. That she’d spent the night without things getting physical…for some reason that seemed meaningful. Significant.
She sat up, a little alarmed, not wanting to think too hard about it.
The sound of the shower turning on in the hall bathroom brought her still closer to reality. Gemma was here and awake. She wasn’t ready to face Gemma or anyone. She definitely didn’t want to explain what was between Scott and herself, not when she was still sorting through it.
Mercedes hopped out of Scott’s bed and left the covers as they were, then hurried to his bathroom. Searching for a pick for her hair, she swore quietly, finding only a fine-toothed comb. Of course. He wouldn’t have use for a pick, but that little comb would never get through her hair. She finger-combed it briefly before giving up, then rushed to the living room, thankful the shower was still running. Grabbing her shoes and purse, she sneaked out.
The complex was uncharacteristically quiet, almost peaceful, but she knew that was deceiving. As was the calmness she’d felt upon waking up in Scott’s bed. Shaking her head to rid it of that line of thought, she walked to her car and got in.
Instead of turning right off Miller Street, she took a left. Gram would only just be waking up, and for once she was content to let that be Charlie’s responsibility. She needed time to herself. A chance to think.
She took the road that went north out of the San Amaro city limits. She drove several hundred feet beyond the last large beach house, out of sight of it, then pulled over, left the car on the side of the road and headed for the dunes. The wind was whipping today and the gulf was fighting back, throwing turbulent, rough waves at the shore. The sun was barely visible through a blanket of clouds, leaving the air on the shore chilly, especially for the middle of summer. Mercedes welcomed it as she sat on the sand.
Sex with Scott had been one thing. One glorious, toe-curling thing. Last night had been entirely different.
Being held by him when she was reeling from the argument with Charlie, when she’d been forced to ruminate on some of the hardest times of her life to understand what had happened between her and her sister… Just thinking about it warmed her from the inside out.
But old habits died hard.
Instinctively, she slammed down on that warm fuzzy feeling sneaking in as she always had in the past.
Gram was her first responsibility. As she’d said so many times—and meant it in her heart every single one—she’d have a chance for love and her own family later.
She pounded the sand with her fist in frustration, propelling the fine grains several feet in front of her.
The truth stared her in the face.
Scott was the kind of man that she could fall in love with.
Her chest tightened with fear and she knew at that moment what it must feel like to be floating in outer space with no tether and little hope of landing somewhere safely. She knew what it was to have no sense of direction, no idea if she was going forward or back. Only that she couldn’t get her feet under her.
Mercedes rolled onto her stomach in a near panic. She crossed her arms under her forehead and came as close as she dared to literally burying her head in the sand. Her feelings scared the life out of her.
She wasn’t supposed to care so much about Scott.
Countless gut-deep breaths later, the anxiety started to recede. And along with the easing of the choke hold on her chest came a return to rational thinking.
Which led her to a realization she didn’t want to face: Charlie might have been right about her. Okay, not might have been. Charlie was right. Caring about someone scared the crap out of Mercedes…in part because she was terrified of being left by yet another person. Just the thought that she could fall in love with Scott had freaked her out—with good reason. She already knew he was leaving.
The squeezing on her chest came back for a moment, but she fought it off.
She wasn’t in love. She wasn’t stuck wondering when he was going to take off. Everything was okay.
Because she had her eyes open, she could protect herself from getting hurt. Even if Charlie hadn’t been right, Mercedes knew what she was up against. That brought a
certain calmness to her. If the fear was not knowing if or when someone would leave her, then she was going to be okay. Yes, she would absolutely miss Scott when he was gone, but she’d deal with that when the time came.
For now, she vowed to enjoy every minute she got with him.
* * *
“SO,” GEMMA SAID as Scott sat on the living room floor in front of the couch. He opened the pizza box on the coffee table and cut a piece of Carnivore’s Delight for each of them.
“So?” He handed her a plate and dug in to his pizza.
“Was it my imagination or did you have a girl in your room the other night?” The normally somewhat sullen Gemma had been overcome by a smug version.
He didn’t share her amusement. He and Mercedes hadn’t made much noise at all and by the time he’d taken her to his bed, she was asleep. He finished chewing. “Nosy much?”
“Work with me. I’m marooned on the couch, I’m as big as an elephant and my social life consists of one-sided get-to-know-you-intimately dates with an assortment of doctors.” She popped a pepperoni into her mouth. “Let me live vicariously through you.”
“You can get up from the couch,” he said. He’d never been so relieved as when her doctor had decided earlier today that a little bit of movement was okay for Gemma. She was still on bed rest but not quite as strict.
“Big excitement to make my own toast,” Gemma said, wrapping a string of melted cheese around her finger. “So, was it Mercedes?”
Scott couldn’t say why he was so annoyed by her persistence, but he was. The other night had been no big deal. He’d kept his word to himself by keeping his hands to himself. No one needed to make it into more than it was. “I’m leaving in a little over a week, you know.” Maybe distraction would work.
“How much are you going to miss me?”
“Loads,” he said absently. “Gemma, have you figured out where you’re going to go yet? What you’re going to do?”
Turning to make eye contact, he couldn’t believe how nonchalant she looked, sitting there eating pizza. Gemma shrugged halfheartedly.
“I hope by then I’ll be off bed rest completely and able to work.”
Scott stopped eating. Stared at her. Did she have no concept of how up a creek she was? Gemma wasn’t a dumb girl—that much he was sure of. Was she in denial? “The chances of your doctor lifting all forms of bed rest are slim to none. You need to face up to that.”
She was quiet for some time. Thoughtful. Her plate was empty but she didn’t reach for more. “You’re not a doctor.” The accusation in her tone was something he’d never heard from her.
“I don’t have to be. I heard what yours said.”
“This is called positive thinking.”
“Gemma, look, I know you’re stressed, but you don’t have to take it out on me. I’m trying to help.”
“How are you trying to help?” She sat up straight and her voice rose in volume. “Raining on my parade does me no good. But then what do you care? You’ll be out of here.” Now she sounded like a petulant little girl and he was reminded of her actual age.
“You knew from the beginning that I was leaving,” Scott said, keeping his voice measured and a lot calmer than he felt. He moved up to the edge of the couch, on the opposite end from her. “There’s an option here, Gemma. One that would see you through the baby’s birth. Help you get started on positive ground.”
In spite of her anger, he saw an uncharacteristic flash of hope on her face. “What option?”
“You’re not going to like it,” he warned. “But I think you need to move in with Dad. He’s offered—”
“Unbelievable.” She pushed herself awkwardly off the couch faster than he’d seen her move since her hospital stay. “That’s so not going to happen.”
Gemma hurried out of the living room and slammed the door to her bedroom. Getting this upset wasn’t good for her or the baby, Scott knew. She needed to calm down, but she also needed to see reason. Face reality.
He swore and walked to her door, wondering how he’d ended up in this role of trying to steer her to do what needed to be done, against her will. The role of a parent or…a big brother.
He’d never signed up for this. Didn’t know the first thing about advising or being a good influence. There was a fine line between trying to force Gemma to move in with their dad and helping her decide it was the best thing for her. He just hoped his approach put him on the right side of the line.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MERCEDES JUMPED UP FROM Gemma’s bed at the sound of the front door closing. She glanced at the girl to make sure she still slept. It’d taken more than an hour to calm her down, plus Gemma’s favorite band playing over and over on Mercedes’s smartphone to get her to finally drift asleep after her argument with Scott.
Now, judging by the slam of the door and his hard footsteps down the hallway, he was seconds from waking her up.
When he went into his room, Mercedes left Gemma’s, quietly shutting her door, turning off the music that would be stuck in her head for days. She headed without hesitation to Scott.
When she entered his room, he stood near the bathroom, his back to her, and he’d just taken a T-shirt off. All that remained were wet knee-length swim trunks. Mercedes allowed herself a moment to appreciate the muscles on his back, rippling with his movements like smooth waves in the bay. Gone was the panic from the morning after she’d spent the night. Looking at him now, with so much of him bared, the concepts of just-for-fun and here-and-now were easy to embrace.
“You were swimming,” she said in a hushed voice to his back as she eased the door shut behind her.
He whipped around, obviously startled. “When the urge for a drink gets overpowering I have to do something. What are you doing here?”
“Gemma called me. Really upset. She’s asleep now.”
He scowled and disappeared into the bathroom with his wet shirt. When he walked back into the bedroom, he no longer carried it.
“I’m not going to apologize.” He leaned against the doorjamb, set his jaw stubbornly and crossed his arms over his lickable chest, not that she was checking it out or anything.
“I never said you should.” Mercedes sat on his perpetually unmade bed.
“Moving in with her dad is the only thing she can do. She’s living in some kind of dreamworld if she thinks her doctor is going to release her completely from bed rest.”
“I know that, Scott.”
He looked at her in surprise but didn’t relax. “Then what the hell is she thinking?” His voice climbed.
“Shh. Let her sleep. Come here.”
“I need to shower.”
That presented all kinds of interesting possibilities. She got up, walked over to him and said as much.
“Why aren’t you yelling at me?” he asked, peering down at her.
She stifled a grin. “When have I ever yelled at you?”
“You think moving in with her dad—”
“Your dad,” she corrected, but he ignored her.
“—will stress her out too much. Last I knew, you were pretty loudly against the idea.”
“I was wrong.” She ran her index finger over his tanned forearm, still crossed in front of him.
“Say that again?”
“You were right. Moving in with your dad is the best thing for Gemma to do, at least until she has the baby and can work again.”
He ignored her touch, though she continued it, admiring the taut muscle, the coarse hair.
“You’re admitting you’re wrong?” There was the faintest hint of a smile in his voice. “You must want something from me.”
“You’re more astute than you look,” she said, moving her hand from his arm to his chest as she started at him.
He swallowed hard, as if she was getting to him and he was trying like crazy to fight it. She allowed herself a self-satisfied grin, his barely discernible reaction empowering her.
“What did you tell Gemma?”
�
��I listened to her, let her rant for a bit and then I told her I agree with you.”
His brows furrowed. “Is she pissed at you, too?”
“No. She didn’t say much at all because I think she realizes we’re right.”
“You don’t make an ounce of sense.”
“Remember, she’s only seventeen years old, no matter how mature she usually acts. Seventeen and her body’s running rampant with pregnancy hormones. She’s scared.”
“She should be.”
“You have to realize what she’s going through today. You forced her to face up to the fact that her big plan to make it on her own, to forge her way for her baby and herself, has failed. I know and you know it’s because of fate throwing her a cruel twist with the preterm labor. She might have been okay if not for that. But she’s not thinking about that. She’s just thinking epic fail.”
“Was I supposed to let her go on in denial?”
“No. You did the right thing.”
“So we’re all in agreement then? She goes to live with him?”
“She’s swallowing that. She’ll get there.” She pried his arms away from his chest. “I do think it’s extremely sweet and a little bit sexy that you’ve started to care about her.”
“Who said I care?”
“It’s okay to care, big gruff guy.” She pressed her lips to his chest as she’d been dying to do. He sucked in a quiet, quick breath. “You’ve been swimming in the gulf.”
“When I leave, I don’t plan to keep in touch,” he said, his voice going rough as she whisked her tongue over his nipple. “With anyone.”
“You’ve mentioned that before. Kind of tough to check in much when you’re in the middle of the ocean anyway.” She forced herself to sound indifferent. Refused to consider how much she was going to miss him. Later. There’d be time later to cry her eyes out, get over it and move on. “Keep trying to fight it, Scott.”
“I’m not fighting anything,” he said, even as he closed his eyes, as if bracing himself against what she was doing.
