“I’m not wrong. I’ll be here waiting.”
For the first time, I don’t want to be on whatever team Sutter is on. I don’t think I was ever the angry, single asshole that he is, but I might have been. I pull up the itinerary for skydiving on Friday and save the few emails that contain details about the whereabouts of my bad guy.
Chapter Eight
Malena
“She’s so confused. Are you sure she’s going to be okay?” I ask, eyes rimmed red from crying and lack of sleep. Everyone at Garden Breeze has been overtly cheerful and helpful. So much so that I wonder if it’s all an act, like the second I leave they’ll start being mean to my mom or something. I’m so jaded by life. Nothing has ever been this easy—seamless, during my existence.
The doctor puts her hand on my shoulder, a white-toothed grin wide and ready. “I promise to call you to give you an update. This is what I specialize in. Your mother is in the best hands possible for her condition. I’m surprised you managed her by yourself for this long.” The doctor’s smile fades and the ball of daughter-guilt hardens in my stomach. “Her dementia is further along than we are used to seeing in a newly admitted patient. We are well equipped to handle anything that may come along during her stabilization in a new residence.”
I nod, a continuous motion, as the doctor goes on. She uses all the words I already knew but always feared. I don’t have to fear them anymore. These people are here to help her…and me. “And I can call to check in on her anytime?” Glancing in Mom’s beautiful suite, I see that she’s calmed down, and is now sitting in a chair gazing out the window, looking at the expansive garden, a slight smile on her face. There are several bouquets of fresh flowers arranged in vases around the room. When I remarked on them, a nurse told me no expense was spared to make sure Mom’s integration was smooth and pleasant. Leif did this. All of this. The ball of guilt morphs into something more pleasant, yet horrifying. I’ll never be able to repay him for this. Not ever. Not in this lifetime. Not with money, not with all that I have to offer.
The wrist break wasn’t severe and didn’t need surgery which was surprising when you consider the angle at which it was bent after the fall off the bicycle. I cringe at the day-old memory.
“I’m going to slip out while she’s calm,” I say, heart pounding in trepidation. I’m given paperwork and with one longing glance at the woman I love, I leave. I’m leaving here. Without my mom. The person who cared for me for as long as she was capable. The only person who has ever been there for me in all capacities.
Dragging both of her large, empty, rolling suitcases behind me, I exit into the hot air. I feel both tortured and free at the exact same time. There has to be some lesson in this. Some releasing of control, and winning some battles, yet losing others, but right now I’m so tired I can’t think straight. The lines in the road blur as I hit the Bronze Bay city limits and familiar territory, my eyes blinking slowly on their own. I barely make it home and into my bed before crashing. I wake up to my cell phone, which is on my bedroom floor, buzzing loudly.
My limbs are stiff and sore from sleeping so long. “How long did I sleep?” I mutter, grabbing the back of my neck as I amble into my bathroom, and stuff my toothbrush into my mouth. I squint my eyes at the analog clock on the wall. “Fifteen hours.” My voice is hoarse as I reach down for my phone and start figuring out my life. I’ve missed several text messages from Shirley, one from Caroline, a call from Garden Breeze, and sixteen calls from Leif. I listen to the voicemail from Garden Breeze first. I quickly call them back. They were merely calling to give me an update that Mom had a great night, slept through and everything. She is playing a game of cards with one of the other residents and seems very happy. It gives me a pang. She’s not playing cards with me. That’s when I realize how empty my house is going to be. I thank them for the update and hang up with tears falling down my face.
Loud pounding on the front door breaks me from my thoughts. I rinse the remaining toothpaste from my mouth, throw my hair in a ponytail and answer the door. I open the door to a worried Leif.
“Where is your phone?” he snaps, looking me up and down, like he’s assessing for damage. Just my heart, I think. “Are you okay?”
“If you count sleeping for fifteen hours okay, I guess so. I passed out. The emotional exhaustion kicked me in my rear,” I admit. Leif looks amazing, a tight shirt stretches across his wide chest, and the scent of his body wash hits the air like his battle song. Give me war, Leif. Give it to me. “In desperate need of a shower,” I add, thinking about the last time I bathed. “Like, big time.”
Leif’s worry transforms into relief, as he pushes inside. “I’ll wait for you to shower,” he says.
“No, you don’t have to! Don’t you have work? You’ve done enough for me lately. Don’t be late on my account,” I breathe out. “It’s all so much, Leif. I don’t have the money to repay you and I don’t think a lifetime of sexual favors would even put a dent in the Garden Breeze bill.” My stomach churns, and I lay a hand on it. “It’s really too much.”
Leif sits on the sofa, elbows on his knees, and head clutched in his hands. “Malena let’s not talk about it, okay? It’s nothing. What makes you think I want sexual favors?”
“It’s nothing?” I retort, the pitch of my voice increasing as I continue, “How can you say that what you did is nothing?”
“Sexual favors?” he mutters again, ignoring my question, yet demanding a response.
I swallow hard. “That was a joke mostly because it’s the only way I can repay you for your kindness. That’s all. You’re either the most generous man alive if you consider this nothing, or you’re downplaying it because you don’t want things to get weird.”
He doesn’t look up. “Go shower. I’ll make some breakfast. You must be hungry.” At the reminder of food, my stomach grumbles. “Saying it’s nothing doesn’t mean it’s not important. It just means it doesn’t affect me. The money is a non-issue. Do you understand?” His gaze finally rises to meet mine. “I don’t want anything as repayment. Not money, and definitely not sexual favors. Just so we’re clear. I wasn’t aware you were into prostitution though.”
Oh. He’d told me living the single life did very good things for his bank account. Bonuses and home sales, and paychecks that couldn’t be spent while overseas added up over the years. I guess I never connected those dots. I wince. “I understand, but I still think it matters. It means something to me.” I cross one foot over the other. “I’d be your prostitute,” I try to joke, but only a small corner of his mouth pulls up. “Only yours.” The other side pulls up and he shakes his head.
Leif runs a hand over the scruff on his jaw. “It means something to me too. That’s why I did it,” he says, standing and brushing past me to enter the kitchen. I hear banging as he tries to find a pan, and I don’t make a move to help him. I watch him, this big, beautiful man who has shown me his heart.
“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me before,” I deadpan.
Leif stops, a frying pan in his hand and turns back to look at me. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again. The tears rise in my eyes, and I don’t want to cry again, lest it come across as ungrateful, so I hold up one finger and excuse myself to the shower. I let the hot water wash off the past two days. My mom is fine. My life can change. There is a man who cares for me cooking for me in my kitchen right now. There has to be something to be said about this. The General Store job was only so I could pay for Mom’s occasional night nurse, a person I no longer need. I can be a full-time party planner now. Just last week I turned down a job because I couldn’t fit it into my insane schedule. Maybe I will still keep my gig at the store to try to pay back Leif, little by little. That would be the right thing to do, but I don’t want him to be upset if I try to offer him money.
For the first time in a long time, I have time. Time for myself. At the cost of my family, though. Once I’m scrubbed clean, I throw on a tank top and shorts and steel myself f
or Leif and the wall of sexual desire that hits anytime I’m in his vicinity. The wall that did in fact leave room for my mom to escape our house in the middle of the night.
There are two plates on the table when I come out. Eggs, toast, blueberries, and avocado, all separated in perfect fourths on the plates. He’s opened the curtains to let light in and the space already has a fresh energy running through it. He interrupts my thoughts, “Here’s the thing, Malena. You can’t thank me constantly for everything. You’re welcome and all, because that’s the polite thing to say, but I need you to drop it from here on out. You asked me for help and I helped.” He heaves his shoulders up and down. “Consider it the universe repaying you for all the slack you had to pick up when your dad left, but let’s build something from the ground up, not on Garden Breeze, money, or broken wrists. Is that a possibility?” he asks, leaning on a dining chair, clear blue eyes earnest, relieved he’s finally spoken the peace he’s been forming since my shower began.
“I won’t forget it, but I won’t talk about it if that’s what you want. It changes a lot for me and it’s going to take a lot of getting used to. I want to build something with you, Leif. More than I’ve ever wanted anything else. You’re the first thing I’ve ever let myself desire to this…degree.” I sit down, keeping my gaze distracted with the breakfast plate. “My life has taught me to keep my expectations low. Self-preservation and all that.” He must understand that. Leif has told me of the sacrifices he’s had to make over the years. Creature comforts are zilch when you’re overseas living in a dirty hut for months at a time.
Leif sits down next to me, picking up his fork. “I’m here. I want to be here,” Leif says, pausing waiting for me to meet his bewitching eyes. When I do, he goes on, “Set your expectations higher. I have.”
Grinning, I stop any sort of word vomit from arriving by shoving toast in my face. It makes him laugh. If I’m selecting expectations for myself, then I want Leif. All to myself forever. I want to keep his kindness in my pocket as a defense mechanism against the cruel world. I want him to only ever want me in return. His emotion-filled gazes. His touches filled with fire. All of him. He seems to know what I’m thinking, which I hope isn’t true or I’d crumble under the weight of my own desires. Leif licks his lips and tips up his chin as he surveys me, watching him. “What should we do today?” he asks.
“We?” I blurt out, my mouth full of food. “You have work.”
“There wasn’t anything going on in the office today. They don’t need me. We’re skydiving tomorrow, so I wanted to make sure your first day…alone, well, wasn’t really alone. What do you want to do today? I figured we could do something now and then visit your mom later on this afternoon. That’s when there’s free time and when most guests visit.” He backtracks. Almost as if he doesn’t want me to know how much he knows. “I think that’s what they said when I called. You can call to check and be sure.”
I choke on the bread sticking to the roof of my mouth. Banging a fist on my chest, I make an exaggerated unpleasant noise. “Are you even real?” I ask. “I slept for fifteen hours and time warped. Maybe I’m still sleeping.” Pinching myself on the arm, I sit back in my chair. “Definitely awake. You’re definitely real.” I shake my head.
“Touch me. Find out for sure,” he growls, chewing slowly, eyes on mine. Oh, the ways in which I want to touch him.
We both eat, looking at each other, back and forth, like a game of wits. “Please tell me I’m not some charity case. This bubble is going to pop when you realize you can’t fix me.” I’m half joking, but Leif’s smile falls from his face completely.
Swallowing food, he pauses, then says, “Who said I wanted to fix you?”
“That’s what people like you do.”
Leif scoffs. “People like me?”
“The perfect ones,” I say.
He shakes his head. “I’m so far from perfect, the word isn’t even in my vocabulary. I don’t think you need to fix anything about yourself, Malena.” Leif puffs out his chest and stretches a bit. “It seems you’re not used to others helping you.”
The father sized lump in my heart pounds a bit, a jagged reminder. “You’re right,” I say, casting my gaze downward.
“And all my family does is help. Even when I don’t want it, but that’s the price I pay. When I’m far from home, they send care packages filled with my favorite things—trying to make my life easier—more comfortable.” He pauses, and I try to put myself in his shoes, shoes that seem gilded in comparison to the tattered ones I’ve been forced to wear. “They moved to be closer to me when I decided to make Bronze Bay my permanent residence. Mom has always wanted to retire in Florida so it wasn’t a crazy stretch, but that’s just another example of how we help each other.”
“I’m not your family though,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Why me?”
He seems taken aback by that question. He takes a bite of toast and chews, nodding his head, looking at me up and down. “I’ve spent some time thinking about this,” Leif says, tilting his head to the side. “It’s a combination of things. You’re beautiful, and I want you. You’re caring and compassionate, and I want you. You tell me things most people wouldn’t dream of saying out loud, and I want you. The thought of your lips on anyone else drives me mad with jealousy, and I want you. You look like that,” he says, jutting his chin in my haggard, wet direction. “You taste like heaven. You seem to enjoy spending time with me. One last thing,” he says, taking my hand in his.
He nods his head as he says, “I know for a fact I’ll never not want you.”
My heart stops as my hand automatically clasps around his. “You can’t know that for sure. People change. Grow. Move on. Move out.”
Leif repeats, “I’ll never not want you.” His confidence is unwavering.
I can’t accept that answer. It turns everything I’ve believed about humans on its head. It’s backward. Nonsensical. Coughing, I take a sip of water. “Want me in what kind of way?”
“Every kind of way,” he fires back. “Why don’t you go change your shirt and we can get out of here.”
I’m still reeling from his confession, my mind spinning and my stomach flipping. “What? My shirt?”
“If you want to wear that any other time, I’m cool with it, but I can see your nipples and it’s distracting me from any sort of gentlemanly plans I had for today.”
Waiting for my response, he pops a few blueberries in his mouth. “I don’t want gentlemanly Leif,” I say. “Actually, after all of the nice things you just said, I’m kind of thinking I want the opposite of nice to balance it out.”
“That so?” Leif replies. He wipes his mouth with a napkin and slides his chair back, his knees wide. “Opposite of nice?” He fishes. “I just finished telling you how good you are. Why don’t we see how bad you can be?” He holds his big, muscular arms out to the side—an invitation. “Do your worst, Malena Winterset,” he says, raising one brow. “I know your last name this time and in case you had any doubts…I do want you.”
He is a picture of pure masculine perfection. Leif says he’s not perfect, isn’t intimate with the word, but in this moment I see no faults in any way, and I recognize that for what it truly means. It’s terrifying, but not so much that I’m not willing to give in to my feelings. “I want you too,” I return, standing from my chair and approaching him. “You know my last name, you’ve proven you’re not a serial killer…I think, and you’re so charming I can’t even see straight.” His gaze is on my chest and the offending shirt, so I wiggle it down to expose more cleavage. He licks his lips. I sit down on top of him, straddling his narrow waist. A sigh of relief and built up desire vibrates his throat as I nuzzle my face into his neck and inhale his clean scent. My head feels fuzzy, and my face heats with nervous energy. Without thinking about how I feel, I grasp his cheeks in my hands and bring my lips to his. Leif wraps his arms around my lower back and pulls me tighter against his body. It’s hardened with muscles and coiled from the act of holdin
g himself back—letting me guide this kiss. He tastes like blueberries, and I know that I’ll never be able to smell or taste blueberries again without thinking about Leif and this exact moment. The moment of clarity and understanding—the moment of truth.
Working my lips against his sends waves of pleasure throughout my body. I remember Shirley telling me once that you can make out with a man and not get turned on. That’s how she controls the mood and the pace when she’s with a man. I don’t have that option. Being this close to Leif, our tongues entwined, our bodies rubbing against each other renders me useless but for what he’s making me feel, how I’m touching him. Sliding my fingers into his hair, I pull him closer—until the kiss is almost painful.
There are no sounds but for our jagged exhales, and wet lips taking each other hostage. I grind myself on top of him, feeling his erection pulse beneath me. He breaks our mouths to run his lips and tongue across my jaw and down my throat. Gently, he bites the skin on my neck and groans—a sound that ricochets directly between my legs. I throw my head back to give him better access and to better control my breathing which is completely out of my control.
“My room?” I say, my words aimed at the ceiling.
“Not yet. Right here for now,” Leif growls, lifting my shirt over my head and tossing it aside. He leans his forehead on my bare chest while cradling my back. His warm breaths puff against my skin creating a wild sensation of being warm and cool at the same time. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, palming my back, dragging his fingers over every inch of exposed skin. “I want you so badly.”
Chuckling, I say, “You’ve mentioned that.” There’s usually that few seconds of bashful insecurity when you expose yourself to a new person, but strangely that doesn’t come. Being with Leif like this seems right—like this is how it’s supposed to be, what I’ve waited for. “I want to see all of you,” he whispers as he rains kisses on my breasts, the hollow of my throat, and my collarbone. He stands easily, my weight not an inconvenience in the least. Turning, he sets me down on the island in the center of my kitchen and pushes me back gently. He’s removed my shorts and panties in the next instant, his gaze raking over me voraciously—like I’m the grand prize in his favorite game show.
Tossing It Page 9
