“I’m not, never have been, and never will be. Got it?”
“Hmm?”
“Gay. I’m not gay.”
“What?” She seemed to wake up now. Loosening her grip on his shirt, she tried to step back, but the wall prevented her from moving.
Realizing he had her trapped, Trent moved away, allowing her some room.
“You’re not gay?”
Trent rubbed both hands up and down his face. “Not even close. Why the hell would you think that?”
If he could only read the thoughts going on in that sexy mind of hers.
“But…Zumba?”
“Zumba? Zumba made you think I was gay?”
“No, well, yeah.” She pulled her hands through her hair—which she wore down, and damn if he didn’t find that sexy—and sighed. “The only men who have ever taken my class have been…gay.”
“We’ve been friends for over a month, talk almost every day, hang out a few times a week, and you hadn’t figured out that I’m not?”
“Well.” She was flustered and adorable, her lips begging to be kissed again. “Then there was Faith.”
“Faith told you I was gay?”
Rayne laughed. “No.” She relaxed a little and finally made eye contact. Damn those silky eyes. They made him think of erotic images of chocolate sauce and sweet whipped cream and all the wonderful ways he and Rayne could experiment and play with. “Brian came in with her and you two seemed so sweet together with the baby. And she looks like him and also like you…I know that doesn’t make sense. She couldn’t obviously be both of yours but it’s clear how much you both love her and each other.”
“Faith is my niece, my only relative other than Claire, and I love her dearly. Brian, well, yeah, I love him in the brother way, not…” He gestured with his hand.
“And you dismiss the looks and pick-up lines from so many women like they mean nothing to you. It’s like you’re embarrassed because they don’t know your secret. And the way you treat me…our friendship. You’ve never treated me like a piece of meat, or like you were trying to get in my pants. I thought you actually wanted to be…friends.”
Trent cursed. Friends. The worst F word in the dictionary. She wanted his friendship and so she’d have it. Obviously hurt after years of being raked over the coals by so many men, she didn’t need him pawing at her.
“Definitely friends, Rayne. Always friends. I’m sorry I kissed you. I shouldn’t have. I just…needed you to know that I’m not...gay. It won’t happen again. We’re cool, right?”
***
Rayne
She nodded.
And then the door burst open.
“Kip, sorry I tried to stop her—” Brian called from the hallway.
“Trent, honey! I’m here. I’m so sorry I’m late. I didn’t think I’d ever get away from my sister’s bridal shower.” A beautiful, tall, dark-haired woman waltzed into Trent’s bedroom as if she owned the place and kissed him square on the lips. On the same lips that had, not five minutes ago, been making sweet, magical music with her mouth. The same lips that made her lady parts sing and dance and come alive.
“Katrina,” Trent said.
“Trent, sorry, man. I tried to warn her—”
“Oh, please, Brandon.”
“Brian.”
“Brian, whatever. I know my way around here.”
Seeming quite uncomfortable, Trent introduced them. “Katrina, this is Rayne. Rayne, Katrina.”
“Uh, nice to meet you?” Rayne said, not sure of this woman’s role in Trent’s life. He never mentioned her before. Of course, she could be the pot calling the kettle black, but she had mentioned Kevin to him.
“Rain? As in Rain, rain, go away?” Katrina laughed condescendingly.
Rayne’s chest tightened and a weight pulled at her center of gravity, nearly causing her to double over in pain. Reaching down deep for the miniscule amount of dignity she had left, she smiled. “I, uh…I’ll leave you two.”
He didn’t try to stop her when she fled down the hall and into the guest bathroom, and that hurt just as much as seeing the beautiful woman who appeared too comfortable in his bedroom.
It didn’t make any sense. If Trent wasn’t gay, then why hadn’t he hit on her? Because he already had a girlfriend, Katrina. But that kiss, oh, that kiss was deeper and more sensual than one she’d ever experienced before. He wouldn’t kiss her like that if he and Katrina were an item. Would he?
They’d spent countless hours walking, running, talking, laughing, going out to eat, doing fun stuff, and never once had he made a sexy remark, stared at her boobs—granted, they were tiny, but still—made a pass, kiss her other than on her cheek…he never, ever, ever hit on her and that truly hurt.
The kiss in his bedroom nearly melted her kneecaps. Thank God she had his shirt to hold onto or she would have fallen over. He kissed her like a man—not a gay man—who was attracted—at least a little—to a woman. He kissed her like he enjoyed it, the moans coming not only from her but from Trent as well. Obviously she misread those cues too.
As usual. Typical Rayne Wilde making something more of a situation than there was. This was why she was no good at relationships. In her book, a kiss like that meant happily ever after. Okay, maybe she had been a bit presumptuous in her interpretations in the past, but that kiss was…wow.
If Trent kissed every woman like that, then she could understand why so many fell at his feet. Well, that and his scruffy good looks. And hot body. And killer smile. And funny personality. Other than that, Trent Kipson was a dog.
Rayne stared at her pale reflection in the bathroom mirror. Get a grip, Rayne! Her eyes weren’t red; she hadn’t had time to cry about it. And she definitely hadn’t had time to figure out what it would be. Crying about an amazing kiss that would go nowhere? Crying over the fact that the man of her dreams was not gay and not interested in her? Crying about Hurricane Katrina who was most likely doing the nasty with her One True Love? No, no. Nothing to cry about at all.
Rayne splashed water on her face, plastered on a fake smile, and stepped out of the bathroom, shoulders back, head high. The first person she saw was Claire, and the sympathy in her eyes nearly made the waterworks start to flow. No, she was strong and had years of experience in handling rejection.
“Hey, sweetie,” Claire said, rubbing a reassuring hand up her arm. “You okay?”
“Me? Of course.” Rayne laughed. “That was quite a misunderstanding. I must have really wounded his ego. I’m really embarrassed. Oh well. No harm, no foul, right? So let me guess, you and Brian are married?”
Claire nodded.
“How did Brian take it? Me thinking he was gay?” Better to laugh at the situation than think about what it all meant.
A sly smile erupted from Claire’s lips. “When it was just about Trent, he thought it was hilarious. Couldn’t stop laughing when he returned from the grocery store last night. When I pointed out that you must have thought he was Trent’s boy toy…well, that wasn’t so funny.” Claire laughed.
If she hadn’t been so coldly rejected five minutes ago by the love of her life, she too would view the situation as a little funny.
“There you are, babe,” Kevin said as he set his empty beer bottle on the counter. “Hey, so, Curtis texted me about some arm wrestling tournament at Breakers. Grand prize is five hundred bucks. I’ve got this one nailed.” He pulled up his shirtsleeve, flexed, and kissed the mountain peak on his bicep.
“Uh, yeah. Totally, Kev.”
“Knew you’d understand. The bar’s a few blocks from here. I’m gonna walk down, loosen up a little. You can come cheer me on when you’re done here. You don’t mind, do you?”
Aware of Brian’s, and now Trent and Katrina’s, presence behind her, she plastered on another fake smile. “Oh, gosh, Kev. This is a great opportunity. I don’t want to miss a thing. I’ll go with you.” Opportunity, her ass. It was the perfect excuse to rush out of Trent’s house before she lost all self-control.
> She turned to everyone in the room, thanked them for a lovely time, and quickly headed out the door before anyone could object. Thankful that she had insisted on driving—more so because she knew Kevin would end up drinking himself stupid—Rayne slid behind the wheel of her car and fought back tears.
She pulled up to the curb in front of the bar. “I’m really not feeling well. Why don’t you go in, have some fun and call me tomorrow. Let me know how it goes?”
“Yeah, sure thing, babe.” He leaned over the console and kissed her on the lips. It felt like cold stone. Not the soft, warm, melt-in-your-mouth kisses that Trent gave her not long ago.
There was definitely no future in sight with Kevin; she’d break it to him easily. Turning thirty-five, which was old in the bodybuilding world, made him think he needed a wife and kids. Not that he desired them, but he thought it would be good for his image now that he was moving up in age. Four months ago she thought it sweet that he chose her to bear his children and take on his name, even though she had reservations about becoming Mrs. Kevin Magoo. She couldn’t imagine the taunting he got in school. Maybe that was why he turned to weight lifting and bodybuilding. Their relationship never turned too serious, so she’d never know.
Yet she had been willing to marry the man, pop out monstrous-size babies, no doubt, and didn’t know a thing about him. He didn’t know nearly as much about her as Trent did. She never told Kevin about her childhood obesity. That would have been a sure turn-off. Maybe she’d wave that red flag under his nose if he came back around asking her to be Mrs. Babymaker Magoo.
Her gas tank and heart were both nearly empty. It sure wasn’t the night she had anticipated. But what did she expect? Realizing she completely missed dinner, she pulled up to a drive-thru and ordered a cheeseburger and fries. The last time she’d done that she was one hundred pounds heavier and living a depressing life. When she got home she took two bites of the greasy burger, swiped three fries through a gallon of ketchup, and dumped the rest in the trash.
The sun would set in less than an hour and there were bound to be a bazillion drunks on the road, so she quickly changed into her running gear and ran the loop through the residential streets of Saco and through the beautiful old cemetery.
By the time she got home she was tired, hungry, sad, depressed, and extremely confused as she fell into her bed, sweaty clothes and all, and dreamed about the Love of her Life who was not, in fact, gay.
Chapter Four
Rayne
“Oh, honey. You know I love you and I don’t ever beat around the bush, and I’m not gonna start now.” Sage shook her head and sighed. “Give me the polish.”
Rayne leaned down and handed over the bottle of Heartbreak Hotel Red and stuck her foot in Sage’s lap. It had become their tradition during their unsuccessful hunt for love. Well, Rayne’s hunt, Sage’s avoidance. The dumpee got a pedicure while the other offered support. Sage preferred Ben & Jerry’s. Rayne, not a big fan of sugar, would cry through a family size bag of extra-nacho cheese Doritos while Thyme would mow through chocolate cake.
She sucked the orange off her fingers. “I’m going to need a manicure too,” she said around another mouthful of chips.
“Damn, I knew this would happen. He sounded too good to be true.”
“That’s why he was gay.”
“He’s not gay, though.”
“I know and that totally sucks. Sage, the man can kiss. Holy shmoly, I would’ve taken him right then, right there. But then he apologized and said he only meant to prove a point…” Rayne hiccupped and let the tears fall.
Sage had heard the story four times already—the price of being the sister of a walked-over romantic—and scowled.
“I haven’t decided if I like him or hate him for pulling back.”
“What? Are you nuts?” Sage pointed the nail polish brush at Rayne. “He worked you over big time, Rayne. Don’t do this to yourself. Cut the ties and be free. He made it clear he wasn’t interested.”
Rayne shook her head. “No, he was being honest. He said he wasn’t interested in a relationship. A romantic one. We’ll continue with our friendship and our adventures. It’s my turn on Wednesday.”
She hoped Trent wouldn’t stop their weekly outings. It had gotten fun trying to one-up the other person’s plans, and she knew she’d win this time.
“Honey, that’s in two days. Do you really believe you’re going to be over this and be able to maintain a friendly relationship? You could barely handle that when you thought he was gay.”
“I know,” she sighed, reaching for her glass of Chablis. “It’s just…I really like him. And maybe this is what I need. A friend. I’m not going into this blind. I know there won’t be a ring at the end of this relationship…well, I hope this relationship never ends. If it’s a true friendship it will go on for years and years.”
“Uh huh,” Sage said skeptically. “And you, what? Are going to throw him a bachelor party when he finally settles down? Be his child’s godmother? Come on, Raynie, you know this is too much. You gotta end this…this…whatever it is you two have.”
Rayne studied her beautiful pedicure and smiled. “No. This time I’m stronger. I’m not following my heart. That, I’ve packed away. I’m following my head and keeping it screwed on straight. I’m friends with a hot guy who sleeps with other women and I don’t care because I’m not looking for a relationship.”
She searched the bottom of the Doritos bag and found nothing but smooshed-up chips. Rayne tipped up the bag and let the crumbs fall into her mouth and down her shirt.
What a freakin’ mess.
***
Trent
Normally he would have called her the night before to confirm the meeting time, but he wasn’t so sure Rayne wanted anything to do with him anymore. She never called or texted him after her abrupt departure on Sunday, and he didn’t think she’d want to continue with their weekly adventures, not after his insensitive rebuff.
Trent stood in his kitchen in his boxers and contemplated his choices—a) Call her and reassure her their friendship is really important to him. b) Leave her alone and never talk with her again. c) Call and apologize for being an ass and tell her that he’d like to take this further. All the way to his bed.
No, Option C couldn’t happen. He knew a quick roll in the hay with Rayne would never be enough. After a few weekends, maybe even a couple months, they’d become bored with each other. Or rather, she’d get bored—he couldn’t imagine growing tired of her—and either find someone else, or ask him for forever and ever. Neither of those options appealed to him.
Yeah, he was a head case.
Running his hands through his bedhead, he contemplated going for a run or letting off some steam in the bakery. His employees were used to him waltzing in on his day off. He glanced at the clock. Eight. The morning rush would be over and he could sulk and pound on dough for a while. Maybe get a head start on the Wilsons’ wedding cake.
Just as he sat down at his kitchen table to sketch out another wedding cake design, the doorbell rang. Frustrated, expecting it to be Katrina—she had no neighborly boundaries—he growled, “Hang on!”
Not wanting to open the door all the way, as she’d see that as an open invitation to his life, he kept the chain on the door and opened it a few inches. “What?”
“Well, aren’t we Mr. Grouchy Pants this morning,” Rayne chirped.
He closed the door, unlatched the chain and swung it open again. “Hey. Yeah, come in.” She was beautiful. Her dark hair was pulled back in her trademark ponytail and she wore a bright blue Dri-fit shirt that somehow made her dark eyes glow. Her fitted pants—spandex? Yoga pants?—whatever they were called, he thanked God for inventing them. He didn’t like feeling like a girl, but the effect she had on him was potent.
“Or should I say Mr. Grouchy Boxers?” she teased.
Trent looked down and swore. Any second now she would see how happy he was to see her.
“Yeah, um, I’m going to go throw
on some clothes.” He turned to leave, glancing over his shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere.”
She laughed, making him very grateful his front wasn’t facing her. Yeah, he sure as hell was happy now.
***
Rayne
Rayne took a few minutes to regain her composure. The last thing she’d expected was a nearly naked Trent. She figured he’d make some excuse as to why he had to cancel their date.
No, not date. Adventure. Friends didn’t go on dates.
Trent’s living room didn’t scream bachelor but it lacked the intimate knick-knacks most homes had. His mantel was nearly bare except for two framed photographs. One was of an adorable toothless Faith, a drooling, smiling mess, and the other of Claire sandwiched between Trent and Brian, Faith swaddled in her lap.
He didn’t say much about his childhood, only that his mother had abandoned him and Claire at a young age and his father died not long after. Trent had picked up the responsibility around the house and even sacrificed his college dreams to pay for Claire’s schooling. The poor kids.
Although her childhood wasn’t much better. Being the middle child had helped her master the position of peacemaker. Sage, being the oldest, had always been self-centered. That didn’t bother Rayne. She figured it to be an oldest child trait, while Thyme carried the “baby of the family” traits. Sweet, adorable, able to get away with anything…the one everyone loved and took care of. The one who could do no wrong, but also lacked any sense of responsibility.
Sage and Thyme were as opposite as could be, which left Rayne as the middleman, always trying to make everyone happy. Once Sage turned fifteen and was capable of babysitting, their parents would take off for weeks on end, saying how important it was for spouses to have alone time.
Suzie and Neil Wilde were more into each other than their children. The spark between them never dimmed, never grew tiresome. To say the Wilde girls were neglected may be a bit harsh, but that’s how Sage interpreted it. She had a perpetual chip on her shoulder and made the world center around herself. Rayne couldn’t blame her. As the oldest, Sage felt the most rejected.
Sweet on You (The Wilde Sisters #1) Page 5
