His heat reaches into my personal space. Energy crackles all around.
He won't let me off the hook, though.
He gathers my hair in his big, wet hands and I gasp lightly as my body begins to thrum all over. He gently places my hair over one shoulder.
My toes curl into the leather soles of my sandals. The back of my exposed neck tingles.
His hands settle on my hips and my eyes flutter. His fingers flex, his touch so sure and possessive.
When his breath flitters across the sensitive skin of my neck, my fingers curl on the lip of the counter. I’m so busy trying to not swoon right there against his chest. "Look at me, Sophia," he commands again.
And this time, I do as I'm told. Slowly, I spin around so that we're face to face although I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
Standing there under the muted lightbulbs of my friend’s kitchen, I’m captive to this man’s hold. I study his face. The shape of his eyes. The swell of his lips. The little dimple in his chin.
I see my daughter in this stranger's face. And it terrifies me.
What terrifies me even more is that, instead of running away from him, my body is begging to get closer.
"Daisy..." he breathes out.
"That's not my name…" I whisper.
He strokes a finger down my neck and just like that, I'm melting from the inside. His voice is like gravel when he speaks again, rough and raspy. "I meant what I said to you. I didn't forget you. I didn't forget anything about that night. Thinking about you is what got me through those endless nights when I was out there in the jungle, terrified for my life. You were my hope. I didn't know your name. But I remembered your laugh. Your kiss.” A lightning bolt strikes the hollow of my belly when he says that.
He kept me going, too. The thought of him kept me comfort in my darkest hours. Replaying the words he said to me is what helped me start putting the pieces of my life back together after Josh left me in shambles.
Like a coward, I squeeze my eyes shut. Because I don't want him to read everything I'm not brave enough to say. Tears leak across my lashline and down my cheeks.
A shiver skitters along my nerve endings. Shaky words travel on my breath. "You didn't even know me..."
His jaw clenches. His throat strains as he swallows. "From the first moment I saw you, I knew you. My soul recognized you, Sophia. I don't know how to explain it. From the first moment I saw you, you were mine. I don't care who's ring was on your finger or who you showed up in that white dress to meet. You were always mine."
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I’m not equipped to fight this rush of emotions.
“It was a one-night stand, Archie. In Las Vegas, of all places. On the night I was supposed to marry someone else. And you were about to deploy. We were both in a weird space that night. You don’t have to pretend it was more than that.”
“It was more than that.”
God, he’s so stubborn. “Don't get me wrong, Archie. I like you. I more than like you. Actually, I think you're...you're fucking phenomenal. And that's part of the problem.” I swallow. “I think you're phenomenal. I don't know you. Even though I really, really feel like I do. And that's just my heart playing tricks on me again...I can't keep making bad decisions. I can't just do what feels good in the moment.”
His lips touch my cheekbone, stomping on my teardrop in its tracks. I shudder against him. His fingertips are rough. They brush across my mouth, tracing the outline.
My hands fist in the back of his T-shirt, tugging at the material. His breath fans across my mouth as he leans closer. "Fuck—I've dreamed about tasting these lips...And your other lips, too."
Fire scorches my stomach, up my chest, all the way through my constricted throat. This is what my lust feels like.
What is it I was just saying about making bad decisions? Who knows?
I want to taste him so bad.
Eyes still closed, my lips part and I hear myself say, "Kiss me."
A growl escapes his chest. His big, rough hands brace my cheeks and his mouth comes down on mine. I sigh at the contact and my fingers release the fabric of his T-shirt to scale the wall of tight abs beneath.
Now, he has both hands on my ass, squeezing and caressing. Touching me the way I’ve needed for so long. Our tongues tangle and our hearts smash against each other as the air around us blazes with lust.
This isn't a kiss. It's a heist. He's stealing my thoughts. My breath. My basic sense of right and wrong. And for one hot minute, I don't think I mind. To be honest, I'm ready to give him my panties, too.
The feeling terrifies me because this man is a stranger. And his mere presence threatens the fragile world I’ve worked so hard to build for myself and my daughter. If he finds out the truth…I don’t want to imagine what it would mean if he found out that River is his child. Yet I don’t want to pull away.
God—I’m being selfish right now.
But I’ve put everything ahead of my desires over the past two years. I’ve put myself last. And for this little slice of time, I want something for me. Just this one kiss. Just let me have this one kiss.
I hear voices approaching. “I think we should switch back to the organic brand because these explosive diapers are—”
Jerking back, I quickly break the kiss and snap my head toward the entrance. Reese and Leo are standing there, stunned.
“Well, that escalated quickly.” Leo is grinning so hard his face has turned red.
Reese slaps him on the shoulder. “Stop it,” she hisses as she edges by me. She tiptoes through the soapy water pooling on the floor and turns off the pipe.
Meanwhile, I’m struggling to untangle my limbs from Archie’s without my weak knees giving out. “I’m sorry.” My face is on fire when I stare down at the flooded linoleum tiles.
Reese looks at me with a grin of her own. “Oh, please. Don’t apologize. In fact, how about you two just pick up right where you left off?” She grabs Leo by the arm and drags him back toward the stairs. “The mop is in the closet at the end of the hall…And there’s an empty guest bedroom around the corner, if you need it.” She tosses us a wink before disappearing up the stairs.
Mortified, I rush off to the closet and grab the mop. When I get back to the kitchen, Archie is leaning against the dry part of the counter, his bulging arms folded across his chest. He grins. “So…how about that spare bedroom?”
I toss him the mop. “Pig!”
He smirks when he catches it.
Tearing my eyes away from his smug face, I grab my dirty Crock-Pot from the counter and storm out the door.
I’ve got six minutes to catch the 58.
9
Archie
Las Vegas
Two years ago, 9:07 P.M.
These sheets are soft as fuck.
When I roll over, they tangle around my legs and the plush mattress dips to accommodate my shifting weight. Eyes still closed, my arm swings across my torso and lands in the vacant space beside me. It’s still warm and I can smell her wildflower scent rising off the comforter but my search for her taut, feminine body comes up empty.
I groan low, that gratifying, after-sex euphoria still lingering in my bones as I slowly blink my eyes open. My gaze falls on the slender, unmoving silhouette seated on the edge of the bed, facing the window.
“Hey…” Dragging myself across the twin-sized mattress, I lay a hand at the small of her back.
Her spine goes stiff at my touch. “Hey.”
“You okay?”
On a deep inhale, her ribcage expands. She grips the sheets over her naked breasts and peeks at me from over her shoulder. “Not really.”
Now, I sit up completely and grate my fingers across my scalp. I don’t like the fact that she’s not happy. I don’t like it one bit. In fact, it’s borderline weird how much this stranger’s unhappiness bothers me.
I’ve had one-night stands before. More than enough of them. I know how they work and this is the part where she’s supposed to be getting dressed an
d I’m supposed to be lying in bed, eating Flaming Hot Cheetos and watching Netflix and waving goodbye to her as she slinks out the door.
But instead, I’m trying to talk to her. “Tell me what’s wrong, Daisy.”
A faint trace of a grin moves across her face. “First off, you snore.”
“Fucking liar…” I lazily grate my fingers up and down her ribs and she snorts a laugh through her nose. She’s ticklish. I catalogue that thought in case it might come in handy later.
Later. I don’t know that there is a ‘later’ for us but heaven knows I want one with this girl.
“You totally snore,” she says and wiggles out of my reach to avoid further tickling.
I drop my head against the pillow and grin up at her. “Only after an excellent fuck, I guess. I get super relaxed and I sleep like a baby.” I read her facial features again. “But apparently I didn’t do so great for you because you’re wearing a facial expression no man wants to see after sex.”
Still holding the sheet to her chest, she turns to face me. “The sex was…was…I’ve never felt anything like that…It was amazing…”
I fill in the blanks. “But there’s too much other stuff going on in your life.”
She purses her lips and shivers. “It’s just finally starting to sink in. All of it.” Her delicate shoulder raises in a shrug. “True. The sex was mind-blowing. But I’m going to have to go home. I’m going to have to face my family and my friends and the whole freaking town who’s definitely already gossiping about me because I’m the idiot who was so deep into my wedding-themed YouTube channel that I didn’t even realize I was engaged to a man who gave less than zero shits about me.”
Holy run-on sentence.
She looks at me from under wet lashes. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”
I rub her lower back. “People’s opinions don’t matter,” I tell her. “Your happiness is not a spectator sport.”
“Yeah, well in small towns like the one I come from, your misery definitely is.” She brushes tears from her eyes. “What the hell am I even supposed to do now? Who am I supposed to be? Josh was my identity. I gave up my dreams for him and now he’s gone and I’m…nothing.”
This girl is breaking in front of me. Falling apart, piece by piece. Any other guy would be running away. Instead, I want to run toward her with my arms stretched out to catch her broken fragments before they hit the ground.
I crawl up behind her and lock my naked thighs around hers. My cock is sandwiched against her sweet ass and he doesn’t mind one bit. I clench her waist between my hands. “None of that shit defines you, Daisy. You can still be whoever the fuck you wanna be. You can chose something that matters. Because you matter. Whether that douchebag can see it or not.”
She leans against my chest, angling her head and peering up at me with uncertain eyes. And because I’m a selfish fucker, I bend close and take her lips, kissing her with fervor and fire.
The sheet slips from her hands when she reaches up and cups the back of my neck, pulling me closer. My palms glide up her smooth, tight belly to cradle her small, perfect breasts. I knead them and she moans for me and I know exactly what I want to do next.
But I don’t.
Because this broken girl needs more than sex. She needs magic. Fairy dust on her heart to restore her faith in herself and in the world.
I can do that for her.
I can make this night memorable so that in a few months from now, when she lifts her head and she straightens her shoulders and she's ready to go back into the cruel world, she can think back on this night and remember that, even when the world burns down all around you, you can always find a way to pull a little magic from the ashes.
Pulling away from her kiss is physically painful, but I do it anyway. I rest my forehead against hers. “I don't know what the future holds, beautiful Daisy. But I know that you have this moment, we have this moment. So, tell me—what do you want? Right now?"
She starts. “I just want..."
Her eyes close and she lowers her face. Her jaw trembles. Tears wet her lashes. So much shame in her expression. She tries again. "I just want..." Her stomach growls loudly and she sucks in a breath.
Finally, she spits out the words.
"I just want a burrito."
10
Archie
I rough the back of my hand across my forehead, pushing sweat droplets away. The wooden plank shifts under my feet as I propel the wheelbarrow along the makeshift bridge that extends over the freshly-dug ditch.
This is bullshit.
Pauly has had me hauling ripped-up sheets of drywall, broken chunks of brick and other debris across the yard all morning. I'm hot, I'm thirsty and my brain cells are shriveling up en masse from disuse.
Meanwhile, Dave is at the wheel of the excavator, swerving the vehicle from left to right to make zigzag tracks in the soil—just for shits and giggles—and the gang of buffoons around him laughs and hollers like it’s the most entertaining thing they’ve ever seen.
This. Is. Bullshit.
When I asked Pauly to give me some real goddamned work, he refused. "Boss's orders," he'd told me with a shrug of his big, meaty shoulder.
That only pissed me off even more. Fuck you, Charlie. He thinks I can't handle real work. He's trying to micromanage my damn life. Treating me like an invalid. Making me feel worse about a situation that's already so fucked up.
I get it. My body isn’t what it used to be. I got blasted by an explosive and frankly, I'm lucky that I'm even alive. I can't push myself too hard or else I'll pay the price with aches and cramps and burning sensations that make it feel like my flesh is on fire.
But at the same time, I don't need to be reminded of my injuries every second of the day by my well-meaning but overbearing friend. Dammit!
After dumping the rubble on the pile I’ve been building all morning, I abandon the wheelbarrow near the fence. Then, I grab a bottle of water from the cooler sitting in the bed of Pauly's truck. Trudging across the yard, I search for a few minutes of reprieve from the frat party atmosphere of the construction site. I wander around the side of the crumbling, hilltop mansion and find a quiet spot in the shade of the towering modern structure. I lean against the side of the house and allow myself to slide down until my ass is planted on the moss-covered flagstone paver tiles.
The area is enclosed on two sides by tall hedges and the outside wall of the kitchen on the third. There's a low patio off to the left. A few short stairs lead down from the house into the little oasis. The alcove shields me from view.
Resting my skull against the building's natural stone siding, I let my gaze wander around the place. Weeds sprout up from between the garden tiles and wind around the patio's railing. There's weather-beaten garden furniture strewn about the space. A collection of giant clay flowerpots sits abandoned with dried, withered ferns, elephant ears and decorative fountain grass hanging limply over the sides.
It’s a shame, really.
This is the kind of place to raise a family. Or at least it used to be before it fell victim to grime and decay. When I close my eyes, I can see it. Something hot simmers on the stove on a chilly night in fall. A mother stands at the kitchen window, watching over the brood of children running around in the backyard. I imagine the father stepping into the kitchen and wrapping his arms around his wife’s waist, pressing his lips to the base of her neck to breathe in her scent. The scent of wildflowers.
For a moment, that man is me and it’s Sophia in my arms and it’s our children playing in the yard.
What are you doing, man?
That thought is so out of left field I don’t even know what to make of it. But the way she kissed me the other day...The way her body reacted to my touch...I want more of that. I’ve always wanted more. I just didn’t think it was possible.
I’d accepted that I’d never see her again. And then I did. And that one moment has me questioning the fate I agreed to so long ago.
I’m a restles
s fucker. I’m not meant to settle down. I'm meant to go on adventures. To roam the back roads all on my own in my Chevy. I'll be a wanderer until my lungs fail and my heart collapses and I die alone. That’s the agreement I made with myself. It’s what I’ve come to expect of my life.
Defending my country was my higher calling. It was meant to be my contribution to this great country. Because a real man would lay down his life to protect the things he loves.
Since the explosion, I can’t suit up, though. I’m too mangled, the scars run too deep. So, wandering is the only thing left for me, anyway.
But Sophia’s touch and her kiss make me wonder if I need to re-evaluate that assumption. Ever since the barbecue, ever since I held that perfect body against me and felt those perfect lips on mine, I’ve been questioning my long-held conclusion. I've been questioning everything.
Man, I'm losing it...
I run a hand over my throbbing knee, trying ease some of the pain. I could just get a doctor to write me a damn prescription, resort to pills to ease the pain. But fuck pills and their laundry list of side effects. I may be broken but I'm still strong. I'm still a soldier and I don't need an easy fix.
Just to prove me wrong, the pain surges again right then. I grit my teeth and growl under my breath.
That's when I hear the patio door slide open. An unsuspecting woman in her fifties tiptoes out of the kitchen. Her shoulders are hunched up to her ears as she peels back the wrapper on a chocolate cupcake. The swanky woman steals a quick glance around then leans in eagerly and takes a huge, messy bite.
A grunt of laughter pitches from my throat and she jolts. I watch as the cupcake falls from her hold and her hands leap to her string of pearls in surprise.
Crap, I startled her.
With an elbow braced on the side of the house for leverage, I push myself up to my feet and rise into view from behind the hedge.
Her throat works as she swallows quickly. "Oh my god!" she breathes out on a nervous laugh. "I didn't see you there." She dusts crumbs and frosting from her lips with dainty fingers and adjusts the candy-pink sweater tied impeccably around her shoulders. This is a woman who's used to keeping up appearances.
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