Remnants (A Golden Beach Novel)

by Kim Loraine

  “Sloan,” he murmured against her lips.

  “Shut up, Carson.”

  She slid her hands over his wide shoulders and pulled him closer, letting her tongue delve into his mouth and deepening the kiss. He tightened his grip around her waist and picked her up, groaning as her legs wrapped around him. He walked them to the couch, laid her down on the cream cushions, and crawled on top of her. The look in his eyes sent tingles racing through her body, all culminating right between her legs.

  “Please kiss me,” she begged.

  His hands braced on either side of her head, he lowered his body until his hips pressed against hers and his lips hovered a breath away from her mouth. “I want to. I never want to stop kissing you.”

  “Then do it.”

  His tongue flicked across her lower lip first, he barely brushed his mouth along her own desperate one before she arched her back and secured their connection. Desire pooled low in her belly, sending waves of need through her as she ground her hips against his erection. His hard body engulfed her smaller, softer build as he gave in to the kiss and took it from smoldering to blazing. She needed to feel his warm skin. Her hands slid under the hem of his shirt and she ran her fingers over the ridges of his toned abdomen, loving the firmness of his body. He shivered under her touch and when her hand toyed with his belt, the moan he let out made her thighs clench around him.

  “God, Sloan.”

  And then his phone rang. He tensed before sighing and pulling away, He wasn’t seriously going to answer the phone right now, was he? As he pulled his cell from his pocket she couldn’t contain her disappointment.

  “Hello?”

  A murmured voice floated through the earpiece, soft and feminine . . . definitely a woman. Sloan couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The man had been hard as a damn rock with need for her, and now he was on the phone with another fucking woman. As he continued his conversation she scooted to a sitting position.

  “Yeah, sure, Mindy. I’ll be there as soon as I can. You just stay put. I know. I love you, too.”

  Her stomach twisted. What the actual fuck was this?

  As he hung up, he turned wary eyes on her. “Sorry. I . . . I have to go.”

  She had to grit her teeth as she stood and stalked to the front door. “Don’t let the damn door hit you on the ass on the way out, Carson.”

  “Baby, that wasn’t—”

  A scornful laugh left her throat. “Save it. Have a good night.”

  He let out a sigh, frustration and urgency flashing across his face. “We’re going to talk about this.”

  “Doubtful. You can talk to Mindy, she’s waiting.”

  He cupped her cheek in his palm and shook his head. “She’s my mother.”

  That brought her up short and staunched her anger. “What?”

  “Mindy is my mom.”

  “What? No. Your mom’s name is Linda.”

  He shook his head. “Her name is Melinda. My dad always called her Mindy. She’s having some . . . issues. If I call her Mom when she’s like this, she gets confused. It’s more serious than she wants to admit.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. God, I feel like an asshole.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers, then dropped a soft kiss on her mouth. “Don’t. I like you jealous. It means you want me just as much as I want you.”

  “That’s probably true.”

  Handing her his phone, he grinned. “Put your number in here. We’re going to do this again, Sloan. And again.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Sloan floated through the week with the memory of Carson’s lips on hers. Even though he’d been spending every spare minute with his mom, he’d texted her every day, just to say hello before Sloan left for work. She’d come to expect the text alert in the morning, like clockwork. Today, as she was brushing her teeth, she frowned at the clock. He was late. After finishing her teeth, she ran a brush through her hair and strolled to the living room. She had thirty minutes before she needed to leave, which meant time for one more cup of coffee.

  As her cup brewed, she stared at the blank screen of her phone, willing it to come to life.

  “Come on, Sloan. He’s got a life outside of you,” she muttered to herself.

  The staccato rap of knuckles against the wood front door pulled her out of her self-admonishment. Brows knitting in concern, she padded to the entryway. Not expecting anyone. But when she pulled open the door, a wide smile spread across her lips. Carson stood there, bathed in the morning sun, his fitted GBFD shirt stretched across his muscular chest and shoulders.

  “Carson! What are you doing here?”

  A grin turned up his lips. “It’s been too damn long.”

  “It’s not even been a week.”

  “Like I said, too damn long.”

  He stepped over the threshold and cupped the back of her head in one hand as he pulled her to him. His lips sealed over hers, stealing her breath and making the waiting cup of coffee seem like a distant memory. God, she’d missed his taste. Slowly breaking the kiss, she traced his jaw with her fingers and stared at him. He looked tired, his face lined with fatigue and eyes shadowed.

  “Long night?” she asked.

  He released his hold on her and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah. Busy.”

  “Rescuing kittens?”

  A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Would you let me keep kissing you if I said yes?”

  Her heart flipped. “I’d let you do that even if you hadn’t done anything heroic.”

  “Thank fuck.”

  His lips dropped to hers again, then he scooped her into his arms and carried her toward the couch. She laughed and pulled away. “I didn’t mean right this second. I have to go to work.”

  A low rumbled groan left his chest. “You’ve got a few minutes, don’t you?”

  God, how could she deny this man anything now that she’d let him take her breath away with his kisses?

  “Ten minutes, but then I’ve got to finish getting ready.”

  He laid her back on the couch and crawled over her, his lips leaving a blazing trail along her neck and jaw until they reached her mouth. She let him steal her morning with his kisses, his tongue, and his fierce determination to have her. By the time she pulled herself out of the Carson induced haze, she was rumpled, panting, and wishing she could call in for a substitute to cover for her so she could spend the day wrapped in Carson’s arms.

  “Shit,” she muttered, glancing at the old clock on the wall.

  He nuzzled her neck and pressed a few soft kisses to the place where her shoulder and neck met. “What is it, baby?”

  “I have to go.”

  He let her wiggle out of his embrace, but sat up and sighed. “Can I see you again tonight? I’m off for the next two days.”

  Excitement took hold in her belly. “Sure. I’ll be home by five. I’ve got some errands to run after work.”

  With a discreet adjustment of his pants, he stood and took her by the hand. “I’ll be here.”

  He tugged her to him one last time and brushed her lips with his, a soft, tender gesture that had nothing to do with lust. Then as unexpectedly as he appeared, he left. It was all she could do to pull herself together and get to work on time. But, from experience, second graders showed no mercy and she needed to get herself sorted or they’d eat her alive.

  The day went by slowly. Aside from an awkward run-in with Beckett in the break room, it would have gone down as a typical Tuesday. But with the ember of anticipation burning in her chest with each hour that passed, everything seemed to bring her one step closer to where she really wanted to be. With Carson.

  After the last student was safely on the school bus, she rolled her shoulders and sighed, the weight of the day settling on top of her exc
itement for the evening. The halls were quiet and empty as she made her way back to her classroom, ready to finish up and get home so she could freshen up before Carson came to get her.

  “Hey, Sloan! Wait up.” Beckett’s voice rang out across the hall, stopping her as she reached her room.

  She watched as he jogged toward her. “Hi, Beckett. Busy day today, huh?”

  He ran a hand through his wayward hair, he offered her a bashful grin. “It’s always busy in my class. Those kids are the most rowdy bunch I’ve ever taught.”

  “Mine were on their best behavior today. I don’t know how that happened, but I’ll put it in the win corner.”

  He laughed and the tension between them eased a little. “So, I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay after I saw you at the ice rink. I wasn’t going to say anything, but I can’t let it go.”

  Her back stiffened. What was he talking about? Why wouldn’t she be okay? “Of course, I am.”

  Cheeks turning pink, he looked at his shoes. “Your date was a little . . . possessive. It seemed like he had a real problem with me being there.”

  “Well, I think he might have been a little jealous, but wouldn’t you be if you were in his shoes?”

  “I wouldn’t be an asshole about it.”

  That made her angry. Carson wasn’t an asshole. Far from it. “He’s not an asshole.”

  Beckett’s brow knitted. “Sloan, he looked like he was an inch away from marking his territory. He doesn’t want you having friends?”

  She wanted to laugh. Friends didn’t kiss each other, and they didn’t act the way Beckett acted. “You know it was more than friends between us.”

  “Exactly. I think it still is. This guy has you all jumbled. He’s swooped in, claimed you, and keeping you from seeing what’s standing right in front of you. You said it yourself. You two have a history. He’s trouble. And he’s using you.”

  “He’s not.”

  Beckett took a step toward her, then another, and another, until he was inches away. “I know things started out tense between us, but I think a huge part of that is because of him. If you just give me a chance . . .” he took her hand and stroked his thumb across her knuckles. “I can be good for you. I won’t hurt you, I won’t break you. Not like he did.”

  She stared down at their linked hands, confusion swirling through her. Would Carson hurt her again? He could. The man had destroyed her once, he definitely had the power to do that all over again. Did she want to give it to him? She thought back to the last week with him, their conversations, the way they were together, and the only answer was yes. She had to take the chance. They weren’t diving in headfirst. This was the beginning. She didn’t have to be worried about giving him her heart to break. Not yet.

  Chapter 11

  Sully stood in the doorway of Sloan’s classroom, his heart in his goddamn throat. He’d bought her lilies. Because she loved them. Now, as he watched her holding that bastard’s hand, letting him fucking touch her, he wanted to throw the flowers in the garbage. But no. He wasn’t going to run. With a sharp tap of his knuckles on the doorframe, he strode into the room. Sloan’s gaze snapped to his and the look of guilt on her face almost killed him.

  “Carson.” Her surprised gasp of his name only added to his jealousy. She knew she’d been caught. Knew this was going to be a problem after she’d told him Beckett wasn’t an issue.

  “Hey. Am I interrupting?”

  Beckett was still holding her damn hand, but when Sully’s focus drifted from her face to her fingers, she jerked her hand free.

  “Yeah, actually. You are. We were having a conversation.” Beckett’s voice grated on Sully’s nerves.

  “Yeah? Well, I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to my girl.”

  Sloan took a step back from Beckett, her bottom lip between her teeth, concern on her beautiful features. “You should go, Becks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  The man sucked in a breath as though he was going to be stupid and argue, but then he turned and left the room, glancing back once.

  “I thought—” she started.

  “I couldn’t wait to see you.” He was an asshole for interrupting her, but dammit, he couldn’t give her the chance to tell him to leave. He tossed the bouquet on her desk with a little too much force, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “I thought we could run your errands together.”

  “You want to grocery shop with me?”

  He let his eyes find hers. “Sloan, I want to do everything with you.” Then doubt wormed its way into his chest as she looked away. “But . . . it seems like you might not feel the same way.”

  “Carson. I . . . I’m not sure. It’s so intense between us. I can’t think when you’re around. It’s just . . . it can be a little too much. You come in here and you say you want everything, but we’re supposed to be taking it slow.”

  Realization hit him like a bucket of ice water. “So . . . what you said about being ready . . . you just meant ready to fuck?”

  Her eyes widened and she glanced wildly around the empty classroom. “You can’t talk like that in here.”

  “Answer the question, Sloan.”

  “We’ve only been on one date. What you’re talking about . . . it sounds a lot more serious than seeing where it goes.”

  Humiliation swept over him. He’d handed her a piece of his heart this morning. He’d decided to jump back in, all in, and give this relationship thing a shot because it seemed too much of a sign from God for her to be here again. But now? Now it was damn clear she wasn’t on the same page.

  “You’re right. I’ve got to go. I shouldn’t have come here.” He had to grip the back of his neck as he closed his eyes and took a long breath. “I’ll . . . talk to you later, Sloan.”

  He turned and walked away, wishing she’d stop him, aching when she didn’t. She was afraid. He’d seen it in her eyes. She needed space and in truth, she was right. He did want everything with her. Taking it slow was harder than he thought.

  Eyes trained on the dashboard while he worked to control his frustration, he let out a curse when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He knew it would be her and almost didn’t look. But that small flame of hope in his chest pushed him to see what she’d said.

  I’m sorry.

  That’s all. I’m-fucking-sorry? He had to get out of here. Get away and clear his head before his next shift. He’d be no use to anyone at the station if he couldn’t focus. Starting his car, he headed home, to his dog, his quiet house, and his waiting Harley.

  Within the hour he’d packed up a few things, set Zeus up for a stay with Dot, and he was on the road. The clear skies and fair weather making it the perfect day for a ride on his bike. He hadn’t taken his Harley out in too long and the feel of the wind on his face and the rumble of the engine under him took his thoughts away from everything else. He’d spend the night at the cabin he’d bought a few years ago. Ride through Shenandoah National Park. Get some damned perspective. Then maybe he’d be able to figure out whether he’d fight for Sloan . . . or let her go.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sloan tapped her fingers on the old countertop in the kitchen as she stared at the glass of wine she still hadn’t touched. Her conversation with Carson played over in her mind, the hurt on his face, the intensity in his eyes. She’d been trying to protect herself but wound up hurting both of them instead. Now, she’d clearly been stood up. That was evident from the lack of contact, the sinking feeling in her stomach, and the fact that he was supposed to have been here an hour ago. Had she really expected him to show up after the scene in her classroom? After her unanswered texts and phone calls?

  Part of her knew he wasn’t going to show, but a bigger part had been holding on to the hope that he’d want to talk it through. If he really wanted to give them a chance, he’d have afforded her that
courtesy. But that wasn’t who Carson was. He wore his heart on his sleeve, but he needed his time to process. He would come to her—or he wouldn’t. That wasn’t something she could control.

  She grabbed her phone and typed one final message. After this, she wouldn’t message him again. It was bordering on pathetic.

  Carson, I’m sorry. We should talk about this.

  She pressed Send and watched, waiting to see if she’d get a response or not. The label under her message went from Sent to Read but he didn’t write back. After ten minutes of pacing her living room, she set her phone on the coffee table and went upstairs to change clothes. Because of her fear, tonight had taken a turn she hadn’t expected. Now, instead of spending the evening falling slowly back into something with the man she used to love, she was alone with a bottle of wine and her television to keep her company.

  When she woke the next morning, a crick in her neck and a slight wine hangover clouding her movements, the first thing she did was check her phone. A text alert sent a wave of panic and elation racing through her—until she read the message.

  Not right now.

  Her heart sank as the words registered. He was closing himself off, not giving them a chance, and it was all because she’d been afraid. Frustration clouded all else and she typed back a short message.

  Not talking isn’t going to help. It didn’t then and it won’t now.

  A week later she still hadn’t heard another word from Carson. Her disappointment had turned to anger, and she’d finally given up hope that there was anything else between them. She couldn’t handle the back and forth. It took too much from her already tender heart. His silence only proved her fears correct.