I clear my throat. “Don’t tempt me. I’ll take you upstairs to the bedroom I jacked off in at least a million times and scare the ever loving shit out of you,” I say. “I mean that in the most sexual way possible,” I add on. Legitimately scaring her is a true fear of mine. “Then taking it slow will be out of the question and I’ll be upset with my willpower.”
She squeezes my arm. “Your willpower is stronger than it should be. I’m taking your clothes off as soon as we get home, Smith. Will you teach me about willpower then?”
A million scenarios of Carina naked come to mind. Her state of dress is unimportant. It’s her eyes. The way her eyes scorch as she returns my gaze is the biggest turn on. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll teach you all about willpower,” I groan.
After she nods, a promising response, Carina’s eyes land on the commotion in front of us. It forces a break in the tension boiling around our bodies. Never has a kiss ruined me in such a way. Even if I remembered my past, I’m confident that this is a fire that has never burned inside of me before.
Her voice draws me from my lust hazed stupor. “I just wanted to drop by quickly and wish you a happy birthday,” Megan says. She strokes my nephew, Will’s hair the way she always does when she sees him. He smiles up at her. The contents of my stomach turn to battery acid. Carina’s grip tightens and for that small gesture, I’m glad. I’m able to be the person who protects her always. Even in this uncomfortable moment I will do my best. Next, Megan’s eyes seek me out.
She won’t be rude. I don’t think. Megan approaches, her lithe gait swaying as she sizes us up—formulates the right thing to say. Now her phone call to my mother makes sense. “I wanted to bring Will a gift. That’s all. I didn’t know you’d be here, Smith. I’m sorry about that,” Megan says. She stands closer than is comfortable, and I’m not sure why. “I was already on my way when I called your momma.”
The tension on my arm eases a touch. “Megan. Good to see you again,” Carina says.
“Loud, isn’t it?” Megan asks, making small talk. Will’s laughter rings out, followed by several more shrieks. “It looks like they’re having a blast.” Megan looks over her shoulder at the kids.
“They are,” I reply. “We were just getting out of here.”
Will runs up behind Megan and hugs her with one arm. “They were kissing by the tree, not hiding,” Will says, a toothless grin wide on his face.
Megan’s smile fades. “I see. Kissing behind trees was always Uncle Smith’s thing.”
Will wrinkles his nose then he’s gone, pounding away from us toward his friends.
Carina laughs uncomfortably while shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Megan folds her arms across her chest, eyes sad and angry. “Can I talk to you quickly, Smith?” Her gaze fixes on Carina. “Alone if you don’t mind?” she says to the scared woman clutching my arm. “It will just take a sec, darlin’.”
“Of course. I’ll go,” Carina says. I don’t let her pull away. I use my hand to keep her entwined with me. “Smith, really. It’s fine. I’ll head inside to grab my purse.” I understand avoiding conflict, but Carina’s backbone bends at the subtlest hint of an argument. It’s my job to make her feel secure in her place.
“No. You’re exactly where you should be,” I say, looking down at Carina.
She gives a small smile and bites her lower lip.
“You stay.”
She nods. It’s not an order. It’s a strong request—me letting her know how secure she is in her place next to me.
Megan scowls. I aim a pointed look right back. “If you have something to say, you can say it in front of Carina.” I take my free hand out of my pocket to send a wave in Fiona’s direction. She’s staring daggers at the three of us with bulged eyes and a mouth so wide it’s catching flies. She waves back, folding her hand in half briefly, and retreats into the house.
Carina tightens her grip on my forearm. I don’t have the heart to tell her she’s hurting my scars. Megan sees and she smiles like she’s in on some inside joke. “I guess it’s easier this way anyways. I wanted to see if you’d be against Carina and I getting together to talk. I wanted to get to know her better. Moose has so many wonderful things to say, and I think it’s only fair if I get a small taste of what or better yet, who is so utterly irresistible to the super human man who stole so many of my years,” Megan drawls. Her blue eyes dart down to my forearm once again. “And maybe I can give her a few pointers on the care and keeping of Smith Eppington while I’m at it.”
Ambivalence is key in moments such as this. I’m also not in practice. “Pointers in keeping me, huh?” I ask, smiling.
“That was rude, Smith,” Carina whispers.
Megan clears her throat. “It’s an expression. The lady is right. You mind your manners, sir,” she says. “I mean no harm, Carina. I truly want to get to know you a little better. Call it curiosity. Nothing more and nothing less.”
“That would be fine, I think,” Carina says. Her voice is small like that of a disobedient child. “If Smith is okay with it,” she corrects.
I lean down and kiss the top of her head. Even the briefest moment spent that close to her has me inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo. “You don’t need my permission,” I reply.
“Good. It’s settled. Lunch and shopping next weekend? Fashion Valley?” Megan says.
Carina’s vice grip finally relents. The assault is almost over. To be continued next weekend. “That sounds great. I look forward to it,” Carina says. The women exchange numbers while I watch enrapt at this odd occurrence. I’m not sure if I can trust Megan, but I have to trust that Carina can hold her own. She mentioned talking to Megan on multiple occasions, so I know she’ll be prepared. If there’s one thing I know she’s good at it’s spinning the conversation to make sure she’s not the one divulging too much information.
Megan’s voice breaks me from my worries. “You seem really happy. Really happy,” Megan says. Her eyes tilt down in the corners, and her mouth turns down as she lets her eyes wander over my face, neck, and arms. “I’m glad,” she finishes. She’s not. My God, she’s not glad. This is a show for Carina and Megan knows I’m well aware of what she’s doing.
Carina thanks her, but Megan only has eyes for me. I try at tactful, yet biting. “It’s the happiest I’ve been in a long time,” I say. Megan swallows audibly and bids us a hasty farewell. She ruffles Will’s hair one more time and heads back into the house. We don’t go back inside until I see her car driving away.
“Try as I might, I can’t blame her. If I were in her shoes I’d be curious, too,” Carina says. She twists her dress in her free hand. “I come in like a ninja and take what’s always been hers.” A sigh escapes her pretty mouth.
Turning to face her, I grab her wrist to halt the nervous twitch. A few years ago I wouldn’t have noticed something this small and seemingly insignificant. I’m bothered terribly by the stupid gesture now. It’s Carina’s discomfort present with me. My stomach hurts. “You can blame her. When she broke up with me she said she wanted a clean break. This isn’t that. This is meddling with the one thing I care about. I won’t lose you because of her, Carina. I can’t.” I lift my shoulders then lower them again. Carina stops her hand and runs it through her pretty hair. “Also, it hurts my arms when you vice grip me,” I say.
Her mouth pops open and she covers it with her delicate hand. “I’m so sorry. I should have known better. How will that affect you when you deploy and you’re wearing mountains of heavy gear?”
I explain that all over pressure is different from tiny fingers digging into my skin pressure. I try to comfort her by telling her a joke because she feels bad, but I’m the one who ends up feeling uneasy at the prospect of leaving her. Soon. The time we have together is precious. The countdown is on.
Fiona is waiting for us when we make our way to the living room. “No one lost any teeth or hair,” she says. “I tried telling Mom it was a bad idea to send her out there without warning, but she wanted to let
the chips fall where they may.”
I pull Carina into the seat next to me on the white, linen sofa. “Were you taking bets?” I ask. “I’m joking.” I turn to make sure Carina is aware. “She’s been a part of the family for as long as I can remember. Which, uh, isn’t much, kind of, but I understand. So does Carina. There’s no bad blood between us.”
“Just memories you don’t remember,” Fiona says.
I shrug. “Inconsequential at this point, don’t you think?”
She shrugs back. Typical sister move. “I guess so. I’m sorry you had to endure that, for what it’s worth, Carina,” Fiona replies. “Once Megan has her mind made up, that’s that.”
Carina shrugs. “Can’t say I blame her.” With that, the conversation blessedly ends and worry pangs my heart.
We talk for several more minutes when my parents join us. Mostly everyone ignores the Megan interruption in favor of my looming deployment and what exactly I’ll be doing: which I can’t say. Where I’ll be: I’m not sure of an exact location yet. It has been changing daily. What I’ll be doing: I make something up, because moms and sisters don’t want the truth. They want a thinly veiled concept of safety and my comfort. I give them that. Everyone’s concern is the attacks that have been increasing in frequency on American soil.
And with damn good reason.
Chapter Fifteen
Carina
WHEN THE MESS YOU get yourself into is no fault but your own, you can’t complain about it. You roll with it with as much dignity and tact as you can. Growing up with my stepfather, I learned that lesson quickly. I made a mistake, I was punished for it. Now that I’m out of his rule and living my own life, the concept is still similar, albeit a little less painful. I fell for a taken man. The problem was he was only taken in a one-sided fashion. I can’t stop putting myself in Megan’s shoes. If I were the one to lose Smith, how awful the feeling must be. I shake the bad feelings away and try to concentrate.
My Bose headphones cancel out all noise. I don’t have the music on, just complete silence. I’m at my small glass desk in my bedroom with the door closed. I’m pounding the keys, desperately trying to make headway on my manuscript. As soon as we returned from his parents’ house, Smith got a call and had to head in to work. He was not pleased. I’ve never heard him curse so much and so strongly as he did after he hung up the call. Part of me is happy to have a little space from him and what he makes me feel. Never in all of my years have I been so attracted to a person. His looks aside, the personality that shines through in every single moment of his life is enough to knock me flat on the floor delirious with lust and…love.
Currently, I’m deleting more than I’m writing. It’s a fight to get words on screen tonight—so distracted by his kiss and then by his ex. The thought gives me an idea. I pull up the chapter in which my characters have their first kiss and I revise it. I close my eyes and remember his lips against mine. I write every detail, every feeling, every touch. Our first kiss becomes theirs and even on paper the moment jumps off the pages as truth.
“This is how it needs to happen,” I whisper to myself. Reading over the scene makes my heart pound. It’s so real. I need outside perspective to know if it’s as strong as I feel it is. Dialing Jasmine is easy. She’s speed dial number one on my cell phone. Like any best friend, she picks up right before it goes to voicemail in no-man’s-land. No one listens to voicemails these days.
“I have to read you something and I need an honest opinion,” I say. I forego a hello in favor of getting down to business.
I hear talking and laughing and then complete silence. “I’m ready,” Jasmine says simply. There are no questions, no shit because it’s the weekend and I’m working. I remember she’s out with our friends. An invitation I didn’t accept because I thought Smith and I would be preoccupied with each other for at least twenty-four hours.
“I rewrote part of chapter ten,” I say.
“The kiss,” she replies automatically. Her agent hat has replaced her best friend cap.
I nod, glazing over the words in front of me with wide eyes. “Yes. I changed it…fixed it. I think. Here, listen,” I order. With a quick click I make my font larger and begin reading. I made the scene resemble our first kiss so fully that I moved it outdoors by a tree and changed the dialogue to gel with the moment that is seared into my mind. Reading it back to Jasmine I can look at it as a fly on the wall instead of breathing and loving in the moment and it impacts me the same way: a sledgehammer cracking my ribs apart. “A flower stands at its most beautiful just before it wilts away and dies. A black and white photo is timeless—it lingers in shoe boxes for generations. Words in black and white are eternal. This kiss, the one I feel in my soul, transcends any visual dimension the eye can see. It’s more than forever,” I read aloud the last part. My breathing is more jagged and my throat is clogged. Tears sneak out of the corner of my eyes.
“Fuck, Carina,” Jasmine says. Her voice is raspy with emotion. “That is beautiful. You’ve never written anything more…real. You know I’m going to ask, though.”
“He kissed me, Jaz,” I say, grabbing my throat with one hand. “And the world stopped cold. I fell so hard and it only took seconds. It sounds real because it is real, and my life is strangely more appealing than fiction. How did this happen?” I’m doing this. It’s down. My feelings and words are strewn about my laptop screen. My truths. Our secrets. There’s no hiding them.
Jasmine swallows loudly. “This is unbelievable. If you can insert, no pun intended, more of your real life with Smith into this novel, the sky is the limit. I’m crying and I don’t cry, Carina. As far as first kisses go in books you just devoured first through third place,” she says. I can tell she’s breathing heavily, just as affected by my words as I am. “Like maybe took over Jaime and Claire’s spot, for Christ’s sake.”
I hit the save button and lay my forehead down on my desk. “This is what it feels like,” I whisper.
“Yes. You lucky bitch. I can’t even pretend to know what you feel, but your words? Those I can take and run with. Give it to us, honey. Give it all to us,” Jasmine breathes. She laughs. “The first time you fuck him? Give me a few hours heads-up. I want to grab a glass of wine and my vibe.”
“You’re atrocious. You think I’d give gory details about that?”
“Yes,” she replies. “As your agent, I expect them actually.”
I grunt. “I thought we’d be making details right now, but he’s working tonight.”
“Working?” Jasmine asks. “At night? Sounds suspicious.”
I roll my eyes. “He’s working. I’m worried, though. Did you see the news? The attack at the shopping mall in NorCal?” A conversation switch is mandatory now that we’ve delved into my sex life.
“Sick fuckers. Don’t let fear run your life. Especially now that you have the hottest bodyguard on the planet.”
“He deploys soon, remember? I’ll be all by myself. Not that I’m worried about solitary confinement. Well, maybe a little bit.” I don’t even have to say his name.
“You haven’t heard from him or seen him since the day you left. What makes you think anything will change?”
Leaning back in my chair, I tilt my chin up to stare at the ceiling. It’s illuminated by the glow of my computer. “I have a feeling something bad will happen. I can’t explain it.”
Jasmine groans. “Then don’t explain. Don’t think about it. Just read me that scene again. I’m going to grab my glass of wine.”
I laugh. “Shut up. I’ll talk to you later. I’ll send over the finished chapters in the morning.”
“Good luck,” Jasmine rasps.
“With what?” I ask.
“Smith. When he gets home from work.” With a laugh she says goodbye and ends the call. Checking messages again without anything new, I toss my cell on the desk next to my notebook and headphones. I may need to move my desk into the empty bedroom. I’ve been working too late and I think it’s because my work station is locat
ed a few feet from my bed.
I read my new words a few more times and stand from my chair to stretch my tired hands over my head. I throw on a nightshirt that hits high thigh, wash my face, and brush my teeth. All through the mundane tasks I revel in the knowledge that I’ve written our first kiss. A kiss that will live forever in the pages of a book. It’s freeing and terrifying at the same time. I’ve gotten used to my friends reading my work and assuming I write non-fiction. How will this be any different? Other than the fact that I’m dating the person who I’m writing about? Early on, Smith and I decided that he wouldn’t read anything until I was finished—until it returned from the editor and the draft was final, final. He’s got more willpower than me, that’s for sure. If someone were writing a story about me, I’d have to know everything as it was written. Especially if it were sitting right under my nose. Smith doesn’t even glance at my marker boards. He says his momma raised a gentleman.
Our wooden floors creak underneath my steps as I head for the kitchen. The old bungalow style of our house is brand-new to me. It’s different than the house I grew up in and is much different than the house Roarke built for us. Surrounded by these walls gives me a new lease on life in more ways than the obvious. The water goes down easily as I stare out into the dark purple night, trying to quench a nagging thirst. A coyote calls out from the ravine several houses down, and lightning bugs dot across the window, flying so slow even I could catch them.
My eyes are heavy when I slide into bed and pull the cool sheet over my bare legs. I click on the small side lamp on the opposite end table so it’s not dark when Smith comes home, and I close my eyes. My mind still whirs with the thrill of his lips against my own and the way he looked at me when he gently pulled away. Smith was starry-eyed. My stomach flips with excitement at the thought. Once his face enters my mind, I can’t shake it. It’s half tan and smooth and half red and scarred. Even his body is a representation of before and after. Pre-mortar and post mortar. Or in easier terms: Megan and Carina.
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