by Brenda Novak
“That’s it,” she breathed.
His teeth flashed in a smile. Then he brought her to climax again and again and again.
As each new wave of pleasure hit, the satisfaction on his face increased, but he wasn’t as in control as he was trying to pretend. Every muscle grew taut as he fought harder and harder to stop himself from reaching his own climax. “Again,” he told her, his voice ragged.
From that point on, their lovemaking grew even more intense. They were in the middle of a wordless war, where pleasure was their most powerful weapon, one they could each wield with skill and accuracy. She was battling to hang on to her heart, and he was battling to show her just how easily he could reclaim it. But that struggle made every sensation much more acute. Every nerve seemed to be carefully attuned to Aaron’s touch, his voice, even his scent.
“You’ve become stubborn,” he muttered when he stopped long enough to tell her she was beautiful, perfect, and she merely scowled at him. She wasn’t being stubborn; she was learning from the past. She would not allow him dominance. No way. Not like before. And because he could sense her resistance, he kept trying to overcome her skepticism and entice her into submission.
Nothing but their power struggle seemed to matter—until they heard Cheyenne’s voice from the living room.
“Pres?”
Aaron rolled away and dove for his clothes. Presley scrambled off the bed, too, and hurried to dress. But it wasn’t easy to pull her clothes over her sensitized, sweat-dampened skin. Weak and shaky, she called, “Hang on, Chey. I’ll be right out.”
“What’s going on?” her sister called back.
“I’m, uh, running late.”
“But you’re okay? Wyatt’s okay?”
“I’m fine. Wyatt’s still asleep.”
“Mama!” Wyatt called from his crib. “Mama!”
“Or he was,” she added.
“You haven’t even gotten him up?” Cheyenne asked. “What happened to arriving at the studio early? You were supposed to have him at my house half an hour ago.”
Presley pressed a finger to her mouth to signal that Aaron shouldn’t say anything. Obviously, her sister hadn’t seen his truck or she would’ve mentioned it. There was still a chance he might escape her notice. “I overslept.”
“You’re going to miss your class if you don’t hurry. You have maybe thirty minutes. I’ll take care of Wyatt’s breakfast and get him packed up. That should help.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Presley could hear her sister talking baby talk as she got Wyatt out of bed. “Just stay in my bathroom until we’re gone, okay?” she whispered to Aaron. “You can lock up and leave after that.”
“Why do I need to hide? We’re both consenting adults. We’re both unattached. We even have a kid together, for crying out loud. Why can’t I say hello and let it go at that?”
“Because I don’t want her to know what a damn fool I am!”
She hadn’t meant to offend him. That comment had been an extension of her inner dialogue and the way she was berating herself for falling back into bed with him. But when he looked as though she’d just slapped him, she realized how he’d taken it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”
He stabbed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you did,” he said, and walked out.
The house shook as he slammed the door and, a moment later, Cheyenne poked her head into the room. “Was that who I think it was?”
Presley released a gusty sigh and dropped onto her bed. “Yeah.”
* * *
Riley showed up for Presley’s Friday morning yoga class. She thought that was so nice—given his resistance to trying it every other time she’d mentioned it—that she agreed to go for coffee with him when the class ended. Apparently, he was between jobs, and her next appointment wasn’t until noon so they both had time. And because he’d come to her class, he’d missed his usual get-together with his friends at Black Gold.
Rather than leave her sister babysitting during the interim, she called to invite Chey, too. Chey had also skipped out on Friday-morning coffee, since she’d come to get Wyatt, so she pushed him over in his stroller.
“Isn’t it a gorgeous day?” she asked as she joined them at an outdoor table.
Presley slid the cappuccino she’d purchased for her sister closer to Cheyenne. Then she unfastened her son’s seat belt and pulled Wyatt into her lap. Until now, she hadn’t even noticed the weather. She hadn’t been feeling particularly energetic since Aaron left. She’d wanted to call him ever since, to apologize, but she hadn’t had a chance. She’d been in a rush to get to the studio. Then she’d led her class. And now she was entertaining Riley.
She glanced at the street, searching for Aaron’s truck in the traffic flowing by. She doubted she’d see it. He was probably at work. But she looked for him whenever she was out and about in Whiskey Creek. It was a habit she’d formed when she’d first fallen in love with him.
“Did you have a good turnout this morning?” Cheyenne dropped her wallet and house keys on the table before taking a seat.
“Not bad.” Presley smiled at Riley. “I had my first guy.”
Cheyenne looked appropriately impressed. “Wow, Riley. Breaking the gender norms here in Gold Country, are you?”
“You couldn’t tell by my yoga clothes?” he joked.
“I saw the shorts, but I assumed you were playing basketball or tennis.”
“Nope.” He swelled out his chest. “I was doing the lotus and the... What was that other pose? The full owl?”
“The full pigeon,” Presley corrected.
“I hope you got a picture of that,” Cheyenne said. “Maybe we’ll be able to blackmail him with it someday.”
Presley might have enjoyed the banter if she wasn’t so preoccupied with the way Aaron had left. But those last few seconds, and the look on his face, kept replaying in her mind. “Next time,” she mumbled, and gave Wyatt a piece of biscotti.
Riley dug through the packets of sugar looking for a Sweet’N Low; he couldn’t find one, so he went inside.
“I’m worried about Riley,” Cheyenne said, the shade from the table’s umbrella dividing her face into light and dark.
Presley leaned back. “Why?”
“He really likes you. And after what I saw this morning...”
“He knows I’m still in love with Aaron.”
“But does he know you’re still sleeping with him?”
Did she need to tell him? She and Riley had exchanged a few chaste kisses, but they’d never even made out. She wasn’t sure their relationship had reached the stage where she owed him that kind of information. She wasn’t sure it ever would. “Riley and I are just friends.”
“He wouldn’t show up for your yoga class if he wasn’t trying to impress you.”
Presley shrugged. “Did you suggest it?”
“No.”
“I know you were coaching him.”
“Not anymore. Not since Aaron found out about Wyatt.”
“Aaron will be leaving in five weeks, anyway.”
“You think your...infatuation will end there?”
“It’ll have to, won’t it?”
Cheyenne didn’t seem convinced. “The way he walked out this morning...is it going to be okay to have him over again tonight?”
“Why would I have him over again?” she asked, shifting in her seat.
With a sound of impatience, Cheyenne lowered her voice. “For the artificial insemination. What else?”
“That’s tonight?”
“I told you it would probably be this weekend.”
“But you never confirmed it.”
“Because I’m waiting for him to answer my text to make sure he’s still on board.”
“How long have you been waiting?”
“A couple of hours.” Cheyenne was obviously concerned.
“Can’t we put it off?” Presley asked.
Her sister gave her an incredulous look. “Are you kidding? Dylan already thinks I’m pregnant. And I’m ovulating. I took a test to prove it. We have to act as soon as possible.”
Riley was on his way back, so Presley bent over the stroller as if she was searching for something. “I’ll get in touch with him.”
Cheyenne didn’t have time to respond.
“I broke down and bought a piece of the coffee cake,” Riley announced. “I know you don’t eat a lot of sugar,” he added in an aside to Presley, “but you two have to try this.”
Presley managed a smile, accepted the fork he handed her and took a small bite. He was right—she wasn’t interested, in the coffee cake or the conversation that followed. But she soldiered on, smiled and made small talk until they split up. Then she canceled her next massage and walked over to Amos Auto Body. She didn’t really want to show up at Aaron’s work. She knew it would attract too much attention from his brothers. But she was afraid that if she didn’t talk to Aaron before the big “procedure” tonight, he might feel justified in bowing out.
* * *
When Dylan used the PA system to call Aaron to the front office, Aaron twisted around to look at Mack, who was helping him fix the hydraulic lift in one of the repair bays. “If he wants me, why doesn’t he just walk his ass back here?”
Wiping the grease from his hands, Mack stretched his back. “Beats me.”
Aaron scowled at the parts lying all over the concrete. This wasn’t a good time to take a break. “You okay here?”
“Hell, no,” Mack said. “You’re better at putting this back together than I am. I’ll wait. I need a drink, anyway.”
They walked to the front, and as soon as they passed through the door, Mack veered off to the vending machine and left Aaron standing in the middle of the lobby, staring at Presley, who was wearing a simple white cotton dress that set off her dark skin.
Since when did she get so damned pretty?
She was sitting in one of the plastic chairs along the front window but got to her feet when she saw him. “Hello.”
It was almost impossible to keep his gaze from sliding down her body. These days she did something to him he couldn’t explain, and that dress only made it worse.
To avoid temptation, he glanced outside, thinking that maybe Cheyenne had driven her over, or that she’d borrowed a car. The shop was at least a mile from Presley’s studio. But he didn’t see any evidence suggesting she had a vehicle. “How’d you get here?” he asked.
“I walked.”
He noticed the leather sandals on her feet, the nail polish that matched her lip gloss. Pink? She’d grown so conservative—but her tattoo reminded him that she wasn’t as conventional as she appeared. It was the combination of that wild streak, the hard-luck beginning and what she’d made of herself since that appealed to him. “That’s a hike.”
“It’s a nice day. I didn’t mind.”
She’d never been one to complain. He liked that about her, too—liked that she was willing to make the most of any situation. No question her background had left some scars, but it had also created a woman who was happy with the simple things in life.
He could feel Dylan watching them from where he stood behind the counter, working on the computer. “What’s up?”
Had she come out here to drive him crazy, like she had last night and during every other encounter since she’d returned to town? Even when he was making love to her, he couldn’t really reach her. He’d never been so off balance with a woman. She used to be consistent, predictable, always there waiting for his attention. But now...she was determined not to get caught in the same trap and was withholding what she’d once given so freely.
He couldn’t be happy when he was with her, and he couldn’t be happy when he wasn’t, because...
He wasn’t sure exactly. All he knew was that he no longer felt as ambivalent toward her as he had two years ago. No doubt it would surprise her to learn that Wyatt wasn’t the only thing that drew him to her place each night. He looked forward to seeing her just as much. But she wouldn’t believe it if he told her. She wouldn’t believe he cared about her, wouldn’t even believe he found her attractive.
At this point, he wished he didn’t. He was done trying to overcome the past. He couldn’t overcome it—not if she wouldn’t let him. He was just going to be Wyatt’s dad and leave Presley alone. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
“Can we talk?” she asked.
“About...”
She cleared her throat and shot Dylan a covert glance. “Wyatt. What else?”
He had a feeling this had nothing to do with their child, but she wasn’t the only one eager for some privacy. With a nod, he held the front door and they walked outside and around the building.
“I’m sorry about what I said this morning.” She bit her lip as she looked up at him, and the frustration he’d been feeling since she returned to town welled up again. One minute he thought nothing had changed between them; the next it felt like everything had.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she added when he didn’t respond. “And I didn’t realize what I said would do that.”
“Because I have a heart of stone.”
“Not stone.” Her normally smooth forehead rumpled as she cast about for the right words. “You can be sensitive and...and kind. And you always—”
“Stick up for the underdog,” he broke in. “You’ve told me that before.”
“You don’t sound like you’re taking it as the compliment it’s intended to be.”
“I don’t want praise for protecting the weak. As far as I’m concerned, that should be expected of any man. Anyway, you can’t be considered an underdog anymore. You’re on your feet and you’re doing great. So why do you think I keep coming around?”
“You’re Wyatt’s father,” she said. “Why else? You already love him and you want to be with him as much as possible before you leave.”
“But you play no role in that?”
Her eyes slid away from his. “I’m sure you’d like me to be supportive of your relationship with Wyatt.”
“So that’s why I keep trying to get in your pants.”
She shifted from one foot to the other. “If you can get a piece of ass in the same place, why not?”
“Shit.” He shook his head. If, after the past few weeks, she still believed he was using her, there was no convincing her. He’d burned her in the past and, although it was unintentional, it had been traumatic enough that she couldn’t get beyond it. Maybe he’d been a fool to even try—but there was something there, something he’d never felt for any other woman. “And you’ve put out for me so much since you got back,” he said dryly.
“I have!” she retorted.
They’d been together three or four nights in the past two months, but not nearly as often as he would’ve liked. She tried to push him away every time he got close. It was only after he’d gone to a great deal of effort to overcome her resistance that she became compliant. At least, that was the case last night. And then, as soon as they got out of bed, she reverted to the person she was right now. No matter how much fun they had together, no matter how eager he was to see where his feelings might lead, she cut him off and built an even higher wall.
“A few nights are hardly a lot. And you’ve turned around and spit in my face every time.”
“You’d rather I fell swooning at your feet? Because you liked that so much before?”
“We’re not talking about before. That was then, this is now.”
“Never mind.” She waved him off, and he was glad. Although he blamed her for his frustration, he wasn’t
entirely sure that was fair. He couldn’t identify exactly what he wanted or what he needed. He just knew it was more than she was giving him. And maybe, because he’d been so stubborn before, he deserved it.
“I’d rather not talk about us,” she said. “I can’t. I don’t have the time.”
“Why?”
“I have a massage at four. I have to get back. I already canceled one to come here. I don’t want to lose another appointment.”
“You canceled— Wait. Why’d you do that?”
“To make sure what I said this morning isn’t going to keep you from showing up tonight.”
What was she talking about? He eyed her dubiously. “Showing up where?”
“At my house.”
“I don’t remember being invited over. You’ve been too busy trying to shove me away.”
She glanced around again and lowered her voice. “You have a date with Cheyenne.”
“Don’t call it a date,” he said with a grimace. “We’re talking about my sister-in-law.”
“You know what I mean.”
“So she’s ovulating?”
“Yes. She’s been texting you, but she hasn’t gotten a response.”
He thrust his hands in his pockets. “I was in such a hurry this morning that I left my phone at home.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Does that mean you’ll go through with it?”
If only he didn’t have to... But he couldn’t set Dylan up for that kind of disappointment. “What time?”
“Late. After Dylan’s asleep and she can slip out. She’ll have to text us both. He could watch TV until midnight or later.”
“Okay.”
“You’ll get back to her?”
“I told her I’d do it, didn’t I?”
She took a deep breath. Apparently, she’d been nervous that she’d screwed things up for her sister. “Okay. Good. Thanks for that.”
“There’s just one catch.”
At the change in his voice, she turned around and clasped her hands in front of her. Maybe she could tell from the way he was looking at her what his “catch” would involve.
