by R. K. Lilley
Her eyes narrowed on him suspiciously. “What, like as a date?”
He didn’t seem at all offended that she obviously found that idea distasteful. His smile was rueful but still friendly. “No. Like as a friend. Do you have a problem with the idea of being my friend?”
She was still wary. “Your family doesn’t like me.”
“My family likes you fine. Your dad, not so much, but that has nothing to do with you.”
“Yes, it does. If you have a problem with him, you have a problem with me.”
He cocked his head to the side, studying her curiously, but not in a way she took exception to. He wasn’t judgmental like everyone else in this podunk town. He was actually one of the few people that still treated her like a person. “You’re close with your father, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I always have been. He’s the only person who thinks I’m perfect just the way I am.”
“I can see where that would be nice.”
“Your family loves you. Isn’t it the same way with your parents?”
“Oh yeah, they love me, I love them. I have a great family. But nobody thinks I’m perfect. When I’m wrong about something, or just being an ass, there’s always someone in my family that will let me know.”
She glared. “I see what you did there. You’re saying I’m wrong and that I’m being an ass.”
“I didn’t say that. I was referring to myself and the fact that nobody thinks I’m perfect. Let’s go grab some food.”
“Fine,” she agreed. If they were going to talk all day anyway, they may as well eat.
Lunch was nice. She unloaded on him, venting it all out, and he listened to her, letting her know his opinion, which wasn’t always the same as hers, but he managed to get his point across without making her feel stupid or coming across as judgmental. She liked that about him. It made her feel comfortable. Comfortable enough to eventually ask him in a small voice. “If my dad was as awful as they say, I’d know it, right?”
He sent her a look that could only be described as sympathetic. It would have bothered her if not for the fact that he was starting to grow on her. “Somewhere deep down, you would definitely know it.”
She wasn’t sure how to take that answer, so she finished her food in silence.
When Patrick insisted on paying for lunch, she asked him saucily, “Are you sure this wasn’t a date? Don’t friends go dutch treat?”
That made him laugh, and she realized that she liked making him laugh. Maybe he was kind of her friend.
It had been a pleasant outing, but as they went their separate ways, she felt more conflicted than ever.
Unlike almost everyone else she knew, Patrick never openly condemned her father or tried to make her feel bad for taking Hector’s side.
Somehow that was more effective at making her question herself. The quiet way he’d scrutinized her as she defended her daddy had been disorienting. She’d found her excuses ringing hollow when she analyzed them herself.
Why did Hector always need an excuse?
She’d been so defensive for so long that it just came second nature for her to make excuses for him, but why did it always come to that?
What if you’re wrong about him? A small, niggling voice in her head spoke up, and not for the first time. That voice had started out quiet but was getting louder by the day.
What if you’ve always been wrong about Daddy?
She shook off the thought because if she was wrong, and if everyone was telling the truth about her father, it meant he was a monster and that she was one for defending him.
So she tried her best to quiet that voice and to cling to the hope that everyone else was wrong.
Because the fact was, Hector was all she had.
* * * *
Mallory left her house wondering if she’d ever be able to make herself go back now that her dad was home.
Things had gotten so ugly so fast, but that always seemed to be the case with Hector.
And Dakota. She’d been turning into a downright pleasant person for a time there, but the second their father had come back, she’d become his vicious little puppet again.
That fact disgusted Mallory as much as it baffled her. How could Dakota not see him for what he was? How was she that good at lying to herself?
Mallory would never understand and frankly didn’t want to. In fact, she didn’t care if she ever saw her sister again.
What she needed was to see Luis. He’d make her feel better. He always did.
“What’s wrong?” her boyfriend asked as soon as he opened the door.
She grimaced. “I don’t ever want to go home again. Can I come live here?” She was only half joking.
He grinned. “Works for me. My sister would flip, but I could just sneak you in the window.”
There it was. Already he’d teased a small smile out of her.
“Yeah, because that went so well the last time.” They both smiled. “In the meantime, what should we do? I can’t go home right now.”
“Hit up Cuppa Joe downtown? We could walk around. Or whatever you want.”
“That sounds good.”
They grabbed coffee and muffins from his sister’s coffee shop, chatting with Marisol for a time.
Mallory just picked at her muffin, despite the fact that usually these were her favorite. “Not hungry?” Luis asked, pulling her attention from the growing pile of crumbs.
“Not really.” She sighed.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice hesitant.
For a minute Mallory considered lying to him, but then decided on the truth. “It’s the same thing it always is when my dad is here. Everything in my family goes to shit. Dad is the same. He hasn’t changed a bit, in fact he might be worse, and Dakota has taken on her other, eviler personality. I guess the worst part is that I feel so helpless, when for a while things were starting to seem like they were going to get better. Like my mom was going to get to move on with her life.” Mallory folded her napkin over and over, bitterness washing through her. “I wish Dad had never come back. I wish that more than anything.”
“I’m sorry,” Luis said simply. “You and I will just have to spend all of our time together until he leaves again.”
She smiled despite herself.
After finishing their coffee, they took a stroll around town square. When they passed by the Storm Oak, Mallory stopped.
“What is it?” Luis asked.
“Lacey.” Mallory’s gaze collided with her ex-best friend’s and for a moment they all stood motionless—waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Lacey recovered first, smiling at Mallory and handing her a piece of paper. She did the same to Luis.
Mallory fought the urge to turn away. There was no point in dissing Lacey publicly. Although Luis seemed to be perfectly willing to do so. His jaw tightened and he could barely look at her. Mallory forced herself to look Lacey in the eye.
Lacey sucked in a breath. “I’m raising money for a memorial bench for Jacob. There’s no pressure, but if you want to help, there’s a list of places where you can donate.” She said the words so fast that Mallory had to concentrate to make sense of them.
“A bench for your brother?” She shot a sideways glance at Luis. At least he wasn’t glaring at Lacey any more. “That’s a nice thing to do, Lacey.” She shifted awkwardly.
“Thanks. I just wanted to do something, and he loved this tree.” Her ex-friend looked at her hopefully.
“I remember that,” Mallory said. “It’s a great idea.”
“Yeah,” Luis said, already moving away, “Good luck.”
Lacey’s eyes glistened, but Mallory told herself she didn’t care. She turned away from her ex-best friend to follow Luis, ignoring the churning feeling in her gut.
But even as she did, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—they’d just taken a tiny baby step in the right direction.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Brittany was unaccountably nerv
ous about her date that night. More nervous than she’d been even when she’d first gone out with Marcus.
Things were more volatile than ever when it came to her family and her boyfriend, but tonight of all nights, Marcus had insisted on picking her up directly from her house.
She didn’t have to wonder why. He was clearly making a statement to her father and grandmother. And she understood why he needed to. Really, she did. She just wished he’d waited a bit. Patience was the key, in her opinion. Brittany thought that her family just needed more time to come to terms with her choice of boyfriend.
Or perhaps she was just being a coward by trying to delay the inevitable fallout.
Either way, she was waiting at the door when he arrived. She opened it before he could ring the doorbell, slipped outside, and closed the door behind her quietly.
His brow arched up, but he didn’t say anything about her obvious attempt to avoid a confrontation with her father.
“You look great,” she told him, because he did. His fitted black tee showed off his to-die-for build, and his jeans fit him so well it was distracting to her peace of mind.
That got a small smile out of him. “You look better.”
Her hands smoothed restlessly down the flared skirt of her dress. She felt warm all over from that one little sentence, but after he said it he became uncharacteristically quiet.
He was silent as he opened her car door and handed her in. She watched him round the front of the car, then head to the driver’s seat. He looked so serious, his jaw hard.
Even stern-faced, he was sexy as hell. Maybe even more so. When he folded himself into the car and started driving, all she could think about was how much she wanted to touch him, kiss him, press herself against him. They never had enough time alone together.
“Murphy’s Pub okay for dinner?” he asked her.
“Yeah, of course. Only…do you want to go for a drive first?”
“A drive?” he asked. “Where?”
“Anywhere. We could find a private place to park and watch the sunset.” She felt herself blushing in the dark. “And, you know, talk.”
He took her literally, when she hadn’t meant it that way. “It hasn’t been the best couple of days for me, and I’m not really in the mood to talk about it, but if you want to get anything off your chest, I’m all ears.”
She chewed on her lip, feeling suddenly shy. She didn’t want to talk any more than he did. She felt too uneasy with what had happened with his family to want to address it just yet.
When she’d said “talk,” what she’d really meant was “park somewhere so that we can touch each other as much as possible in the confines of this car,” but she wasn’t sure how to say that.
“Okay,” she said in a small voice.
“Okay, as in you want me to find a place to park and watch the sunset so you can talk?” he tried to clarify.
“Sure,” she said. She figured she’d show him what she really wanted when he had the car safely in park.
As Marcus drove to accommodate her, they both grew silent, lost in their own thoughts.
It was a gorgeous drive to the outskirts of town at this time of day, with a clear view of the sky changing color above the rolling green hills as the sun slowly sank into the horizon. The sky was quickly shifting from a soft lavender to a deep violet as sunset swiftly approached.
Brittany took in the view as they drove, her mind busy. She wondered how she could make up for the other day, when she’d essentially turned her back on him in the street. She’d done it to avoid further drama—none of them had needed that—but she felt she’d done something wrong, not in her intent, but in how it had come across. She hated that Marcus might think she doubted him or that she’d chosen her family over him, because that was not how she felt.
She almost brought up what had happened a dozen times on the short drive, but he’d stated very clearly that he didn’t want to talk about it, and the last thing she wanted to do was add to his burden.
That conversation could wait, she figured, because no matter what misunderstandings they had, she knew they’d figure them out eventually. And regardless of what her father and grandmother thought, she had no intention of letting Marcus go.
Marcus found one of the better park and view spots that dotted the side of the road closer to town. He stopped the car, setting his keys in the coin tray.
“Is this a good spot?” he asked her.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied.
They suffered through a small and unavoidable awkward moment. Neither knew where to start, either with action or words.
One thing became clear to Brittany after a while though. She’d have to be the one to make the first move.
She had her entire body turned to look at Marcus, who was staring straight ahead, determinedly giving her his uncompromising profile.
He seemed so unreachable to her tonight that she wondered why he hadn’t canceled their plans.
She opened her mouth to ask him if he was okay but closed it. That felt wrong. Her mind flitted from one thing to another, as she tried to decide if she could ask him about work, Ian, his family. She wanted to stick with neutral topics, but the problem was that when he was this clearly out of sorts, nothing felt neutral. Even asking him to take a drive with her had caused a bit of tension.
Finally, with a resigned sigh, she just came out and asked him. “Are you not in the mood for this? I won’t mind if you want to call it quits early tonight. I know it’s been hard, and I don’t want to add to your burdens.”
That got a head turn for her. His dark eyes met hers. “I’m sorry for my mood,” he said solemnly, “but no, I don’t want to call it quits early tonight. Unless you do?”
She shook her head in answer. In spite of his unapproachable demeanor, she still wanted nothing more than to crawl into his lap and make them both feel better for a while. “I don’t want to go home. But I also don’t want to talk.”
He grabbed his keys, starting the car again. “All right. You ready to go eat?”
She didn’t answer right away, but he froze when she placed her hand on his thigh, rubbing just above his knee.
He shut off the car again.
“No, I’m not ready to eat yet,” she finally answered quietly.
He didn’t seem to have a problem with that. And he certainly didn’t seem to have a problem when she unbuckled her seat belt and leaned in, her other hand reaching up to pull his head down to hers.
She pressed their lips together tentatively. There was a question in the kiss. She wasn’t sure if he would kiss her back.
With a sigh of pleasure he returned the kiss, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, stroking until he drew a moan out of her.
Without breaking the contact she climbed onto his lap, straddling him until their bodies were flush. She moved against him in small, tight, restless motions, building up a friction that had them both desperate and needy for more.
When she began to rub herself against him more boldly, he gasped, “Brittany,” his voice a shocked rasp.
But he didn’t stop her. Which was good, because she had no intention of stopping.
They couldn’t get enough of each other, lips feeding voraciously. One of his hands gripped her hip, guiding her movements, his other reaching up to fondle her, palming her breast.
His every touch sent pleasure chills across her skin. She could feel how aroused he was as she moved against him and it was intoxicating to rub their bodies together, but she quickly wanted more. More contact, more sensation.
He seemed to be of the opposite mindset as he suddenly wrenched his mouth away. “We need to slow this down. If we go much further, I’m not sure how I’ll stop.”
She didn’t want to stop, she decided impulsively. No. She couldn’t stand for it to stop.
“So don’t.”
He looked as confused as he did aroused. “What?”
“Don’t stop.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
&nb
sp; “Yes.”
“Here?”
She didn’t care where they were, only that they were alone, which was a too-rare occurrence. “Yes,” she breathed.
With a moan, he took her mouth again, his drugging kisses longer, deeper, their mouths grinding together as his lips consumed hers.
She couldn’t catch her breath. She loved kissing him, but something about the contact had changed when she’d told him not to stop.
His hands moved over her body with a new possessive intensity. His every touch seemed more desperate than it had before, every contact bolder with promise.
He cupped her bottom with both hands, fitting her sex closer to his hardness, and she moaned into his mouth as his hips moved to grind her against the jutting pressure of his hard-on.
She was flushed, every part of her body throbbing.
“I have a blanket,” he groaned into her lips.
She came out of her lustful stupor enough to try to decipher his words. “What?”
“Behind your seat. There’s a blanket. We could get in the back seat? It’s less cramped.”
She agreed eagerly.
He spread a blanket out over the seats and laid her back tenderly. “Is this all right?” he asked her softly.
She nodded. It wasn’t comfortable exactly, but it was pleasant enough for her, though she did feel sorry for him as he filled the small space.
He didn’t seem to notice, too intently focused on her. A shiver rocked through her body as he raised her skirt, spread her thighs, and settled his hips heavily between.
The sun had completely set, but the moon and stars were bright enough on their own in the beautiful Texas night sky. She could still make out enough of him in the dimness to decipher his face moving closer to hers.
“Brittany,” he said, voice thick with desire, and melded their lips back together.
His body tensed several beats later as he raised himself far enough off her to slide a hand between them, his fingers playing with her through the thin layer of her panties. “You’re wet.” He groaned.
She thought he would go fast then, but he didn’t. Instead, he spent what felt like an eternity teasing her from desire to madness, until she was begging him to take her.
