Only In His Sweetest Dreams (Secret Dreams Book 2)

by Dani Collins

  “And she would love it if I showed up. You haven’t even talked to her about it, have you? I just stunned the hell out of her.”

  “I wanted you to say yes first. I’ll talk to her about it now.” Zack grabbed his own phone out of his pocket and shoved past L.C. into the house.

  “I’m still not going,” L.C. called to his back.

  No answer.

  L.C. rubbed his face.

  “You two have a lot of angry energy.” Mercedes turned so she could see the kids, but drifted her weight back until her hips rested on the wall.

  L.C. did the same, facing the other way, so they stood offset, side by side, shoulder to shoulder. He smelled good.

  “That was his mother, I assume?”

  “Ex-wife, ex-life. He just doesn’t get it.”

  “Was your breakup horrible?” Mercedes told herself she was offering a friendly ear, but there was more to it. She wanted to know more about him. Way more.

  L.C. shrugged. “We did it often enough to get good at it. The last one was pretty efficient.”

  So there’d been some backsliding. “She’s remarried now?” She recalled him saying something about a new husband.

  “Yeah.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “No.” The dismissing scoff in his tone made her believe it.

  “Does it bother Zack? How old was he when you two started having trouble?”

  “Still in the womb.”

  “Really?” She turned her head to look at his profile. “Why did you marry?”

  He lifted his inked shoulder. “I told you she’s my sister’s best friend? Brit grew up across the street. One day she gets her braces off and comes running over to show Paige. I’m the only one home and I say, ‘That deserves a kiss.’ Next thing I know, I’m quitting high school to support a wife and baby.”

  “Ah.” She fingered a depression in a brick where fine sand had gathered. “You tried at least.”

  “Zack was six when we said ‘enough’ to the trying and meant it. It wasn’t too bad after that. My sister mediated. She’s the kind that takes care of everyone.”

  “Mmm.” Mercedes glanced in to see Ayjia pulling a corner of the blanket into her lap. She tried to tug some over Dayton’s legs, but he pushed it off. “If it’s been so long since the divorce, why is she still holding a grudge? I mean, it’s a free country. If you want to go back to your hometown, why are you letting her hold you back?”

  “I’m not. It’s...” He met her gaze for a long minute, seeming about to say something then shaking his head. “It’s a long story.”

  “I like stories.”

  “Not this one.” He smiled without humor, then even that died. “It’s a hard story.”

  She liked his mouth, so masculine yet so expressive, even when he held it so flat and tight her lungs hurt. He had a small scar on his cheekbone, hadn’t shaved, and his nose had obviously been broken more than once, but he was so ruggedly beautiful. Rough and yet with such a promise of appreciation in those midnight eyes of his as he turned his gaze on her.

  He slid his gaze to her mouth.

  She swallowed, knowing what he wanted. A similar want rose in her while theme music from How To Train Your Dragon drifted from the living room.

  “Maybe tell me the US Weekly version,” she said in a low tone.

  He glanced away, spoke without inflection. “My dad moved out of town, I lost my job, my house burned down, my sister married, and my ex—” A small wince, then that tightness around his mouth again. “She flat out told me she wanted me gone. Zack was finishing high school and leaving for college, so I left, too.”

  “Your house burned down?”

  He shrugged. “I was living a life I wouldn’t have left, so that was a bit of a silver lining. The man I was there... I’m different now. Looking at school. At the future. I don’t want to go back.”

  She could hear the layers in that statement. The resolve. It came across like a vow.

  “I understand about not wanting to revisit the past, but... There are people who would like to see the better man you’ve become, aren’t there? Your sister?” she guessed.

  “I didn’t say better.” He snorted and pushed away from the wall. “I said different. You want help with the paint?”

  Chapter 11

  “I know I’m late. I had to see the principal.” Mercedes spit out the words as she climbed into the passenger side of L.C.’s truck and immediately rolled down her window.

  He eased out of the parking lot and onto the road. “Get caught smoking?”

  “I wish. No, they want to put Dayton on the juvenile tranquilizer du jour. Apparently, he’s too restless to learn how to read. Where am I going to find the money to have him assessed? What about the prescriptions? My benefits only cover fifty percent and when my sister finally shows up to take them back, she won’t have any money at all. How is she going to keep him on pills? And damn this frigging traffic! Hit your horn.”

  “Take a breath, Mercedes.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Save that for the school and take a breath.”

  She did and rubbed the tension out of her temples. She wore a pale yellow button shirt tied off over a snug blue tank. It gaped, giving him an eyeful of her freckled upper chest and a hint of cleavage.

  “I’m sorry. But he’s not learning to read, L.C. What am I going to do? Porsha should have put him in kindergarten, but she didn’t. Now he’s behind everyone else and that makes him frustrated—”

  “He’s six, not sixteen. They don’t always get it right away. Or want to try.” He hadn’t. That’s why he needed a refresher to pass the equivalency.

  “But he can’t even recognize half the alphabet. Ayjia knows all the letters and reads little words all the time.”

  “So did my sister. She loved books. I loved smashing toy cars with the biggest rock I could find.”

  “Don’t make fun of this. Turn left here. Sometimes— Oh, great!”

  He made the turn and stared down four blocks of gridlock. He didn’t say anything, not because of the traffic—he didn’t care about that—but because it bothered him she was shooting him down. He was trying to help.

  “Listen, he’s not interested yet, that’s all.”

  “It’s not just that. Apparently, he’s disruptive in class.”

  “He’s living a disrupted life.” Anyone could see that would affect a kid.

  “Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, is there?”

  “No, there’s not, so will you save some of that temper for the friggin’ principal and quit taking it out on me?” The last thing he wanted to see was Dayton on pills if he didn’t truly need them.

  “I’m sorry! They just made me feel like the most worthless person.”

  “Who did?” He heard a honk and inched forward through an intersection, then stopped again and turned to Mercedes. She was back to looking high-strung and worried, brow puckered and her nostrils pinched. He hated seeing her like that. “How many people were in this meeting?”

  “Only Dayton’s teacher, the principal, the vice-principal, the school nurse and the learning assistance teacher,” she said with a persecuted glitter in her eyes.

  “That kind of bullshit pisses me off. Where is this school?” He hit the signal and shoulder-checked.

  “What? No!” She reached out for his wrist. Her grip was warm and feminine and powerful, sending an electric charge resonating clear through his chest.

  “We can’t go now,” she said, suddenly the voice of reason. She let go with a small, self-conscious closing of her fingers into a loose fist, as though holding onto something invisible. “We have to see the guy about the appliances,” she reminded, and took a big breath, then said, “But thank you. I’ve never had anyone want to beat someone up for me. It’s weirdly sweet.” Her crooked smile held some of the warmth she’d been revealing at odd moments since day one.

  “What makes you think I was planning on hitting anyone?”

 
; “Oh, try telling me you’re not a scrapper, L.C.” There wasn’t a whole lot of disapproval in her tone. She sounded more ruefully indulgent.

  “That turn you on?” He saw it kind of did.

  Mercedes didn’t answer, just smiled a secretive smile while she propped her elbow on the open window and watched a woman jog to catch the bus.

  L.C. shook his head, trying to find his brain. “These days, I usually just swear and yell. I’m maturing.”

  “Looks like you’re maintaining a fighting weight.” Her gaze flickered to his chest and thighs, silently complimenting. “Do you work out?”

  “No, I work.” He draped his arm along the seatback, unable to resist issuing the invitation. Come here, pretty lady.

  She noticed, hesitated. Her expression sobered and she looked out her window again.

  “I still need to have Dayton assessed. They want to send me to this community clinic where the doctor writes the prescription based on the teacher’s advice. That’s not right.”

  “No, it’s not.” He pulled his arm back, shifted and crept through another block, trying to focus on her problem, rather than the twitch between his thighs. She was out of her depth and he might not be the greatest swimmer, but he’d seen the same grade of rapids. “You know, I’ve seen kids way more wired than Dayton. If he’s showing a bit of aggression, put him in team sports.”

  “Like I have time or money for that.” She pushed her hair off her flushed face. “I wouldn’t know what he even likes.”

  “Baseball’s probably starting. He’d run out some energy and learn to follow rules. Maybe if he got some baseball cards, he’d be motivated to read them.”

  “These kinds of problems aren’t resolved by signing up a kid for baseball, L.C.”

  “They’re not resolved by giving him a pill, either. Damn it, I took pills as a kid. Look how I turned out. I’m afraid to take an aspirin in case I like it too much.” He waited until they got past the worst of the snarl, then geared up, maybe a shade too aggressive. “You don’t have to advertise that.”

  “I wouldn’t.” She rolled her rings. “Turn right up here. See the sign?”

  He turned into the parking lot for the wholesale appliance outlet, parked, and they both stepped out of the truck into the warming day. He waited for her in the shade in front of the building while she shouldered her purse and gathered some papers. When she approached him, he took her arms to get her full attention.

  God, she felt good. A tremor washed through him, enticing and addictive, but he only stroked her soft skin with his thumbs and said, “Give it time. Tell them you want a chance for him to get settled. I know you think you’re ‘only’ their aunt, but you’re not a stand-in. Don’t let them treat you like they know better. You’re the one in charge.”

  Her mouth trembled. “Thank you.”

  Her voice was barely there, the way it might sound against his ear in moments of intense need. She looked past him, her hand came up, he started to loosen his hold on her, and her gaze found his.

  And she blew him away with the helpless want in the depths of her eyes.

  He was trying, damn it. He was really—

  He let himself touch her hair, finally, finding it soft and springy. It tickled his palm until he pressed through the textured mass to cup the side of her head.

  She tilted her head up and stepped into him. He went for it. Dropped his mouth on her parted lips and let out a gratified groan of relief.

  Oh God, she had known this man would know how to kiss. His mouth was firm, but capable of being tender, possessing and retreating, taking in a bold pressure, then easing to something almost like comfort before he wrapped his arm behind her and pulled her in to be devoured.

  She consumed him right back, flattening her hand on the hot, thin cotton across his back and jamming herself against all that muscled heat. Their tongues met and the jolt of excitement tore of sob of want from her throat. He hitched her closer still, tilting her head back a little more, so her mouth was fully under his. He moved his tongue in a slow penetration and retreat. His hand brushed past the open edge of her top and cupped her breast through her tank, massaging with firm pressure.

  A rush of dampness wet her panties and she arched into him, rubbing against the ridge she could feel like a log pressing into her abdomen. Fuck me, she thought, wanting him like that. Basic and thorough and animalistic and oh, so satisfying.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, pulling away, kissing her again, wet and hard, then a little softer. “You wanna go somewhere?”

  “No,” she moaned, dropping her forehead into his collarbone. “We shouldn’t have done this. You know that, right?” She lifted her head, making herself face what she expected would be a peeved expression. If he called her a tease, she would hate him, but she wouldn’t blame him.

  His mouth formed a dismayed line, but there wasn’t any censure there. His gaze stayed flinty and he continued to hold her waist even when she moved her hands to his forearms.

  “Are you mad?” she had to ask.

  He snorted. “Babe, I’ve been turned down as often as I’ve been waved in. I’ll survive.”

  She wasn’t sure she believed that. She had a feeling he’d been waved in a lot.

  “Look.” His hands moved restlessly against her waist. “If you need to let off some steam, I get it. I am more than willing to be your release. But for what’s it’s worth, I’m not just looking to get laid. Which doesn’t mean I’m looking for a relationship. I’m definitely not. But I’m not trying to get you into bed because you’re the only woman under eighty in my neighborhood.” His mouth quirked, but she could tell he was being sincere. “I like you. You turn me on. I think we’d cause some needle jumps on the Richter scale. But if you don’t want to do that, that’s okay. We can still talk about the kids and I’ll still fix your house.”

  She swallowed, fingers unable to resist stroking the smooth skin of his strong forearms. “I don’t care what Mrs. Garvey says about you. I think you’re nice.”

  She was being cheeky and he smirked in response.

  “Nice?” He gave a fake spit and dropped his hold with mock disgust. “If you’re going to stand here and insult me, I’m going inside.”

  She liked him, too.

  But she couldn’t have a man in her life right now. It was so Porsha. Especially a recovering... Good grief, she didn’t even know what all he was recovering from. A hard life, she guessed.

  If only she didn’t have the kids.

  But she did.

  So she couldn’t have him.

  She wanted him, though. Bad.

  Mercedes tried not to think about him, but he was there in her mind anyway, all week. When she spoke to the school, she felt as though L.C. stood beside her while she stood up for Dayton. Every time she spoke to Zack, she wanted to ask if he had worked things out with his dad. Then L.C. brought home a ping-pong table, balanced it on the wall between their two patios, and played for an hour with the kids while she painted and pushed the unit another step toward livable.

  He wasn’t trying to score points, either. He genuinely thought the kids would enjoy playing and they did.

  He was nice.

  “I met Gladys at the Daily Discount, today.”

  Mercedes snapped back to what she was doing with a little start. She turned from the paperwork before her to the spry seventy-eight-year-old who favored papery thin blouses with forget-me-not prints.

  “You startled me, Mrs. Farley.”

  “I didn’t mean to.” She set a small straw bag on the narrow shelf of the bottom half of the Dutch-door. “I thought you would like to hear who I saw at the mall.”

  “You said Gladys.” Mercedes double-checked the name on the blister-pack of pills she held, then checked it off against her list.

  “I hadn’t seen her in ages. We tried the pie at the Cozy Café. You know they have two-for-one on Wednesdays, between two and four.”

  “Uh, huh.” Mercedes tried not to encourage her. She usually didn’t
mind Mrs. Farley’s accounting of her day, but if she didn’t get these medications checked off and distributed to the resident mailboxes in the next thirty minutes, she’d be late picking up the kids from school. Dayton was a little more accepting of Ayjia’s half-day schedule now that Mercedes had moved Ayjia into the afternoon class. She picked both of them up at the same time to drive them herself to after-school care, but she was terrified of messing with the system.

  “Gladys didn’t really have time, of course, with her daughter staying with her and waiting to go to the bus depot, but the pie was coconut cream. She’s not supposed to have dairy, because of her gall bladder. The Cozy Café uses one of those non-dairy toppings. She was so anxious to get her daughter on her way. Her grandchildren are such a handful, you know.”

  “Uh, huh,” Mercedes murmured. They’d screwed up Mr. Walton’s order again. Why they couldn’t understand that he flipped if they sent him the capsules instead of tablets she didn’t know, but she’d have to make a call. She checked her watch.

  It was her own fault, standing here daydreaming about L.C. instead of focusing.

  “I told Gladys she hasn’t seen a handful until she’s seen that Dayton—”

  “Dayton’s settling in.” Mercedes counted the aspirin bottles and distributed them. One too many. No problem, she had to call anyway.

  “Gladys said her grandchildren talk about a boy named Dayton. I said how funny that was because Dayton and Ayjia are staying here with you and she said what was the world coming to that we’re naming little girls after continents.”

  “Mrs. Farley? I can’t make a mistake with these medications.”

  “Goodness, no, you can’t.” She didn’t move.

  Mercedes let out a long slow breath. Checked her watch.

  “But I had to tell you,” Mrs. Farley said as she gathered her purse. “Gladys said her granddaughter was talking about a friend called Ayjia. So I suppose your sister’s children don’t have such unusual names after all. I’ll let you finish what you’re doing.”

  Mercedes paused. “Mrs. Farley?” she called to the woman’s back. “Are you saying Gladys’s grandchildren know Dayton and Ayjia? Where are they from?”