And she was coming toward him.
He thought of turning away, but she mesmerized him. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Her eyes held his, but he sensed a sort of nervousness about her that he had only seen at the carousel.
Thoughts of the carousel and Reed had him reacting fiercely. He willed his erection to die, hardening his eyes as she approached and the announcer kept spouting off some nonsense about the competition.
She smiled—a heady combination of shy and sly and seductive—and reached her hand out toward him.
She invited him to join her. He wanted to take her hand and drag her off into the wooded area to bring them back to the special place they had been earlier in the day. Before the noise of gossips and self-doubt, before the realization that she was too good for him and she’d quickly figure it out, before the reality of her being easily able to find someone new. Someone better.
He shook his head. He wouldn’t take her hand.
Her eyebrows drew together slightly. She said something to him, but he couldn’t hear her words.
She stepped into his space, crowding him. His body warred with his mind. Having her so close intensified his need. His hands fisted by his side. Her face warped in front of him as sounds pulsated in and out and around him.
Her voice drifted to him—deep, warbled, distorted.
Dance with me.
He stepped away, shaking his head.
He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry and stuck, like a wad of cotton had been shoved in.
His heart thumped wildly in his chest.
He turned and walked away, leaving her hand dangling in the space he had occupied.
***
Rogan fled to his vehicle and locked himself in. Burying his head in his hands, he cursed himself for succumbing to the insecurities that had lain dormant for so long. He had never had a panic attack, but he guessed that was what he had just experienced.
He slammed his fist into the steering wheel. Why was he such a fucking idiot?
He was a moron for trusting her at all—for letting her break down his sturdy walls enough to care what she thought or did.
Then again, maybe he was stupid for reading more into the situation than was warranted.
She was dancing, not stripping.
And even if she stripped, who was he to say what her intentions were?
His mother had often warned him about his jealousy during the teenage hell years. He had tucked it away in a nice neat package. He didn’t show jealousy when his wife started going out and leaving him home with the kids and the bills. He didn’t show jealousy when he heard rumblings of her indiscretions. He didn’t show jealousy when she started staying out most nights “with friends.”
Rogan forced air into his lungs, unclenched his jaw, and returned to the field.
Time to grow up.
Time to control the beast that threatened to ruin whatever this was he had with Freedom.
***
Vowing to enjoy the show Reed and her sisters were putting on, Rogan smiled as he slipped into a seat, grateful that he hadn’t missed the entire number.
His smile fled when he saw the state of the woman he thought of as his girlfriend.
She had unbuttoned the buttons at the top of her green checkered shirt and tied it up at the waist, revealing tight, toned abs and a hint of her hip bones.
Her hair was mussed up to resemble bed hair. The kind of sloppy sexiness he had seen on her when he lifted her from the carousel.
He had no problem with any of this, except that she was on display for the whole town.
And she was using one of the young Smith boys as a prop, dancing seductively around him as she wiggled her hips and ran her hand through her hair.
He got up to leave. Damn it all—he couldn’t sit here and watch her make a fool of him. He’d take a walk, get his shit together, and spend the evening with the true loves of his life—his kids.
Before he turned away, the song came to an abrupt end. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as the Smith boy swung her around, pulled her close as if to kiss her, then flopped her over his arm in some sort of dip. As she straightened, the muscled wonder in the wife-beater shirt kissed her straight on the lips. She didn’t fight him.
Rogan stood watching in disbelief. He had thought she’d try to hide it, to pretend it wasn’t happening. But no. Not even enough respect for him to keep it off stage.
She pushed against loverboy’s chest playfully, tossed her head back, and laughed. She turned toward the audience, thrusting their joined hands in the air and bowing for applause. As she stood straight, her eyes found his. Her smile was so damned bright. Mocking. Her cheeks were as flushed as if she had just enjoyed a pleasurable romp in the hay.
He stormed out of the area, desperate for distance and fresh air. He swore the slight breeze carried her seductive scent to him as he fled. He couldn’t say he was surprised that demons would hunt him down in the form of an erotic scented temptress.
Chapter Seventeen
“Rogan.”
She slipped her hand onto his shoulder only to have it shrugged off. She pressed her hand into her cramping side while hobbling forward to catch up again.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” She shouted to have her words heard over the ruckus and activity of the carnival.
He spun around, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowed.
“What’s wrong with me?” he asked, shoulders angling forward. “How about if I ask you that question?”
“How about you tell me exactly what I did wrong?” Her fists planted on her hips, she raised her chin to meet his irate face.
“I don’t really see a point.” He turned away again, but didn’t go two steps before flinging himself back toward her. “You know what’s wrong? You. You’re smug.”
Reed gasped.
“Smug? Well you’re cold!”
“Cold, huh? That’s not what you said this morning.”
“You’re a Neanderthal.” Reed tossed back, all color draining from her face.
She didn’t understand where his extreme anger was coming from. He had been nothing but a gentleman when he picked her up.
He stepped closer.
“You’re vain. Spoiled rotten. Only the best for the queen.”
She stepped back, not enjoying the taunting tone of his usually pleasant voice.
“You think I’m spoiled? I’ve worked my ass off for everything I have, and then some. And yeah, I like nice things. Sue me. I’ve worked for them. You could take a lesson from my book and stop being so damned stingy. Maybe buy yourself a vehicle from this decade.”
“Leave my SUV out of this. It runs fine.”
“And maybe you could get in touch with your emotions enough to be able to express them appropriately.”
“You don’t want me to express my emotions right now,” Rogan said through gritted teeth.
Reed noticed people gathering around the feuding couple. There was nothing she despised more than someone making a scene in public. Absolutely humiliating.
She needed the respect of these people. She didn’t need them pointing their fingers at her and laughing.
She lowered her voice and didn’t care if he could hear her or not.
“I don’t know what got shoved up your ass, but I’m walking away before giving the town any more fodder for their gossip.”
She knew he followed her. She could sense him stalking.
Goosebumps ran down her spine and over her arms as his chest bumped into her back. She quickened the pace, but he kept up effortlessly in spite of his limp.
He hissed into her ear.
“You don’t like public humiliation? Guess you didn’t consider my feelings when you decided to dirty dance with that turnip-brained moron.”
She stopped walking and flung around, facing him.
“I would have danced with the moron who’s currently harassing me, but he refused.”
Rogan blinked as though he had been slapp
ed.
“I’m not your puppet.”
“That’s quite all right, because I hate puppets.”
She turned on her heel again, done with the battle, done with the hurt in his eyes and the pain in her gut.
“Guess you couldn’t resist that kiss on stage. Didn’t think too much about the gossips then, did you?”
She stopped short once again. He lost his balance and started to fall into her, but caught himself, hopping a bit on his good leg to right himself.
“That was a performance. Part of the show.”
He guffawed, rolling his eyes and crossing his hands over his chest like an impervious child.
“You seemed pretty into it. Maybe even like you wanted more.”
“You want the truth, Rogan?” Reed shouted. The dam she attempted to erect busted, allowing all the venom to burst forward.
She should tell him that she loved the kiss—that it was better than any kiss she had ever shared with Rogan. She should tell him that anyone’s kiss would have been an improvement over his.
“I wanted to vomit. His lips were too soft and squishy and his breath smelled like relish. But what was I supposed to do? Slug him in the face?”
“That would have been okay.”
“Yeah, sure. I can see it on the cover of the Healing Springs Herald. ‘Flatlander Attacks Innocent Townie.’ I bet people would be lining up to support my business after breaking the nose of one of the town’s good old boys.”
“You think you could break his nose?” His tone was lighter, slightly more jovial.
She narrowed her eyes.
“I know I could.”
He reached out to her, then pulled away and ran his hand through his hair, tugging on his ear before he spoke.
“I hated seeing you up there.”
“It was just a stupid dance, Rogan. I was having fun with my sisters. Trying to fit into this town.”
“You looked incredibly hot. It was terrible.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I want to be the only one to see you that way.”
“I invited you to dance with me. You refused. Quite rudely, I might add.” She felt her lips tightening. The humiliation was still fresh. Raw. She had heard the whispers in the audience—the laughter about her lack of sex appeal driving Rogan away. The hushed suggestions that maybe she should return to NYC and find one of those famous plastic surgeons to give her a set of boobs.
“I told you,” Rogan growled, stepping forward and grabbing her elbows. “I don’t dance.”
She jerked away.
This was exactly what she didn’t need.
She needed to be, well, free. She needed to live her life for herself, honoring her mother and rebuilding all she had lost. She had enjoyed the time she had spent with Rogan—oh, god, had she enjoyed her time—but clearly it was too good to be true. Time to cut the strings. She wouldn’t be held down in a relationship she hadn’t planned on and didn’t have time for.
He was jealous. She was proud. He wanted to tighten the leash. She needed to run free.
This time around the love wheel, she needed a man who could meet her part way. One who could not only understand her need for independence, but appreciate it.
A man who could lose himself in her, while still allowing her the distance she craved.
A man who would dance.
“I won’t ask you to dance again.” She couldn’t look at him, because she didn’t trust that tears wouldn’t shine in her eyes. “I won’t ask you for anything.”
She blinked rapidly, trying to find the courage to walk away.
Dammit, she liked him. A lot. He was the total opposite of anyone she’d have planned to like, but his hold on her was undeniable.
He pulled her closer. She maintained her downward glance, but she shivered as his warm breath fanned across the top of her head, tickling the fine hairs on her scalp.
“His kiss was bad, huh?”
She sniffled, biting the inside of her cheek to ward away the emotional ache.
“The worst.”
She stared at his lips—so unlike the arrogant, spoiled lips on the townie boy she had chosen for the dance after Rogan had stormed off. Rogan’s lips were hard, yet tender. Strong, yet yielding. Gruff and forever framed by a shadow of scruffiness, but impossibly alluring. Dangerous.
To her libido and her heart.
His hands found their way to the sides of her face. Her arms shook and her knees weakened, denying her the option of running away.
He might as well have locked her in a jail cell. He had the power to imprison her.
He claimed her lips before she could think of a way to stop him. Before she could muster up the desire to tell him no.
Fireworks ignited behind them—real, honest-to-goodness pyrotechnics.
Brighter fireworks ignited in her belly as his hips pressed against hers.
He pulled her behind a snack shed, and his obvious hunger made her ravenous.
Drums played nearby, vibrating up her legs and into her most intimate spots. The thrumming of the band matched the beat of her heart as blood rushed through her body.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him with everything she had. Losing herself in a way she had never been lost before. Not even caring to consult a map or program a GPS.
Rogan’s kiss turned wild as the tempo of the fireworks and the drums increased. He pressed her against the small building, driving his knee between her legs. She didn’t think twice before lifting her leg up to the side of his hip. He supported her, squeezing her gently through her pants. Shivers rolled through her body, but they didn’t put out the flame. She clawed at his back, his shoulders. She ran her hands through his hair, deepening the kiss.
He growled into her mouth, tasting every inch of her tongue.
She had never been kissed this passionately. Not even by him.
“I want you.” Her words came as a surprise to Reed. She didn’t recognize herself in the longing, husky, breathless notes of her own voice. “Rogan. I want you. Now.”
He answered with a nibbling of her neck, a squeeze of her breast. His finger played with her nipple through the cotton shirt, but her skin begged to have him touch her directly.
She moved her hand over his, and he invited her to play with her own breast.
She groaned as they tweaked and tugged together.
“Let’s go somewhere,” Rogan ordered. “Private. I have things I want to do to you.”
She lowered her leg to the ground and took his hand, allowing him to lead her out of the shadows and on to whatever place he desired. As long as it wasn’t too far away. She may combust if he didn’t put out her flames as soon as possible.
“Dad?”
The child’s voice killed her desire instantly. She prayed Dylan hadn’t seen what they were doing seconds before.
Rogan stopped short and cleared his throat.
“Dylan? Why aren’t you with your grandmother?”
“You said you’d watch the fireworks with us.”
Dylan glared at Reed accusingly.
“I was on my way over,” Rogan lied.
Reed forgave him for the lie. She would have done the same.
Shame burned her cheeks and the region around her heart. Nausea rippled through her like a flood after a storm.
“Dylan, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I needed to talk to your dad about something. I forgot that he mentioned he was in a hurry to get to you.”
“Yeah, right. Don’t lie for him.” Dylan’s eyes narrowed at his dad. His young fists tightened at his side. “Families are supposed to watch the fireworks together. I guess that’s why you weren’t there. Because we’re not a real family.”
Tears filled Dylan’s eyes as his lips drew together. Even in the dim glow of the streetlights, Reed could see the bright red of his ears before he turned around and ran.
“Dylan! Stop right there!” Rogan shouted, but Dylan kept running.
Rogan turned to Reed, muttering an
apology and looking uncertain.
“Go after him, Rogan.”
“You bet I will. He’ll be sorry he talked to me that way.”
Reed stroked his arm, hoping she was being soothing. The desire to want to soothe was completely foreign, and she had no clue whether she could be effective.
“Be gentle with him. He needs to know how much you care about him. That you’re a family.”
“Of course he knows we’re a family. He’s acting like a spoiled child.”
“He is a child, Rogan.” Though unqualified to give advice, Reed thought back to the vulnerability Dylan had displayed around her. The feeling that his father liked her more than he liked his own son. “His feelings may not be rational, but they’re genuine. He needs you to remind him how much you love him.”
“When did you become an expert on my son?” Rogan’s voice was gruff—not a trace of tenderness.
“I’m not an expert. But I’m also not as emotionally invested as you are. Go to your son. Give him a hug. Be mad at me if you want, but don’t take it out on your little boy.”
Rogan’s eyes darted from her face to the area around him, then back to her face.
“This sucks.”
She laughed. Parenting was such a foreign idea to her; she had no doubt about its suckage.
“Have a blast.” She tapped his back and shoved him forward.
He glared at her before presenting her with his quirky half grin.
“Thanks for understanding.”
“Go!” She commanded. “Before you lose him in the crowd.”
She watched Rogan race after his son and crossed her fingers for a good outcome.
He loved his kids.
His kids loved him.
She didn’t want to see any turmoil that would lead to a future separation.
She knew the pain of a fractured family. She wouldn’t wish that sort of hollowness on her worst enemy.
Without warning, a skinny set of arms wrapped around her neck and a body jumped onto her back.
“There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Simplicity squealed into her ear. “What are you doing back here by yourself?”
A Heart to Call Home Page 15
