He tilted her chin upward.
“I’d say it looks like the face of a satisfied man.” She tickled his side, slowing the tickle when he placed his big hand over hers and kissed her mouth.
“Okay, you luscious sexpot, time to stop distracting me. We need to talk.”
Reed stilled at the sound of those dreaded words. Talk? No. She wanted to do anything and everything but talk.
Reluctantly, she removed herself from his body, grabbing his shirt from the floor. She didn’t remember him taking it off, but then again, she had been pretty caught up in all the delicious things he had been doing to her.
She almost cried when he jerked his pants back up.
“Stop looking at me like that. He’s already waking up again.”
“Really?” She smiled, sure her face would crack under the pressure of the excessive jubilance.
He grabbed her hand and placed it over his zipper.
“Wow. I’m impressed.”
“The one you should be impressed with is you. He doesn’t just rally up the troops for nothing, you know. It’s your fault.”
“My fault?”
“Damn straight. If you didn’t look so damned sexy, he’d be happily sleeping right now.”
She blew her hair off her face and raised her eyebrows.
“I’m a disheveled mess. You’re just insane.”
“Disheveled mess is my favorite.” He grinned. “By the way, how did you get so damned flexible?”
She laughed. Guess all those advanced yoga classes were worth the high bank debit.
He lifted his arm in an overt invitation, and she wasted no time in snuggling up to him.
What could she say to ward off whatever talk he wanted to have?
She brought her finger to her mouth and nibbled the side of her fingernail while her head remained nestled in the crook of his arm. She fit so perfectly with him. So naturally. As if his body had been created to her specifications.
He pulled her hand away from her mouth.
“Stop chewing. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“I wasn’t chewing.”
“I heard you.”
She gently bit his chest.
“Hey!”
“You didn’t mind before.” She drew lazy circles over the spot she had nibbled.
“You had me distracted then.”
“I could distract you again…” She allowed her voice to trail off so he’d have no doubt as to the distraction she had planned.
He repositioned himself so he could kiss her—long and slow, lazy and enriching.
She maneuvered her leg over his, enjoying the feel of his thigh muscles tightening and the roughness of his jeans against her bare, still-raw flesh.
His hands drifted up the back of the shirt she had stolen from him, sending shivers along her skin.
Just as the heat in the vehicle began to intensify once again, flashing blue lights behind them had them jumping apart like errant teenagers.
Rogan exhaled forcefully. His face tightened as he looked in his rearview mirror. As the officer approached, Rogan grabbed Reed’s hand and held it tight.
“Crap. I’m not dressed.” Reed rushed to pull her pants on, but Rogan sat up straight, a bare-chested god.
Rogan waited to roll his window down until the officer tapped on it.
“May I help you?” Rogan asked, clenching his jaw as he tightened his grip on Reed’s hand.
Just their luck it would be Officer Jenkins again.
“I received a report of a vehicle in distress. Mind if I ask why you’re parked on the side of a public road?”
“Matter of fact, I do mind.” Rogan smirked. “And I call bullshit. There hasn’t been a car on this road in hours, probably. And we’re nowhere near a house.”
Officer Jenkins flashed his light into the vehicle, shining it in Reed’s eyes. She looked away.
“Knock it off, Jenkins.”
“Ms. Freedom Peterson. We meet again.”
“Hello, Officer.” She crossed her arms over her chest. She may not have much to cover, but she didn’t want to be flashing her nipples through the shirt at the cop.
“This boy seems to be a terrible influence on you.” Officer Jenkins moved the stream of light back to Rogan. “Can’t you take her to a bed for cryin’ out loud?”
“That would be none of your damn business.” Rogan gripped the steering wheel as if holding himself back from doing bodily harm to the prying officer.
“Officer Jenkins, I assure you—this is all me. I was walking down the road and he picked me up. He’s helping me out.”
“Well ain’t that neighborly?” Jenkins laughed. “You sure you’re okay? We received a call from a,” he paused to pull a small notebook from his shirt pocket, flipping through pages until he found the one he was looking for, “Simplicity and Paisley Peterson. You weren’t kidding about the strange names of your sisters, were you? They’re looking for you. Said you were in distress.”
Heat ignited in her cheeks and her gut. She’d kill them.
“Clearly I’m not in distress.” She reached out and played with Rogan’s ear, making him smile and growl at the same time. “I’m a big girl and don’t have a curfew.”
Jenkins cleared his throat.
“That may be so, but maybe you want to check in with them so they don’t keep calling dispatch.”
“Maybe you can go kick them out of my house.”
“That would be a civil matter, Ms. Peterson, not a criminal one. Not my place to get in the way of a tenancy issue.”
She held back from spouting off about how it wasn’t a tenancy issue, that they weren’t even invited. Family business was meant to be private. She didn’t want the police—or anyone, for that matter—to know what transpired in her private life. Her laundry would remain hidden, not hung on a line for all to see.
Before anything else could be said, dispatch radioed in to Jenkins.
“It’s your lucky night. Gotta run—there’s a scuffle down at the field. Probably kids that need to get their asses home. You two move along now.”
“Yes, sir.” Reed said.
Rogan growled.
Jenkins set off the siren as he turned around on the road.
“That jackass…” Rogan began.
“He’s just doing his job.”
Rogan turned toward her.
“Really? You think his job is to follow us around and interrupt our important moments?”
Reed laughed and slipped her feet into her shoes.
“At least he didn’t come earlier. Or we never would have.” She winked at him.
He shook his head and closed his eyes, but his smile grew reluctantly.
“Oh, come on. That was funny. Go ahead. Let it out.”
“We still need to talk.”
Oh boy.
She nibbled her fingernail again. She hadn’t meant to say those dreaded words, but a coital profession of love didn’t mean anything, right? Wasn’t that an unspoken rule?
She should have bitten her damned tongue.
“Stop chewing.”
“I’m not.” She clasped her hands together on her lap. When had she picked up this habit of chewing on her nails? She never would have done such a thing in her old life. That would be too revealing. She never would have given away the fact that she was nervous or troubled.
Maybe that concussion had harmed her more than she had previously thought.
“Anyway, I wanted to apologize for being an ass earlier. Sometimes my jealousy gets away from me. I’m working on it, I promise.”
She smiled and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.
“Apology accepted.” She squeezed his shoulder.
“I wasn’t planning on a relationship, you know.” He stared at the steering wheel, suddenly unable to make eye contact.
“We don’t have to make this thing a big deal,” she said.
“Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that?”
Rogan’s glare was
crushing, making it difficult for her to breathe. The slightest muscle in his jaw began to tic, and she sensed that their temporary, erotic truce was scuttling away on thin, crackling ice.
“Rogan, I have so much fun with you. You do wonderful things for me. And to me.” She attempted a laugh, trying to lighten his suddenly dark mood, but failed miserably. “I think we want different things.”
“Is that right?” He cocked his head. “Please tell me what I want. Because I sure as hell don’t know what you want.”
“Don’t be mad. Can’t we just go with the flow? Enjoy the moments as they happen?” He didn’t respond. “You’re a family man. I shouldn’t be allowed near anything even resembling domesticity. You like dogs. If I were to pick a pet, it would probably be a hermit crab. Something low maintenance. I’m rebuilding my life here, my career, and I won’t have time to nurture a relationship the way it needs to be nurtured.”
He turned away and shifted into Drive.
“Rogan, come on. I don’t want to fight.”
No response.
He drove down the road a few hundred feet, swinging into the first turnaround he came to. After a three-point turn, they began heading toward her house.
“Rogan. You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” He kept driving, but his jaw was tight.
“Yeah, actually. You are. What exactly did I say that has you so pissed off?”
He didn’t respond.
She sat back in her seat, tears stinging her eyes, wishing to all that was holy that she didn’t have to wear his shirt.
Hell, why did she have to?
She whipped his shirt off, tossed it to the side, and slipped her torn one over her arms. She hastily tied the ends in half-assed knots, not caring that she’d be going home like that. If her sisters didn’t like it, tough.
Her life. Not his. Not theirs.
He pulled into her driveway, still not saying a word.
She pushed her door open before he stopped.
“You can’t go like that. Take the shirt.”
“I can and I will.” She leapt out of the SUV, stopping only long enough to grab her pillow.
“Now who’s being ridiculous?” Rogan shouted as Reed slammed the door shut.
Storming toward her little house, she could no longer control the stream of frustrated tears that rushed from her eyes.
She increased her pace when she heard his door open and the resulting ding of the key-left-in–the-ignition alarm.
“Hold up.” He demanded.
No freaking way.
She tried to open the door, but of course her sisters had locked it. Before she could knock, he was grabbing her arm and swinging her around.
“This is how you want to end tonight?”
No.
But words wouldn’t come.
He ran his hand through his hair in obvious frustration.
“You have no right to be mad at me.”
She didn’t?
Then how could she explain this intense irritation? The tears that betrayed her inner desires?
“I’m sure you’re right,” Reed said, tightening her hold on the front of her shirt.
But there she was anyway.
Angry. Confused. Depressed.
Fully aware that this relationship was not what she needed at this point in her recovery and reparation. Her rebuilding.
Rogan reached for her, his eyes softening and his muscles flexing. Clearly he couldn’t see the fire shooting from her eyes. The angry reluctance in her tense posture.
How easy would it be to forget their differences and to accept the comfort he freely offered? To not feel alone in the world for those moments they had together? To lose herself in his touch, his passion?
But losing herself was exactly what she didn’t need. Couldn’t afford. Her life was on the line, and if she allowed herself to be distracted from the cottages, she’d be doomed.
Reed Peterson never failed.
It wasn’t in her genetic code.
“Thank you for the ride home.” Reed turned to leave.
Rogan stopped her with a firm hand on her arm.
“Don’t walk away.”
She jerked her arm away from his grasp, furious that he thought he could order her around.
“Don’t you dare tell me what to do.” She spat the words, rage taking the place of her earlier indecision.
Was this what it meant to be in a relationship with him?
The time to hit the unsubscribe button had long passed.
The night’s events spun in her mind as she watched emotions roll over his face. Shock, sadness, disbelief, and finally the one she needed him to have. Anger.
He stepped away and shoved his hands in his pockets. His eyes focused on something over her shoulder, and though she craved the connection she felt when their eyes met, she knew this was for the best.
They were from two different worlds, and he wanted way more than she was capable of giving.
“Freedom Starshine. We need to talk this out.”
His words rumbled across the yard, crawling over her skin like an unwelcome caress.
Talk it out? Why bother? They were broken before they were even built.
She continued to walk, ignoring the crunch of gravel behind her. Just a few more steps, and she could lose herself in her private world. He couldn’t follow her into her home without an invitation, so she needed to reach her door. Before the emotional floodgates opened to sweep her away.
“Don’t go in there until we’ve worked this out.”
Hand on the door, she turned slightly to face him, letting every bit of loathing she felt show on her face.
Straightening her spine, she channeled the ice princess—no, the ice queen—who had never failed her.
“Please feel free to show yourself the way off my property. We’re done here. And for the record, I don’t need a man to run my life. Especially one who barely has a handle on his own affairs.”
His look of pain sliced through her sternum and tore its way to her heart, weaving burning embers throughout the organ. Throbbing tattoos to remind her of what her choices cost her.
She would have collapsed from the pain if she hadn’t been clutching the door.
But he’d never know. Because for all he could tell, she was cold and calm and one hundred percent collected. In charge.
That’s the mask she wore. That’s all he’d ever see.
She refused to back down.
Sure enough, he was the first to retreat.
She had won the battle.
So why did it feel like she had lost the war?
Chapter Nineteen
What Reed needed was peace. Some time to release her emotions in private so she could continue with her plans.
What she got was one sister jumping off the couch and another lifting her head from the kitchen table.
Reed held her hands up to ward off their approach. Didn’t help.
“We have been worried sick about you,” Paisley shouted.
“Freedom, are you okay? I tried to chase after you, but lost you somehow. I was so worried. We both were.” Simplicity twisted her charm bracelets as tears streamed freely over her cheeks.
Reed bit down so hard, she thought her teeth would shatter.
“You wouldn’t be worried if you weren’t here.” Reed brushed past her sisters and slammed the bathroom door in their faces.
“What happened to your shirt? Were you attacked?” Paisley banged on the door. “I’m calling the police!”
Heart in her throat, Reed whipped open the door.
“Put the phone down.” She tried to put some power behind the words, but her voice squeaked as her command turned into a plea. “This was consensual.”
Paisley nodded and lowered the phone.
Without another word, and before she revealed too much of her misery to her sisters, Reed turned on the shower, sat on the toilet, and tried to cry.
She couldn’t.
Her throat
convulsed, squeezed, choked off her air supply.
She’d die like this. In her bathroom. Heartbroken. Alone with her pride and her stupid, stupid plans.
With her sister banging on the door like errant toddlers.
“Reed, we need to talk.”
Paisley’s stern words sent a fresh wave of rage through Reed’s body. Unfortunately, it gathered behind her eyes and gave her an instant headache.
Why did everyone think they should talk?
Her husband had wanted to talk. The lady who always took her orders at her local pizza parlor in NYC had wanted to talk (when Reed shared that she’d be quitting her job and moving.) Rogan wanted to talk. And now her pain-in-the-ass sister wanted to talk.
Reed splashed water on her face, focused on getting oxygen to her brain, and studied her red, mottled face in the mirror.
Hives had erupted across her chest, mingling with the reddened skin from Rogan’s scruffy cheeks.
This was her life, dammit. She was in control.
She hoped she didn’t break the shower knob with the force with which she turned it off. Without thinking, she practically tore the door off the hinges with her fierce intentions, stepping into Paisley’s personal bubble of space.
What the hell? This was Reed’s house, after all. And they were uninvited guests.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Paisley. The only thing we need to discuss is how long it will take you to gather your belongings and get out of my house!”
Paisley held her ground, though Simplicity sobbed in the background.
“You need us, Reed. We’re not leaving until we get things figured out. I already have one quasi-homeless sister,” Paisley gestured toward Simplicity. “Don’t need another one.”
“I’m not homeless!” Simplicity cried out, her hands flying to her face to press on her flushed cheeks.
“My state of residential wellbeing is none of your concern. I absolve you of any misplaced feelings of responsibility you may have. Now leave. I’m going to bed, and when I wake up, you’ll be gone.”
“Freedom, it’s four o’clock in the morning,” Simplicity stated, voice shaking.
“Then I guess you’d better get going.”
Reed shoulder-checked her way past Paisley, slamming the door to her bedroom behind her.
A fresh wave of irritation rushed through her as she looked around her room and saw evidence of the hostile takeover. Without another thought or consideration, Reed stormed through the room to gather Paisley’s items and the few things Simplicity had unpacked. As calmly as she could manage, she tossed the unwanted possessions into the hallway, ignoring Paisley’s shouts of outrage and Simplicity’s cries of panic.
A Heart to Call Home Page 17
