Discovering You

by Brenda Novak

  When her hands touched his face, and her tongue gently probed the cut on his bottom lip before she allowed him to deepen the kiss, he could sense an inherent sweetness, and that caused his excitement to skyrocket. He’d found her to be different and attractive from the start. But she’d acted so aloof when he helped her unload her Prius, Rod had decided she thought she was too good for him and his brothers.

  He’d never expected this.

  “That’s nice,” she murmured when he kept it soft.

  It was nice. Her kiss told him she wasn’t nearly as cold and unreachable as he’d assumed.

  Soon his heart was pounding almost as hard as when he’d gotten into that fight. But as she relaxed and began to sink into the kiss, he could tell she was investing a great deal of emotion, as if...as if she knew him better than she did.

  He pulled back to look at her, but she didn’t open her eyes. He was fairly certain she didn’t want to see him. She wanted to feel what he was making her feel so she could pretend he was someone else. Someone she loved and missed. Charlie.

  A strange reluctance hit him, slowing his pulse. Two minutes earlier he hadn’t cared that she wanted him only for his body. He’d known she wasn’t inviting him over for his personality; they weren’t well enough acquainted for that. But now?

  His gut told him to stop. He’d been with plenty of women, knew he could give her an orgasm. But she’d experienced what it was like to feel something deeper for the man who was making her tremble. A hit-and-run, even a successful one, would only convince her that their time together had been a mistake.

  Finally, she opened her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  He wasn’t sure he could explain the disappointment he felt, wasn’t sure he should try. Since they’d barely met, it probably wouldn’t make any sense.

  “Are you...in pain?” she asked. “Hurting? I have ibuprofen at my house.”

  “That’s not it.” He had so much testosterone flowing through him that, once again, he could hardly feel his injuries. He wanted her; he was rock-hard. But she didn’t want him, and that disconnect was something he’d never experienced before. His previous one-night stands had involved women who admired him and were anxious to be with him—or what they perceived him to be. Even if he couldn’t count love as part of the equation, there’d been the hope of something more, a certain openness that wasn’t present here. It was almost as if India had chosen him because she didn’t feel he could ever be a threat to her heart. He was just a cheap substitute for the man she’d married.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “You’re sorry?” she echoed. “What does that mean?”

  “I didn’t intend to get your hopes up and then disappoint you.” On the contrary, that was the one thing still goading him to continue. He felt he’d made a commitment, even though he’d barely touched her.

  “Is that what you’re doing?” she asked.

  “I guess it is,” he replied.

  “What’d I do? You...you don’t like the way I kiss? Or my perfume reminds you of someone else? Or—”

  “Nothing like that.”

  “Then what?”

  Should he tell her that he’d figured out why she’d chosen him? That he understood she’d defined him as a “troublemaker,” thanks to what she’d witnessed tonight and what Chief Bennett had said, and saw him as the perfect guy to use?

  “I’d go home with you if that’d fix anything,” he said and meant it. “But you’d be every bit as lonely and miserable in the morning. The guilt might make things worse.”

  Her troubled eyes met his. “If you’re stopping for my sake, don’t. I see it as an hour or two during which I won’t have to feel what I’d otherwise feel.” She pressed her lips against his, trying to engage him again. “I can take care of myself,” she said when he resisted. “I’ll accept responsibility.”

  Catching her hands, he leaned away from her. “But there’s no way I can compete with the man in your mind.”

  She looked befuddled. “You don’t need to compete. I’m not asking you to.”

  “That’s just it. Because you’ve already counted me out. Why would I get involved?”

  “Surely a guy like you—”

  “A guy like me? You don’t even know me.”

  “I’m guessing you’ve had other casual encounters.”

  “Of course. I’m not pretending to be a saint.”

  “Then...how am I different?” she asked. “I won’t expect anything from you afterward. I promise. I may live next door, but I’ll keep to myself.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem.” He could feel her surprise when he got out, knew she was watching as he walked to his house and went inside. He was stunned himself. Was he crazy to refuse what she’d offered him?

  He knew what Grady and Mack would say. They’d think he’d lost his ever-lovin’ mind. They’d all been admiring her, and she’d just invited him into her bed!

  If he were a few years younger, he would’ve said yes to something quick and dirty like that, he told himself. But he was thirty-one. It was time to take life more seriously, time to earn more respect. If India wanted to be with him, she’d have to give him an honest shot, not relegate him to the category of “good for a midnight ride but nothing else.”

  Just because he’d had so little in life for so long didn’t mean he had to accept less forever—even if he was an auto body technician and not a heart surgeon.

  * * *

  If she closed her eyes, India could taste Rod’s kiss, could easily feel the way his lips and tongue had moved with and against hers. It wasn’t often that a man could kiss with such perfect pressure tempered by control. She’d just decided that she’d picked an ideal partner, one who could actually carry her away, when he’d pulled back and brought all that positive sensation to a halt.

  Why had he changed his mind?

  What he’d said led her to believe he wasn’t satisfied with the limitations she’d imposed on their encounter. Perhaps he didn’t like that she was the one dictating the terms. Or she’d ruined the challenge by offering. The men she’d been with before Charlie had liked having something to conquer. Love, or what passed for it, was a game to them. Considering what she’d learned from those early experiences, she’d played Rod entirely wrong. But she was an adult now, no longer interested in all the pretense and posturing that so often went with the single life.

  Besides, she hadn’t intended to proposition him, hadn’t intended any of what had happened tonight. It’d been a desperate, spur-of-the-moment attempt to numb the dull ache that echoed through her body with every beat of her heart.

  “Congratulations, you’ve fallen to a whole new low,” she muttered to herself. She needed to get her little girl back home. Cassia was the only anchor she still had in her life. She wouldn’t have made this mistake if Cassia was with her.

  Getting her child back early wouldn’t be easy. Charlie’s parents wouldn’t welcome the idea. They’d likely start a fight as soon as she mentioned it.

  Tears burned her eyes as she entered her drive and parked. Then she sat there, staring at her new house. She needed to hang all the art waiting in the detached garage, make this place her home in the truest sense. But some of those pieces were so heavy they’d require a helper, which she didn’t have, not unless she went to the trouble of hiring someone.

  Anyway, the paintings would only remind her of Charlie, she told herself. He was the one who’d bought them for her—and she already thought of him far too often. She’d never get over him if she didn’t do what she could to move on.

  She saw a light go on next door and realized it was probably coming from Rod’s room. The window that glowed in the darkness was on the second floor, and it had a small deck with stairs that led to the backyard and overlooked the river. She grabbed her purse, but just as she reache
d for the door latch, he confirmed that it was his room by coming out onto that deck and looking down at her car.

  She wished she’d hurried inside while she’d had the chance to do it without being observed. How could she be so desperate as to proposition her new neighbor?

  He must’ve thought she was pathetic...

  Blinking back the tears that’d threatened a moment before—the situation would only get worse if he believed she was crying over his rejection—she forced herself to climb out of the car. She wanted to offer him an apology for being so forward, and to promise she’d never approach him like that again. But he was too far away to hear her, and she wasn’t about to walk any closer.

  Better to prove it, anyway.

  So she acted as though she didn’t notice him standing there and said nothing.

  Once she was safely inside, she breathed a sigh of relief, locked the door and went to lie on Cassia’s bed, where she could hug one of her daughter’s stuffed animals while she waited for morning. Although she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep for some time—she’d had trouble getting a solid eight hours ever since that night—she didn’t bother turning on any lights. She just stared at the moonbeams filtering through the window.

  3

  The next morning Mack walked into the kitchen. “What happened last night?” he asked.

  Rod glanced up from his cereal bowl. He wasn’t feeling any better for having slept. As a matter of fact, he was worse. He wasn’t bleeding anymore and some of the scrapes he’d sustained when he fell from his bike were starting to scab over, but every muscle was sore. He could hardly move without wincing. He was beginning to wonder if he should’ve listened to Chief Bennett and gone to the hospital—not for his leg but for his hand. It was almost twice its normal size and hurt whenever he tried to use it.

  “Last night was freaking crazy,” he said. And Mack didn’t know it, but the fight wasn’t the only crazy part. Rod felt terrible about what’d taken place between him and India. He should’ve gone to her place. So what if she wanted to pretend he was her dead husband? It wasn’t her intention to be hurtful or selfish; she was just looking for an escape from the pain. He’d had low moments like that in his life, hadn’t he? When he’d needed to be with someone?

  Besides, there were worse tasks than giving a woman a little pleasure and comfort...

  “Grady woke me up, said you’d been in a fight with the prick who was giving Natasha so much trouble.” Mack walked over to the cupboard to grab himself a bowl. “When I opened my eyes this morning, I thought maybe it was a bad dream. But now that I see you...”

  Rod used his left hand to bring the spoon to his mouth. “I wish it were a dream.”

  “Tell me the other guy looks worse.”

  “He should. He’s the one who’s in the hospital.”

  “Good for you,” Mack said. “I don’t feel the least bit sorry for him. Sounds like he’s where he deserves to be.”

  Rod rested his elbows on the table. “Whether he deserved it or not, I wasn’t trying to hurt him that bad. He can’t fight worth shit, but he doesn’t seem to understand his own limitations. Every time I’d step back, thinking he’d had enough, he’d take another swing at me.”

  “Stubborn son of a bitch,” Mack grumbled. “So how’d it end? Did someone call the police or what?”

  “I called. The fight didn’t happen outside the bar. It happened on the road when I was on my way home. And he needed an ambulance.”

  Mack whistled. “Which officer came out? Hope it was Howton. Far as cops go, Howton’s not too bad.”

  “None other than Chief Bennett. Just my luck, right?”

  “He’s not a big fan of yours, not since your ex-girlfriend filed that complaint claiming you beat her.”

  Rod grimaced at the reminder. “I never touched Melody.” He’d never even been tempted to strike a woman, but if he ever did, he wouldn’t have the police to fear as much as his older brother. Dylan would beat him to within an inch of his life—and Dylan was one of the few people who could do it. “She was pissed off that I was calling it quits and was trying to get back at me.”

  “I know that, and you know that. But once this kind of accusation’s been launched, the dude never gets the benefit of the doubt. There’ll always be people who wonder, and I think Bennett’s one of your skeptics.”

  Rod thought so, too. What Melody had done still enraged him. It was so unfair. But the more he protested, the guiltier he looked. He’d had to let it go. He could only hope that someday she’d come forward and tell the truth.

  Maybe when she was over him. Until then...

  “Bennett’s not a big fan of any of ours,” Rod said as he shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “But at least he’s not as bad as the former chief.”

  “You would’ve gone to jail if Stacy was still in charge,” Mack agreed. “He loved to yank Dylan’s chain, and he knew he could do that by harassing one of us.” He poured himself some of the Wheaties Rod had on the table. “Does Natasha know you wound up fighting the guy who kept coming on to her?”

  “Not unless Grady woke her, too. Why?”

  “She won’t be happy about it. You heard her last night. She thinks she can fight her own battles.”

  “Yeah, well, it got personal when he crashed into my bike.”

  “I’m sure Grady didn’t wake her. He only came into my room to ask me to go with him, in case you weren’t in any shape to help load the bike.”

  “Then we won’t mention it,” Rod said, but he knew there’d be no keeping it from her. Not only did she live with them, when she wasn’t in school she also worked at the shop, doing the bookkeeping and other administrative tasks. She’d see his scrapes and bruises and know something was up.

  “So what now?” Mack asked. “What’re the chances this incident will just...go away?”

  Rod dropped his spoon in his empty bowl. “Not very good. If that guy—Liam Whatever—decides to press charges, it could be a problem.”

  Mack scooped up a spoonful of cereal. “He started it. But that might not matter. You’ve been in too many fights to get the benefit of any doubt.”

  Rod didn’t appreciate the candor. “You’ve been in as many fights as I have, little brother.”

  Mack didn’t argue. He grinned, completely unrepentant. “Have you heard if the jerk’s going to be okay?”

  “Haven’t called the hospital yet.”

  “He had no business trying to cop a feel off a nineteen-year-old girl.”

  That was true. She’d asked him to leave her alone several times. He wouldn’t, which was why they’d stepped in. But talking about Natasha always brought up something Rod didn’t like. He sometimes got the impression that Mack cared a little too much about their stepsister’s love life. Or, rather, he cared in the wrong way. Natasha was nothing like her insufferable mother. Rod was willing to look out for her as a big brother should, or he wouldn’t have stood up for her last night. But Mack was the family pet. Surely there was someone else out there, someone better, as much as Rod hated to use that term, for his kid brother. Natasha was basically a decent person, but anyone who’d been raised by Anya would have issues, and to say she could be prickly was an understatement.

  Fortunately, Natasha was heading off to Utah to attend college in the fall, so they only had to get through the summer. With any luck, Mack would meet another new girlfriend—he went through quite a few—while she was away, and Rod’s concerns and suspicions wouldn’t amount to anything. Then, if their father ever divorced the freeloading drug addict he’d married, they’d all be done with Anya.

  “I need to go out and find my phone,” he said.

  “I could help with that, if you want,” Mack volunteered.

  Rod gave him a wry smile. “Nice try, but I think you’ll be more useful at the shop
. We’re always busy on Saturdays. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  Mack scowled. “Why bother? You can’t do anything with a broken hand.”

  “It’s not broken,” Rod argued and hoped to God that was true.

  The creak of footsteps told them someone was coming down the hall. Rod expected it to be Grady. Unless there was some reason not to, they usually drove to the shop together.

  But it wasn’t their brother. It was Natasha, still sporting the X on the back of her hand that told the bartenders she was underage and couldn’t be served last night. Her bleached blond hair was spiked and she wore a nose ring, but no one could deny she was attractive in spite of everything she did to hide her natural beauty. Rod could see how Mack might like her. A lot of guys did. Despite her wild hair and her piercings and tattoos, she had a certain...raw sex appeal. But that didn’t change the many reasons it’d be stupid to get romantically involved with her.

  “Thought I heard you.” Her gaze settled on Mack first. It had a tendency to do that—and to return to him again and again. When she finally shifted her attention to Rod, she gasped. “What the fuck happened to your face?”

  He walked over to put his bowl in the sink. “Watch your language. We’ve talked about that before. You’re a girl, not a truck driver.”

  “Oh, stop with the misogynistic bullshit. I’m of age. I’m not just a girl anymore, and I’ll say exactly what I want,” she told him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. So what happened?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

  “Does that mean you’re not going to tell me?”

  “Grady’ll have to explain. I gotta run.”

  “Why can’t Mack?” she asked.

  Rod took Mack’s bowl and dumped it into the sink.

  “Hey!” Mack cried. “I wasn’t finished!”

  “You can eat later,” Rod said, messing up Mack’s hair just to piss him off. “Let’s go.”

  Mack knocked his hand away, then halfheartedly tried to comb his hair back into place with his fingers. “Go where?”