Chapter 10
A wave of heat that had nothing to do with his earlier arousal coursed through him. Lonely. Horny. Guilty. He was all of the above, and Lilliana had the power to alleviate him of at least the first two. He wasn’t using her like he’d used other women. Was he?
Worried about her intentions, he hadn’t examined his own. He was no saint. He’d hurt countless women without giving it a thought, but Lilliana’s pain radiated into him. His chest went tight and his heart lodged in his throat.
She stomped by him, heading for the front door. Without considering his actions or what he needed to say to make things right, he shot his hand out to catch her wrist.
“I’m not using you.” He cursed the waffling indecision in his voice.
“How reassuring,” she said dryly. She twisted her wrist out of his grip and skipped down the stairs, her dark hair bouncing around her shoulders. She opened the door and gestured him through. Her face was pinched tight, her dark eyes flashing.
Why had he accused her of manipulating him with possible pregnancy? Because if he assumed the worst, he wouldn’t get hurt or disappointed, yet both those feelings battered him anyway.
His gut told him Lilliana wouldn’t betray him, yet he’d been burned by trusting his instincts before. The crux of his problem wasn’t whether or not he could trust Lilliana. He didn’t trust himself.
Watching her in the mirror had tested his self-control to the breaking point. He hadn’t been feeding her a line—she was perfect. Her body, yes, but also the sweetness and laughter she spread around her. The urge to fall on his knees in front of her and give her a portion of that back had been strong. The only way to rein himself in had been to bring them both crashing back to reality.
On the porch, he turned back. “Lilliana wait, I—”
The door slammed. He knocked, but all he heard was the snick of the lock. If she was pregnant, of course he’d man up. But, if she wasn’t, what then? Did he walk away?
The thought dug a hollow place in his chest. Light after light clicked off. He imagined her climbing into bed and wished he were brave enough to join her. After everything was still and dark for several minutes, he retreated to his cold, lonely house.
After a restless night, Alec spent the day running from job to job, cramming in as much work as possible before the team gathered for the game. The work helped keep his mind off Lilliana.
Two more games until the playoffs. If they won. Hunter sat in the back corner of the team room, set apart from the throbbing energy bouncing around the others. He palmed a football with a vague throwing motion.
Alec grabbed one of the metal folding chairs and sat across from him, their knees nearly touching. “How was last night? Get much sleep?”
Hunter glanced up, his eyes glassy with exhaustion, his mind obviously nowhere near game-ready. “I’m good.”
“Really?” Alec asked with obvious sarcasm. “You should have taken Lilliana up on her offer of a bed. What were you and Will getting into all night? Or did you sleep in the woods again?”
Hunter’s face tilted to the football in his hands, his non-answer frustrating but not unexpected. Hunter was loyal to his brother and to Falcon football. The loyalties couldn’t coexist, but an hour before a game wasn’t the time to press matters. Neither was it the time to put any more pressure on him. Scouting recruiters for two major programs would be in the stands.
Alec grabbed a whiteboard and went over plays. With each play and rapid-fire question Alec launched, Hunter grew more animated and engaged. By the time Coach Dalton called the meeting to order, Hunter was with his offensive line, pumping them up. The kid loved the game and was a natural leader on the field and in the locker room. He reminded Alec of himself before his head swelled with the fame.
Even if Hunter extricated himself from Will and left Mill Town behind, would he be able to avoid the pitfalls Alec knew awaited him? Maybe with Alec’s guidance, he would make better decisions than Alec had.
The first half proceeded according to Coach Dalton’s game plan. Breaks went their way, and Hunter didn’t have a bad pass. They led at half time by twenty-one points, and with the game seemingly in hand, worries about what to do when it was over intruded.
* * *
Negative. The two pregnancy sticks shook in her hands. She was still a couple of days before her expected cycle, but Brandy had assured her the early-detection kits were very accurate. Relief washed over her, followed by disappointment and maybe a little sadness.
She plopped onto the cold toilet seat. That was it, then. With a sense of finality weighing her, she dropped the used tests into the trash.
One hand fell to her stomach. Honestly, she’d never thought about having kids, and no doubt, she’d have been a panicked mess if the tests had been positive. Yet, the house seemed emptier, loneliness stalking the hallways. Besides a feral cat and an inanimate portrait she conversed with, she was alone.
For once, she didn’t bother with lights. Maybe Hancock House’s ghosts would offer some company. At least her occasional glass of red wine and whiskey were back on the table. She went downstairs and poured a tot of cinnamon whiskey, downing it in a swallow. The burn was like a shot of courage. Alec needed to know as soon as possible. She refused to let him think she was manipulating him.
He’d be thrilled. Any lingering guilt where she was concerned would be wiped away. In his mind, their connection was a single afternoon of sex. Great sex but not life altering. He would probably be ecstatic to leave it at that.
He’d probably laugh—his rusty, underused, heartbreakingly beautiful laugh. His debt paid, he’d probably head back to his place to relax with pizza and a beer. His life once more tidy.
She drained her glass and stood. Instead of relaxing her, the whiskey only added to the nausea-inducing pit in her stomach. This needed to happen now.
After getting dressed, she took the path through the woods, the stadium lights guiding her through the darkness. Discordant notes from an enthusiastically played Sousa classic faded into the sonorous voice of the announcer, sounding like Charlie Brown’s teacher. Halftime was over.
The stands were full. A cousin here and there waved as she made her way through the throng returning to their seats from the snack bar. Her aunt had parked herself on the bottom row at the fifty-yard line with the other librarians, including Darcy. Was she up to making polite conversation?
The waving arms of Jessica Wilde caught her attention. Lilliana slipped through the crowd and squeezed next to her, barely controlling the urge to cry on her friend’s shoulder—literally.
“Wasn’t sure you were coming.” Jessica’s grin faded into a worry-tinged smile. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not…” Lilliana shook her head and swallowed a lump of tears.
“That’s good, right?” Jessica looked as confused as Lilliana felt inside.
“Of course.” Lilliana turned toward the field in time to see Hunter throw a perfect spiraling ball toward the end zone. The crowd held a collective breath. The ball fell into the receiver’s hands. Touchdown.
Everyone around her jumped up and cheered, blue-and-white pompoms ruffling in the air. Alec stood tall on the sideline, a clipboard under his arm, clapping and high-fiving the offense as they ran off the field after the extra point.
Jessica grabbed Lilliana’s arm and forced her around, a grim circle in a sea of celebration. Jessica’s voice rose above a whisper to be heard above the cacophony. “You’re upset. Why?”
She riffled through the conflicting emotions. “Even though Alec has only been hanging around out of guilt, it’s been … nice.”
Jessica’s voice took on a sharp edge, the one she used when negotiating deals. “How do you know he’s only been feeling guilty?”
“If he hadn’t thought I was—” Lilliana and Jessica took their seats along with the rest of the crowd. The camouflaging noise had dissipated, so Lilliana mouthed “knocked up,” then continued sotto voce, “then we would have grown old a
nd shot dirty looks at each other in church, remembering our one sweaty, hot roll on the floor.”
Jessica’s lips twitched. “Technically two hot, sweaty rolls if you count college.”
“I don’t,” Lilliana clipped out.
“Let’s say he offered to help with your bathroom out of guilt, but that’s not why he’s dropping by anymore. What if he likes you?”
Something dangerous sprouted in Lilliana’s stomach. Something akin to hope. She stamped it out. “I’m going to tell him after the game, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I don’t see him until the final inspection.”
“Will you jump his bones again?” A wicked laugh snuck out of Jessica.
“No more bone jumping. Let’s talk about something else.” For the rest of the game, Lilliana stared at Alec and squirmed, crossing and recrossing her legs, standing and sitting, impatience and dread warring in her stomach.
When the buzzer sounded, Falcon had won big, but Lilliana had a hard time smiling, much less cheering. She and Jessica made their way to the locker rooms. Logan came out and pulled Jessica close, whispering in her ear. She giggled but pushed him away, shooting a questioning look over her shoulder.
“What’s up, half-pint?” Logan knuckle rubbed the top of her head like they were still in elementary school.
“How do you put up with him?” Lilliana forced disdain into her tone and karate-chopped Logan’s arm away.
Jessica gave her a half-hug. “You want us to stay?”
“No, but I might require sympathy donuts in the morning.” She gave Jessica one last squeeze before shooing her away. Logan’s teasing and Jessica’s hugs had given her strength. She wasn’t alone.
Alec and Hunter walked out together, their heads close together, and judging by their hand movements, obviously discussing the game. She took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Alec, can we talk? It’ll just take a sec.”
Alec’s brows drew in, and he seemed instantly on guard. “Sure. Go wait by my truck, Hunter.” He stepped forward, and she backed further into the shadows of an old set of aluminum bleachers.
“I took a test. Two actually. They were both negative.” The words came fast and furious.
He closed his eyes. His sigh deflated his entire body, and he braced a hand on a cross-support over his head. He looked dizzy with relief.
She forced her lips into a smile, hoping the shadows were deep enough to hide her tearing-up eyes. “You’ve been really nice and stuff, helping with the bathroom, but I can handle it from here.”
His expression was difficult to read in the best of circumstances. In the shadows, it was damn near impossible. “What are you saying exactly?”
“You can go back to doing … whatever. You don’t need to keep bringing me food or fixing stuff out of guilt. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.” Her voice had progressively thickened.
“Look, Lilliana, about the other night—”
“It’s okay, I get it. But, I wasn’t trying to manipulate you.” Lilliana stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and sidled a few steps away. Tears had nearly bridged the dam, and her nose tickled, forcing her to sniff. She was a seriously ugly crier. “See you around.”
She ran-walked past the practice field and into the still-crowded street. The mood was jubilant, expectation weaving through the slowly moving crowd. Diametrically opposite to how she felt. She fought the sea of people to the other side of the road and ducked into the tree line, finally allowing the tears to escape.
* * *
He watched Lilliana run away. His heart was beating too fast, his knees embarrassingly shaky. The news had sent relief flooding through him. He’d imagined they would both celebrate the news, but instead Lilliana hadn’t sounded happy in the least.
She disappeared into the crowd, lost to him. Maybe this was better. She’d been thoroughly pissed last night, and he wasn’t sure if he could fix things, especially now that nothing bound them together. But, damn, he would miss her laugh, her smile, her tuneless humming while she worked, the way she took care of everyone around her—him included.
Hunter leaned against his tailgate with earbuds in and scrolled through his phone. A blue sedan turned into the parking lot, headlights brushing over the few people left mingling. Hunter glanced over his shoulder, but then straightened and popped the earbuds out. The car stopped behind his truck, and the driver got out. Hunter’s mother.
Alec strode toward the reunion of sorts, not sure if he needed to protect Hunter or encourage him to make things right. Indistinguishable voices carried.
When Hunter turned toward Alec, the headlights reflected Hunter’s joy. “Mom is off nightshift, Coach. She wants me to come home.” Hunter’s mom pressed a red bandana to each eye in turn. The tears appeared genuine enough.
“Is Bone-man still around?” Alec asked.
Hunter’s mom looked down and away. “James isn’t a bad man, Coach Grayson. You don’t know him. He’s helping me with the boys.”
Alec made a scoffing sound. “I’m not sure you need his kind of help.”
“You don’t have kids yet, but when you do you’ll understand. I want my son home, Coach.” Ms. Galloway was a tall, broad, handsome woman with soft eyes that reminded Alec of Hunter’s thoughtfulness, but the aggression in her stance was all Will. Alec imagined Ms. Galloway would go to war to protect her sons whether it was in their best interests or not.
“I’m not trying to steal him from you, Ms. Galloway. Hunter’s free to make his own decisions.”
She put an arm around Hunter, and even though he was several inches taller, he dropped his head and hugged her shoulders like a little kid. Hunter would choose his family above all else.
Worry pinged like a radar blip, but Alec walked over to his truck and grabbed Hunter’s duffle. “Head home with your mom.”
Alec tossed him the duffle, and Hunter made a one-handed grab. “I’ll be at Miss Lilliana’s in the morning to help with the tiling. I still need to pay you back.”
“You have my number, right?”
Hunter gave him a thumbs-up as he climbed into the passenger seat, chattering to his mom like he was getting picked up from camp. Long after their taillights disappeared, Alec stared into the night. Maybe Hunter would be okay. Maybe with their mother home, Will would straighten up.
Time for things to get back to normal. He’d go home, make a sandwich, and watch ESPN.
He slipped behind the wheel and turned the key. The truck roared then settled into a soft growl. His house would be dark, lonely, silent. At one time, that’s all he craved, but things had fundamentally shifted inside of him.
“What ifs” scrolled. What if they didn’t make a clean break? What if her pregnancy scare was the beginning and not the end? What if he went to her without guilt or suspicions of ulterior motives coloring the situation?
Traffic was stop and go down Main Street. Horns honked and pedestrians walked up to cars and trucks for minutes-long conversations. Impatience had him tapping his foot and banging his head back against the headrest. Finally, he made the turn onto Lilliana’s street.
The lights were off. Not a promising portent. He took the porch steps two at a time and rang the doorbell. Nothing. He rapped hard on the door and waited. Movement shadowed on the other side of the stained glass.
The door cracked open. Her voice was husky. “What are you doing here, Alec?”
He shifted on his feet, suddenly nervous and at a loss for words. Moonlight streamed over his shoulder, touching her. Her eyes and nose were red, her eyelashes spiky with tears. An answering lump formed in his throat, knowing in his core that he’d been the cause.
He clenched his hands, wanting to push inside. His gut told him once he was inside, everything would be fine, but he needed her to invite him inside her house, her heart. For the first time in a long time, he trusted his instincts.
“Lilliana, please let me apologize.”
“For what? I told you I’m not pregnant. You’re free to do whatever you
want.” The door cracked open another inch and she leaned her head against the jamb.
He took a step closer, his shadow blocking the moonlight once more. “What if I want you?”
The door opened another inch. From the narrow vantage, he could see her hair was loose around her shoulders and she wore a tight red tank top, no bra, and man-style boxers. Her breasts were full and high and peaked against the chill of the late October evening.
“If you don’t want me too, I’ll go and won’t bother you again.” His voice echoed past her and through the entry, sounding stronger than the shaking of his hands would indicate. She was silent for too long and he took a step back, bracing himself for her rejection.
Her hand shot out, fisted in his shirt, and yanked him forward. The momentum took him into her body. They stumbled into the entry together, and he closed the door with his foot.
He wound a hand around a thick, soft swath of her hair and brought them even closer. God, she was tiny yet voluptuous, abrasive yet sweet, sarcastic yet kind.
He wanted her to guide the moment. An eternity passed. Finally, slowly, she moved against him, sliding her hands up his chest. He gusted out a long breath as his heart raced against her fingertips.
Their bodies in tune, he leaned down as she came up on her toes. Her lips moved against his jaw, her whisper making him shiver. “I most definitely want you too.”
He tilted her face to his, using the hand in her hair, while his other arm banded around her waist, lifting her further. For a long moment, he kept them nose to nose, her inky eyes weaving a spell around him. Lit by a shaft of stained-glass colored moonlight, magic surrounded her.
A melancholy lurked on the edges of his desire, adding a bittersweet poignancy. Jumping from the safe outskirts of life into chaos, he kissed her. Her lips were soft and moved against his. She tasted of toothpaste, but the faint scent of cinnamon whiskey was on her breath.
He moved them to the staircase, setting her on the second step up, putting them at equal heights. Untangling his hand from her hair, he brushed fingertips from her temple to her neck, and then across her cheekbone to outline her lips.
Melting Into You Page 12
