Love Resisted (The Real Love Series)

by Codina, Melanie

  “Thanks. Been thinking about getting them for a few months now. I’m glad I did.”

  “Why?” she asked in a small, shy voice. It always surprised him when she sounded like that since she was always so … opposite of that. There was small and shy, then there was Allie.

  “Well, there’s this woman, she’s a little on the petite side. And, well, you see what happened was, she accused me of looking up her skirt when I helped her in.” He paused to look over at her. She wasn’t looking at him, but he saw a smile cross her face. He would bet that she was recalling what she did to him last night with her brother. “So, since I’m a gentleman, I figured I should make my truck a little more accessible for her. That way, she might want to actually get in it sometime. Without being forced or tricked that is.”

  Zane decided to offer his two cents from the backseat and said, “You should never force or trick girls into getting in your truck, Dad. That sort of behavior is frowned upon.”

  Mike had to laugh at Zane. And apparently, so did Allie, because she burst out laughing as she looked at Zane, then back to him. “That’s good advice, you know,” she said with a full smile on her face. It was a rare smile that he had seen in a few pictures yesterday, but not in person. He hoped he could see it more often.

  “I’ll have to remember that,” he retorted as they made the turn down Gillian and Jake’s street.

  Mike pulled up in front of the house, and Allie opened the door, about to climb down, when Jason started to climb in. Mike wasn’t sure where she was going, but he was glad when Jason inadvertently got in her way and asked, “Where you going, half-pint?”

  “Don’t call me that, gigantor, and I was going in to see Gillian, so move.”

  “You saw her last night, and I’m sure she looks the same. Besides, I want to grab some food before the game. So scoot over.”

  ALLIE realized there were six seatbelts and six people climbing into the truck. Problem was, based on her current position, once Jason climbed in, she would be right up against Mike. Shaking her head at Jason, she gave him a shove, “No way Jason, I’m not riding bitch.”

  Jason looked at her like she was crazy. “Well, I’m certainly not going to fit. So scoot over.”

  Looking behind her, she eyed Mike up and down like he was diseased in some way. This, of course, wasn’t fair, but she couldn’t understand how she kept finding herself in these situations. He was always there, and the fact that he was so nice didn’t change that fact that she was pretty certain he knew that this was exactly what would happen. Turning her head back to Jason, she got a look from him that said what the hell. She was trapped, and there was nothing she could about it, short of making a scene.

  Letting out a big sigh, she started to make the slide over to the middle seat. Closer to Mike. Right next to Mike actually. There was going to be contact. There had to be. Why was it that his body contact yesterday helped alleviate her panic attack, yet the thought of it now was making her feel panicky? Talk about irony? Maybe panic wasn’t the right word, but there was certainly some anxiety there.

  Once she was as far over as she hoped she had to go, she looked up at Mike and that damn smug smile of his. Before she could chastise him, he said, “Can you hand me her seatbelt, Jason? You have to reach down between the seats.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Allie felt the seat shift as Jason pushed his big arm down into the space. For some reason, her eyes were drawn to Mike’s, and their gazes locked, like she was in a trance. When Jason pulled his arm out, it shifted the seat, causing her to unexpectedly lean into Mike a little. Practically ramming her forehead into his nose, she put her hand out to still herself and it landed in his lap. On his firm thigh to be exact. Thankful it didn’t land a little more dead center, she still pulled it back quickly, but not before she heard his swift intake of breath.

  Allie blushed and immediately averted her eyes. She muttered an apology while trying to calm herself down and sit upright. Jason picked that moment to toss the belt across her lap and said, “There you go. Buckle up, half-pint.”

  With a quick elbow jab to Jason’s side she growled, “I said don’t call me that, gigantor.”

  “I’ll stop calling you half-pint the day you stop calling me gigantor.” Jason’s size prevented her elbow from having any impact on him, but his big beefy finger poked in her side was surely felt. She quickly retracted from it and found herself leaning into Mike … again. Oh for the love of God!

  “Sorry, again,” she said.

  “Not a problem,” Mike replied as she tried to position herself correctly in the seat so she was in minimal contact with him. She thought she was almost successful when she felt his hand in her lap as he grabbed the seatbelt. He clicked it into its other end, then pulled the strap firmly across her hips, securing her, which happened to be firmly up against him.

  This was going to be a long drive, she thought as Mike asked, “Ready to go?”

  She wasn’t about to trust her voice, so a nod was the best he would get. Her heart rate was climbing, and her chest felt heavy as she tried to breathe. But this wasn’t a panic attack. Nope. It was undeniable arousal as she felt his hand slide away from the belt he had just secured. His fingers grazed her bare thigh, just below the hem of her shorts as they made their way back to his personal space.

  His fingers left a trail a goose bumps in their wake, and she had trouble fighting the shiver that moved through her body. Certain that he felt it, she made sure to avoid eye contact with him. Lord only knew what would happen if she locked gazes with him again. She noticed he had to shift his body slightly to get into a comfortable position to drive. She paid particular attention to the fact that he was shifting a very specific area, and she smiled at the fact that he was uncomfortable, too. He started the truck, and they were finally all on their way.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MIKE was trying to figure out what he had done in a past life to endure the hell he was in now. They were having a good time, enjoying the game, since the Padres seemed have brought their A-game. During the third inning, Allie announced that she wanted another beer then made her way toward the concession stands. Well, since it was his turn to buy a round, he thought it necessary for him to follow. Big mistake. Huge actually, since this was when he felt his slow ascension to hell begin.

  He wasn’t too far behind Allie as they climbed the stairs; he didn’t think she even realized he was coming, too. He was happily trailing along behind her when he noticed the looks. Looks that Allie was getting from practically every man, from their row to the top. Make that all of the men were looking, checking her out. And there were a lot of seats, since they were in the first row of their section. Mike wasn’t sure how Jake got the tickets, but they were great seats, except for the fact that it allowed every Y-chromosome from row one through thirty-something the ability to leer at the object of his desire. On second thought, make that his affection. Allie was more than a desire.

  He wanted so badly to demand all men avert their eyes from her direction. Jealousy was a strong emotion Mike hadn’t felt in a really long time, and he wasn’t sure it was entirely welcome. Feeling that kind of emotion for another person, who may not have an inkling of those same feelings for him, sucked. It opened him up to all sorts of disappointment. It made him vulnerable and left him feeling exposed.

  Knowing he wouldn’t be able to ignore how he lit up inside every time she was around was the only reason he put himself out there. It was a force, driving him with determination. A force that, at the moment, was demanding he throw Allie over his shoulder and run the hell out of the ballpark with her, therefore shielding her from everyone’s view. It was unsettling.

  When they made it to the top of the steps, she still hadn’t acknowledged that he was behind her. So when she stopped and stood among the crowd of moving people, he stopped too, and just watched. He could see she had dropped her head to her chest and heaved a sigh. Pausing like that, he watched as she shook her head at nobody in particular, befo
re picking it back up and making her way to the vendor lines.

  He decided to wait a few extra moments before joining her, and again got to see all sorts of leering eyes scanning her from head to toe. This, of course, only pushed him to join her in line sooner rather than later. As he walked up, he fought back the need to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her against him, which would not only show claim and hopefully deter the looks, but offer the comfort it appeared like she needed at the moment. Leaning into her shoulder, he gave her a small nudge, letting her know he was there, and said, “Hey, the next round was supposed to be on me.”

  She startled a little at the contact, but once she saw it was him, relaxed. “Oh, hey … well, I just needed to get up and walk for a few.”

  “I get it. I really don’t know why they make us wait ‘til the seventh inning to stretch. It should really happen around the fourth,” he said.

  Smiling at him, she let out a small laugh and said, “I know, right? Or at least make it based on time passed, not innings. Some of those innings are downright long.”

  Mike couldn’t help but smile back at her. This type of easygoing conversation wasn’t the norm for them. He liked it, and was afraid to scare it away, but wanted it to continue, “At least they have screens everywhere for you to see the game when not in your seat.”

  They scooted forward to move with the line as she said, “Yes, that’s true, but you know those are there so people won’t mind standing in line paying for overpriced food. It’s genius really, if you think about it. You stand in line for too long, order something for everyone, then they tell you the cost. Of course you’re going to pay for it—you’ve waited for that long and you want to get back to the game.”

  She painted an interesting picture for the consumer being taken advantage of. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. Now I feel like a chump,” he said humorously.

  Allie quickly turned and placed her hand on his upper arm. “Oh no! I wasn’t trying to say it like I thought that of you. Hell, I’m standing in line, too.”

  Mike’s attention was fully focused on her—of her own free will—touching his arm. There was no panic attack, no falling off balance in her seat, no need for assistance in or out of his truck. She had reached her hand out and touched him, and it was … fantastic. Once again, he feared scaring her away, but knew he couldn’t just stand there and be quiet. Re-engaging in the conversation he said, “I was only joking with you. Of course they take advantage of us. I remember when I used to bring Zane here when he was little. Talk about spending a fortune. Ice cream in a cap, foam finger, hot dog, peanuts, nachos … and that was all for me!”

  Allie laughed as she shifted her hand away and moved up in line. “Wow, poor Zane had to watch you eat all of that? You didn’t make him hold your nachos while you ate the ice cream, did you?”

  “Of course not! What kind of man do you think I am? I made him hold the foam finger and the hot dog first; I prefer to eat the nachos with the ice cream.” He gave her a big toothy smile as she laughed and gave him a playful shove. Of course it didn’t go unnoticed that she touched him again.

  “Eeeewww. Oh my God, Lawson. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.”

  “It isn’t a day at the ballpark if you don’t feel like throwing up, so clearly my job is done here.”

  “Oh! One time we came with Jonathan. He was like eight or nine, I can’t remember for sure. But he had to have everything! Started with the hot dogs, then there was cotton candy and some soda on top of it. I know the kid ate some of my nachos, too, so when he asked Marc for an ice cream cone … oh boy. I tried to tell Marc it was a bad idea, but no, he said it would be fine. He had to get his nephew the ice cream.” She was shaking her head, lost in thought with a smile on her face. After a few seconds, she looked at him with an even bigger smile on her face. “On the car ride home, Jonathan complained he didn’t feel so good. And before Marc or I could turn back and check on him, he threw up all over the backseat of Marc’s Camaro.”

  “Oh no, not the Camaro. Say it isn’t so.”

  She nodded at him, still smiling. He thought he might have died and gone to heaven—he was certain since he’d dealt with hell a few minutes before. “It gets worse. You know what the upholstery in a 1968 Camaro looked like?”

  Mike nodded. “I’m familiar.”

  “Well, Marc had to turn quickly to make it to the side of the road. Let’s just say, the turn made it so that every part of that bench seat needed attention.”

  “Wow, poor seat. Poor car. Hell, poor Marc!” Mike said lightly as they finally made it to the front of the line. Allie ordered her beer then turned to him, allowing him to place his order, too, a smile still on her face. He wondered if she even realized that she was openly talking about her late husband, much less with a smile on her face. He did know that if this was the real Allie, he wanted more.

  ALLIE couldn’t remember the last time she’d had fun with just the guys. Usually it took Gillian as referee to keep her and Logan or Jason from bickering. She missed having Gillian there, even though she was a little irritated at her lack of information earlier today. The sly way she “forgot” to mention that Mike and Zane were going, too, was forgiven since she’d had a good time. She wasn’t sure why tonight was so different, but she could venture to guess it was because she wasn’t being such a bitch to Mike. It also helped that she was with everyone else, too.

  They were making their way to the truck when she pulled out her phone to send a message to Gillian, but found one instead.

  Gillian: So are you not speaking to me? Figured you would’ve bitched me out by now. Just remember … you love me. =)

  Smiling, she sent a reply.

  Allie: Yes, you know I do. Which is why you manage to get away with stunts like that.

  It only took a few moments to get a response; honestly, all Gillian could be doing right now was sitting and elevating her legs.

  Gillian: Hello pot, this is kettle … you’re black!

  Allie: Yeah, yeah, yeah, LOL

  Gillian: Have a good time?

  Allie: Strangely, yes. =) Tell Jake thanks again for the tickets.

  Gillian: Well, you are one of our favorite people … and Jake says you’re welcome.

  Allie: Get some rest, and call me if there are any fireworks. Or better yet, a water show!

  Gillian: Very funny. Kiss my son goodnight for me. Muah!

  Allie: Good night my awkwardly pear-shaped friend.

  Slipping her phone back in her bag, she moved around Jason and Logan to slide alongside Jonathan. She couldn’t throw her arm across his shoulders any longer since he had a few inches on her. Instead, she grabbed his wrist and lifted his arm to slip underneath it and put her arm around his waist. When Jonathan looked down at her, she kissed him on the cheek and said, “That’s from Mom. She says goodnight.”

  Jonathan gave her a sweet smile and asked, “Is she resting?”

  “Of course. Do you think Jake would let her do anything else?” she replied. Knowing exactly how true that was, she was happy when Jonathan agreed, nodding his head, his arm still across her shoulders. They walked in silence among the crowds of people that had exited the stadium and were filling up the streets of downtown San Diego.

  She remembered the story she told Mike about Jonathan, and she smiled again. Giving her nephew a nudge with her shoulder to get his attention, she said, “Do you remember that game we went to where you threw up in the back of Uncle Marc’s car?”

  He groaned before letting out a laugh. “Ugh, how could I forget? Uncle Marc made me help him clean it! He had to pop out both the back and bottom of the bench so he could clean underneath it. I was scarred for life.”

  “How do you think he felt? That car was his baby. He was torn between wanting to be mad at you and not wanting you to hate him.” Allie laughed at the memory of Marc whining. He was devastated that his car and been defiled, but he really loved Jonathan and didn’t want to be thought of as anything other than the “coo
l uncle.”

  “Ha! He had just let me have everything I asked him for at that game, then I threw up in his car. I was so afraid he’d be mad at me and not take me to another game.”

  “Little did you know that you had that giant man wrapped around your little finger.” She shook her head as she let herself remember. “All three of you did.”

  Jonathan squeezed her shoulder, pulling her tighter up against him. A few moments passed before he asked, “I hadn’t thought about that car in years. What happened to it?”

  Allie’s vision blurred a little as she thought of the car, and how upset Marc would be if he knew what she’d done with it. He loved that car, it totally relaxed him just taking a drive up the coast in it. It didn’t matter how much gas it took, he just wanted to drive it. Cars like that were meant to be driven and seen by others. That car was a part of him—an extension of him—one too painful to deal with when he died. So she did the only thing she could with it. “I put it in storage. Well, I had Jason deal with it for me.”

  “Really, she’s still around?” Jonathan asked. Allie wasn’t sure if he asked her or Jason, but Jason answered in a voice that mirrored the enthusiasm in Jonathan’s.

  “Hell yeah, she’s around. And well taken care of, too.” Allie looked over at Jason and gave him a look that she hoped said how thankful she was. He must’ve understood because he winked at her before looking forward again.

  “Auntie?” Jonathan said.

  “Yeah, kid?”

  “I’d totally love to see that car again sometime. You know, if you want, I’m sure Jason would show me.” His nervous tone told Allie he was concerned about her reaction to his request. She knew everyone treaded carefully around the subject of Marc. But she was the one who brought him up tonight. It was nice to talk about him. She wasn’t sure she was ready to see his car, though. “I’ll see what I can do kid. Give me a little time?”