Any Way You Want It (Moments In Maplesville Book 6)

by Farrah Rochon

  “Do you have to be so damn good at your job? Oh, wait, I forgot I’m talking to the ultimate overachiever here.”

  “Damn right,” she said.

  “Does this mean I have to stand here while you rub it in?” he asked. Her forehead furrowed with her confused frown. “You said that you would rub it in when I finally caved,” he reminded her.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Nyree said. She hunched her shoulders. “I guess listening to Simone’s singing has put me in a generous mood. I’ve decided to take it easy on you.” She smiled up at him. “Lucky you.”

  His brown eyes traveled over her face. “In more ways than one.”

  His softly spoken words sent a river of warmth cascading through her bloodstream. She tucked herself against his side, needing to be close to him as they continued their walk around the park.

  Nyree noticed that they weren’t the only concert goers who’d decided to stick around. They passed several couples walking hand-in-hand along the walking path. A few others sat on the wooden park benches that dotted the grounds. When she and Dale reached the copse of sturdy shade trees toward the far end of the park, Nyree stepped up onto the gnarled roots of an oak tree that had pushed its way out of the ground. It gave her just enough height to put her at face level with him.

  “You sure you don’t need to get home and get some sleep?” Dale asked.

  Nyree rolled her eyes. “You sound frustratingly like the two people you don’t want me to compare you to.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  She put both hands up. “You have to admit you have a few of their tendencies.”

  The vehemence in which he shook his head made her laugh.

  “No way,” Dale said. “Take that back.”

  “But it’s true,” she barely managed to say past her giggles. “Maybe it’s just something with former football players. Like a personality trait or something.”

  “You’d better be grateful my dad taught me better than to leave a woman by herself late at night. Otherwise, I’d be out.”

  “All because I said you’re like Desmond and Lance?” She laughed even harder. “Maybe I’m the one who should be insulted here. They are my brothers after all. They do have some redeeming qualities.”

  “Name one,” Dale said, his lips tipping up in a grin.

  Nyree tilted her head to the side, pretending to think. “Um, Desmond is a really good carpenter.”

  “That’s the best you can do?”

  “At the moment,” she said. “If I weren’t still so mad at him for backing out of doing the renovations, I could probably come up with a few more.”

  “So why didn’t you just wait until Desmond and Lance could get to it? Is it really that important to hold the grand opening on your aunt’s birthday?”

  “It is to me,” she said. “After all, it was money I inherited from my aunt that provided the down payment on the house.”

  “Really?” he asked.

  Nyree looked up at him. “What? You think Lakeshore Refinery pays me that much money?”

  Dale shrugged. “Not sure what the going rate is for a cute chemist.”

  She smiled. “I do okay, but Any Way You Want It Salon and Spa will become a reality because of my aunt’s penchant for saving.”

  “Now I see why that date is so important. I guess opening on her birthday really is the best tribute you can give her.”

  Not only that, but now that Reesa had given up the lease on her shop, it was even more crucial that they open on time.

  Nyree didn’t want to think about the house, or her brothers, or anything else that was likely to give her a panic attack.

  She put a finger over his lips, silencing him. “No talk about work, remember?” she said. “I just need a break from everything tonight.”

  She was struck by how extremely soft his lips were. The need to finally feel them against her own became a living, breathing thing.

  Dale’s intense stare grew hot as his eyes focused on her. He captured the finger she held to his lips and moved it away from his mouth, but he didn’t release it. Instead, he brought her hand to his chest as he stepped in close to her.

  His voice dropping to a near whisper, he said, “You don’t want to talk about work. What else is there for us to do?”

  “I can think of one thing,” she said as she leaned into him, searching his face for permission. She half-expected him to pull away. Instead, he pushed his fingers into her hair and brushed his lips against hers.

  She’d never expected anything so gentle and sweet from a guy so big and brawny. But that’s exactly what she got from Dale’s kiss. Gentle, sweet, and everything she needed.

  He took his time with her, pressing lightly at first, as if learning the feel and shape of her lips was the most important thing in his world right now. But it wasn’t long before he wrapped his arms around her and stepped in closer, fitting his big body more firmly against her. The thick bulge behind his zipper brushed against her hip. Its effect was startling, as if someone lit a fuse to her nerve endings.

  Liquid fire raced through Nyree’s blood as her hands sought to find purchase, grabbing onto Dale’s sturdy shoulders to steady herself. The contour of those well-defined muscles underneath her fingers made her itch to touch his bare skin.

  She moaned as his tongue finally made an appearance, pushing past her lips and exploring her mouth, as if seeking something he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He teased her with his tongue, dipping it in and out between her lips, causing tremors of want to race along her skin.

  He moved his mouth down the column of her throat, then back up along her jaw, grazing her earlobe as he whispered against her skin, “Forget what I said before. This isn’t just hard to fight. It’s impossible.”

  Nyree’s mouth curled up in a smile. “Mmm,” she murmured. “Nothing like the sweet taste of victory.”

  He released a hoarse laugh, then looked her in the eyes. “I’m still not sure this is the best idea,” he said “In fact, I think this is a pretty bad idea.”

  She reached down and cupped him through his jeans. “No, you don’t. Or at least one part of you doesn’t.”

  Dale pitched his head back and groaned, even as his hips thrust against her hand. “Just remember, if I die of lust, you won’t have anyone to work on the house.”

  Nyree dropped her hand.

  “Fine,” she said. “But don’t expect me to wait until the house is done. You seem capable of handling both me and the renovations at the same time.”

  “You willing to take that chance?” he asked.

  At that moment she was willing to do just about anything to have him kiss her again. Nyree wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and gently urged him to lower his head.

  “For more of this? I think I am,” she whispered before taking his lips in another searing kiss.

  Chapter Six

  Dale kneaded the bridge of his nose as he scrolled through another article on writing an effective business plan on his iPad. It was the fifth one he’d read and he still didn’t know exactly where he should start with all of this.

  Maybe it’s a sign that you shouldn’t start at all.

  He cursed that damn voice in his head, but couldn’t deny that the question continued to nag him.

  He’d hardly thought about starting up his own business lately. Instead, he’d spent most of his time working on mock plays and conditioning drills to run with Kendrick, and when he wasn’t doing that he was working on Whitmer House or texting with Nyree like a love-struck teenager.

  If this general contractor business was his dream, wouldn’t it be on his mind all the time?

  But it really wasn’t his dream. He could at least acknowledge that. Starting up his own general contractor business was never about fulfilling a dream. It was about making a living the best way he could under the circumstances he’d created for his own life.

  Back when he first started working construction—after he’d fully healed from his knee surgeries�
��he’d told his friends and family that he’d chosen to do so because his body craved the physical labor. He’d used the excuse of wanting to stay in shape as his reasoning for not putting his worthless college degree to use. Whenever Vanessa or his parents brought up his business degree, Dale had an excuse for why he wasn’t ready to leave construction work.

  But in thirty years, did he really want to be in the same place? Even if he was no longer the one pounding the nails, even if he was the guy behind the desk calling the shots, is that really what he wanted to do with his life?

  Dale drew in a frustrated breath before releasing it with a sigh.

  He wasn’t new to this game. He’d played it off and on over the years, mentally debating the choices he’d made. Usually, he was able to shove his thoughts of wanting more out of life aside, but ever since he’d started working for Nyree, he couldn’t quench his thirst to do more. To be more.

  He wasn’t good enough for her. But he could be.

  Witnessing how she commanded her life—working in a field she loved and starting her own business at such a young age—had been the kind of wake-up call that had Dale questioning just what the hell he was doing.

  And what he wasn’t doing.

  He didn’t think he even had dreams anymore—especially any centered around football, but working with Kendrick these past few months had revived his love of the game. When he thought about the kind of impact he could have on kids like Kendrick—young men who only saw the glamorous side of the game, and didn’t realize the pitfalls lurking just around the corner—it made thoughts of becoming a coach so enticing his skin itched with it. He wouldn’t allow the kids he coached to fall into those same traps that had snared him.

  But he wasn’t a coach, was he?

  But what if you could be?

  Dale could usually pull himself back when he started to fall into this fantasy, but it wasn’t as easy for him to let it go after all the thoughts that had been swirling around in his head all morning. This time he couldn’t help but indulge, if only for a moment.

  He set his elbows on his thighs and cradled his head in his palms, and just allowed himself to imagine it. Going back to school, getting his degree—one he actually earned this time. Maybe even coaching at his old high school? Look what he’d been able to do with Kendrick in a short amount of time. He could totally do this. It was possible.

  “Dammit, no it’s not.” He slapped his palms down on his thighs.

  He blamed Ian and Sam for putting this shit in his head. He couldn’t go back to school. How would people react to him going back to get a college degree he’d supposedly already earned?

  Except that he couldn’t teach with the degree he held now, even if he had rightfully earned it. He’d have to earn a teaching degree.

  He wouldn’t have to admit to his parents, his sister, or his two best friends that his degree wasn’t worth the paper it was written on. That he’d skipped class more than he’d attended, because he had professors willing to give him a passing grade in the name of helping out the football program. That he’d allowed himself to be used like some stupid jock who didn’t care about his own future.

  He wouldn’t have to admit to any of it.

  But did he really have it in him to go back to school and earn his teaching degree? What if, once he started, he realized he didn’t have what it takes?

  The thought of that happening made sweat break out across Dale’s chest.

  He needed to stick with what he knew. He was lucky that he could earn a living pounding a hammer, despite how much he hated the thought of doing it for the rest of his life.

  It was the price he had to pay for putting himself in this situation in the first place. If he’d done what he was supposed to do while in school, he would not be looking at years of doing something he no longer enjoyed.

  “God,” Dale said with an exhausted sigh. “I don’t want to think about this right now.”

  Maybe this is why he’d stuck with construction for so long, because he hated thinking about his future. But Dale had to admit it was a helluva lot better than contemplating his right now. Because his right now had him going out of his damn mind with lust.

  His vow to keep things with Nyree purely professional had gone down in a blaze of glory after those kisses they’d shared the night before.

  Those kisses. God, those kisses.

  Dale groaned, setting the iPad next to him on the sofa and stretching his legs out in an attempt to free up some room in his jeans. He tugged on the fabric, shifting the zipper to the side to release the pressure.

  If wishes were being handed out at the concert last night, that second kiss with Nyree would have gone three thousand times further than it had. From the moment his lips touched hers, his mind began to race with expectations. All he could think about was all that could come later, if only he said the word. Because Dale knew that’s all it would take. Nyree had made her feelings known. She was fully onboard. He just had to join her.

  The night before, he almost had.

  Actually, in a way, he had.

  In reality their kiss ended in that park in Slidell, but in his mind he and Nyree made it back to his bed, where he’d kept her for hours. Once he actually did fall into bed last night, Dale had carried the fantasy with him, bringing himself to release over and over again, all through the night. He hadn’t jerked off this much since high school.

  He’d tried fighting it, but he was done with that. He didn’t give a damn about being professional anymore. And when it came to her brothers? Like Nyree said before, it was an extra bonus to piss off Desmond and Lance Grant.

  It no longer mattered that she would eventually realize he wasn’t good enough for her. He’d deal with that when the time came.

  At that moment, the only thing that mattered was this all-consuming need he had for her. It was a need that went far beyond the fantasies he’d indulged in last night. He needed more than just her body. He craved her determined spirit and that amazing smile and all the attitude she doled out when the need arose.

  He yearned to know her on so many levels; so much more than he’d wanted to get to know any other woman he’d been with in the past. There was something about Nyree that affected him in a way he’d never experienced before.

  Dale picked up his phone, itching to call her. But they’d been out late after the concert. He wouldn’t mess with her sleep, especially with the shifts she’d been working in the lab at the refinery. Despite putting in for vacation time, she’d been called in to cover for sick coworkers several times over the past few weeks.

  Instead of bothering her, Dale pushed himself up from the sofa and went into his bedroom so he could change. There was too much work to do on the Whitmer House for him to waste another minute sitting around his place. He was still on schedule to complete the job a couple of days ahead of time, but Dale had worked in the field long enough to know that Murphy’s Law loved to hang around construction sites.

  They’d already faced a couple of setbacks he hadn’t anticipated, like the jerry-rigged wiring he’d discovered when he started work on upping the electrical amps the house needed to run the salon’s hair dryers. Thankfully, the copper wiring was in good shape, but rerouting the connectors and adding a second circuit breaker stole an entire day from his schedule. He’d had to stay two extra hours per day for the past week trying to make up the time.

  Yeah, the sooner he finished up this renovation, the better.

  Dale’s fingers stilled on the zipper of the well-worn work jeans he’d just pulled on.

  What would happen once he was done with the job? Would that be the end of things…whatever it was that he’d finally allowed to start between him and Nyree with the kisses they shared in the park? Had he wasted all this time fighting it, only to see it end in another month?

  “Stop overthinking everything,” Dale whispered to himself.

  He would just enjoy it, no matter how long it lasted.

  He didn’t bother changing the old T-
shirt he’d thrown on after his morning run. He pulled on the chain with the St. Thomas the Apostle medallion—a gift from his devout Catholic grandmother who demanded Dale wear the patron saint of construction workers—then sat on the edge of the bed and tugged on his steel-toe work boots. Like his jeans, they were well worn, too. Maybe it was time to get a new pair.

  Maybe you won’t have to?

  Dale mentally batted the thought away. He wasn’t going down that rabbit hole again. He pushed up from the edge of the bed.

  Enough of this shoulda, woulda, coulda nonsense. He had a job to do.

  When he turned into the driveway at Whitmer House, he did a double take at the sight of Nyree’s SUV parked next to the side porch. He’d expected her to be sleeping in after working all day the day before and not getting home until past midnight. He’d followed her home after the concert, and with the most amazing reserve of willpower he’d ever summoned, managed to stop himself from following her inside.

  If she were to ask him inside today, he wouldn’t turn her down.

  Soon, he wouldn’t have to worry about being invited into her apartment. She was probably moving more of her belongings into the upstairs rooms where she would soon be living. That’s the only reason Dale could imagine why she’d be here already today.

  She’d completed all the tasks she could do on the house for now. Once he was done constructing the new walls in the massage clinic, she would come behind him and paint them, but for the next few days all the work fell on Dale’s shoulders.

  As he came upon the side door, Dale’s forehead furrowed into a deep vee at the sound of hammering. He went into the old family room, which would be her friend Amara’s makeup studio. He found Nyree driving a nail into a baseboard.

  “What are you doing?” Dale asked, walking over to where she knelt on the floor. He inspected her work, not totally surprised to find that she’d done a good job. Was there anything she couldn’t do well?

  She turned, her eyes wide with surprise, the hammer dangling from her hand. She set it on the floor and wiped at her brow.