by Lori Wilde
The ground lurched to the side again, and I nearly fell, but this time as he tried to catch me, I took him down with me, right into the ditch. We lay there in the cold, damp grass, me on top of him, my mouth hovering just above his.
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Sorry,” I whispered unapologetically, moving my lips against his. Fate, it seemed, had offered me a second chance, and I was going to take it.
Troy moved, shifting with lighting speed, and the world flipped upside down, then suddenly the grass was tickling my back, and he was above me, looking down.
Now this turn of events, I liked.
I reached up and curled my fingers into his shirt, lowering him to me. Nuzzling his neck, I murmured against his skin, “Mmmm, you smell really good.” My fingers feathered through his hair. “Like an endless summer night,” I cooed.
Resistance briefly waning, Troy closed his eyes, and a low moan rumbled from his throat. He caught my hand and then the other and pinned them against the ground next to my head. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” I insisted. “You were with Celeste; why don’t you want to be with me?” I shifted my hips under his.
His eyes closed again, but when they reopened, it was with dark determination. “You’re too drunk to know what you’re doing.”
I managed to free my arms and reach them around his neck, but he sprang to his feet, then tugged me up with him.
My stomach hollowed a little at the sudden motion. I really was quite drunk.
“I’m taking you home,” he said.
“I don’t want to go home,” I pouted. “I want—”
“Nora,” he spoke so sharply I flinched. “I know what you want. It’s the same thing I want. But there is only one thing I’m letting happen tonight.” He paused.
“Me—taking you—home.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Troy was gathering logs for the big campfire when I finally surfaced the next morning. I’d asked Sara to cover my morning class since I was in no condition to teach when I got up. My head pounded, and I was reminded once again of why I wasn’t a drinker.
I strolled over to where Troy was working, a broad smile growing on my face as I approached him.
“You missed your first class,” he said, gathering some wood he’d split and tossing it into a pile.
I shrank back at the bite in his tone. “I know. I’m so sorry about that. Sara said she’d fill in for me, so—”
“This isn’t day camp, Nora. It’s an elite, expensive private school. When you’re expected to be somewhere, we expect you to be there,” he snapped.
“I know it’s not day camp. You’re right. And I’m sorry.”
He picked up a stump of wood and set it on the ground in front of him, still refusing to look at me.
“Want me to say it again? I’m sorry. Sorry I drank too much and sorry I acted like an idiot.”
He didn’t answer. His axe swung down over his shoulder and split the stump with one swing. It splintered obediently in two, and I wondered offhandedly if anything living or not would dare oppose him. He radiated confidence and commanded respect. Of course I also had the privilege of knowing his other side. The side that kissed with passion and full abandon. This morning, however, he was distant and frosty and clearly upset with me.
I heaved a long sigh. My head still hurt, and I hadn’t slept well. “That came out wrong,” I said, feeling bad for my part in the negative tone of our conversation. “I’m tired and grumpy. And obviously not thinking clearly.”
“Obviously,” he said without looking up. “No bra.”
My mouth fell open for a second, and I glanced down at my shirt. It was fully buttoned but a little on the thin side.
“No judgment. But this is a children’s school, so...” Derision dripped from his words. He exhaled a sharp breath as he lobbed the splintered log off to the side.
I crossed my arms, feeling my face register at least five shades of red.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Like I said. Tired.”
“Right. Well, whatever is keeping you awake all night...” He finally lifted his head to look at me. “You may want to think about cutting it out for the rest of the summer. I need you here, and I need you focused.” The axe came down twice as hard on the next stump.
“Hey, I said I was sorry.”
“Yeah. I heard you the first dozen times.”
Wow. He was in a foul mood. And judging by his scowl, it totally eclipsed mine. I mentally relived our night. I was drunk, but not so drunk I’d forgotten things. Yes, I acted like a fool, but there was nothing I could come up with that warranted his mood. “Did I do something to tick you off? ’Cause if I did—”
“No. It’s not you.” He pitched the axe to the ground. It landed blade side embedded in the earth.
I arched a brow. “You sure?”
“Nora, please. Let it go. I have work to do, and I’m sure you do as well.”
I watched him for a moment, wondering what happened between last night and this morning. Then I shrugged. “You’re right. I can think of lots of better things to do.”
I stomped off toward the set. I really didn’t have anything to do, but I wasn’t in the mood to be anybody’s punching bag. Not after waking up with this wicked killer headache and a knot in my stomach over the conversation I needed to have with Kenzie. I sat down in front of a twelve-foot canvas backdrop and started painting the sky blue with broad angry strokes.
Kenzie caught up with me at around lunchtime. I was still painting the set in my self-imposed solitary confinement. My brush was reloaded with blue paint as I went over the same area for the umpteenth time.
“Hey, I’m heading out for fish-n-chips with Steve.”
“You know, the please stay on the grounds during the day rule is more than just a suggestion.”
She laughed. “We’ll be back before anyone notices we’re gone.”
“I’ve heard that one before,” I muttered, diligently stroking another coat of paint onto the canvas.
She pointed her pinkie. “You know, I don’t think your sky can get much bluer.”
I frowned, how many coats had I put on—three? Ten? I’d lost count. Somewhere in my muddle of trying not to figure Troy out and trying not to think about Darcy and trying not to worry about Steve, I’d gotten lost in the rhythmic repetition.
“Skies can always be bluer,” I countered, setting down my brush. Maybe this was as good a time as any for the talk.
Kenzie rolled her eyes. “You comin’ or not?” Her hand planted on the hip she thrust to the side.
I stared up at her face, lit with mischief and joy, and I backed down. I couldn’t take that from her. The summer would be over soon enough, and that piece of dirt would be out of her life. If she chose to stay with him, maybe it wasn’t any of my business. Chicken. She’s your friend. Right. I had to tell her.
“Kenzie, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“It’s going to have to wait, hon. Steve’s waiting for me. Come with us; you can tell me on the way.”
“No. You kids have a blast without me. No one wants a third wheel.” I was sure the invite was more out of friend-duty than anything else.
“You sure? He’s buying.” She wagged her brows.
“Very. Have fun. Maybe we can catch up at dinner?”
“Yeah, doubtful. You know Steve and I do dinner exclusively.” She winked, then danced off to the arms of a guy who didn’t deserve a grain of the excitement she felt for him.
By dinnertime I’d managed to move past the very blue sky and finished painting the rest of the scene. A bistro in Paris with the Eiffel tower in the background. If only I could step into a painting instead of my dreams. I let out a long sigh.
“You’re blue.”
I jumped at the voice but recognized it before I turned around, just by the sensation in my tummy.
“Pardon?”
Troy pointed to my face. “Blue.”
I swiped my forehead with the back of my hand. A streak of blue paint covered my knuckles. Great.
“Here.” Grabbing a towel, he leaned over to wipe it away. At first I wanted to move back out of reach, but something inside me went still. Like that part of me wanted his touch.
Gently, he wiped away the paint, then his eyes connected with mine. There was that frozen moment again, but before I could say something to cut the awkwardness, he kissed me. I mean full on, full contact kiss. His hands cupped my face. Immediately, I leaned into it and wrapped my arms around his neck. My blood coursed faster and faster until I thought I might collapse. But then he pulled away. Breathless, we both stayed there, staring at one another. I had no idea what to do or say or think.
He dragged a hand through his hair. Did he regret his impulsiveness, or was he wishing like me that he hadn’t stopped?
“Sorry. But I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he said. “I stopped by to apologize for this morning. I had a rough start, and I didn’t mean to take it out on you. Consequence of punching someone who works for you, even when they had it coming.” His head dipped sheepishly.
I nodded, still unable to find my words for a beat. “Um. It’s okay. No big deal. We all have crap days.” I felt bad he was taking flack for hitting a guy because of me.
“Yeah. Well... I should go. Are you and Kenzie going to the Pit for dinner?”
I bit my lip—he really was pretty laid back about the rules. “She’s got other plans,” I said, not wanting to bring up Steve in this moment. “I’m dining solo in my cabin.”
“Not anymore. Come to my place. I’ll make you dinner.”
I almost laughed. “You cook?”
“I can, yes. You doubt my culinary skills?”
“No, it’s just, you don’t look like the cooking type.”
He arched one brow. “Really. What type do I look like?”
Hiding my smirk, I shrugged one shoulder. “The pick up the phone to call his personal chef kind.”
He folded his arms. “Well, Ms. Dultry, I take that as a challenge. Say yes, and I guarantee you will love what I prepare for you.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I will cook dinner for you every weekend for the rest of the summer until you do fall in love...with my cooking,” he added.
My heart skipped. The strings were growing longer by the minute. For once I didn’t mind. I took a deep breath. “Yes. You’re on. But just so you know, I’m a very picky eater.”
He moved in closer until his lips brushed against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Nora, I know more about what you like than you might think.”
An hour or so later, we sat down to eat an amazing meal. Stuffed chicken breast, flambéed, over a tower of grilled veggies, and drizzled with a creamy sauce.
I surveyed the pristine white dishes, polished silver and gorgeous food, which smelled as delicious as it looked. “Okay, so this was not what I was expecting.”
His eyes smiled. “Why? Didn’t believe I could cook?” He untied the white apron and tossed it onto the counter. It had ‘Kiss The Cook’ written across the front, and I was more than willing to comply.
“I believed you, but I figured it would involve opening a can of something to pull it off. This,” I waved my hand over the artfully assembled dinner plate, “is a work of art.”
“Well, good. I hope you’re eating your words sooner rather than later.”
“So you can get out of cooking for me every weekend all summer long.” I nodded. The idea alone made my mouth water, and not because of the food.
I took a bite and erupted in a loud chorus of mmmms.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” I finally asked after swallowing a third mouthful.
He leaned back in his chair, watching me. “Not that hungry. And this is so much better than eating.”
I smiled and took another bite. Then I coughed. And coughed again. My eyes widened as I scanned the plate and looked up at him. My mouth started to burn, and my throat swelled. “What’s in this?” I gasped.
Troy’s smile faded as he leaped to his feet and rushed to my side.
I gripped the edge of the table, gasping for breath that I couldn’t pull in.
Panic lined his face. “It’s chicken. With pistachio gruyere cream. What’s wrong? Nora, you’re turning blue. Are you choking? What is it?”
“Pistachios,” I gasped. “Allergic.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Troy brought me my purse, and I searched for my meds, then swallowed two allergy pills and chased them back with a mouthful of red wine. It was the closest thing to me at the time. In retrospect, it was not the best idea, given how fast the pills worked.
Slowly, the reaction subsided, but another effect began to take over.
“Alcohol and antihistamines. Bad combo,” I said as a rush of wooziness set in. My head started to get fuzzy. This was like being drunk all over again, only worse.
Troy handed me some water, his brows deeply furrowed. “I should take you to the hospital,” he insisted.
“No. No. I hate hospitals. I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.”
He stared at me for a beat then narrowed his eyes. “This happens a lot then? Guys feed you wine, a dinner that could kill you, and then drug you?”
I thought about it. “Well, no. That part only happens with you.”
He flinched a little.
“But I’m used to allergic reactions and they’re never anaphylactic. And booze. Hello...life with Kenzie. Wine and beer were staples whenever she came over, which was often. Between that and her insistence on take-out food since my kitchen isn’t fit to cook in, well, let’s say I’m experienced.” I leaned my head against my arms. “I know what’s going to happen. I’m going to get weak and groggy, and probably say really embarrassing things since I’ll have no filter.” I wheezed, trying to stay cognizant despite my brain being wrapped in cotton. “Then I’ll pass out. By morning I’ll be totally fine. And of course smacking myself for messing up yet another night where I could have slept with you. One of my biggest regrets you know.”
“Is that so? You regret not sleeping with me?”
Wincing, I squeezed one eye shut. “See what I mean? No filters.” Then I laughed, and it sounded intoxicated even to me.
“Yeah, I don’t like this. I’m taking you into town to the ER.”
“Okay, listen to me.” I clasped onto his hand. It was so warm. Focus, Nora. “Just give it ten minutes for the drugs to kick in. You’ll see, I’ll be breathing fine by then. And if I’m not, you can cart me off to the hospital. Promise.”
“You might be dead by then.”
“Saves you a trip.” I smiled and then snickered. It came out as a snort, which made me giggle some more. Before long I was falling out of my chair, howling in laughter. My sides ached, and tears pooled in my eyes, but I couldn’t stop.
Troy was dumbfounded. I could see he had no idea what to do with me, which just made the whole thing that much funnier. “Stop. Looking. At me. Like. I’m crazy.” I gasped out the words. I tried to rein in my hysteria but seriously his expression was hilarious. Could he see himself?
Troy sighed. “Okay, Nora. We’ll play this your way. But I swear, you better be right.” He pulled me back to my feet, and my giggle fit subsided. “Ten minutes. Starting now.”
“What are you going to do to me if I’m not?” I was already breathing easier now.
He just shook his head. “You’re pretty saucy when you’re intoxicated.”
I leaned against him for support. “And you’re pretty intoxicating.”
I stepped away from him. My legs went limp, like a newborn colt, and before I could hit the floor, his arms encircled my waist. Slipping an arm under my knees, he picked me up, then carried me to his bedroom and set me on his bed. I leaned back on my elbows, feeling unsure and unsteady of my own body.
I tried to get up, but Troy pressed his hands against the mattress, one on either side of my hips, and
lowered his face to mine.
“You aren’t going anywhere tonight, Nora. I’m keeping you here if I have to tie you to this bed.”
My eyes narrowed. “You look the type that would be into that. Like that fifty-two shades of kinky guy,” I said. My words slurred together slightly.
His dark chuckle stirred a familiar sensation, and immediately I was taken back to the last time I’d been in his bed.
“Bondage between consenting adults is something I’d be willing to consider, when you’re not inebriated or medicated.”
“Well, this one’s kind of your fault,” I teased.
He didn’t smile. “I know, and I’m very sorry.”
I laughed. “I was kidding. Oh, and by the way, if I call out another guy’s name, don’t take it the wrong way.”
His brows quirked. “What other way would there be to take something like that?”
“It’s not real. It’s the recurring dream I told you about. The one I’ve been having since I was sixteen.”
“Ah. And you call out his name at night.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Anything else I should know?”
“Yes. Well, no. I mean kind of.” I had no idea how to explain it—this wasn’t exactly how I wanted to tell him. “He’s not really the charming gentleman I thought he was.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do I need to go all alpha male and follow you into your dream to challenge this guy to a duel?”
I laughed, though part of me sensed he wasn’t entirely kidding. I pressed my hand to his face. “He’s not as real. You...” I touched his face. “This...is what’s real.”
In a sudden rush, he drew me to him and kissed me. Deep and passionate. When I was breathless and limp, he eased back, pressing his forehead to mine.
“Just so we’re clear, I have no intention of leaving room in your subconscious mind for any other guy.”
My heart raced and then faltered.
“Only me.”
I chewed my lower lip and watched his eyes shift to my mouth. I loved that response. But before I could find some other way to distract him into giving me what we both very much wanted, he pushed off the bed and stood over me.
