It Started With a Kiss

by Melanie Moreland

I turned in time to see his truck disappear around the corner. I blinked at the tears in my eyes. How had that happened? One moment we were fine, and the next we were being ugly toward each other. I had never heard Daniel so critical. It made my chest tighten at the thought of his opinion of me changing.

  I took out my phone with trembling hands to text Beth and cancel, but it was too late. Her car pulled in, and she waved at me, looking perplexed when she saw I was alone.

  She parked the car, and her and Ryan came over. She pulled me in for a hug. “Where is Daniel? Did he go in to get the table?”

  I steeled my features. “No. I was just texting you. There was an emergency—he had to go. He sends his apologies. It’s been a bad week at the clinic.”

  “Oh no!” She frowned and glanced at Ryan. “I was looking forward to getting to know him.”

  “You guys go have dinner. I’ll just walk home and we’ll reschedule.”

  She linked her arm with mine. “No way. You have to eat, too. We’ll have dinner and run you home. The four of us can do dinner next week. Right?”

  I let her drag me toward the restaurant, nodding. I wasn’t sure how to tell her there might not be a next week for Daniel and me.

  I slid into my chair after returning from the restroom. I had checked my phone, disappointed but not surprised there wasn’t a message from Daniel. My fingers hovered over the keys. I wanted to send him a message and make sure he arrived home okay. I hadn’t been kidding when I told him that I disliked his shortcut. The road was narrow, twisted, and full of deep ruts—more like a country lane than a road. I could only imagine what it was like on a wet day, and considering the mood he’d been in when he left, I got the impression he gave the speed limit no consideration at all. I stared at the screen, then slipped my phone back into my purse. If he didn’t text, maybe I needed to leave it for now. Let him cool off, and allow my hurt feelings to settle.

  I picked up my wine, taking an appreciative sip. “Where’s Ryan?”

  “He had John pick him up. They went for beer and wings.”

  “What? Why?”

  She gave me a knowing look over her glass. “An emergency, Avery? From the devastated look on your face, I’d say more like a big fight.”

  “Oh, um . . .” I stumbled over my words. “I thought–I thought I’d hidden it.”

  Reaching across the table, she grabbed my hand. “Maybe from other people, but you’re my best friend. You can’t hide from me.”

  I squeezed her fingers. “Ryan didn’t have to go.”

  She shrugged. “He was fine. There’s a game on tonight and he’s just as happy to hang with John and watch it while stuffing his face with wings and beer. He figured there wouldn’t be much eating happening here.”

  “We can leave.”

  “Not until you tell me what happened.”

  “I don’t know what happened. One minute he was teasing, the next . . . he wasn’t. He hates my driving apparently.” I met Beth’s sympathetic gaze. “He compared me to a ninety-year-old woman—with very bad habits.”

  I expected her instant denial, or a gasp of outrage on my behalf. Instead, she looked down at the table, her finger tracing the design on the tablecloth.

  I gaped at her. “You agree with him?”

  “You are, ah, overly cautious.”

  “He said I was a stick-in-the-mud.”

  Her gaze flew to mine. “That’s what Grant said to you when you broke up.”

  I wiped an errant tear off my cheek. “I know it’s silly . . .”

  “No,” she interrupted me, “it’s not silly. He said something that reminded you of a painful time, and it hurt you.” Her voice softened. “It hurt you because his opinion matters.”

  “It does.” I sniffled. “I told him I didn’t want to have dinner anymore and he said I was acting childish.”

  “I’d say he was the one acting childish.”

  “He’s tired,” I insisted. “He’s lost some animals this week, and it upsets him. He’s working long hours and with Steven and Caitlin away, it all falls on him . . .” My voice trailed off at the look on Beth’s face. “What?”

  “Listen to you, defending him. You’re upset and hurt, yet you won’t say anything bad about him.”

  “He was an ass?” I offered, though it didn’t sound very convincing.

  She threw back her head and laughed. “You don’t sound like you mean that.”

  “I do. But I know how difficult things have been for him. He drives in to see me at night, and he looked so tired this week. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised he wasn’t himself.”

  “So, he’s forgiven?”

  I rubbed my hand across my head. “No. We need to talk, and he should apologize. If he calls, that is.”

  “He will. I’m sure he’s as distressed as you are.”

  “My car is at his place.”

  “I’ll drive you there to get it. You can stay at my place tonight, then we’ll go early tomorrow and get it before he wakes up. Let him stew a bit, okay?”

  “Ryan?”

  “He’ll be out most of the night with John. We’ll have all weekend. Tonight, it’ll just be us. Let’s get a pizza and trash-talk about our men and commiserate. We’ll go back to being sweet girlfriends in the morning, okay?”

  Another tear slipped down my face. “What if—?”

  “It’s a fight. A disagreement brought on by bad moods, exhaustion, and wrong words. It’s not the end.”

  “We started so hot, maybe it was . . .”

  “No. It will be fine. It’s one bad day. You’ll see.”

  I picked up my wine. I hoped she was right.

  Beth glanced over at me with a frown. “I’ll drive you up to the house.”

  We were sitting at the entrance to the clinic, just off the highway. “No. It will wake him up and disturb any animals in the clinic. I’ll walk in and get my car.”

  “What about your stuff?”

  “It’s just my overnight bag. I’ll either have to come and get it when I give him back his key, or I’ll use it next time if we clear this up.”

  “Which you will.”

  I sighed, tired and distraught. Despite the amount of wine I drank, and the laughs we shared as we “trash-talked” our men, I hadn’t slept well. The truth was I had little to trash-talk about, and even Beth stretched to find too many things to complain about when it came to Ryan. We ended up talking the way we always did when we were together. Although, I did have enough alcohol that I shared a few more intimate details than I normally disclose.

  Back at Beth’s apartment, I kept checking my phone. Several times, I began to text Daniel, but then erased what I wrote, stretching back on the sofa, only to start the process over a short while later. There were no messages from him, either, which alternatively made me angry, then resigned. My phone died around one o’clock, and my charger was in my bag at Daniel’s, so I was going to have to plug it in after I got home with my spare.

  I opened the door and slipped out. “I’ll be fine. We’ll talk later okay?”

  She sighed in resignation. “Fine. You sure you don’t want me to wait?”

  “No. I’ll get my car and head home.”

  “All right. Call me later.”

  I watched her drive away with a wave, then turned, trudged down the driveway and past the vet clinic. It was early, the air was still, and not a soul was around. I should have remembered Beth’s inane need to be up at the crack of dawn, no matter what time she went to bed, before I agreed to stay over last night. Since it was so early, I would have a long day ahead of me, and I decided I would maybe go into the office for a while. It was a busy time, and with no one else there, I could get a lot done.

  I rounded the corner and stopped. My car was parked where I had left it, but Daniel’s truck was now parked behind it, angled in such a way I couldn’t back up. I marched forward, walking around my car, cursing under my breath. That bastard. He trapped my car, and the only way I could get out was to ask him to move h
is vehicle. I huffed out an angry breath of air. He had the nerve to call me childish!

  Frustrated, I looked in his driver’s window, surprised to see the keys in the ignition. He usually left them in if he parked in the garage, but took them if he parked outside.

  How lucky for me he forgot them. I would move his truck, then get my car and be gone. He was no doubt asleep or working out—he’d never know.

  Easy.

  Avery

  I slid into the driver’s seat, shut the door, and surveyed the cab. Next to my small Corolla, Daniel’s truck seemed massive. I glanced in the rearview mirror and took in a calming breath. I searched around the edge and found the mechanism I needed to bring the seat closer to the steering wheel. Daniel had extremely long legs.

  “You can do this, Avery,” I muttered.

  I turned the key, grimacing at the sound of the loud engine roaring to life. I squared my shoulders, adjusted the mirrors, and put the truck in gear. As I lifted my foot off the brake, the large vehicle lurched and I gasped. This was a more powerful vehicle than what I normally drove, and I prayed I wouldn’t smash into anything trying to move Daniel’s truck.

  A tap on the driver side window startled me, and my hand flew to my chest. I turned to see Daniel’s weary face outside the window, staring at me. He stepped back, holding up his hands in supplication. He was shirtless, his broad chest strong in the early morning light. A pair of sweatpants hung low on his hips. His eyes were no longer stormy and angry, and silently we stared at each other through the glass. He tapped again, and I shifted back into park, then hit the button to lower the glass.

  “Training for a new career, Avery?” His voice was flat with fatigue. “Grand theft auto in case accounting doesn’t work out for you?”

  “I wasn’t stealing your truck,” I replied. “I was just moving it to get my car out.”

  “I knew you weren’t stealing my truck. I came out here to see if you needed some help.”

  “Right, because I couldn’t possibly move your truck without your help.” My anger started to build again.

  He sighed and scrubbed his face. “Do you really want to fight over this again?” he asked softly.

  “I didn’t want to fight about it in the first place.”

  “Neither did I. I only meant to tease . . . and suddenly we were arguing. Then you sent me away.”

  “I didn’t think it was a good idea to meet my friends while we were angry.”

  “Probably not.” Opening the door, he leaned into the cab of the truck, his muscled body pressing into mine, his face so close I could feel his hot breath on my cheeks. “But I didn’t like it.”

  “I wasn’t very happy either.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Where were you last night?”

  “I was with Beth.”

  “I came looking for you.”

  “You–you did?”

  He nodded, his gaze locked on mine.

  I could see the exhaustion etched on his face, dark shadows under his eyes.

  “I came back to the restaurant to look for you, but the hostess said you had left. I drove to your apartment, but you weren’t there. I waited a while but you never came back.”

  “I stayed the night at Beth’s. We’d been drinking and she didn’t want me to go home.” I paused to collect myself. “She drove me here this morning so I could get my car, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “You didn’t want to disturb me or you didn’t want to see me?”

  “I didn’t know if you wanted to see me,” I admitted.

  “I sat in front of your apartment building for three hours last night, Avery. I came home, paced for a while, drove back into town, and waited a while longer but you never came home.” He blew out a long breath. “I was so worried about you. I figured you were with Beth, so I thought I would give you a little time. I’d hoped I would see you today.”

  “You never called.”

  “I was pretty sure you’d ignore my calls, and what I had to say to you I didn’t want to say on the phone. I did call later, when I couldn’t find you or stop worrying, but it went straight to voicemail.”

  “My phone died and my charger was in my bag here.”

  “Yeah, I saw it in the side pocket. I assumed, if you were with Beth, you’d eventually show up here to get your car. I’ve been waiting for you all night.”

  “So you thought you’d block me in to stop me from leaving?”

  Without a word, he reached forward, shut off the engine, then dragged me across the seat and out of the truck. He lifted me off my feet, and pressed me against the side of the vehicle, pinning me to the cold metal of the truck with his body.

  “I couldn’t risk you leaving. Not before I had a chance to talk to you.”

  “Talk to me then.”

  “I want to apologize for last night. I realize what I said was hurtful, and though I didn’t mean it that way, it’s how it came out. I was stressed and tired, but that’s no excuse.” He sighed. “It was thoughtless and I’m sorry. More than I can say.”

  “I’m sorry, too.”

  “What are you sorry for, Sprite?”

  I shrugged, feeling self-conscious. “I am a nervous driver. I always have been.”

  “Still, it didn’t give me the right to tease you, or behave the way I did.”

  “I overreacted.”

  “We both did for different reasons. I was overtired, not thinking, and being an idiot.” He hesitated and touched my cheek with the tip of his finger. “And I think something I said brought up a bad memory for you, am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me.”

  “My last boyfriend didn’t think very highly of me and liked to point out all the things I did wrong, which by the end of our relationship seemed to be almost everything. The day he broke up with me he said a lot of nasty things, including the fact I was a boring stick-in-the-mud, nothing but trouble, and he was glad to be rid of me.”

  “And I said the same thing.”

  I bit my lip, unsure if I trusted myself to speak. My throat was tight with emotion.

  “I don’t want rid of you. I want you with me—always.” He inched forward, his voice softening. “I thought I would go crazy not being able to find you. All I could think about was I had blown the best thing I’d ever found in my life.”

  “All I could think about was I couldn’t stand to not be perfect in your eyes,” I admitted, my eyes filling up with tears.

  “You are perfect,” he insisted. “You’re perfect for me.”

  “Bad driving and all?”

  “You aren’t a bad driver—a little overcautious, but not bad. I’m sorry I said that.” He tightened his hands on my hips. “Can you forgive me?”

  “Yes. Am I forgiven?”

  “Always. It was an argument. One we’re going to move forward from—it’s not the end. Did you really think it was?”

  As I nodded, admitting my fear, relief flooded through me and tears ran down my cheeks. He wiped them away tenderly.

  “It’s not. Far from it. Don’t, Sprite. Don’t cry.”

  I sniffed. “Sorry. I guess I’m being a girl.”

  “My girl,” he stated firmly. Daniel stared at me, his gaze turning from serious and sad to a warmer, gentler expression. “I guess we just had our first fight.”

  “I guess so.”

  His hands slid to my waist as he dropped his head to my neck. “Do you know what that means?” His hot breath drifted across my skin, making me shiver.

  “What?”

  “It means we need to make up now.” He lifted his head, his expression mischievous.

  “Is that a fact?”

  “It is.” He shifted, lifting me higher, so my legs wrapped around his waist. “In fact, I need to make up with you really, really hard.”

  I gasped as he surged into me, showing me just how hard he intended to make up. Our eyes held: anxious green meeting intense blue. His warm, toned body trapped me against unforgiving, cold steel, the con
trasts so great; and yet so right. He tightened his hands on my hips, flexed his fingers, rubbing small circles on the bones, then traveling upward. He delved under my shirt to the bare flesh, skimming the length of my torso, causing my breathing to increase.

  “I didn’t know if I’d get the chance to touch you again.” He traced the shell of my ear with his tongue. “Feel how soft your skin is. How you respond to me,” he continued, cupping my breasts in his large hands, caressing the nipples.

  I tightened my legs around him, arching into his touch, breathing his name.

  “Are you still mine?”

  “Yes,” I pleaded.

  His lips hovered over mine. “What if I want you right here—against my truck, in the open? What if I want to hear your forgiveness shouted into the dawn?”

  I grabbed the back of his neck. “Yes.”

  His lips crashed to mine—they were hard, hungry, and desperate. Our tongues tangled, pressed, and stroked, the urgency mounting. His mouth claimed mine, stealing my breath, leaving me longing for more. It was the same every time he kissed me. Only this time, there was an edge to his caresses—a desperation we were feeling.

  Daniel’s hands roamed over my skin, touching, teasing, his fingers restless, grasping at the fabric of my shirt, sliding up to fondle my breasts, then traveling back to grasp my ass as he ground against me.

  “You taste so damn good.” His tongue dragged along my bottom lip. “How many mints did you eat this morning?”

  “Seven, maybe. I don’t know—I lost count. I have none left.” I confessed in a whisper. I had continually crunched them all morning.

  “Damn it, I wanted to steal one.”

  “I’ll let you later.”

  He kissed me again, even deeper this time.

  “Tell me,” he commanded in a low voice. “Tell me to take you inside and make love to you.”

  “No,” I gasped, clutching his shoulders, “I want you here. Now.”

  His mouth grazed along my neck, his teeth nipping as he bunched up the material of my skirt, tearing away my thong. He trailed his knuckles along my folds, groaning at the slickness he found. “I love you wear skirts all the time. It’s so convenient for me.” His fingers slipped deeper, teasing me. “Is this for me? You want me, Sprite? Tell me. Tell me how much.”