by MK Meredith
“But I needed you.” She yanked at the bottom of her fitted blazer which made her cleavage and Banon’s eyes pop. There was no doubt in Parker’s mind that Ida had been shopping at The Boulder Holder, and that his grandfather had just been magically delivered to Lala Land. Damn, boobs seemed to work just as well on old men as they did on the young ones.
She kissed his grandfather’s cheek, taking great pleasure in rubbing the pink lipstick off, if the grin on her face was any indication. Sliding her arm through Banon’s, she demanded, “Now, leave your grandson alone. He’s going to save the Sentinel, so let him do his job. How could you be anything but proud?”
“Ida, this is a conversation—”
“That you don’t want to have because I’m right?” She nodded. “Yeah, I can see that.”
She winked at Parker. “Besides, Parker here has a thing for Sage Mathews and you know how much we all love Sage. Shows the boy’s got excellent taste, if you ask me.”
A tight grip of panic seized his throat. “I do not have thing for—”
She raised a brow. “The news I got from Harper yesterday tells me different. It appears the Come Again condoms need to be shared over at the Fashion Flower as well as The Boulder Holder.”
At this point, he wished his grandfather had just fired him, then he wouldn’t be suffering through this conversation. The fact was, he didn’t do relationships. Certainly not with a woman whose heart floated upon her sleeve, who had the sexiest damn ass he’d ever seen, and whose mouth made men sing Hallelujah. He wanted Sage more than he wanted to make his grandfather proud.
That stopped him cold. Fuck.
An image of the two of them attending events in the park and helping Clovis at The Boulder Holder should have had him heaving in the trash can, but a buzz of warmth vibrated through his chest, instead.
Ida snapped her fingers, and his grandfather snapped to attention. The whole single and ready to mingle mantra of one Ida Beamon had disappeared and been replaced with she got his dingle in a vice grip because no one ever told Banon what to do.
Banon escorted her from the conference room. “I’ll be just a minute.” Closing the door, he turned back to Parker. “Listen to me, and listen to me good. Finish the job, then get out of town. I think you’ve caused enough humiliation to our name, don’t you?”
The words weren’t new, but the sting was just as strong. Parker studied the old man’s face, resisting the urge to rub the raw, burning pain from his own chest. But that was the way of it. He’d never been good enough for the man and never would be.
“Why do you hate me so much?”
His grandfather stared at him with something akin to surprise on his face, but Parker waved his hand in dismissal. “Forget it. I’ll be gone by Sunday.”
With a nod, his grandfather exited the room with a solid, final thunk of the door closing behind him.
Parker stood frozen in his spot for a minute or two, or ten—however long it took to let the tightness in his chest ease and the twisting in his stomach lessen. Checking his watch, he ticked off everything Sage had told him she had to do today, then made a bee-line for her apartment. He had to see her. There was something pulling him to her—the kindness in her chocolate eyes, the soft, husky sound when she said his name, the way her face heated when he caught her staring at him. She felt it, too. They might not have forever, but he had to have her now.
Pounding on her apartment door three times, he listened for some sort of movement from inside.
“Coming!”
She pulled the door open, and he was hit with sweet smell of baked goods and pencils.
“Parker.” The smile on her face was like the first step into the shower after a hard day’s work.
Without words, she pulled him inside.
He stood back against the door. “I’m sorry I came, I— ”
“What is it?”
She stepped toward him, her bare, orange-painted toes, peeking out from beneath a pair of loose-fitting, low-hung jeans. Her California Dreaming t-shirt was a size too small, which was a size just right, stretching across her breasts in a way that made him itch to tear it off.
“I need...”
Pressing her hands against his chest, her touch froze the words in his throat. She slid her hand to the top of his slacks and released his buckle. Is this what he came for? Didn’t she deserve more than a one-night stand with a man ready to hightail it back to the city? She did. There was no doubt, but there was also no doubt what he needed.
Her.
She dragged his pants down, then worked on the buttons of his shirt while he dropped his boxer briefs and kicked them to the side. Shoving the shirt from his shoulders, she pressed into him, flattening her breasts against his chest in a way that more than fulfilled every dream he’d had since seeing her holding that damn sign.
It was too much. Snaking his hands into her hair, he pulled her in and slammed his mouth to her parted lips. He slid his tongue against hers—her taste and heat making his brain numb and setting his body on fire. Gripping the hem of her shirt, he leaned back just enough to pull it over her head. “Fuck. I’ve dreamed of touching you, tasting you.”
“I’m here.”
He stared into her eyes and she pushed her jeans to the floor. She wore no panties, and he feared he’d never be able to be around her in jeans again without losing his load. He groaned at the sight of her, then again as her hot palms skimmed across his chest.
“I’m here,” she repeated. “With you.”
Sliding both hands over the smooth skin of her hips to the two dimples just above her ass, he pulled her in tight. Her soft, slick skin was like every dream he’d ever had but in HD. “God, you feel so good.” He slid his tongue along her lower lip, savoring her taste, her texture. She was better than any fine wine or aged Scotch he’d ever sampled.
He dropped to his knees, holding her in place with his hands at her hips.
“Parker.”
He pressed his lips to the sensitive skin along the apex of her thighs, then trailed his tongue toward her center. Finding home, he settled in. He wanted to memorize every curve, every valley, every inch of her silky skin. With light, feathery flicks of his tongue, he worshipped how she was made. Then, he closed his mouth around her and sucked in a gentle rhythm that left her knees shaking and her chest heaving.
She pulled him up, then pressed him back against the door with plans of her own.
His body was tight and straining, his muscles burning, his mouth watering. He swore she set off a fire in him so hot, St. Helena’s firemen didn’t stand a chance in Hell of putting it out. Anchoring her arms around his shoulders, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and as her body landed flush against his, he broke.
“Look at me,” he growled.
She kissed him, pressing and sliding against his body, driving him beyond anything he recognized. “Sage. I mean it…look at me.”
Promise shone from her eyes in a way that made him want to dive under and never surface again.
“I see you, Parker. I see you.”
Chapter 8
He stared into her eyes, begging her to see who he really was—a man capable of great things, a man with good intentions, a man who sometimes needed to be shown that he was worthy and wanted.
Sage held his gaze until he nodded, then, she lowered her legs and let her body slide slowly back to the ground. “Parker.” She held out her hand.
He grabbed it, trying to pull her to him, but she resisted.
“This way.”
The heat in his eyes was like a switch going off inside her. She was suddenly beautiful, powerful, and capable of taking what she wanted. And dammit, she wanted him. He wasn’t the right decision for her future, because he’d never be interested in staying in her small town—in staying with her. But he was the right decision for today simply because she was tired of fighting how she felt about him, tired of dreaming about a happily ever after that might never come and all along, she’d have missed out o
n some mighty fine happy for right nows.
But deep in her heart, she felt the kernel of hope bloom just from the look in his eyes. She felt the swelling of love in her chest at the sight of his need.
For her.
She was helpless against her internal romantic, the side that hoped for what couldn’t be.
He needed her, and she wanted to be there for him until the time came when she had to say goodbye and watch him leave St. Helena.
At least, with an ass like his, the watching would still be a pleasure.
She walked him back to her sanctuary. Her room was lush and bright in tones of white, and she’d never look at it the same way again. Pushing him back to the bed, she skimmed her eyes over his body. He was built like the bulls she saw out in the countryside on the way to Sorrento Ranch—a broad chest and broader shoulders, muscles that he’d fed and fed well, and all of the deliciousness tapered down to a V that boggled the mind and made her go dumb because, when she looked at the length of him waiting for her, all she wanted to do was scream “hellz yeah” and climb on.
She grabbed a condom from a box under the open shelf of her nightstand, then ripped the foil open. While holding her lower lip between her teeth, she wrapped her hand around his thickness and rolled the condom all the way to the base.
He sucked in a breath, then held it. “Sage, if you don’t hurry up and quit playing around with him, this is going to be over before you get to see my best work.”
She raised a brow, then crawled over him to straddle his waist. Spreading her hands across his chest, she said, “I could have sworn I saw your best work back by the door.”
“Woman, you haven’t seen nothing yet.”
He gripped her hips and slid her back and forth over his length.
She leaned down, then pressed her mouth to his and made demands with her tongue she had never known the language for—until today. With her eyes open, she kissed him and his full lips curved, revealing a dimple in his cheek that made her want to give him everything he asked for. The intense blue of his eyes pulled her in as if nothing else existed outside of their heated bubble.
“You see me,” he said.
She glanced down between them with intent. “All of you.”
But he didn’t smile, he studied her harder, his hands gripping her hips. “We won’t have forever, Sage. You know I can’t give you that.”
On a nod, she quieted him with her lips. She didn’t want to talk about what couldn’t be; she wanted to feel everything that could.
Holding herself until she was poised at his round, smooth head, she lowered, taking him in, inch by inch. Spirals of pleasure poured out from her center, down the front of her thighs, and over the lower swell of her stomach.
“Goddammit, you feel too good,” he gritted out.
He encouraged her to lean forward until he closed his hot mouth over her breast. A low groan of pure satisfaction floated to her ears, and her own joined his in the most sensual duet she’d ever heard. As she moved, hearts floated about her once again.
She tried to shake them off, but they stubbornly remained, and he felt so good she didn’t care.
His movements slowed from sizzle to savor, and she followed, happy to eke out the experience as long as possible. Long strokes of skin on skin, fevered whispers, and promises that would be kept only in the moment.
His mouth was everywhere. “I want more. I need more.” With hot hands, he grabbed fistfuls of her ass in a way that increased every sensation inside her and made her move faster once again. Tension coiled at her center, so tight that she pushed away from his chest until she was bowed backwards over his legs, moving on him without missing a beat.
He massaged her breasts with a gentle squeeze that she felt throughout her whole body, then he trailed the backs of his fingers down the center of her chest, down her stomach, until his thumb found that part of her that was like lighting the wick on a stick of dynamite.
A white-hot ball of energy burst throughout her body until every nerve ending shot off like a sparkler from Fourth of July.
“Parker,” she grated out his name as contraction after contraction demanded she keep moving.
With one smooth push, he rolled her onto her back and threw her legs over his shoulders, then rode out her orgasm until falling over the edge into his own. His eyes squeezed shut, he pushed into her, demanding every last ounce of pleasure she had to give. His solid strokes slowed to easy ones, and their ragged breathing was the only sound left in the still of the night.
Falling to her side, he scooped her to him until his chest was against her back and the hairs of his thighs tickled the sensitive skin of her own. “What was that?” he asked, his arms wrapped around her, trembling in his aftershocks.
“That’s what happens when you care.” It was the wrong thing to say, but sometimes, the hard things were the right things.
He froze behind her, and there was a moment she almost wished she could take back the words. But only a moment, because the truth was, her heart had opened to him the day he’d saved her at The Boulder Holder Kataclysmic Kissing booth. “I think I’m falling for you.”
Silence was her answer, then a slow exhale. “Then, grab onto something, Sage. Because that’s a fall that will only end in you getting hurt.”
# # #
Parker cussed like a sailor in his head, telling himself to quit acting like a jackass and tell Sage he had feelings, too. But he was terrified. She was one of the most generous women he’d ever met. She was passionate, intelligent, and sexy as hell. And her body did something to his he’d never felt before—and he’d felt a lot.
But St. Helena was her home. And it was his grandfather’s home. He couldn’t imagine living day to day hoping to avoid the old man. Banon had made it clear Parker wasn’t welcome, wasn’t a part of this community. It was a rejection he’d rather not face again.
Not to mention, though he enjoyed St. Helena and the in-your-face community, he missed the busy hum of L.A. and the mix of cultures and the anonymity it allowed that was so often a blessing.
In the end, the truth was…she deserved better.
It was the facts, but it hurt like hell. The idea of leaving town and not staring into her eyes as she talked about her Grandpa Horace, or not tasting her sweet lips whenever he was hungry for dessert, left him feeling hollow.
The board needed their answer. He could increase the paper’s profit hand over fist, which would more than meet their needs and stabilize the infrastructure. By giving up the printing press, not to mention the decrease in overhead, and the rental income from turning portions of the building into offices, the paper would be able to keep Sage and hire five more cartoonists if they wanted to. St. Helena was surprisingly tech savvy, even their geriatric sector. With the right promotion to incentivize the readership and the increased ad space, sales would go through the roof. The St. Helena Sentinel would have a long and prosperous life.
At least he could give Sage that. Her grandfather’s memory would be preserved. Maybe not the way she’d hoped, but in a way that would last.
With a measure of self-control he hadn’t known he possessed, he slid away from her. “I have to make a call.”
She curled up in the comforter of her bed. “Sure.”
Making his way through her apartment, he found his clothes, noticing all the touches that screamed Sage—the art on the walls, the heart-shaped pillows on her sofa, and the welcome mat that read, creativity lives here.
He threw on his briefs and slacks, then sat at her breakfast bar, moving the day’s paper out of his way. Of course, it was open to the comic with Edward the gorilla and his lingerie.
“Mr. Edwards, yes, go ahead and schedule the board meeting. My initial assessment of taking the Sentinel online still stands. After seeing what the town has to offer, I’m confident the news will translate as well, if not better, online. The change can happen immediately, I’ve been working on the system and it’s almost complete.”
“How is Ms.
Mathews taking it?”
Surprise skittered down Parker’s back. The last thing he expected from his grandfather was compassion. For anyone.
Caught off guard, his chest tightened at the idea that his grandfather thought Parker and Sage were in a relationship. He down-played the situation to put any rumors to bed.
He cringed at the pun.
“Oh, she’ll be fine. She can easily continue her comic online or take it elsewhere, if that’s what she decides. That’s the nice thing about hobbies. They’re flexible.”
“Parker, I think we need to talk.”
“I know…you want me out of town.”
“No, I—”
“So, what time for the meeting?” he asked, cutting him off.
Banon sighed.
Parker had no clue what else the man could say to drive his point home, but he was no longer interested in hearing it.
After they settled the time for the board meeting, he set his phone aside, then scrubbed his hands through his hair. But the tension in the back of his neck wouldn’t release, so he lifted his head and tried cracking his neck.
There, in the archway of her bedroom, was Sage—the bedsheets wrapped around her silky skin, her lips swollen from being kissed the right way, and eyes that shone with a mixture of betrayal and sadness.
Wait.
He pushed from the stool. “What happened?”
She swallowed hard. “You happened. A hobby? Did you really just call my life’s work, a hobby?”
“Oh, shit. Sage, that’s not how I meant it, it’s just my grandfather—”
“Save it,” she said, her voice trembling, making his chest squeeze down against his lungs.
She pulled the sheets tighter about her, and walked over to the sofa and picked up a pillow. “Get out of my apartment. I wouldn’t want to bore you any longer with my hobby or my lame tendency toward love.”
“I never said—”
She threw him a look, and it was a side of her he never wanted to see again—a combination of disgust and acceptance. “Please, you don’t think I saw it on your face the day you walked into the Sentinel? And every time since when I’d try and make you understand how integral this paper is to the homes of our community?”
