Mia Found (Starting Fires Book 3)

by Makenzie Smith

  “My life back home is so boring,” I said. “I hardly do anything. It’s selfish, but I kinda wish yours was boring, too.”

  He gave me a lop-sided grin and put his forehead against mine. “That’s not so selfish, Pretty. Some nights I drive myself crazy thinking about you being at that bar until 2 a.m. You’re beautiful, any man can see it, and I know they hit on you.”

  “Not so much.”

  He chuckled. “Not so much, huh? I doubt that.” Paul grabbed my waist and sat me on the bar. “Our lives are going to reconvene one day,” he said. “We won’t have to live separately. As soon as my contract is up, I’m coming back to you and we can go wherever you want.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise,” he said, giving me a chaste kiss.

  When he pulled away, I grabbed his shirt collar and brought him back, taking the kiss that was owed to me. His posture instantly changed, sensing the desire in me. It had been too long since we’d been in the same space and I needed to feel like his again.

  Our tongues connected and he dragged me to the edge of the counter, hiking my dress. His hands felt familiar and foreign at the same time. My body had nearly forgotten what it felt like to have him hold me and it warmed under his purposeful squeezes.

  His heavy breaths sent tingles down my spine and my hands went to his pants, making quick work of the buckle. The slacks hung on his hips as I pulled him out, finding him hard and ready. After only a few slow pumps, Paul broke the kiss, cursing against my mouth.

  “I want you,” I whispered.

  Paul made a thick, gruff sound in his throat and stood straighter, spreading my legs. One of his fingers pushed into my panties, testing my readiness and I whimpered.

  He’d been watching his fingers, but cut his eyes to mine and gave a pleased grin. I’d never seen a sexier sight. His slacks still on his waist. His shirt still tucked into them. Only one part of him was naked and my mouth watered as I watched it move towards me.

  He held my panties to the side and slowly pushed into me. The invasion burned and I hissed as the shivers of ecstasy ran through me. When he buried himself, my head fell back.

  Paul leaned over me, pumping his hips, his mouth trailing hot kisses down my throat. “I can’t stand being apart from you,” he said and squeezed my clothed breast. Feeling it, wanting it to be skin to skin, gave me a firm desire to be naked.

  Our eyes locked as he pulled back and I maneuvered my body to pull the dress over my head. I tossed it and my bra across the room and grabbed his hand, bringing it back to my breast. He watched me with hooded eyes before lifting me off the counter and carrying me to his room.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  PAUL AND I MADE love through the night. For long hours he’d taken me, unable to stop. His thirst had been unquenchable. The next morning, I sighed and cuddled into the pillow, remembering the hungry look in his eyes. A girl could become addicted to that stare. Deep. Intense. Looking straight into my soul.

  I expected him to roll over and wrap an arm around me, but paused, realizing his side of the bed was empty.

  “Paul?” I called.

  The answer was a shuffling of feet in the hallway and the big beast Ferdinand barreling through the door. He jumped onto the bed and rolled all over me, whining with enthusiasm.

  “Hey boy!” I said, ruffling his fur. “Where have you been?”

  Paul stood in the doorway, dressed and showered. He seemed content to take in the scene before him. Ferdinand licked my face and I giggled, pushing him away. “Stop, you big goof. I don’t need to smell like doggy breath.”

  Paul sat on the bed with us and we rubbed Ferdinand’s head. “What do you want to do today?” he asked.

  “Hmm.” I toyed with the necklace at my throat as I thought about it.

  Paul took a sharp inhale. “You’re wearing it,” he said, then smiled. “I’m glad.”

  “Of course I’m wearing it. I never take it off.”

  He leaned over and kissed me softly. “Wanna go to the beach? Ferdinand can come along and we can grab something to eat.”

  I smiled. “Perfect.”

  It didn’t take long for us to load everything into Paul’s car. Ferdinand ran towards the water, jumping and splashing in the waves. I laughed, lacing my arm through Paul’s.

  “Do you bring him here a lot?”

  “When I have time. He likes it. But so do I. The sunsets are unbelievable.”

  “I wish I could see more of them with you.” I hugged his arm as we walked towards the waves.

  “Me too, Pretty.”

  Being Saturday the beach was crowded, but we found a good spot and laid down our towels. I’d worn a sundress, knowing that I wouldn’t want to swim. Paul sat and pulled me to rest between his legs.

  “Tell me about this job interview,” he said.

  “There’s not much to tell. My estranged Uncle is on the board of an art museum and got me an interview. It seemed too good to be true, so I didn’t tell you, afraid that it would get your hopes up.”

  Paul’s hands rubbed down my arms stopping at my fingers. He interlaced them with his own and kissed the side of my neck. “You should have told me,” he said. “Maybe I could have helped in some way.”

  “How?”

  “Telling you how amazing and awesome you are. Giving you some confidence. You were scared when you went in weren’t you?”

  “Yes.” I took a deep breath, relaxing into his chest. “I felt inexperienced and stupid. They knew it too. Gregory and Maxwell. They looked at me like I was a child.”

  Paul rested his chin atop my head. For a moment we didn’t speak and I let the sound of the beach surround me. Children laughed as they ran up and down the sand throwing a Frisbee; two women a few feet away argued about what to eat; and Ferdinand’s barks bounced towards us as he rolled in the sand. He’ll need a bath later, I thought.

  “You’ll find something,” Paul said.

  “Everyone keeps saying that, but it’s starting to feel like I won’t.”

  Paul tilted his head to look down at me. “You will. I have faith in you.”

  Despite his encouraging words, his eyes looked sad. “What’s wrong?”

  He sighed. “I just–I just hope that I’m not making things harder on you.”

  “Harder how?”

  “I don’t know…like maybe you are trying to find something close by but can’t. You can expand your horizons, Mia. We’d make it work.”

  I wish I had his confidence. Not sure how to respond, I changed the subject. “What would you be doing right now if I wasn’t here?”

  Paul shrugged. “No idea. Sitting on the couch. Grocery shopping. Wallowing in loneliness.”

  I chuckled. “You’ve made a lot of friends here. You wouldn’t be lonely.”

  “Those are work friends, Mia. They aren’t the same. We hang out because we don’t even know anyone else. Work sucked our social lives away.”

  I turned around in his lap and planted a deep kiss on his mouth, not even caring about the people hanging around.

  Later, Paul and I walked the beach hand in hand with Ferdinand leading the way. We didn’t talk about work or jobs (or my lack of one), or anything of importance. It was almost as though we both silently agreed to pretend none of that mattered—to pretend that I lived here with him and a stroll on the beach was a regular occurrence.

  We stopped at vendor stand and ordered greasy food, eating it from a bench that overlooked the ocean.

  “See that back there?” Paul pointed over his shoulder towards a tall building. “Look familiar?”

  It did. The condo where Paul made love to me for the first time was somewhere on the top floors. It had been a corner room, and I tried to guess which floor it might have been.

  “Third one down,” he said.

  “So much has changed since then,” I said.

  Paul nodded. “Yeah.” That one word held all of his frustration and pain. Our game risked ending and I wasn’t prepared to admit this was
all a fantasy we were playing out. I linked my arm through his, resting my head on his shoulder.

  “The weather is nice today,” I said, hoping to change the subject.

  It was nice. A breeze was blowing and there was a perfect amount of clouds dusting the sky. Ferdinand ran around the beach stopping to inspect interesting patches of sand and I smiled as I watched him dig.

  Paul didn’t respond and I nestled into him. “Is this what you do after work? Come down to the beach and watch Ferdinand play?”

  “I did for a while,” he said. “I tried being in the company volleyball team and we came here a lot, but it started to feel like even when I was off, I couldn’t escape work. It was all anyone ever wanted to talk about. This merger or that client. It’s funny, but I miss you the most when I’m around people. It’s like…”

  Paul hesitated, trying to find the right words. After a moment, Paul pulled his arm from my hold, wrapping it around my shoulders. Reaching across his body, he brought his other hand to mine and toyed with my fingertips.

  “It’s like…” I pressed.

  “I can breathe when you’re near,” he said. “All of the stress goes away. The frustration. I look at you and I don’t see spreadsheets and numbers. I see beauty and life. You make all this shit bearable. I don’t think I realized how much I needed you until I moved here, how much happiness you brought me. I surround myself with people because being alone hurts, but then when the people are there, staring me in the face, all I want is for one of them to be you.”

  He sighed, kissing the side of my head.

  “Nothing can replace you, Mia. You’re it for me.”

  My heart hammered against my chest. He was it for me, too. I didn’t feel lost anymore. Paul had found me.

  Drunk on him, I brought my hand to his jaw and guided his mouth to mine.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  OUR BUBBLE SURROUNDED US. We hardly saw anyone and spent our days making up for lost time. Paul danced with me in his kitchen to a slow, soulful song. No lyrics. Only music. I closed my eyes and let his presence fill me. His love. His strength. Tying to memorize every nuance of the way he moved and smelled and tasted, knowing that when I returned home it would be these moments that saw me through another few months.

  At dusk we’d lounge on the gazebo, telling each other stories from our time apart. Savage Noble, Faeries and Moonbeams. Chicago. Atlanta. Sante Fe. All the pieces we didn’t know. All the moments we’d lost.

  We pulled towards each other, as if our hearts were magnets seeking their counterpart. We were reconnecting. Healing the sadness and loneliness within us.

  I pretended that I wasn’t leaving in a few days, because not thinking about it was better than feeling the immense pain it brought. It’s so easy to lie to yourself, to manipulate your heart. With Paul off work and me here, it was nothing to pretend that this was our life, that this was the way things always were and would be.

  What would have happened had I landed the job in Seacrest? How different would things be? How much happier?

  By day five I found myself imagining moving here. Getting away from Louisiana, putting it behind me and settling in with Paul. It might take a long time to find a job, but that would be the same at home. At least here I’d have him beside me. The idea grounded me, renewed my strength. The sadness didn’t beat against the door I’d hid it behind.

  Forget being independent. Forget doing it on my own. Paul was my happiness and he was here, so I would be here too.

  Curled up on his couch, lying on his chest, I formed my plan. We were watching television, and I loved the way he smelled. Fresh out of the shower, wearing nothing but his boxers and a white t-shirt. His fingers caressed my arm so gently I hardly knew he was doing it.

  This could be my life, I thought. Day in. Day out. Paul and me. Me and Paul.

  I’d go home and talk to my landlord about the lease. I’d settle things with Tanya and Gladys. I’d scope out positions in the surrounding area. I’d take anything. It wouldn’t even have to be in my degree field.

  Smiling, I nuzzled into Paul, kissing his side through the thin fabric of his shirt.

  He tensed, chuckling. “That tickles,” he said.

  I propped my chin against his chest, unable to keep the happiness from my eyes. Paul smiled too and cradled my face.

  “I don’t want you to go,” he said.

  “Neither do I.”

  Ferdinand appeared at our sides, resting his large head on Paul’s stomach as if he agreed with us.

  Instead of exploring our thoughts, trying to make sense of what was feasible and what was just our aching souls fighting to bring us together again, Paul stood, carrying me back to his room.

  My back hit the mattress and he lowered himself down to join me. Before kissing me, Paul rested his forehead against mine. What were his eyes trying to tell me?

  They were open, honest, the same eyes they’d always been, but something waded under the surface. A deeper pain than I expected. “Paul?”

  His mouth crashed against mine, ending my question. Paul’s arsenal was plentiful, and he wasted no time using every last resource he had to purge my mind of anything else. My pain. My heartache. My loneliness.

  On its own accord, my body moved, pressing, pushing. I didn’t know how we became naked, only that suddenly we were. We were a tangle of limbs and lust, our kisses only stopping when he pushed inside me.

  I held his face as our mouths broke apart, feeling the tortured expression I wore rather than consciously making it. Our sounds were quiet and desperate. Hot bursts of breath and noise in his otherwise quiet house.

  Paul stayed close to me, our skin matched and fused. It was like an experience I’d never had before. I couldn’t bring him in close enough. I couldn’t feel enough of him. I wanted every inch, every line to mold together with mine. My legs wrapped around his hips, holding him in place, not letting him part from the cradle of my thighs. His sweat mixed with mine. Tiny trickles of moisture beaded and dripped down my sides, making my shiver.

  My soul was chasing his. It always would.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  MY LAST DAY IN Florida came too quickly. Knowing that I planned to say goodbye to my old life and start a new one with Paul didn’t ease the ache in my chest. Ending things back home might take a while. It could be weeks or months before everything settled.

  My plane left in the late afternoon and that morning Paul woke me up with a gentle nudge.

  “You’re leaving today,” he whispered.

  “Yeah,” I said, snuggling into his chest.

  “Before you go I have something I want to show you.”

  We dressed and left the house, quiet as we drove to Paul’s mystery spot. Our bubble was thinning. The real world was encroaching, pushing in, poking, prodding. He held my hand, and I felt all of his emotions in the gesture. It was firm, the longing evident.

  After twenty minutes, Paul pulled into an abandoned parking lot. It was seedy and isolated. Brown paper bags, and cigarette butts littered the ground and my eyebrows drew in.

  “Why’d you bring me here?” I asked.

  Paul smiled, unbuckling his seat belt. “What? You don’t think this parking lot is beautiful?”

  “Umm…”

  He chuckled. “This isn’t what I want to show you. Come on.”

  Standing on the pavement, Paul took my hand and led me around one of the large brick buildings. We stepped through a narrow alley and then into an alcove. My hand went to my mouth and I gasped.

  Lining the brick walls was the greenest, most beautiful ivy I’d ever seen. But more than that, so much more than that, was the graffiti painting the walls. Some were larger than life, covering an entire wall. Others were smaller and more intimate, but one thing was the same. They were all women, painted from various colors, their hair and clothes splashed and dancing. The similarity to my own work was obvious—though this artist had more life than I did. Not all the women were sad. Some even smiled.

 
“Paul…” I walked towards a wall and gingerly touched one of the pieces. “This–this is amazing.”

  “It reminds me of you,” he said. “I don’t know who paints it. They never leave their tag.” Paul walked around the alcove, his hands in his pockets. His eyes focused on his feet, kicking rocks and debris away.

  “Not long after I moved here, right after I’d seen you the last time, it–it was hard, Mia. I found myself drinking every night just to numb myself. I’d sit on the couch and zone out, not feeling or caring about anything. We weren’t talking as much, and I know some of that is my fault. I didn’t make time for you as I should have. I stayed late at the office to keep from being alone. I took on every task they offered just to stay busy, but in all of that I lost you.”

  Paul rubbed his chin, but then let his hands settle on his hips, his eyes refusing to meet mine. Whatever he was about to say felt important.

  “One day I saw an article about this place,” Paul said, his hand gesturing to the art. “You can imagine why it reminded me of you. After I left work, this is where I ended up. Mia, I sat here for at least an hour, just trying to feel you. I know you didn’t paint it, but it was enough. I could feel you here. When I miss you, this is where I come. I want you to know that no matter what, no matter what is happening in my life or yours, I always miss you. I carry you with me. I’m thinking of you. Needing you. No matter what. Okay?”

  “Okay, Paul,” I said, tears rimming my eyes. I thought about my home and was envious of him. There wasn’t a place I could go like this, somewhere that held pieces of him.

  His old apartment complex sprang forth in my mind—the little pond resting in the middle with its wooden bench gazing out onto the water. Why had I never gone there before? Why had I never sought him as he’d sought me?

  We stood on opposite sides of the alcove. The sun shone down on us. Pieces of the paintings burst to life as light hit. He was beautiful standing there, his green eyes made softer by the ivy at his back, his hair perfectly sculpted, his shirt tucked into his slacks. I imagined him coming here, standing in this place, thinking of me, wanting me.