He squared his shoulders. Time to take the risk.
“Hey, Lia—” He stopped speaking when she placed the bottle of wine on the coffee table then lifted the glass to her lips and downed the entire amount in several long swallows. Having been raised by an alcoholic father, Lia was careful around alcohol—drinking in excess wasn’t like her.
“Think maybe you could slow down a bit?” he said. “If you’re not used to drinking, wine can get you awfully drunk, awfully fast.”
She rolled her head on the back of the sofa and fixed her gaze on his. “I need this. I have a huge favor I want to ask and I need to be a little bit drunk before I do.”
A tightening sensation started somewhere in Jack’s chest. It never boded well when someone had to get drunk to ask a favor. And he didn’t want her drunk, didn’t want alcohol numbing her mind before he said what he’d come to say.
“What’s the favor?”
She rocked her head from side to side. “Um…not ready to tell just yet. I need another one of these in me.” She indicated the glass and then poured more wine from the bottle.
“That’s enough.” He didn’t want to boss her around—didn’t want to control her—but she needed to slow down. She was such a lightweight that if she glugged the second glass, she’d probably heave. “We can just sit here and talk for a while, no need to rush. Why don’t you tell me about the families you have at the sanctuary?”
“Oh, yes…” She waved her glass in front of her, then took another gulp of wine.
Jack cast a glance at the label. A 2005 bottle of cab from the heart of California’s wine country was a pricey wine to glug. He reached out and took the glass from her hand, setting it on the coffee table. She didn’t object, but she did frown.
“One of the moms has a newborn,” she said. “She’d been living with her parents but her dad kicked her out. I don’t know why. She needs a place to stay until she can get the kids into daycare and earn enough for rent.” She leaned forward and grabbed the dusky green bottle. Intent on drinking straight out of the bottle, she held it aloft.
Quickly, he placed his own glass down on the coffee table, then grabbed the bottle by the neck and wrenched it from her hand. “That’s enough. You don’t have to be drunk to ask me a favor. You know I’d do anything you ask.”
“That’s just it, Jack. You would do anything I ask, wouldn’t you?”
Yeah, that about summed things up.
Jack set the bottle down on the coffee table and waited as Lia stared at it for some time. Whatever it was she wanted to ask of him, the favor seemed to weigh heavily on her. He could wait to ask her out—her needs were more important.
Finally, she spoke. “There’s this problem. There’s something in my past and it’s interfering with my present. I’m stuck and I need to move forward. You’re the only one I can trust, the only one I can ask, but I’m scared.”
Jack bent forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He tilted his head to the side and tried to catch her gaze, but she still wouldn’t look at him. The favor must be important to her—so important that she’d hesitate to ask him even though she knew he’d never say no. At least, not to her. Not ever.
“Come on, just ask. What’s the worst thing that could happen? I doubt I’d say no, but even if I did, that would be that. End of story.”
“No…” She slowly expelled a deep breath. “If I ask you, there would never be an end to the story. The worst thing that could happen would be that you would lose all respect for me.”
Jack narrowed his gaze, watching as her fingers rapidly twisted a strand of hair. Her shoulders were tight and her chin tucked to her chest. Whatever it was seemed to be eating her up inside. And he couldn’t bear to see her so tense.
“You trust me, right?”
“That’s just it,” she said, giving a rueful laugh. “Oddly enough, I do trust you. Even after what you did to my dad.”
Jack sucked in a deep breath. That she’d witnessed the beat-down he gave her dad was his one regret. Fuck. What was he thinking? She still saw him as a felon—a man who solved problems with his fists. A man to be scared of. Years ago, he’d decided he didn’t deserve her. Maybe he still didn’t.
“I meant that you could trust me not to lose respect for you,” he said, seeking to clarify.
“I know what you meant. But even with your history, you’re the only man I completely trust. Well, except for my brother. And this definitely isn’t one of those favors I can ask my brother.” She gave a light laugh.
“What about Theo? You’ve known him as long as you’ve known me, and he doesn’t have any issues with…” He let his voice trail off, unable to say the word “violence” in front of her.
Lia ran the lock of hair across her lips, once, twice, then spoke. “As much as I like and respect Theo, I’m nowhere near as comfortable with him as I am with you. I know you have a temper, Jack, but you don’t scare me. Not like how other men scare me. That’s why the favor has to come from you, and no one else.”
“Then just tell me.”
Lia dropped the strand of hair from her fingers. She leaned back against the sofa, clasped her hands in her lap, and stared at the ceiling, nibbling her lower lip like crazy.
Jack waited. One thing he knew about Lia was that it took her a long time to open up, to say what was on her mind.
“Remember when you took me to that dance and I asked you to teach me how to dance? And then I asked you to teach me how to kiss?” she finally said.
His heartbeat kicked up a notch. He realized Lia’s gaze was boring into his as she waited for him to respond to her question. He nodded. “I remember.”
“It was a great kiss, Jack—you were great. Vance never kissed me like that. You and Vance were the only two guys I’ve ever kissed, you know?”
He did know. She’d been faithful to Vance, even though Jack was damned sure the snake had slept around. His gut clenched, as it usually did when some memory went shooting through his mind that made him want to kill Vance, even though the asshole was already dead.
Lia was saying something, he realized. He pulled his mind away from her past to concentrate on what she was saying.
“Yours was the best kiss I’ve ever had,” she said, her voice strained.
That tight place in his chest squeezed again. “Glad to hear I was the best, but sorry to hear you’ve only had one good kiss in your life.” He shifted and placed his arm on the back of the couch, not quite touching her shoulders.
“Me, too…” Lia paused. “You know, I always figured since you were a great kisser, then you’d be great in bed, as well.”
Jack started. Where the hell had that comment come from? Why had she brought up sex?
Wait—could she finally be seeing him as something other than her friend? Maybe this was the sign he’d been waiting for, the perfect segue to asking her out. A confirmation she was as into him as he was into her.
Lia flicked a strand of hair behind her ear. She clasped her hands together in her lap, focusing her gaze on her intertwined fingers. “Vance was the only man I ever slept with. All I’ve ever learned about sex came from him. And it wasn’t as if he was the world’s best teacher. In fact,” she gave an angry laugh, “he was downright awful.”
He grimaced. “Vance’s been gone for over two years now, Lia. It’s time you moved on, started dating again.” He didn’t know why he’d waited this long to let her know how he felt—he’d told himself that he wanted to give her time to heal from her abusive marriage. In truth, he couldn’t handle the rejection if she didn’t feel the same way. But he wasn’t waiting any longer, wasn’t going to hide behind doing the right thing, behind his own fear.
“Have you thought about it? Dating again, I mean,” he probed.
She nodded. “Yes…I have. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought lately, especially now that…well, I think there’s someone who’s interested in me. And I think I’m ready to move on from the past. I’m ready to find companionship. Love, may
be. Passion, even.”
Excitement charged through him. Holy shit, she had to be talking about him. It must be that she was scared he’d reject her.
He came in close, so close he could feel her breath on his cheek. “Lia, I’m sure there are plenty of men interested in you, but this person—”
“Only I can’t date him,” she said quickly. “Not until I’m sure I’m ready for more.” Her jaw worked, tightening as the tension inside her seemed to build. “You know, sex. But that’s the problem.”
Oh God, if she was worried he’d expect her to put out, she was dead wrong. He’d wait forever for her to be ready, if that’s what it took. He fought for control, working to keep his voice even. “What’s the problem with sex?”
“I hate it.”
“You hate sex?” He pulled back and stared straight in her face. How could anyone hate sex? After all, it was…well…sex.
Lia wore a tight expression, her gaze frozen on her hands in her lap. “I haven’t always felt this way,” she said. “At least, the first few times Vance and I slept together, even though it was awkward and a little painful, I still enjoyed it. I figured it would get better when I got more experienced. But it never did—in fact, it got worse. Much worse. Awful, in fact. Terrible.”
Jack didn’t know what to say. Sex as awful? Not the kind he’d had. Delicious, mind-altering, fun, erotic, arousing—he could think of a hundred positive adjectives. Nowhere in his list of descriptions would anyone ever find the words “terrible” or “awful.”
Suddenly, he understood. “What the hell did that jerk do to you, Lia?”
She shuddered. “You don’t want to know.”
He did, though. He wanted to know. Even though there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, he wanted to know what that horrible man had done to wound Lia in this way.
“After Vance died,” he started slowly. He stopped, searching for the words to put her at ease. To let her know she could tell him anything. That no matter what, he’d always be there for her. But he wasn’t sure what to say. He cleared his throat and tried again. “After the death, you let your friends and your brother know about the abuse. That was brave, Lia. You trusted us with something you’d felt ashamed about for years. And learned that you’d had nothing to be ashamed of. None of us thought less of you because you were an abuse victim. But you trusted us to help you get on the path to heal. You trusted me.”
When he leaned in, she pulled away. She still wouldn’t meet his gaze, but her expression hadn’t gone completely shuttered. At some level, she was receiving what he had to say.
“So yeah,” he said, “I do want to know what Vance did to make being intimate a bad experience for you. You trusted me before. Trust me now. Tell me.”
She swallowed. “Once I say it, you can’t unhear the words.”
God, how he wanted to reach out and touch her. To wrap her up in a tight hug and stroke her back and hold her head tight to his chest and reassure her with his physical presence. But he knew Lia. She had to come to him.
“Stop trying to protect me,” he said.
At that, she smiled a bit, then flicked her gaze to meet his. “You’re right. I guess in a way I was trying to protect you.” She pulled her gaze away and stared back down at her hands, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “Fine. I’ll tell you. But don’t look at me, okay?”
“I understand.”
She let out a long, shuddering sigh, exhaling slowly, then spoke. “Vance was rough, uncaring. He’d say terrible things—that I was horrible in bed, ugly, sexy as lumber. He wouldn’t ever let me feel pleasure. He’d say it was the woman’s duty to pleasure her man and that it was sinful to feel pleasure herself.”
“Did he hurt you?” Jack kept his tone steady, and continued focusing on her twisting fingers. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked the question, but he had to know. Years ago, her father had hurt her—and Jack had caught him. Beat the man up, like how he’d beaten up Hunter Thorne the day his classmate had ruined Liz Pritchard’s reputation in high school. Men should never hurt women. Didn’t matter to Jack if the guy was a boyfriend, father, or husband. Beating on someone weaker was the mark of a coward. And the mark of someone with something seriously wrong inside.
“Some women have it worse. I learned quickly to keep my mouth shut, close my eyes, and wait for it to be over. And to stay far away when something bad happened to him at work. But something bad always was happening to him at work. And then he’d find me. He’d always find me.”
“And you were too scared to leave.”
“He said he’d track me down and kill me if I ever left him.”
Rage reared its ugly head inside Jack, and the world around him blurred. His hands clenched into fists. Damn that fucking Vance. Damn him for taking almost everything Lia had—her freedom, her safety, her self-esteem—God, even the pleasure of sex. The familiar tingling sensation of anger swarmed over him, like bees disturbed from a hive. Control, control, control, he reminded himself. The lessons he’d been taught during anger management classes came back. Recognize when you’re triggered, then take three acts of control.
He filled his lungs with air and exhaled slowly, then forced his clenched fists to relax and spread his fingers wide on each knee. He attempted to bring his mind to a positive image, but the babbling brook his group therapy counselor had chosen for him was simply annoying. The hell with it. Breathing and body relaxation alone would have to work.
Lia slumped forward, her long black hair draped in silken strands over her arms. She spoke, her voice muffled. “I’m terrible in bed. I shake whenever a man comes near me and I actually detest going to bed with a man. I’m trying so hard to have a normal life now that Vance’s gone, but I can’t—I know I’m going to be a failure.”
“Lia.” Christ. She reminded him of the frightened mustang colts his father used to train. Like the colts, Lia was terrified of a man’s touch. Fucking Vance. “So sex with Vance sucked. That doesn’t mean you’ll be a failure in bed. It just means—”
“Jack,” she said, swinging her head up suddenly, causing black strands of hair to caress her neck and chest. She still wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“What?”
“Don’t you get it? I’m able to touch you now, just barely, because you’re my friend. But to date again? I can’t go out with someone like Peter Leary when I know I’m not ready for more. I’m even not ready to be touched, much less be fully…intimate with a man.”
Jack froze. What the hell had she said? Why was she talking about Peter Leary?
Realization hit him like a two-ton pickup truck. Holy fuck. Lia knew Peter was into her.
Finally, after all these years, he’d been ready to ask out the woman he loved. He’d ached as she spilled her guts about what Vance had done to her, had allowed himself to hope that she might want him as he wanted her—not just as a friend, but as a lover, too. He clenched his jaw so tight he could hear his teeth grit together.
Fuck clarifying breaths, fuck relaxing tense muscles, and fuck focusing on a babbling brook.
Fuck anger management.
Lia inviting him up this evening, her nervousness, it wasn’t about her getting up her nerve to ask him out. Hell no. Lia hadn’t been leading up to asking him out—she wanted him to set her up with Peter fucking Leary.
Her voice sounded next to him and he knew he needed to regain control. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Babbling fucking brook. Shit.
“That’s why I need to ask you this favor,” Lia continued, her voice faint beneath the buzzing in his head. “You’re the only one I can trust, the only one who can help me. I’ve thought up a plan. It might sound a little weird, but I’m positive it’s the answer.”
Keep listening, he ordered himself. Keep listening and talk to her. Even though his heart was being torn wide open, this was Lia next to him. And she needed him—needed his help. This time the image of the damned creek had been replaced by his own lecture, but it was working. His pulse slowed, his hands
unclenched—his body was beginning to calm.
“You have a plan,” he said, repeating her words. “A weird plan. Fine. So, tell me about it.”
She leaned closer to him then, her shoulder a hairsbreadth away from his. He could smell her scent—something natural, with lavender.
“Jack,” she said, “will you teach me how to stop being afraid of men?”
“What?” he asked, vaguely aware she had asked him a question. The frustration and anger that still clouded his head had along with his visceral reaction to the sensory pleasure of her scent had apparently rendered his brain semi-functional.
“I told you, I have a plan. I need to stop freaking out whenever a man touches me and I’m asking you to help. I mean—we’ve already touched recently. But you’re my friend—one of my best friends, so that makes it different.”
Not in his mind. “How so?” he managed to get out.
“When it comes to accepting being touched by a man, someone like Peter Leary, I still freak out. And I don’t want to. I want to move on. And I want you to teach me. Like how you taught me how to kiss. Will you do that?”
“Sure…” He drew out his answer in an attempt to steady his voice. He didn’t want her to see his anger. But he wasn’t angry with her—he was angry with himself. Angry that he’d allowed himself to hope she might someday fall in love with him, angry that he hadn’t asked her out before she thought up this asinine plan, angry that no matter what she was about to ask, he’d say yes.
Years ago, she’d asked him to teach her how to kiss and he’d fallen for her like a ton of bricks. Now she wanted him to teach her how to stop being afraid of men. To learn how to touch and be touched without freaking out. What did he have to lose? Hell, it wasn’t as if he could fall any deeper in love with her than he already was.
But what the hell was he getting himself into this time?
Lia drew in a shuddery breath and turned to face him. She locked her eyes with his.
Wait—he didn’t like that look in her eyes. Suddenly he wanted to tell the universe to rewind the last hour. He wanted to tell her to stop talking. He wanted to get up and leave. But instead, he sat riveted, waiting for the ax to drop.
Trusting The One (Meadowview Heat 2; The Meadowview Series 2) Page 5
