Wet Dream

by Jenna Jacob

  Anger overrode pain and humiliation. She kicked the door with her tennis shoe as tears spilled down her cheeks. Brea wanted to curl up into a little ball and disappear.

  “Goddamn son of a bitch motherfucking, men!” she screamed. “When the hell am I ever going to learn?”

  Refusing to put on any more of a show for Sawyer and his newly acquired fuck toy, Brea raced off the front porch, making a beeline to the backyard. She might not be able to get inside, but she could hide…hide and throw her temper tantrum in private without Sawyer having a front row seat and watching her fall the fuck apart.

  She found an alcove between the vegetable and flowerbeds. Pushing the tall stalks aside, she sat down in the wet grass. She had no idea how everything had gone to hell in the span of fifteen damn minutes. She and Sawyer had been laughing, loving and…

  “Oh, god, I’m such a fucking idiot,” she wailed. Drawing her knees to her chest, Brea lowered her head and cried.

  Cried for being foolish enough to think she could have a normal relationship with someone as wonderful as Sawyer.

  Cried for letting her hopes and dreams overrule common sense.

  Cried for the little girl inside who never wanted anything but to be loved.

  “Brea!” Sawyer called in a snarl. “I know you’re back here. Brea, goddamn it, where are you?”

  She covered her mouth to muffle her sobs and tucked herself into a ball. Hopefully, if he didn’t find her hiding place, he’d give up and go away. She wasn’t ready to face him yet. She needed time to lick her wounds and construct a bitch barrier so thick and strong he couldn’t penetrate it with that dazzling smile, loving caress, or toe-curling kisses. But Sawyer was as bullheaded as she was. Brea wasn’t going to hold her breath that he’d just give up.

  “I have no idea what you think… No, I know exactly what you think you saw, or I wouldn’t have the Ford logo imprinted on my dick!”

  She clenched her jaw. It might do him some good to walk around with the logo branded on his big, beautiful cock. She hoped gangrene set in, and his ungodly talented dick would fall right off. It’d serve him right.

  Asshole!

  “Come out, Brea. I’m not leaving until we talk this misunderstanding through.”

  Misunderstanding, my fat ass! Did he think she was so naïve not to put the pieces together? He practically shoved that snotty bitch down Brea’s throat. No, he wasn’t going to talk his way out of this!

  She remained hidden among the burgeoning brush like an oversized garden gnome. Brea would never find a decent man. Even when she was old and gray and scouting the old folks’ home with a purse of Viagra, she’d probably still be striking out.

  No, she was going to keep her sorry ass right here. The only way she’d come out was if Sawyer took a Weedwacker and tore the whole backyard down. She knew he’d never do that; Barbara would kill him.

  “Fine. Have it your way, darlin’.”

  Thank god! He was actually going to leave her in peace. Let her hold on to her tattered pride. Let him take off with pretty Miss Rich Bitch—her three-hundred-thousand-dollar sports car, two-thousand-dollar Gucci outfit, forty-four triple Z tits, and twenty-inch waist—Brea didn’t need or want him! She hoped Sawyer choked on every inch of her plastic, artificially enhanced body.

  Asshole!

  A blast of ice-cold water doused her internal fuming. Brea screamed and bolted upright as if her ass had been spring-loaded. Sputtering, she raised her hands as the stream of water continued to pummel her face.

  “There you are, darlin’. I knew I’d find you.” There was a hint of laughter in his angry tone while Sawyer continued his assault by water hose. “Have you cooled off enough to have a rational conversation yet?”

  Turning the water off, he arched his brows. A mixture of irritation and humor danced in his golden-green eyes. Brea was all but certain flames of rage were leaping from hers. Though the morning sun was shining brightly, she was soaked to the skin and shivering like mad. But it wasn’t going to stop her from giving the prick with the hose a piece of her mind.

  “Rational conversation?” she squawked. “You drown me in icy water and expect a rational conversation? Fuck you…you…asshole!”

  “I’ve already fucked your asshole, darlin’…numerous times. It was fantastic.” An arrogant smirk tugged at the edges of his mouth. “If you’d like to sit down and have a chat, I’m sure we can arrange to do it several times more.”

  “In your dreams,” Brea hissed. “The only reason you’re not fucking the collagen out of Miss Mercedes Tits is because you haven’t had time to change the goddamn sheets!”

  Sawyer sent her a sympathetic smile, which only made her all the more livid.

  He slowly shook his head. “Brea, I wouldn’t take her to bed if she were the last woman on the planet.”

  “Oh, spare me!” She threw her hands into the air. “I might have been naïve and stupid enough to play into your manipulative hands, but I’m not a complete moron. You’d fuck her all night long and we both know it.”

  “No. I. Wouldn’t.” He dropped the hose and ate up the distance between them in three long strides. “The woman you saw me with is Sara…my ex-wife.”

  Brea’s mouth gaped open. Though he could have knocked her over with a feather, she felt as if Sawyer had just landed a right hook to the jaw.

  The pageant queens in the hot tub… It all made sense now. Sawyer was bedding women who looked like his ex. So why in the hell had he picked her? She looked nothing like Sara or the hot tub whores.

  Brea’s stomach pitched and the knife of reality stabbed deep. She’d been nothing but a pity fuck. Big, fat tears welled in her eyes.

  “I don’t like what you’re thinking. I’m about to lose my shit, Brea.” Sawyer cupped her chin with a force that almost scared her. And when he pierced her with a probing stare that ripped her soul wide open, she started to tremble. “I don’t feel a thing for her anymore.”

  “Then why were you kissing her?” The pathetic wail that ripped from her throat embarrassed her all the more.

  “Come on, we’re going inside. You need dry clothes and I need to tell you what happened.”

  “No. We’ll talk out here.”

  “You’re freezing. We need to get you out of these wet clothes.”

  “I need to get my wet clothes off. You are going to wait in the kitchen.”

  “Why? You don’t trust me?”

  “No. I don’t trust myself.” The truth rolled off her lips faster than she could stop it.

  “Fuck! I thought I’d helped you work past that.”

  Helped? It kept getting more priceless by the second. Not only had he granted her a pity fuck—well, several, actually—but she’d been nothing but a charity case for him, too? Phe-fucking-nomenal. Could it get any better than this? Oh, wait. It could. She could live under a bridge, dig through garbage, and push her recyclables in a shopping cart all day. That ought to give him plenty of balloons and streamers for the pity party he’d been throwing her.

  Following her up the to the back deck, Sawyer unlocked the door and headed toward the kitchen. “Go change. I’ll make us some coffee.”

  Brea didn’t respond, simply turned and climbed the stairs. She wanted to lock herself inside the room, but Sawyer would probably kick the damn door down. At the rate things were going, Barbara would be lucky if her adorable gingerbread house was even standing when she came home.

  Tearing off her wet clothes. Brea tossed them to the floor of the shower and dressed once again. The rich sent of coffee hit her halfway down the stairs. If Sawyer hadn’t been waiting, like an executioner, to talk—though as far as Brea was concerned, there was nothing left to say—she would have sprinted to the kitchen for a caffeine infusion.

  When she rounded the corner, sitting on the table was a full mug of coffee, waiting for her. Sawyer’s sexy ass was resting on the counter, his muscular legs stretched out toward the fridge, with one boot-covered foot crossed over the other. He looked relaxe
d. And why shouldn’t he be? He’d do his best to let her down easy…he probably had that script memorized by now.

  Brea wanted to nip this in the bud and send him on his way. She took a sip of coffee and lifted her chin. “Say whatever you need to, then leave, please.”

  When that lazy smile stretched across his lips, she wanted to moan. “Oh, I intend to set the record straight, but I won’t be going anywhere without you when I’m done.”

  Dream on, you delusional prick!

  Instead of inciting a bigger argument, she kept her smartassed thoughts to herself.

  Sawyer pushed off the counter and extended his arm, inviting her to sit at the table. She sent him a scowl but flopped down on a chair. He joined her and cupped his hands around his mug of coffee. A faraway look glazed his eyes as began to tell her about Sara. Brea wasn’t interested in the ancient history he was revealing. She simply wanted to know why Sawyer was sucking face with his ex-wife.

  “So, when she came to me and told me she was having an affair, I did the only thing I could and filed for divorce.”

  “So, you never got over her, right?”

  “No. I did.” He lifted his head and locked eyes on hers. “Like every failed relationship, it leaves scars.”

  Yes. Brea was an aficionado of those nasty mutilations.

  “Sara stopped by this morning to apologize. She discovered yesterday that her husband, the plastic surgeon she left me for, is having an affair…numerous ones, actually.”

  “Oh, I know how this ends.” Brea smiled tightly. “She wants you back.”

  He wrinkled his brows. “No. She just came to apologize. We’d been friends since second grade, and our marriage ended ugly. We’d been more like friends than husband and wife even when we were married.”

  “Okay, but that still doesn’t explain why you were hugging her, then kissed her.”

  Jealousy and insecurity oozed from her pores, and Brea hated the way the film of it clung to her skin.

  “If any of my female friends came to me with that much guilt and remorse flowing through their system, I’d hold them, kiss them, and forgive them.” Sawyer issued a heavy sigh. “After having you in my life, I realized that I’d let Sara’s betrayal color my world long enough. Remember when I told you that after my divorce I vowed two things?”

  Brea nodded.

  “Waking up with a woman in my bed was one. The other was to never lose my heart again and say I do.”

  Brea wasn’t surprised by his confession; after all, she’d sworn to give up men. Of course, she’d failed miserably, while Sawyer had only slipped a little and allowed her to spend the night.

  “Makes sense. We do what we have to in order to protect ourselves. I get that, more than you know.” She shrugged.

  “I’m sure you do. But do you get what I’m trying to say to you, Brea?”

  “Of course I do. You told me the first time that you kissed me, no regrets. There are none. It’s cool. You can go. I’m not going to fall apart or stalk you. Can you do me a favor, though, and bring Ozzie back home with you tonight? Just put him in the backyard. You don’t need to come to the door or—”

  “No!” Sawyer barked. Clenching his jaw, he stood and rounded the table. Brea could feel the anger rolling off him in potent waves. “You don’t hear what I’m saying. Not at all.”

  She craned her neck and looked up at him. With him towering over her, Brea was clearly at a disadvantage. Rising to her feet, she tried to keep his tormented green eyes from wreaking havoc with her dissolving mask of bravery.

  Do not fall apart. Do not cry.

  The mantra spooled through her brain as she clenched her hands into fists. She found it ironic that the angrier she grew, the more relaxed Sawyer became. Nothing was making sense. The whole conversation, or rather his kiss-off, had some weird and bizarre vibe to it. Maybe Sawyer wanted to part ways as friends, like with his ex. Though none of Brea’s past relationships had ended civilly, she’d give it a shot. Hell, it would be another first, and maybe take some of the sting away.

  As if! her subconscious snorted.

  Dragging the mantra through her brain once again, Brea was stunned when Sawyer reached up and cupped her cheeks.

  “I not only want to wake up with you in my arms every morning, Brea, I want you to be the woman I watch walk down the aisle to me, wearing a frilly white gown and smiling with tears of happiness shimmering in your eyes. Then I want to take your hand and say I do one more time…to you.”

  The room began to spin. Her knees wobbled, and her heart was lodged so far up into her throat she knew she’d never swallow again. Like a fountain, tears spilled down her cheeks.

  “I want to raise a family, five…six little Graysons running around the backyard, and learning how to bring memories to sick kids out at the ranch. I want sit in the hot tub at night, stare at the stars, and make love to you until sunrise. I want to spend my life with you…and grow old together, forever.”

  She wanted him to repeat the things he’d just said for fear she was having a stroke and that his real words were simply being discombobulated in her brain. But when he bent and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her with a passion so strong her spine turned to jelly, Brea knew she’d heard him just fine.

  “That night Emmett blew out the window, you asked me if I loved you and I said no? I lied. When you wanted to know if I’d ask you to move in with me? I lied then, too.”

  She issued a watery laugh.

  “I love you, Brea. You make me feel what love’s supposed to be like. Move in with me, darlin’. We’ll set a wedding date whenever you’re ready. But stay with me. I want…no, I need you in my life.”

  Say yes, or you’ll need a lobotomy to make you forget this amazing man…and even that might not work…just sayin’.

  “I love you, Sawyer. I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. I-I just tried to…”

  “Do what you needed to do, to protect your heart,” he finished for her. “I won’t break it. I swear. You might get pissed off at me from time to time, but I’ll never break your heart. I promise.”

  Brea wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him…kissed him with all the love, hope, and happiness that was exploding inside her.

  EPILOGUE

  A torrential rain was blowing sideways. The white wooden folding chairs were being tossed across the monster-sized deck at Sawyer’s family ranch like tumbleweeds. Brea was holed up in the guestroom on the second floor with her mom, Jade, Barbara, and his mother, while Sawyer stood by the sliding glass door, peering up at the black clouds rolling by. He wondered why he and his yet-to-be-seen—because it was supposedly bad luck—beautiful bride-to-be had thought a wedding in April would be perfect. It was perfect, all right—a perfect disaster.

  Tugging the tie at his throat, Sawyer flashed a grim expression to his best man, Colton.

  “Don’t give up. The storm’s bound to blow over soon,” his friend assured. “Your brothers and I will set things right outside, once it stops. Everything will go off without a hitch.”

  Sawyer issued a noncommittal grunt.

  “They say rain’s good luck on your wedding day. It was pouring cats and dogs the day Jade and I tied the knot. Remember?”

  “Yeah, but your wedding was inside a church. No risk of your guests needing a raft and oars to make it to the reception.” Sawyer glanced over his shoulder at the throng of guests crammed and waiting inside his parents’ house. “Look around us, man. Nearly everyone in Haven is here…sweating like a roofer in August. No number of fresh flowers is going to mask the smell of body odor, especially mine, if we can’t herd them out of the house soon.”

  Colton leaned in close. “I hate to tell you this, man, but nobody is sweating, but you. You’re not having second thoughts, are—”

  “Kiss my ass,” Sawyer hissed. “No. I’m worried Megan is going to get too close to the knives in the kitchen and start using Nash for target practice.”

  Colton chuckled. “Jesus…if
looks could kill, your brother would be a dead man. And not just from Megan. Her daddy looks none too happy.”

  “I know. The last thing I want for Brea’s special day is a damn knock-down-drag-out between my brother and a pissed-off old man. There’s no stories of blood being spilled on your wedding day and we both know it.”

  Colton laughed. “True.”

  Sawyer exhaled a heavy sigh and tried to will the storm away. He was grateful… Aside from Megan and her family, everyone was wearing smiles and taking the delay in stride. Even Brea’s dad and his were off in the corner swapping stories and laughing.

  “I know it’s none of my business, but,” Colton whispered. “is Gina the woman you weren’t thrilled that Nate was getting mixed up with?”

  Sawyer’s heart sped up slightly. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Oh, just curious. They can’t keep their eyes off one another. It’s pretty damn obvious.”

  “Shit,” Sawyer murmured. “Just as long as they keep their hands off each other, we’ll be fine. I don’t want Mom stroking out if they don’t. Talk about sucking the joy out of every damn anniversary. Shit!”

  “You worry too much,” Colton said with a chuckle.

  Lightning splintered the sky, followed by a crack of thunder that shook the house.

  “Come on, God. Give us a break. If not for me…for Brea,” Sawyer groaned.

  Ten minutes later, the sun was out and his heart lifted. As promised, Colton and his brothers were righting the chairs and drying them off as the guests mingled on the deck.

  Sawyer watched as Brea’s father climbed the stairs to fetch his daughter. The reality of what he was about to do landed in his gut like an anvil.

  Suddenly, he felt the familiar grip of his father’s hand on his shoulder, and Sawyer instantly calmed.

  “You have that same look on your face again.” Norman grinned.

  “What look?”

  “The one you had the day we lost Norris at that amusement park in Dallas when he was six.” His father sent him a hard stare. “If you’re not sure of this, son, you don’t have—”