Loving Lies

by Renee Field

  I’m about to say something, when his lips claim mine. We shouldn’t be kissing like this in public, but damn if I care at that moment. I latch onto his head and sink my fingers into his silky hair. He does the same and within seconds I’m all hot and bothered for him.

  When finally I pull back I’m hoping for that famous grin of his.

  “Seriously, Alyssa, if you come back to the cabin I want to be with you but tonight I’m not feeling myself. Maybe the timings for us is off.”

  I shiver with want and instantly feel my nipples harden and become breathless. “You’ve missed me.”

  “More than you can imagine,” he says as I lean my head on his chest, inhaling his unique scent.

  I get that he let slip that admission, but I’m holding on to it like the root of a new flower—willing a beginning for us. I wonder how a guy I’ve only known for days could wrap himself around me as tight as the bristly roses I’ve come to love in the mountains. I sigh when I realize I’ve fallen head over heels for Blake and for the first time it hurts me that he doesn’t know the real me. “I’m so sorry about your father.”

  One of his hands has crawled under the back of my shirt to play with my bare skin and I have to pay attention to his words which isn’t easy when his touch is so distracting.

  “God, Alyssa, I can’t talk about it. It’s all my fault.”

  I’m stunned. “It’s not your fault, Blake, and we’re going to your cabin, now.”

  He lets me pull him down the walk. “Alyssa, this is not a good idea.”

  I ignore his statement and we continue in silence down the walk. It takes us a good forty minutes to reach his cabin. On the way we keep to safe topics. He tells me all about his quick flight, the hospital staff who were wonderful and then the realization that this really was it. I don’t offer a lot of wisdom because I don’t have much experience with death, but I do offer him my heart, if only he can hear it whispering my tender words.

  At his cabin, I’m the one to open the door and he walks through. I notice the bottle of rum on the table and cringe when he pours two glasses. He downs both and like he only then remembers I’m there offers me a drink. Walking over, I pour myself a stiff one.

  He doesn’t say anything as I pull him toward the sofa.

  “How are you feeling, for real?

  “Like I’m a piece of shit.”

  I turn to him and lightly plant a kiss on his lips. His arms engulf me and then his mouth is devouring mine. I get that he doesn’t want to go into details about what happened. I know he will at some time, but obviously this isn’t it. I relax into his hold. This is the Blake I’ve missed so much.

  “I want all of you tonight,” he says.

  “I like the sounds of that.”

  “But…”

  “But what?” I ask.

  “But I’m feeling totally out of control. Part of me thinks that’s because of you and the other, more rational part, knows it’s because my head’s fucked up at the moment.”

  “How about we start with kisses and see where the night leads,” I say, trailing my hands through his hair.

  He groans and looks me in the eyes. “I want you naked so I can have my way with you.”

  “Well that’s not unreasonable,” I say playfully.

  But just like that all the playfulness leaves him. He sighs and lays his head on my lap and I let my fingers slide through his silky hair and he sighs.

  “We had a chance to talk when I got there.”

  My hand stills for a moment and then I urge him on as I give his scalp a light massage. He turns his head so his hazel eyes are looking at me, through me.

  “I thought if he was talking that was a good sign. But I think in my heart I knew it was the end.”

  “But you were there for him in the end and that’s when it counts.”

  He shakes his head and closes his eyes like looking at me, telling me the truth, hurts too much. His head rolls to the side and I let my hand slide down to his neck.

  “I should have taken his call days ago.”

  “He called you?”

  He gives a hurtful laugh. “He only ever calls me when he’s on a binge. I knew that and I ignored him. I was being a fucking moron and selfish. I was here, dealing with things and didn’t want to have to deal with his shit.”

  I run my hand over his ears and feel the goose bumps form on him. I ask lightly, “Would taking his call have made a difference?”

  “Maybe. I’ll never know. He told me things he’s never mentioned to me before.”

  I don’t say anything. Instead I lightly knead his shoulder, pressing my thumb into a hard knot.

  “I never knew how much he loved my mother. He never spoke about her.”

  “Never?” I ask.

  “Nope. Even as a kid when I used to beg for him to tell me about her all he’d do is tell me she was the love of his life. All I ever really knew was she was really pretty and that because of her, my father got disowned by his own father.”

  My hands stills. “Holy shit. Are you serious?”

  He turns his head back so that once again he’s looking at me. “Yup. He told me why he fell in love with her, why he couldn’t live without her and then what my grandfather was trying to do.”

  “Do?” I ask, trying to figure out what his grandfather had to do with his mother.

  “Yeah. My grandfather was pushing the city to allow him to rezone the area where my mother lived and his plan was to basically bulldoze her parent’s house down and build apartments. My mother was the one leading the group of citizen to protest his actions.”

  “Your mother sounds amazing.”

  He closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face. “I really wish I’d known her.”

  “How old were you when she died?” I ask, hoping my question will keep him talking and not shut-down.

  His eyes flash open. “I was two. She got hit by a drunk driver.” Another hurtful laugh follows. “Sort of sad that my father became an alcoholic after she died. In one moment one stupid person killed two lives.”

  “Blake, I’m so sorry about your dad. But drinking was his choice and it truly is an addiction. Did he ever get help?”

  He sits up, flexing his arms across the sofa and hauls me in for a hug. “By the time he got help, I believe it was too late. Honestly, I think when my mother died he died. I was just the baggage he was forced to deal with.”

  “You’re not baggage. You’re a wonderful man.”

  “No, I’m not.” His tone is cold and that scares me.

  “Okay, maybe not all the time wonderful, but you try. I’ve seen you, Blake. You care about things. You’ve told me about your walks with the owners and the things you’d do to improve the resort. I think that’s what will always separate you from your father. You like to plan things and set goals. I think your father gave up on life when your mother died.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Your father made a choice, the wrong one, but he’s not you. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few years is that taking control of your own life can be damn hard, but the mistakes you make are your own and the joy of your own success is totally worth it.”

  He leans over and just like that his lips shut me up. It’s the nicest way possible to be forced to keep quiet. The kiss is languid, full of desire and promises and for the first time that night I taste hope, mixed in deep with that alcohol-singed sadness. When his hand finally frames my face, cupping my cheek, I scuttle closer, needing the heat of him.

  When we finally break for oxygen, he leans his head on my forehead. “You’re beautiful and all kinds of wonderful. Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being you.”

  My heart stutters and I wonder if he can feel it. My hands feel clammy and I have to force myself not to let the tears flow. I’m not who he thinks I am, but as much as I yearn to tell him all about the woman nestled tight next to him, I can’t find my voice.

  “Thanks for coming back,�
� I say. That sounds lame even to my own ears.

  “I didn’t know where to go. After he died, I had to tend to the arrangements and when I thought of going back to the apartment we shared, it almost killed me. Plus, I needed to see you.”

  “Good thing you found me,” I say, giving a slight laugh, as I push my hair off my face. “I was totally lost without you.”

  “When I say I need you that’s an understatement. Maybe I get how my Dad felt about my mother.”

  “Don’t go telling me you’re going to go loopy if things end.”

  He grins and I pretend to myself he missed my grammar mistake. I should have said when things end instead of if, because this relationship does have an end date.

  “Is this your way of telling me you won’t miss me when our summer is over?”

  I know his question is meant to be light but it hits so close to home I can’t answer him. My heart kicks against my ribs. God, I will miss him so much, but I don’t feel I have the right to tell him how much of a hold he has on me.

  I try to keep things light. “This is a summer affair. We agreed to that.”

  He hauls me onto his lap and frames my face with both of his hands. I love when he does that. It makes me feel tiny and dainty and with my height I never feel that way. “Will you stay with me for the night?”

  “Maybe,” I reply, feeling slightly trapped and vulnerable. I also get that’s how he’s feeling.

  It’s a wicked grin he gives me and this time I shiver with want, when he says, “I’m going to spend the rest of the night convincing you that maybe should be a yes.”

  I want to laugh because a bit of lightness is needed but his mouth is on mine, lightly tracing the contours of my lips. I get what he’s saying. Tonight we’re going to get reacquainted with each other and that suits me fine.

  His hands trace my spine and then he gets up, hauling me with him. We walk hand in hand to the bedroom. We keep the lights off and let the darkness give us its blessing. We’re forced to be patient as we memorize every aspect of each other. He takes his time tracing my eyebrows and his fingers go even slower when he finds my pebbled nipples.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Alyssa

  Overwhelmed does not describe how I’m feeling. Why the hell did I ever agree to this?

  “Oh my god, Alyssa these are works of art,” says Amy, who quickly rushes on about how much Kathryn’s going to be surprised.

  I was left with no choice but to tell her what I was working on when she stumbled into my make-shift studio claiming to be looking for something for our boss. I’m not sure I buy that, but making up another lie when my whole life here feels false didn’t feel right. So I swallowed my pride and told her all about Noah’s plans.

  “I told you she was great,” says Noah.

  Noah’s voice startles me and I have to resist the urge to shut the door in his face. It’s because of him that I’m now feeling cranky and stressed. Plus Amy just told me that Carol, my father’s business contact, is back in town. God, what’s with that woman? Not to mention I’m feeling sort of sexually frustrated. What Blake and I did five nights ago was totally amazing. For the first time in my life I can honestly say a man made love to me all night long. Just recalling how slow and passionate we were makes me blush. But I couldn’t do what he asked. Staying the night, being there in the morning when he woke would break my heart. I had to leave and claiming I’m swamped with business has kept him at bay. Maybe this breather is what we both need even though I know I can’t avoid him forever.

  “There’s only ten and I think we should have five more,” says Noah, eyeing me like I’m about to jump on that idea.

  I shake my head. “Nope. I’m done,” I say, bending down to pick up my display.

  Noah stops me with a hand on my shoulder and since he’s not the touchy-feely type of guy I simply turn and glare at him.

  “Alyssa, just five more, please. Maybe try going out of your comfort zone and go for people.”

  I grind my teeth. “I don’t do people and I’m only doing this as a favor for you.”

  “I know, I know, but how about trying it?”

  I ignore both him and Amy who has jumped on the Noah bandwagon for me to create five more pictures while I bundle up my photos.

  Noah steps in front of the door and dramatically drops to his knees. Amy laughs while I continue to glare at him.

  “Five, that’s it. Please, I’m begging here. It won’t take you long,” he says, like he has any idea what it takes for me to create one of these photos.

  “Noah, you don’t get it. I’m not taking pictures of people and five more means more hiking, more developing and you’ve got one week. We haven’t even got the frames built.”

  Noah casts a look at me and then flashes me one of his charming smiles he uses on all the women who look his way. “Actually they’re all built. All fifteen of them.”

  My eyes narrow. “They’re all built.” The little shit!

  “Yup. Want to see them?”

  Not really. I’m exhausted. For the last five days I’ve taken every extra shift I can get my hands on and when not working I’ve been hiking, anything to avoid seeing Blake again. Part of me knows I’m being a chicken but when I’m with him all I want is more. That can’t happen in my life.

  I run a hand through my hair and cringe. I’ve got to take a shower and do laundry. My work pants have ketchup on them and my top reeks of liquor. “Maybe later. I’ve got to go.”

  “Will you please think about five more?” says Noah, reminding me once again how much this will mean to Kat and just like that I’m caving.

  “Fine. I’ll think about it, but no promises.”

  He flashes me a smile and I roll my eyes. Amy and Noah leave and I tell them I’ve got one thing to grab in my office but the reality is that I want some alone time.

  I finish tidying up my supplies, and enjoy the quiet thrill of seeing my pictures pegged to the clothesline.

  “You plan on hiding in here all night?”

  I squeal like a stupid girl and feel my heart jump. Blake laughs and then before I can stop him, before I can build that concrete barrier around my heart I’m in his arms, engulfed in that Blake cedar-outdoor smell.

  “You’ve been avoiding me,” he states, holding me tight. My will power to avoid him fizzles.

  Why does he have to feel so good? He’s not shy in his embrace. I’m caught tight against him, and with our height we’re almost hip to hip. His hands cup my ass and damn if that feel of ownership doesn’t make me want to strip him naked.

  “Maybe.”

  “Why?”

  I can’t speak it. What I feel for him is so tightly wrapped up it’s been making me crazy. Should I tell him I’ve packed my bags three times intending to flee only to find myself lying on my bed recalling the feel of his hair on my fingertips or the way his mouth makes my body bow to his?

  His hands are running up and down my back and I lean my head into his chest letting his strength and warmth fill me and it’s then I crack. This one act of kindness, this loving feeling I so want to embrace.

  I push him away. “I’ve got to go,” I say, my voice cracking as I fight the tears.

  I grab my purse and keys and march out the door. He follows without saying a word. I lock up my room and we silently make our way to the front door. We both emerge into the dark of the night and I make sure to lock that door. Noah claims I left it unlocked the other night but that’s not true. I’m waiting for Blake to ask or say something and it’s only when he doesn’t that I realize how much I’ve missed him.

  We’re walking side by side. The gravel crunches under our shoes and I can hear an owl or something hooting in the night. “Why are you here?”

  “What?” he says.

  I turn then needing to find the answers he’s not willing to give. “Why are you really here?”

  He scoffs on a laugh. “Are you saying R&R don’t count? God, I’ve missed you like crazy these past few days. I know we had an
intense night when I got back but I don’t regret it. Why are you running from me?

  “I’m not running, just busy,” I say.

  “Trust works both ways, Alyssa.”

  “I work here.”

  “But you’re running from something.”

  I gasp. How’d he know?

  He’s looking at me so intensely it makes me feel vulnerable.

  “Don’t run from me. Don’t run from us. What we have is fun and good,” he says.

  Placing my hands on my hip, I say, “Yeah, you’re one to talk. Let me ask you again. Why did you really come here?”

  He steps closer and then the next thing I know I’m back in his arms and just like that the fight’s gone from me. The tears I’ve tried to hold in check fall and his soothing words of comfort make me feel worse. I’m a fake. He’s fallen for a fake but telling the truth won’t free me.

  I let him lead me to his cabin but I feel wooden. He urges me to the sofa and then he’s slipping off my sneakers, peeling down my socks and massaging my feet. God it feels good.

  “Want to talk about it?” he asks, looking at me with real concern.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I know I’m being a bitch but this works both ways.

  He drops my feet and gets up and grabs two cold beers. Uncapping them, he hands me one and I watch him run a hand through his hair.

  He takes a long swig of beer and just when I thought he’d clam up he turns to me. “I keep replaying everything my father told me and I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

  I lean into him. “You weren’t expecting it. That’s normal. What you’re going through are the stages of grief.”

  “Did I tell you what happened?”

  I shake my head and urge him on.

  “Jesus Christ, my father was so drunk he stumbled into the street, passed out and got hit by a car. By the time he got into a hospital he was a mess and they told me h liver was shot. Total liver failure, according to the doctors. That’s basically code for he drank himself to death.”

  “Blake, like I said before, you did the right thing and it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”