Catching Mr. Right

by Misti Murphy

  “Honestly?” She frowns down at me, worries her lip. “I guess I don’t want to waste time on the guys who aren’t right. It’s not like I’m saving myself. I could care less about that.” She runs her fingers across her bangs, drawing them to the side. “Okay, so, you know how I told you about my parents?”

  “Yeah.” I put my hand on the rail near her foot. She’s wearing whisky colored Grecian sandals. Her toes are painted a pastel shade of pink. There’s a small, pale scar on her ankle that I want to trace with a fingertip while I ask her where she got it.

  “They weren’t my biological parents. They were this nice couple from Denver, Colorado. She was a doctor, he was an architect. I suppose they couldn’t have kids, because they adopted me.”

  “Fuck.” I wind my hand around her ankle and give it a light squeeze. If she wasn’t on the fence, I’d wrap my arms around her, but I don’t want her to fall. How much must it hurt to have lost so much, so young? The ache inside me is still so raw after a year without Juliette. The edges of a jagged hole inside me worn down by time, but always there. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It is what it is. An accident,” she says, matter of fact. “After they passed I lived with my adoptive grandmother. But she was, I don’t know, maybe losing her own daughter broke her. Do you think that’s possible? To love someone or something so much that you don’t have any love to spare?” She peers down at me, eager for my opinion.

  I don’t know the answer. My heart and soul have been wrapped up in Juliette for so long, but this girl in front of me makes me feel… something. It’s as real and honest as the way she looks at me. But it’s not anything like what we’re talking about. “I think we have the capability to care for a good many people. Look at your friend and her boyfriends. Look at Claire and Razer and how much they put into these kids.”

  “Yeah. That’s true. It was just her then.” She glances over at where Soldier is grazing and runs the pad of her thumb over her cupid’s bow lips. Straightening her spine, she adjusts her position on the fence. “Anyway, she moved us out here to Reverence before I started high school. Have you seen some of the boys around here? There has to be something in the water.”

  Smirking, I shake my head. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Okay.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m not asking you if you think they’re hot, but it’s pretty obvious that the air around here agrees with you guys.”

  “Go on with the story.” I tug at her ankle, then slide my hand a little higher up her calf. I like the way her smooth skin feels under my palm.

  “So hot guys everywhere, and I’m thinking I wouldn’t mind a boyfriend. Remember, I was like fifteen. I pick the hottest guy in the school, who isn’t a jock.”

  “Why not a jock?”

  “Do I look like the kind of girl who wants to spend all her time at football games? Or listening to some meathead go on about his stats? I want a guy who is going to put me first. Now can I finish the story?”

  “Sure.”

  “So I go up to this guy. Incredibly attractive, makes my knickers damp, tall, muscular—”

  “Story.” I choke on the idea of seeing her panties. She has no idea how much that teases me.

  “And I say, ‘I bet your dick is tiny.’”

  “What?”

  “That’s what he said.” She laughs.

  “Wait. You told the guy you liked that he had a tiny dick?”

  “Uh-huh. In front of his friends. I honestly didn’t plan it, but that was the first thing I thought of.”

  “How tiny?”

  “It’s not relevant.” She swats at a fly that buzzes too close to her face. “But his friends really teased him, and the next thing I know he’s whipping down his pants to pull out his penis. Which was a little small if I’m honest. After that, I became the girl guys flashed for a long time.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” The idea of a bunch of teenage boys getting in Mandy’s face with their dicks because she made a mistake makes me bristle.

  “There are nice guys, and not nice guys, and these days I can tell what size penis any guy has mostly based on his personality.” She shrugs and starts to climb off the fence.

  I snag her around the waist and lift her bodily down from her perch. She’s warm and delicate pressed against my chest. One hand wanders over my pec. She’s beautiful, and sweet, and she deserves the best. If that’s Sam…

  I drop my hands to my sides. There’s no ‘if.’ She wants Sam. He’s her perfect guy, and even if I don’t agree that he’s right for her, she deserves to have everything she wants. No matter how I feel about that. “Why do you want Sam so much? Be honest with me.”

  “He’s a good guy. I know you might not think so.” She puts her hand to my mouth to keep me from speaking and I’m torn between telling her she’s wrong about him, and kissing each digit. “But he is. He’s got his head on straight, and he loves his family, he’s protective and kind and capable. Once he realizes age is only a number he’ll know I’m right about us. We’ll fall in love, and he’ll be able to give me everything I’ve spent my whole life wanting.”

  “It doesn’t work like that, Mandy.” I take her hand away from my mouth, hold it at our sides. I should let go, but can’t. “Falling in love doesn’t come down to the size of his dick or whether he has the means to take care of you. It’s about so much more than that.”

  Mandy laughs, pats my chest and pushes away from me. “Don’t be so serious, Cas. Of course I know that. But these things build up over time. Love isn’t magic, you know?”

  “I’m not so sure.” What I had with Juliette was instant and perfect. I would have followed her to the ends of the earth to be with her. I’d spent three years in Europe while she pursued her dream career, and I waited for her to be ready to settle down. I would have waited forever.

  “Tell me about you,” she says, moving toward the gate. Her hips sway with each step, mesmerizing me.

  “Nothing to tell.” I follow.

  “Bullshit.” She smiles while she waits for me to latch the gate. “I’m still waiting for you to tell me about the horrors of a blunt knife.”

  “Other than you could accidently stab yourself in the eye and impale your brain on it?” I brush my hands together as we stride toward the kitchen door.

  “That’s gross.” She slaps the back of her hand against my chest.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Yes, but it’s not why you lost it, and then we, you, I…” she stutters to a stop, her cheeks going pink as her shorts. “I came all over your leg.”

  “That you did.” My voice is hoarse, my cock twitching at the memory of her riding my leg. I want it to happen again. Want to set my lips to her skin, push her up against the blue door with her hands above her head, tight in one of mine, my other hand pushing aside her panties. Want to see her ride my fingers, watch her eyes shutter and her body melt when she orgasms.

  Can’t though. Even if she wasn’t as good as someone else’s, I can’t start anything with her. Can’t hurt her. Can’t risk it.

  “Cas?” She’s right beside me, her arm bumping against mine.

  “It’s not about blunt knives. It’s about how easily things can go wrong. You should understand that. An accident took your family.”

  “Doesn’t mean I have to live scared.” She frowns, narrows her gaze intently on my own. “What are you afraid of?”

  Mandy Pearce has the ability to see past the gruff exterior that’s kept people at bay for so long now, past the parts of me that ache, that are still filled with Juliette’s voice, her smile, to the parts of me that are stone cold, corroded, and dying. She sees them, and I want to split open and show her my scars. I want this girl to breathe life and warmth into me. The way she began to from our very first words. The urge is so strong, it leaves me shaking. “Nothing. I need to get back to work.”

  “I don’t believe you.” She steps into my path. Legs apart, she holds her ground, one hand landing on my shoulder to stop me.

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nbsp; I glance at her hand, her face. Her eyes widen and she draws in a quick breath. Those legs, those pink as pink shorts, that blue door right behind her. The way her ponytail hangs over her shoulder, taunting me. My heart slams hard into my ribs. My cock is practically fucking steel, it’s that rigid. I can’t get that close to her, can’t hurt her. “Let me past.”

  “We’re friends, aren’t we? Talk to me.”

  “I don’t have friends.” That’s a lie. If not for my friendship with Razer, I wouldn’t be here on the ranch. Face to face with this stubborn pain in the ass girl. “Don’t need them.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Sure I do.”

  “You’re being a jerk, Cas.”

  “A jerk?” I rub a finger against my bottom lip. It’s not the first time I’ve heard those words from her. Won’t be the last.

  “Uh-huh.”

  I should shrug it off, move her out of my way. Only my fingers bite into her shoulders. Forget holding her hands above her head, I want so much to flip her around and plant her palms flat to that sky colored wood that would make the bright pink covering her ass pop in comparison. That color that makes me imagine her naked and with my handprint across her ass cheek for pushing me too hard, while she pants and quivers for more. I want to take all the frustration and the damage and the need inside me and pour all those emotions into making her come.

  But I can’t. What if I hurt her? “You should go now. Pester your dream guy instead of me. I’ve got work to do.”

  “You want to go sulk.” She lifts her chin higher. Stares me down.

  I can’t fucking ignore it. Can’t keep a tight rein on the need she stirs. Can’t stop picturing her climaxing up against that blue door. Her hair is silk, knotted around my fingers, as I shift closer.

  “Cas?” Her voice is wispy electricity, snaking through my veins.

  “You want to know what scares me?” I capture her elbow, guide her back against the door. I want to taste her skin, feel the way her pulse beats erratically against my lips while I slide my fingers into her panties.

  “Yes.” She pants, her shoulders bumping against the wood.

  She frightens me. She tests my limits every damn day we spend in each other’s company. She makes me want to do things to her that scare the life out of me.

  Juliette’s laughter waltzes through my head.

  “And then they said they wanted us to stay on another year. Can you believe that?” She steps as lightly as a cat from the end of the bed to the sofa in our tiny apartment. Dark hair piled on top of her head, she takes a swig from the bottle of Pastis in her hand before offering it to me.

  “Of course.” I take the bottle, tip my head back and swallow some of the anise liquor that tastes so much like liquorice. Of course the company asked her and Soldier to stay, because the two of them are amazing. “I just thought we were going back to the States. We agreed on a year.”

  “But you agreed last year.” She lights one of her marijuana cigarettes, inhales, and blows several smoke rings with precision. Then she extends her hand for the Pastis. “You said you could wait as long as I needed.”

  Unfolding from my spot on the floor, I pick up a cigarette from the silver case on the table and go to open one of the long windows that looks down over the street. I did say that. And I meant it. But I’m tired of living like this, and I want a family. I want to start one with her. I tuck the smoke behind my ear, clasp my hands behind my head and exhale. “Are you ever going to want to go home?”

  “Casper,” she says, climbing off the sofa, her footfalls quiet and graceful over a hodgepodge of flea market rugs as she comes to me. “I love you. I want to go home too. Just not yet.”

  “When?” I face her. My heart skips a beat, and I don’t know if that’s because I love her so damn hard, or because I want so much more than she gives.

  “Another year,” she pleads, her hand squeezing my forearm. “Please. It’s not so much, is it? I’ll give you anything you want.”

  “I want you.” I sigh, already caving. I could never try to tame her spirit. “Fine. Another year.”

  Juliette squeals, jumps up and down. “You don’t know how happy you make me. Let me do something for you.” She sinks to her knees, right there in front of the window, her hands on my belt, tugging…

  One of Mandy’s hands is on my forearm over her shoulder, where I’ve trapped her against the door. Her other is on my belt, tugging. Her green eyes are locked on mine, darkened with lust. My insides churn with the snapshots of what happened. The way Juliette died makes me sick to my stomach even now, especially now, with how close I am to Mandy.

  “Goddamn dick,” I mutter under my breath, pushing away from her.

  “Cas?”

  Christ. Old memories and whatever the hell this is between Mandy and me pull me in two different directions. I can’t bring myself to look at her. Not yet. I wouldn’t be able to help myself. “We’re all right. We’ll be all good. Just, can you go home, Mandy? For now? Or go find Sam. That would probably be a better use of your time.”

  I clench my teeth. Shouldn’t have added that last bit. I’m not going to be able to stop wondering whether she takes my advice.

  “Okay,” she says. “Call me tonight?”

  “Absolutely.” There’s probably nothing that could stop me from needing to know whether she spent time in that jackass’s arms after she leaves mine.

  Chapter Twelve

  MANDY

  Sometimes that man can be so…so… confusing. I slip through the front door of Summer’s house. The one she shares with her boyfriends, and, well, me. I kind of accidently moved in and haven’t worked out how to move out again yet. Oops. It’s just finding a place to rent hasn’t been easy, but it’ll happen, and then I’ll be out of their hair. The sooner the better though, especially with the noises that come from the bedroom the three of them share. Like now, with the deep rumbling voices and the soft groans and cries that make this trip to my own bedroom far more pervy than it needs to be. All they need is some seventies style bow chick a wow music.

  I slip into my own room and close the door, lean up against it. Perfect timing since another door opens, Dylan laughs, and then thuds down the hallway. I can’t complain. I’m the one ruining their love in by being here. Slipping away from the door, I flop down on my unmade bed. The silk sheet is still rumpled from this morning, the coverlet, more on the floor than on the single mattress. Single, because who needs anything bigger if they’re not sharing it? Not that it’ll probably be a problem shortly. It’s only a matter of time before Sam Sweets takes up more space than I presently have in my bed. With his wide shoulders, his height, he’d probably hang off this bed in all directions. I toss a peach shag cushion onto the floor.

  Cas certainly would. I don’t understand him at all. One minute he’s grumpy, broody Cas who yells and cusses, the next he’s my best friend. Or he would be if Summer didn’t happen to hold that spot. But the way he touches me, that’s not friendly. It’s something else, and I can’t help responding to it, liking it, wanting him to do it again. Even if I should be concentrating on winning over Sam. Cas is just a distraction. One hell of a distraction, but still, I should be able to focus on the problem at hand.

  Even now my panties are damp from when Cas pushed me up against the kitchen door. I thought he was going to kiss me right there and then. Hell, let’s not be naïve, I could sense how much he wanted to fuck me, to punish me for pushing his buttons. How tight his muscles were, quivering with the control it must have taken him to hold back, and I didn’t want him to. I needed him like I’ve never needed anything. My mind trips over the incident, another flash of arousal flooding me.

  I’m not with Sam yet. He still isn’t letting me in. That’s probably why I don’t feel wrong about these moments with Cas. Or the fact that I undo the tie on the front of my shorts and push them down my legs, then swing one leg over the bed and drop them on the floor. Tangling my feet in the silk sheet scrunched up at the e
nd of the bed, I bend my knees and let my thighs fall to the side. Skimming the elastic of my panties, I slip my fingers under the lace. Would Sam be able to hold onto his indignation if he saw me like I am now? With my hand in my panties, touching myself. Would Cas be able to keep his hands off me?

  “Christ, look at you.” Sam’s blue eyed gaze is locked onto where my hand moves inside my silk panties, as he sits on the edge of my bed. “Absolutely beautiful. I can’t believe I denied my feelings for you for so long.” His hand lands on my knee, slides up my thigh to the spot below where my own fingers caress my clit. “I love that you play with yourself when you think of me.”

  “I do. Have since the first time I met you.” I slip a finger along my slit and inside me. I’m so wet. Gathering up some of my arousal, I rub small circles over that sensitive spot.

  “You told me you wanted my dick in you and I’ve wanted nothing else these past twelve months.” He curls a finger into my panties, bumps against my own. “Denying you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s almost impossible to keep my hands off you.”

  “Then don’t.” I arch under my touch, my fingers creating wet sounds along with my own harsh breath. “I’m yours, Sam. All yours.”

  “Good.” He grins, as he pushes my legs further apart and kneels between them. “First, I’m going to taste you and then I’m going to fill you with my cock.” One hand grips my hip and lifts me up, the other tears away my panties, leaving me exposed. “You’re the only girl I’ll ever want to fuck again.”

  Bowing over me, his hand squeezes my fingers as he pulls them from my sopping pussy and puts his mouth there instead. I cry out, squeeze my eyes shut, and arch up off the bed as his tongue swipes my clit.

  His mouth is heaven. His tongue muscle must be strong with the way he plays me. First licking at my clit, then roving over each inch of me. He uses his fingers to spread me apart and flicks his tongue inside me. The hot, wet rasp of each taste he takes drives me to delirium.

  Whimpering, I push my own fingers into my entrance. One, then two. Finger fucking myself to this erotic daydream.