by Liv Rancourt
Christopher followed Maeve with his gaze, the thoughtful twist to his lips letting Danielle know she’d guessed right. He draped an arm over her shoulders, and she was about to expand on the Maeve and Christopher idea when the front door opened. Joey and Chubb walked in.
No Ryan.
Danielle forced a grin. Christopher seemed like the kind of guy she’d like to have as a friend, and if this night was going to go down in flames it would be nice to have an ally.
“Tell me again why you don’t ask Maeve out.”
He looked up at the ceiling as if the answer would come from the old patched plaster. “Because I like her, but she’s kind of a man-eater.”
Not surprising. “A man-eater, huh?”
He swallowed a mouthful of whatever he had in his red plastic cup, but if he went on to elaborate on Maeve’s man-eating tendencies, Danielle didn’t hear him. A hand dropped onto her shoulder, followed by a blast of hair product perfume. “My big bro sends his regards,” Joey said.
Christopher made a big, obvious step back. “I know better than to wrestle with any of you O’Connor brothers.” He raised his hands in front of his chest. “Let me go get you a drink, Danielle.”
“Champagne.”
“Got it.”
She brushed a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes and waited to see what Joey would do next. She didn’t have to wait long. He put his arm around her waist and nudged her back toward Maeve’s tiny kitchen. She stopped digging in the Heels from Hell when he threatened to put her over his shoulder and carry her.
“You do that and I’ll mess up your hair,” she said.
Joey paused just long enough to smooth the side of his faux-hawk. He had on black jeans, a black crewneck, a black leather jacket, and more eyeliner than Danielle ever wore. “Just cooperate.”
She planted a hand in the center of his chest. “Cooperate? What the hell is going on?”
He laughed like he never took anything too seriously, which made her want to give him a lesson in messing with a grown woman instead of the college girls he was used to. Before she could, he had her backed up against the refrigerator, with Chubb blocking the doorway.
“Ryan doesn’t want you talking to that guy,” Joey said.
“Oh for God’s sake.” Danielle tried to push by him. “He can tell me that himself.”
Joey caged her with an arm. “He’ll be here.”
“Fine.” She grabbed his wrist hard enough to dig her nails in and shoved him out of her way. Chubb snorted a laugh as she passed, but didn’t say anything. The stove clock said it was after ten o’clock. Danielle figured if Ryan didn’t show up in another half hour, she was leaving. He could kiss his own ass at midnight.
She had no time for guys who bailed on her without a warning.
She escaped the kitchen and threaded her way through the crowded living room. Two steps in she almost bounced off Maeve.
“I was looking for you.” Maeve’s narrowed eyes telegraphed suspicion, but she didn’t say anything outright.
“Yeah, um, I think it’s time for a glass of champagne.”
Maeve latched onto Danielle’s hand. They ended up at the makeshift bar Maeve had created out of a bookcase and a cooler. “Shot?” Maeve asked.
“Nah. It’s too early.”
“Never.” Maeve poured champagne into a red plastic cup and handed it to Danielle. “So where’s Ryan?”
“Don’t know,” Danielle said through a sip of champagne. “His minions say he’s coming.”
“Might be better if he didn’t,” Maeve said, her voice vibrating with brittle energy. “Cherry’s pretty hammered.”
Down. In. Flames. Danielle gulped champagne, asking herself some hard questions. Where did a friend’s loyalty end and a lover’s loyalty begin? Because that’s what Ryan was. Her lover. Too soon for boyfriend. Deeper than a temporary fling.
Her lover.
She pulled her gaze out of the cup, intending to say as much to Maeve.
Maeve preempted her. “Yeah, probably better if he stays away. You’re my friend, Cherry’s my friend, and right now I want to kill him.”
Her words were hotter than just the tequila talking.
Danielle slapped as much of a smile as she could over lips that had all the pliability of steel straps.
“What?” Maeve asked.
“Nothing. I don’t feel very good.” Time to cut my losses. If he shows up and I’m not here, it’s not as big of a problem. “I think I just need to go back to the house. Will your feelings be very hurt?” Please understand that I’m trying to make the best of a shitty situation.
“Nope.” Her bitterness lashed at Danielle. “If he shows up, I’ll tell him you said Happy New Year.”
“Sure.”
Danielle stepped around Maeve and ducked into the bedroom, looking for her purse. Chubb tried to block her exit, but she ducked past him and kept going, all the way down to where the Mini Cooper was parked on the street.
She started to cry right about the same time she got her seatbelt buckled.
The Mini’s blasting heater dried her tears until she could brush the tiny crusts from under her eyes. Oncoming headlights made her blink. Onrushing memories made her blanch and start the tears again.
On its own, the Mini headed for her grandmother’s house. She drove without turning the radio on, letting the hum of the engine and the soft hiss of her tires on the wet roadway soothe her ragged nerves. Ryan wasn’t Braden, and Maeve would work things out for herself. They were making progress with the house, and she had a reservation for February 2nd.
Things could be a lot worse.
She only had to pull over once to cry.
The heavy darkness tamped down her hysteria, especially the stretch of road where Magnolia Blvd followed the water. Grand houses sat back from the edge of the bluff, the dark band of water far below, and in the spaces between the houses matte black clumps of trees absorbed the little light that escaped the overcast sky.
Darkness swaddled Grandmother’s house, though all along Perkins Lane people were partying, playing music, and shooting off fireworks over the Sound. Danielle unlocked the door, hoping she’d remembered to turn on the heat. No luck. The air in the living room was barely warmer than the cold, damp night. She dropped her purse on the dining room table and kept her coat on, flopping down in the upholstered chair. A shiver rattled her. She’d had the oil tank filled for $800 and change. Another shiver hit. The cranky thermostat sneered at her. Get up. Turn the heater on. Turn the lamp on. Do something.
She sat, letting the chilly silence numb her head. Her cell phone chimed. Probably Ryan, calling to explain why he’d ditched the party.
Nothing she wanted to hear.
The cold clutched at her, dampening her ideas, driving the shivering deeper into her core. She wanted the cell phone to ring again and drag her out of the chair to answer it, to make her turn up the thermostat, to force her to listen to Ryan’s excuses. The silence pushed at her ears, broken only by the occasional creek as the house settled and the random explosions from the neighborhood parties. After a big M80 boomed, she gave in and shifted forward, intending to get up and at least put the lights on, when footsteps came across the front porch.
She froze, waiting for a knock on her door. Instead, a key turned in the lock.
Ryan.
“You left,” he said, mouth tight, totally furious.
Danielle sank down into the chair. “Things got complicated.”
“How?” He crossed the room, catching her elbows and dragging her back to her feet. “I tried to reduce the drama by showing up late, and you didn’t even wait for me.”
“I thought you weren’t coming.”
His grip on her arms tightened. “Joey told you I was on my way.” He shook her gently for emphasis.
For one long moment, Danielle searched Ryan’s eyes. His frustration and honesty made her feel like an idiot. Instead of answering, she reached out and grasped the zippered edges of his leather
coat, her numb cheeks warming up fast.
“By the time I showed up,” he said, “you were gone.”
“Oh.” A big idiot.
“But instead of chasing you down right away, I stayed and made nice with my sister and gave my ex a midnight kiss because I wanted them to leave you the hell alone.”
His body was rigid under his leather jacket, and her hands shook because his words put a pin in the balloon of tension that had been expanding inside her. She dragged him down close, his breath brushing warm against her face. Her sigh might have started somewhere under the foundation of the house.
“I screwed up.” She tipped her face up until their lips were barely a breath apart. “Is it too late for a kiss?”
His response was forceful.
And nonverbal.
Danielle stood on tiptoe, draping as much of herself over Ryan as possible. He held her pinned to his body, tearing at her, wrecking her with his mouth. The heat between them brought the room temperature up to something close to a bonfire on a beach.
She would have stood there indefinitely, but with a throaty rumble Ryan pushed away, breathing hard, running his thumbnail along her cheekbone. “I’m still pissed.”
“How can I make it up to you?” She let a touch of teasing into her voice. There were several possibilities, things he liked that would distract him from the current situation. She just wanted to hear which was at the top of his list.
He shoved her away. “Fuck if I’m going to let you stand there in your sparkly tiara and make this about me, like I’m some stupid carpenter who can’t figure things out for himself.”
“What are you talking about?” Irrational much? Danielle backed up farther, unsure how to handle the raw energy radiating from him. “It’s my fault. I get it. I’m sorry.”
Arms crossed and jaw tight, Ryan stared her down. “Are you sure?”
The flat-out distress in his voice made her hover on the cusp of uncertainty. “Yeah.”
“Are you really sure?”
“You’re not a stupid anything, and I’m not making this your fault.” She reached out, moving slow the way you would with a dog who might still bite. “I shouldn’t have let your sister talk me into the stupid party in the first place.”
He clasped her hand and pulled her up against his body, a gesture as much about possession as it was forgiveness. “Okay, Princess, let’s make a plan.”
Her breath caught and stuttered. The buzz of energy between them was almost audible, like someone had thrown a switch. She wanted to pull off every bit of clothing and wrap herself around him.
His anger would warm them both.
Ryan cleared his throat. “It’s about forty degrees in here, we’re standing in the dark, the only bed is an air mattress, and it’s almost one in the morning.”
“Yeah, um, I was just going to…”
“What?”
“Put the heat on.” She aimed for indignant, mostly missing the mark. “You interrupted me.”
“I tell you what. I’m the boss in the bedroom, and that’s where we’re headed.” He paused for a bitter laugh. “At least I think that’s where we’re headed.”
“I hope so.”
“Pack a bag. We’re going to my house.” He kissed her, his lips smoldering against her mouth.
Right. She shut up because to argue with him would move her behavior from ‘moderate overreaction’ to ‘girl’s gone crazy’. Giving him a tentative smile, she brought her cell phone out to check the time. “How many calls did I miss, anyway?”
“Six.”
“Oh.” She stifled an impulse to drop to her knees because she didn’t want to overdo the apology thing. “I should make answering my phone into some kind of New Year’s resolution.”
“Ya think?” He said it with a smile, but the set of his jaw and the fierceness in his eyes told her he was still bitter. She laughed, fluttered a kiss on his cheek, and hoped he’d calm down if they had some really hot make-up sex.
Chapter Sixteen
Ryan woke up with the top of Dani’s head tucked under his chin and her beautiful round ass pressed up against his morning wood.
Not a bad way to start a new year.
She stirred against him and he held his breath to see if she’d settle back to sleep. She did. He wasn’t trying to avoid talking to her. The throbbing in his cock said he’d be waking her up sooner than later. He just wanted to lay there for a few minutes and not be frustrated.
He understood Dani’s concern about Maeve, but he’d walked into the party angry. Telling his sister to mind her own damned business had been the high water mark for the night. Then that smarmy Christopher dude told him Dani had already left, and Ryan almost lost it completely. Dodging Cherry until midnight hadn’t helped his mood.
But now Dani was in his bed, all soft and warm and smelling like roses and sex. He slid a hand over to tease one of her nipples, reaching down with the other to run his fingers along the warm, damp slit between her legs. Her soft little moan turned his morning wood into morning iron. He used his chin to move the hair away and kissed her neck. The kiss turned into a nibble, which turned into the beginnings of a hickey, which brought her around for real.
“Ryan.” She wiggled away from him. “No love bites. I have to go to my uncle’s for brunch.”
He pulled her back against his body and thrust his hips a couple times. “You’re not leaving yet.”
“Not yet.” She wrapped a hand around his shaft. “You should come with me.” Her thumb teased the tip of his cock, her grip warm and firm and god it felt good.
“I’ll be coming all right.”
She stroked him a couple times. “No, I mean it. I’ll call and tell him to set an extra plate.”
“Sure.” He rose up over her, resting on his elbows, his thighs between hers, dick poised at her entrance. He needed to grab a condom before going any farther, and paused to run his tongue up the valley between her breasts. She arched her back and he had to lock down every muscle in his ass to keep from thrusting into her bareback. He settled for toying with the soft skin of her throat, licking and nipping and sucking.
“Damn, young man.” She shoved against his shoulders with a laugh that was way too naughty for first thing in the morning.
He let her push him to the side, using the opportunity to grab a condom from the nightstand. Her hair was a tangled mess and her mascara had turned into a raccoon’s mask, but she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He got his raincoat on and pinned her down. “Are you sure we need to go out? I was kinda thinking we could stay here all day.”
“You don’t think you’ll get bored?” She reached down to guide him in.
He thrust home in one stroke. Her tight heat felt so good he got lightheaded. “Nope.”
Parked in front of Uncle Jonathan’s house, Danielle might have been perched on the edge of the world.
“We could still blow them off,” Ryan said, even as he reached for the door handle. His eyelids slid to half-mast and he dropped his gaze somewhere in the vicinity of her breasts.
“Hey.” She lifted his chin with one finger. “Save that for later. Right now we need to convince my uncle to convince my mother to spring for a new roof.”
Ryan slung open his door. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just ask her yourself?”
“Not if I want her to agree.” Danielle hoped their morning games had shaken the rust out of her mental cylinders, because dodging Uncle Jonathan’s well-meaning attempts to patch up the relationship with her mother added another degree of difficulty to the day. Oh well. She tightened her ponytail, straightened her shoulders, and climbed out of the cab of the truck.
Uncle Jonathan and his partner Robert lived in a big brick Tudor on the top of the Magnolia bluff only about a mile from Perkins Lane. They were farther from the water than Grandmother’s house, but there were fewer trees, and the sky was huge.
Knee-high boxwoods lined the path to the front door, and a matched set of corkscrew hazels grew in
huge Grecian-style urns on either side of covered entry.
“Come in, kitten.” Robert held open the heavy front door, waving her in with a quick hug. His close cropped salt ‘n’ pepper hair matched his iron grey turtleneck. “Jonathan told me you were bringing a friend.”
Danielle scooted past Robert. The foyer was bathwater warm after the raw, damp cold. Robert startled Danielle by lifting the coat off her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said. “This is Ryan.”
The two men shook hands, and Danielle vowed she’d keep her head in the present instead of picking at the past. Ryan laced his fingers with hers, a casual move that did a nice job of redirecting her memories. Better to think about the amazing things his hands had recently done, rather than how her mother had pointedly ignored Danielle the day of her grandmother’s funeral, turning an already bad scene into a grim nightmare.
“Go sit by the fire. Your uncle will be down in a minute.” Robert waved them in the direction of the living room and disappeared down the hall.
The fire did its snap, crackle, and pop thing, and Danielle slid into the overstuffed lap of the love seat. Ryan bumped her hip on his way to claiming the seat next to her, draping his arm along the back of the couch and spreading his knees wide. Uncle Jonathan’s house was all about contrasts. White stucco punctuated with heavy chocolate beams covered the exterior, and the interior carried on the theme. The floors were glossy, dark hardwood and the walls were white plaster. The furniture was antique teak and rattan, and the upholstery fabrics ran toward subdued floral in muddy coral, sand, and lime.
“I thought we’d call your mother while you’re here.” Uncle Jonathan blew into the room carrying a tray with three mugs.
Danielle straightened up and cleared her throat. Time to shut it down and turn into a manikin, or she’d never get through brunch without a lot of messy emotional overflow. Uncle Jonathan handed her a mug topped by a pile of whipped cream that smelled strongly of chocolate and mint. First round to Uncle Jonathan. Bring up her mother while handing her a cup of her favorite hot cocoa with peppermint schnapps. There’d be no way to avoid the phone call, and Danielle might as well minimize the collateral damage and move on.
