Loving a Wildflower

by Amanda Torrey

  He had come here uncovered. Sure, he had worn a hoodie under his coat and pulled up over his head, but she couldn’t fault him for wanting to keep warm. No sunglasses (and yes, she had seen him wear them at night.) No ear buds drowning the voices around him.

  He had been as close to bare as she had ever seen him in public.

  He had been on the tense side, but she couldn’t fault him for that. Showing oneself for the first time always felt a bit raw.

  He hadn’t wanted to peel away his literal layers. But he did it. For her.

  Though she had never been the dictator in the family, Simplicity found assigning break down and clean up tasks quite essential and easy to do. Once she started bossing people around, she couldn’t stop.

  Luckily people were eager to help, so most everything was done before midnight and just as the winds started picking up.

  Exhausted, she toted in the last load of boxes.

  “That went well, Simplicity.” Freedom looked up from the kitchen table where she had just finished tallying the totals. “You pulled in quite a bit.”

  Simplicity’s mood improved with that news.

  “Like ‘feed a few kids’ bit or ‘feed the entire town’ bit?”

  “More than a few kids. You still have work to do, but given the town’s response, I think you’re well on your way.”

  Simplicity lowered her lashes. “Thank you for your help.”

  “It’s a great cause. And one you can make a difference with.”

  Simplicity didn’t miss the hint. Feed the kids, stop trying to fix Ethan.

  “Thanks again. I’ll finish putting this stuff away in the morning.”

  “Going to bed?”

  Simplicity grabbed her keys. “Nope.”

  “Simplicity, you can’t go to him. Not after the way he treated you.” Freedom crossed her arms over her chest, exhaustion drawing lines in her face as she rolled her eyes at Simplicity and shook her head. “Besides, a weather alert just came to my phone—visibility is terrible and only going to get worse. They suggested bunkering down for the long haul.”

  Paisley exited the bathroom, joining the anti-Ethan movement with one stern look.

  “He basically told you you were a good lay. In front of your family. Who the hell knows who else heard? Have some dignity, Simplicity. For Christ’s sake.” Paisley’s sigh and groan would have done any mother proud. “And seriously? A blizzard? Am I going to be trapped here?”

  Simplicity didn’t respond. Yes, the words had hurt. No, she couldn’t let him get away with the humiliation. Yes, part of her wanted to tear into him for his lack of humanity.

  But he had a light inside him that only she had seen. And she couldn’t give up on him. Not when it had started flickering so madly when she was around. Not after everyone else had already ceased seeing him as a human.

  “I love you guys. So much. So, so much. And I appreciate that you’re trying to look out for me. But you don’t know Ethan. He’s completely different when we’re together. Something happened to trigger that anger tonight, and I owe it to him—and myself—to find out what it was.”

  “At least take the rest of the night to think things through.”

  “What’s there to think through? Weren’t you telling me it was time to think about settling down? That my days of couch surfing and relationship drifting should come to an end?”

  Tight-lipped, Freedom glared at her. “Not with him. For crying out loud, I thought you were volunteering to do things around his house—not to do him.”

  “Didn’t know you had it in you to be so crass.” Simplicity opened the door, letting the cool air in to fan their heated argument. She didn’t want to fight with her sisters. But she had to stand up for what she believed in.

  “There’s something you should know.” Freedom pushed herself away from the table and retrieved her laptop from her room. “I Googled him. You need to know. I’m sure he didn’t tell you everything.”

  Reverting back to her childhood—something she often did when in the company of her sisters—Simplicity covered her ears and began to hum.

  Freedom crossed the room and pulled Simplicity’s hands away from her ears. Simplicity tightened her closed eyes, not wanting to see or hear any of the poison Freedom attempted to feed her.

  “Stop being a child. He could be dangerous. You don’t know how screwed up he is. The things that were done to him.”

  “He’ll tell me when he’s ready. It’s his story to tell, not yours.”

  “Simplicity, stop being so damned naïve! He’s damaged goods. Back off him before you get hurt!”

  Damaged goods.

  Damaged goods.

  Damaged. Goods.

  There was so much her know-it-all sisters didn’t know.

  “Freedom. Paisley. This conversation ends here. You need to stop underestimating my ability to detect brokenness. And damaged goods? If that’s what he is, then that’s what I am, too.”

  Chapter Ten

  Ethan allowed the sweat to drip down his body, hating the piercing itch it brought to his skin, but relishing the punishment from his overworked muscles. Each prickling trail of moisture reminded him of who he was and what he deserved.

  Sensing the presence of someone on his property, he yanked the buds out of his ears, grabbed his gun, and waited by the door.

  The intruder tried the knob first. He had locked it.

  The knock came next.

  He didn’t want to open the door. He couldn’t stop himself.

  He pointed the gun as he allowed the door to drift open—just like their first encounter. Only this time, he was far more vulnerable to attack.

  “Seriously? You’re going to point that killing machine at me? You know I won’t hurt you.”

  False. She could hurt him more than any torturer on any continent of this world. The weapons in her toolbox were far more effective than any piece of metal.

  Her torture device couldn’t fit in a category. She was a weapon of mass destruction, and she was aimed straight at his rotten, black, barely-pumping heart.

  He lowered the gun, but not his shield.

  “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  Simple words. No pretense.

  She stood on his threshold, waiting for an invitation.

  He wouldn’t give it to her.

  He dug deep, trying to find the callous jerk that would drive her away. The one who needed to defeat the poetic sap who wanted to beg her to stay.

  His dismissal wasn’t merely for his own benefit, though that was a perk. It was for her.

  Because whether he wanted to admit it or not, he knew he cared far too deeply for her.

  She deserved better.

  “Get out.”

  “No.”

  He suppressed a laugh. No?

  “I’m not in the mood for what you have to offer right now, Ms. Peterson. I don’t plan to be in the mood for quite some time, so you’d do best to find somewhere else to scratch that itch.”

  She blinked rapidly before allowing serenity to smooth her face once again.

  He watched her grow from a wilting rose to a strong, vibrant wildflower. Her shoulders supported her proud head as she remained unwavering on his doorstep.

  Wildflowers never quit. No matter how much they were mowed down, they grew back twice as strong. Through concrete, through nutrient-deprived soil, hell—they grew where they weren’t wanted.

  And where they were most needed.

  “I refuse to accept your rejection of me.”

  This wildflower self-watered with tears. She generated her own sunshine, which was a good thing since he had none to offer.

  He felt himself soften. He couldn’t afford to soften. He wanted to invite her in.

  He dug deep in his arsenal for a more effective attack to drive her away.

  “You don’t have a choice, Simple. Let me say this slower so you can understand. I. Don’t. Want. You. Go cry about it to your sisters. Or better yet, find someone
else to screw.”

  He wanted to turn the gun on himself with those hurtful words. He couldn’t get them back once they were flung, but he knew that before he launched them.

  Too bad he had kept the damn gun unloaded since Simplicity first entered his life. He wouldn’t take a chance of impulsively or accidentally hurting her. But he sure did want to do some damage to himself.

  “I don’t want to screw anyone.”

  He forced a laugh out his tightening lungs.

  “Oh, come on. You knew me for, what, five minute before you fucked me?”

  Any bit of light she had managed to find deep in his core flickered out as she flinched.

  The betrayal and hurt on her face—he couldn’t stand it. He hadn’t believed there was any blood left in his heart, but whatever was there gushed out.

  “That was different, Ethan. It was never about the sex.”

  “I bet.” He bit out the words, unable to stop the cruelty. He hated himself. “Let me guess. Love at first sight?”

  She stared at him for a few more moments. She had to leave. He was dangerously close to pulling her to him, begging for forgiveness. Telling her it wasn’t him saying those cruel words, striking her where she was vulnerable.

  It wasn’t him.

  “No, not love at first sight.” She bit the words out through her swollen-from-biting lips. “Temporary insanity.”

  With one lift of her defiant chin, she put him in his place.

  Beneath her.

  He should have felt happy when she defected down his stairs. Joy should have jumpstarted his cold heart as she trudged through the falling-again snow. He watched through the slit of his closed curtains as the bitter wind blew her hat off her head and she scrambled to retrieve it from the snow bank beside the driveway. The meteorologists had called for a blizzard, but it wasn’t supposed to start until tomorrow.

  They were wrong. The snowpocalypse had begun.

  She moved with the kind of determination of a woman who knew what she needed to do. Leave. Escape. Run far away from the beast on Maple Lane.

  Hurry. Get in your car.

  He willed her to go faster. The snow swirled in a blinding dance, like nature herself conspired to help Simplicity escape.

  He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath until she finally closed her car door. His lungs burned—lack of oxygen. Certainly not emotional pain.

  He shouldn’t have sent her out driving in this mess. The plows had only scraped down his street once, and the snow increased at a maddening rate. If the meteorologists were to be believed, this was to be a historic snow storm.

  And he had ripped her to shreds before sending her out to drive in it.

  He had despised himself for a long time, but this fresh wave of hatred burned a hole in his stomach.

  Stop watching her.

  He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the window.

  Who was he kidding? He wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew she had arrived home safely. He’d give her a head start, then he’d follow at an inconspicuous distance. Just in case.

  She’d never have to know that he cared that much.

  A full three minutes and thirty-six seconds passed, and her car remained in his driveway.

  What was she doing?

  As soon as that thought entered his mind, her door flung open and she retreated from her vehicle.

  Shit. She was going to come back here and he’d have to either serve his pride on a platter or break her into pieces all over again.

  He worried for nothing. She walked the opposite direction. Away from his house. Away from her car. Right into the storm.

  He hurried into his boots, cursing as the lace became tangled. He rushed out of his house, not taking the time to close the door as he ran down his slippery driveway. The snow slowed him down, but he forged his way through the now ankle-deep mess.

  He called her name. She didn’t reply. Probably couldn’t hear him over the roaring wind.

  If anything happened to her, it would be all his fault. Just like in Afghanistan.

  He couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him. But he’d find her. He had to.

  The walk to town was too far for anyone in this weather. The walk to her home was much farther. If she survived the wintry conditions, she was still at risk of getting hit by a car or a plow.

  He could no longer feel his, well, anything. Not that he cared. He only cared that Simplicity would be just as cold, and unlike him, she didn’t deserve to feel that way.

  A figure approached him in the darkness, and he reached out to catch her as she fell into his arms.

  “I’m heading back to my car. It was stupid to try to walk. I’ll sleep in the car and have my sisters come get me when the roads clear.”

  Her words were slow, measured. She fought to get out of his grasp, but he refused to release her.

  Her head fell to his shoulder as he lifted her, carrying her back through the wind and the snow.

  He warmed from exertion, but her body was a block of ice.

  He carried her into the house, straight to his bed with the warm blankets she had given him. He peeled her wet clothes off her as she stared into his scarred face, searching into his dysfunctional soul for a sign that he was human. He tucked her into the blankets and turned his thermostat up as high as it would go. He dug a space heater out of the hall closet and plugged it in near her.

  “Thank you, Ethan. But I shouldn’t be here. My stupid car wouldn’t start. I’ll be fine in there, though. Without the wind it won’t be so bad.”

  “Hush.”

  “I can’t accept this hospitality from someone who hates me so much.”

  He had been leaving the room to put on some water for tea, but he paused in the doorway at her pained words.

  He dug inside him to find something to say. Some way to make things better.

  His bucket came up from the well empty.

  “I’ll make you tea.”

  “I don’t want tea, Ethan.”

  The subtext was clear. She wanted respect. Affection. Love.

  “I’ll be back with your tea.”

  ***

  Simplicity had fallen asleep on his bed before the water boiled. He resisted the urge to crawl in beside her.

  Instead he sat on the floor and watched her.

  He didn’t look away fast enough when her eyes opened, catching him in the act.

  “Did you stay there all night?”

  Her voice was a sleepy salve to his soul.

  He nodded. No use lying.

  “You should have slept in your bed, Ethan. That was rude of me to fall asleep.”

  He shook his head slightly. Not rude at all. He only wished he had a palace for her to sleep in. Something she deserved.

  He hoped she could read that message in his eyes, because he sure as hell couldn’t put it into words.

  She stretched her limbs, and he couldn’t help but watch as her hair tangled around her arms and her porcelain breasts popped out from beneath the blanket.

  His mouth watered, desperate for a taste.

  Asshole.

  He hopped up on his stiff legs, pushing the thought of the other stiff part out of his mind, and crossed the room to the window. He opened the curtains, allowing sunlight to stream in. The snow continued to fall, and the table and chair in the backyard was buried.

  “Still snowing?”

  She stood behind him. He couldn’t turn around, knowing she was naked and sexy. His body couldn’t take that kind of torture.

  He cleared his throat. She slipped her arms around his waist.

  “I forgive you,” she whispered against his back.

  He turned into her embrace. His mind nearly went blank at the sensation of her warm body against his clothed one, but he willed himself to be a gentleman for once in his pathetic life.

  “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

  “Maybe not.” She smiled up at him. “But I’m giving it anyway.”

  He
kissed her forehead before he could stop himself. Her arms lifted up to his neck, tickling his hairline as she played.

  He gulped, keeping his arms straight at his side.

  “Let’s make up, Ethan. I didn’t like that fight.”

  Temptation roared through his gut like a wildfire in a dry forest. She offered herself. He wanted her.

  But he didn’t deserve her. Not the slightest bit.

  “The things I said…”

  “You didn’t mean them. I know that.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Did you mean them?”

  His head shook before he had a chance to compose his thoughts.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “How?”

  “Ethan, I know you don’t believe me, but I see past that horrible crabbiness of yours. You may have fooled everyone else in your life, in this town, but you’ll never fool me.”

  He buried his face in her hair and tried to keep himself from sobbing.

  She was too good for him. Too good for any mere mortal.

  She pulled his head back and hunted for something in his eyes. Then she kissed him.

  His lips took over when his mind went blank.

  She made love to his mouth with her exceptional skill. His arms refused to stay still, wrapping themselves around her body while his opportunistic hands gripped her smooth ass. He pulled her tight against his erection, begging her without words.

  She reached down and unzipped his pants. Slowly. Torturously. When she freed his cock, he thought he’d explode in her hands.

  This was so much more than a woman and a man. This was a savior and a sinner. An angel and a dead man. A healer and the wounded.

  He lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He kissed her as he carried her to the bed. She pushed his pants over his hips, and he kicked them off the rest of the way. Her hands slipped under his shirt, baring him to her full perusal in the daylight-drenched room.

  He hesitated, but the shirt came off.

  Her tongue traced his scars, eliciting a groan from deep inside him. He had never thought those blasted reminders of a dangerous past would ever bring him pleasure, but she proved him wrong.

  When her tongue flicked his nipple, he slipped into a land where nothing bad happened to people. Where evil never won. Where good intentions mattered.