Mitch didn’t move fast enough and, when Paige took a step back to make room for the microwave door’s swing, her body smacked right up against his body. In reflex, he lifted his hand to steady her and it happened to come to rest at her waist. For a brief moment, it seemed that she relaxed against him—almost leaning on him—and then she jerked forward.
“Sorry,” she said. “Small space. Why don’t you sit at the table and I’ll bring you your plate since it’s done.”
He wasn’t sorry at all, but there was a little strain in her voice all of a sudden, so he let it be and sat down at one of the two places she’d set out. His eyes wandered, checking out the personal touches that made the claustrophobic trailer into her home. She’d hung small baskets from the curtain rods to hold pens and mail and odds and ends, rather than having them take up the very precious counter or drawer space. On the fridge were a variety of photos taken of places he recognized around town. Not high-quality photography, by any means, but they were cheery shots. In between two photos at what would have been about her eye level, he saw a scrap of pink taped to the freezer door.
“Huh,” he said. “You really do have a sticky note on your fridge that says, Men are a luxury, not a necessity.”
She set his plate down in front of him, then put hers in the microwave. “I told you I did.”
“Why is that saying so important to you?”
She lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “It’s a reminder not to become like my mother.”
“So…she thinks men are a necessity? And that’s bad?”
“It’s not bad when a woman needs a man. But it’s not good when a woman believes she’s nothing without one and will sacrifice almost anything to keep one. It was hard growing up with my mother. She needs a man in her life to be happy, so we spent most of my childhood chasing after any man who’d tell her he loved her.”
“Relationships that were doomed to begin with, because you can only not be yourself and deny your own needs for so long before you get really unhappy.”
The microwave dinged again and she joined him at the table. “Exactly. You’re a pretty smart guy, Mitch Kowalski.”
“Just a passing familiarity with doomed relationships.”
“I thought you preferred your relationships doomed. Or with a built-in expiration date, at least.”
He looked at her from across the table, which was still close enough for him to be struck yet again by how dark her eyes were, and said, “At least with a built-in expiration date, a woman doesn’t have to worry about keeping me. It’s not going to happen, so she can relax, be herself and enjoy a very temporary luxury in her life.”
* * *
Paige knew she should pick up her fork, scoop up some garlic mashed potatoes and shove them in her mouth. She couldn’t seem to move, though, with Mitch looking at her like that and with his words starting to make sense to her.
Wasn’t he the perfect guy to help her take care of those pesky-ing words that were pestering her—like tingling and zinging and yearning and, above all, wanting? She knew up front he’d walk away and not look back and, as he’d said, she knew she wouldn’t be keeping him. He’d be the two-legged version of a loaner car.
Before she could say anything stupid, Paige took a bite of the mashed potatoes. And then another. Once he realized she wasn’t jumping at the bait, Mitch went back to polite small talk about the town and books and how much he liked Gavin’s garlic mashed potatoes.
But his words had gotten under her skin, which was probably why Paige took a little extra care in freshening up after dinner. She was pretty sure he’d at least try for a kiss, despite his promise to be a gentleman. After all, there was nothing particularly ungentlemanly about a kiss.
Besides, that was a promise she wouldn’t mind him breaking.
When she left the bathroom, Mitch was sitting on her couch. It dwarfed the tiny living room and she probably should have gone with a love seat, but a good sofa was something she wouldn’t compromise on. She laughed when he slid his butt to the very edge of the cushion and fully extended his legs. He could actually just brush the wall the room shared with the bathroom with the tips of his sneakers.
“Northern Star Demolition probably has job trailers bigger than this one,” she said, slapping his feet down.
He grinned and pushed himself back onto the cushion. “Maybe, but this suits you. It’s warm and cozy. Plus, it probably doesn’t take long to clean.”
“On the downside, if I let more than three days’ worth of junk mail pile up, I look like a hoarder.”
She smiled when he laughed, but inside she was jittery, and in that awkward moment, she wasn’t sure what to do next. Should she sit next to him on the couch? Sit in one of the kitchen chairs?
As if he could read her mind, Mitch grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him. She was going to sit next to him, but he tugged at her while using the other hand to steer her hips until she ended up straddling his lap.
“You didn’t slap my face, so I guess I’m still okay with the whole gentleman thing,” he said in a husky voice, and it had a touch of question in it.
“Gentlemen fix ladies’ sinks and throw away their own paper plates after dinner. I think you held up your end of the bargain.”
“So you won’t throw me out if I kiss you?”
She leaned forward, bracing a hand on either side of his head. “I won’t let you out until you’ve kissed me.”
Mitch slid his hands up her back and nudged her forward until their mouths met. He kissed her slowly and very, very thoroughly, while he slid his hands under the back of her shirt. The feel of his hands against her bare skin was making her crazy and she wanted more.
When she pulled up her shirt, intending to take it off, he put his hand on her arm to stop her. “This is all there is. We’ll have a good time and enjoy each other’s company and then, when it’s time for me to go, I’ll just say goodbye and be gone. I won’t call. I won’t text. I won’t write.”
“That’s pretty blunt.” And just what she needed to hear.
“It’s better to be up front about it, so we both know going in what we’ll get. All the fun stuff, with none of the not-fun stuff.”
She could use some fun stuff. It had been a long time, and who better to have a fling with than a man she knew ahead of time absolutely did not want to have a real relationship with her? Once couldn’t hurt. Or two or three times. It wasn’t as if she was going to start spinning happily-ever-after fantasies around a guy who was leaving town, which meant—just as he’d said—she’d have none of the not-fun stuff.
“Just so you know,” she said, “once you’re gone, I won’t mope. I won’t text. I won’t sit around restaurants in twenty years reminiscing about the night we spent together.”
He let go of her arm and pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it aside. His T-shirt joined it a second later. “Then let’s do some fun stuff.”
Without her shirt in the way, his hands roamed freely over her back as he kissed her some more. She squirmed in his lap and she moaned as, even through denim, the friction sent tendrils of delicious heat curling through her body.
“That closed door’s been teasing me since I got here,” he said against her mouth.
She slid off his lap and took his hands to haul him to his feet. When he pulled her against him and she found herself plastered to his chest, she laughed and then walked backward the few steps to her bedroom door with him kissing her with each stop. She groped behind her until she found the doorknob and pushed the door open.
Then Mitch stopped. He just suddenly stopped cold and, when Paige looked up, she saw his gaze was fixed on something behind her.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What?” She turned in his arms, trying to figure out what he was looking at.
“Is that a twin bed?”
“Yes, it’s a twin.” He looked as if he’d never seen one before. “The room’s small. I could have a big bed that I’d only take up half of
, or I could have more floor space. I chose floor space.”
“Is it big enough?”
She laughed. The bed wasn’t that small. “Just how much room do you need?”
He slid his hands down her naked-but-for-the-bra-strap back and then pulled her backward by the belt loop on her jeans. Her almost-naked back pressed against his totally naked chest, reminding her of one of the many things gadgets couldn’t imitate—the warm, hard length of a man’s body.
“I guess that depends on what we’re going to do,” he said against the side of her neck before nipping at it.
“Is this the part where you ask me what I like?”
“I’ll figure out what you like on my own.” He slid his hands up to cup her breasts, which she liked very much. “Don’t like to limit my options.”
He pushed the cups of her bra down and ran his thumbs over her nipples. She sucked in a breath, pressing her hips back against his.
“I think you like that.”
She did, but she liked it even more when he turned her around and bent his mouth to first one breast, then the other. Sliding her fingers into his hair, she held his head to her chest, wanting more.
When he undid her bra and slid it down over her arms, she started to unfasten her jeans, but he grabbed her wrists and held them over her head. “I’ll do that.”
He kissed her again, harder and more demanding than he’d kissed her before. Easily holding both of her wrists with one hand, he slid the other over her stomach, dipping his fingertips into the waistband.
Paige whimpered, torn between wanting him to torment her forever and wanting him inside her that very second. He wasn’t in any hurry, though, as he unbuttoned her jeans and slid the zipper down.
When he slipped his hand down the front, under the lacy pink panties she was thankfully wearing, a low moan escaped her and she moved against his fingers.
“I think you like that, too,” he said, his breath hot against her neck.
“I do.” Her words were barely more than a breath.
Mitch backed her up until her knees hit the bed and then pulled her pants and panties down as she lay back on it. In seconds, he discarded the rest of his clothes, too, and Paige’s mouth went suddenly dry. She did not have a gadget that would substitute for this.
She thought, when she heard the crinkle of a condom packet near the pillow, that Mitch was ready, but he wasn’t done touching her yet. He teased her mercilessly, his mouth alternating between her lips and her breasts while his hand moved between her legs.
Paige’s fingers dug into the muscles of his back and then she reached between them and took him in hand. When he sucked in a harsh breath, she smiled and whispered, “I think you like that.”
“I know I like that.”
It wasn’t until after he made her come with his hand and his mouth that she heard the crinkle of foil again. Breathless and with her heart still hammering in her chest, she waited for him to move between her legs.
Mitch paused for a few seconds, his blue eyes crinkling a little as he smiled. “You are so beautiful.”
“You make me feel beautiful.”
“I’m glad. Now let’s see what else I can make you feel.”
It was delicious, the slow way he slid into her. She lifted her hips as he moved in an easy rhythm, urging him deeper. Coherent words would have escaped her even if she’d wanted to speak as she focused on the sensation of being filled, the friction, the way the muscles of Mitch’s back rippled under her hands.
His pace quickened and he hooked his hands under her knees. Each stroke came faster and went deeper and she arched her back as the orgasm shook her. She heard him groan, felt him pulsing inside her, and then he dropped her knees and grabbed her shoulders, pushing deep as the last tremors shook them both.
When he laid his head on her chest, his ragged breath blowing hot across her breast, she ran her fingers through his hair, stroking him. After a while their breathing slowed back to normal, as did her pulse.
Mitch rolled off her, swore and lunged back across her. “Almost fell off the bed.”
He tried again, rolling more slowly as she moved over against the wall. Foil crinkled again for a second, and then he lay back down, pulling her close.
“You’re glowing,” he murmured against her neck.
“And basking. Definitely basking.”
“My feet are hanging off the end of the bed.”
She laughed and opened her eyes. “Move up so your head’s almost against the headboard.”
“I’m afraid to move. I might fall on the floor.”
He hadn’t been afraid to move a few minutes ago. “You’ve had sex in cars and on couches and in a canoe, but you can’t handle a twin bed?”
“I did not have sex in a canoe.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
He snorted. “I know what you heard. I’ve heard it, too, but there was no sex. There was making out, but that’s it.”
She wondered how many of the other stories about him were embellished or even outright lies, but she was too warm and fuzzy from the basking to open that conversation.
For now she was content to lay her head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.
* * *
It wasn’t even nine-thirty and Mitch was already sliding out of a woman’s bed. That was a new one for him, but he knew Paige got up before the crack of dawn, was on her feet most of the day and needed the sleep. Unfortunately, the bed was at most half the size he was used to and it moved more than he anticipated.
Paige opened her eyes and gave him a sleepy smile that made him want to crawl back in beside her. Big mistake, he told himself. Over the years he’d learned that a woman’s spending the whole night and waking up beside him changed her outlook from harmless fun to I could get used to this. “Are you leaving?”
“If I leave now, the argument can still be made I was helping you with the sink and dinner ran late. If the bike’s still here in the morning, all bets are off.”
“Do you really think we’ll keep this a secret?”
She’d been in Whitford long enough to know it was already not a secret and hadn’t been since he’d parked his bike in the diner lot without going into the diner. “Probably not, but at least you’ll still have deniability if you want it.”
“Will you be in for breakfast?”
Even though he knew Paige didn’t want a relationship any more than he did, the question still triggered his never commit rule. “Not sure. Depends on what’s going on at the lodge.”
“Okay.” She snuggled deeper under the light blanket and closed her eyes as he gathered his clothes and put them on. He thought maybe she’d gone back to sleep but, as soon as he zipped his jeans, she opened them again and he realized she’d been giving him some privacy to get dressed.
Once he’d dragged his T-shirt over his head and shoved his feet into his sneakers, he leaned over and kissed her—long enough to let her know he’d be back at some point, but just shy of making him want to take the clothes back off. “I’ll lock the door on my way out.”
“See you around,” she said in a sleepy voice, which should have made him happy, because those words were anything but commitment heavy, but slightly less casual wouldn’t have hurt.
After making sure the door was securely closed and locked behind him, Mitch pushed the Harley out into the road and walked it a few feet before firing the engine. Not that it would fool anybody in Whitford for a second, but Paige was probably on her way back to sleep and he didn’t want to disturb her again.
He took it slow on the drive home, letting the night air cool him down, but since he could only go so slow on a motorcycle without falling over, he was back at the lodge way too soon. He didn’t bother cutting the engine and coasting it to the garage. They knew he wasn’t home yet, they knew where he’d been and, unless they’d undergone personality transplants while he was out, he knew Josh would be waiting up to give him shit. Since he was too old to climb the maple and shimmy out on
to the limb that reached a window upstairs—assuming the limb hadn’t been cut off or rotted to the point it would give out under his weight—he had no choice but to go in through the door. On the off chance his brother was sitting in the great room again, he went in through the back door, hoping to get through the kitchen and up the stairs before his brother could intercept him on those crutches.
“Must have been one hell of a hairball,” Josh said as soon as Mitch stepped through the door. He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a beer with his cast resting casually on a second chair, but the fine sheen of sweat across his forehead told Mitch his younger brother had had to bust ass to beat him there.
“Took a little longer than I expected. Then we had some dinner.”
“What was for dessert?”
Refusing to rise to the bait, Mitch went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. “By the time the stuffed chicken breasts and double mashed were gone, I was too full for dessert. What did you have?”
“That’s cold, man.” Josh scowled at his beer. “I had a couple of tuna sandwiches, which sucked, and half a bag of potato chips.”
“Hiring Andy was your idea.”
“Yeah, yeah. You told me so and all that shit. She’ll get over it soon. I hope.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.” It had been decades since Rose had spoken to Andy. Whatever was behind the grudge, it was a very big deal. “What’s going in the morning?”
“We’re going to empty out the barn so we—or you guys, I guess—can start tearing up the floor. Why? You have a breakfast date?”
“Nope. Just gauging how old a T-shirt I should throw on in the morning.”
“Probably one that should have been a shop rag six months ago.”
“Great.” Probably not cool to be jealous of the guy with the crutches. “I’m going upstairs. Need to deal with some email and check over some reports. You all set?”
“Yeah. I’ll hobble up in a few minutes.”
Mitch got as far as responding to an email from Scott Burns, his second in command, before he stretched out on the bed and tucked his hands under his head. Staring up at the old tin ceiling, he thought about Paige. Sometimes, with the thrill of the chase over, the sex was a letdown. Sometimes, even if the sex was good, once was enough to get a woman out of his system.
All He Ever Needed Page 12
