Slow Burn

by K. Bromberg

  I feel like I should say something else—some parting wisdom, but nothing comes to mind. I begin to stand up when I realize my phone is still in the center console and reach back in for it. Becks grabs my wrist and startles me. My eyes flash up to meet his, and I can see the sincerity in them, the kindness, the honesty, and I’m unable to look away, no matter how much I want to. I can see so many things in his eyes, and I don’t want him to say any of them, so I try to pull my hand back, but he just holds tight.

  “You know you can call me if you ever need me, right? For anything,” he says in that slow, even cadence of his that pulls at so many things deep within me, and I can’t think of a witty retort to lighten the mood.

  “Okay. Thanks.” It’s all I can manage. With our eyes locked on each other’s, I reach down and fumble for my phone before exiting the car. I shut the door and exhale a sigh of relief, as I turn my back and head toward my house.

  Chapter 4

  I’m not sure how I’m feeling as I step inside and lean my back against the door—listening for Becks to pull out of the driveway—but once I’m inside, I take a breath for the first time in what feels like forever.

  What the fuck is wrong with you, Montgomery? It was just sex. Just mind-blowing, multiple-orgasm-inducing sex. So get over it. Get over your thoughts of him. Move on.

  My head wants to, but hell if my body does.

  I drop my bag on the floor and toss my keys and phone in the basket on the table in the foyer and head toward the kitchen. I hit the button on the voice mail and tune out the telemarketer’s message as I open the fridge and look for a Diet Coke. The machine beeps, and Maddie’s voice fills the empty kitchen.

  “Hi, Auntie. I hope your fancy wedding was loads of fun. I bet it was better than all of the Sour Patch Kids in the world put together. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. I have the whole day planned out for us.”

  I automatically smile at the sound of her voice, and my love for her swells like always. I can only imagine what her plans for us are this time. Last week it was mud pies and Barbies, with pretend tea served by Strawberry Shortcake.

  The doorbell rings, and my heart immediately skips a beat at the thought it might be Becks. Maybe I left something in his car.

  And why in the hell is my pulse thundering?

  Crap. We really just need a little time apart so that we can let everything from last night settle and fade away. So I can let the taste and scent and sound of him dissipate from my memory.

  I grab the handle and pull the door open, prepared for Becks, and am completely thrown for a loop by who stands there.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Nice to see you too.” It’s that same gravelly voice that used to turn me inside out. Those gray eyes that can be cold as steel or soft as silk from one second to the next. That muscled torso that my fingers and mouth memorized every incredible inch of. The sight of him invokes images of wild, against-the-wall, rip-your-clothes-off sex, and at the same time, schizophrenic emotions and volatile tempers surge through my mind.

  And yet his pull on me is still there, still as magnetic as ever. This is the man I once upon a time thought could be the one, could be worth the fight, until he disappeared just as quickly as he appeared.

  Just like he does every time.

  “What do you want, Dante?” I huff out a breath and put my hands on my hips.

  “What, no kiss? No hug? That’s all the welcome I get?” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans, his biceps bulging, and he leans a shoulder against the doorjamb. I try not to look twice at the new ink peaking up from under the collar of his shirt, but I find myself wondering what he chose this time. My eyes rise from his neck to his face when he runs his free hand up and over his goatee. Between the smirk on his lips, and the look in his eyes, I swear he does it on purpose to evoke thoughts of how exactly that patch of hair can tease and tempt me when positioned between my thighs.

  I take hold of my thoughts and am able to recall the hurt he inflicted on me, which still scars me deep inside. “You’re lucky that your welcome doesn’t include a swift kick in the nuts.” I fold my arms across my chest and raise an eyebrow at him.

  He laughs, that arrogant smirk strengthening the intensity that always etches his face. “Ah, there’s my girl, spirited as fuck, just how I like you.”

  “I’m not your girl. You lost the chance to call me that when you walked away without a word.” I absently look over his shoulder at the neighbor kid running down the sidewalk, before looking back at him.

  “You afraid lover boy’s going to come back and get pissed I’m standing here?”

  “Lover boy?”

  He lifts his chin. “Yeah. That your boyfriend who dropped you off? You switching things up, Had? Going from the reckless to the refined?”

  I laugh. Beckett refined? That’s not exactly the first word that comes to mind, but I guess in Dante’s view, Becks’s lack of tattoos makes him just that.

  “He’s just a friend, and besides, what he is or isn’t is none of your damn business.”

  “You’re always my business.”

  I snort in response. Does he actually think that he can show up on my doorstep after disappearing over a year ago and that I’d welcome him with open arms? “C’mon, babe, are you really going to bust my balls? Besides, you know how much I like it when you’re rough with me,” he teases, trying to get to me in that way that always seemed to work before.

  But I’ve been here, done this, and don’t plan on having a repeat performance. Heartbreak is not my thing.

  “What do you want?”

  He shrugs sheepishly. “I’m back in town.”

  “Good for you. What for? Chasing the dream fail or something?”

  He laughs with a shake of his head, his dimples deepening. “Babe, I’m always chasing something….”

  “Yeah, but chasing tail and chasing dreams are two entirely different things.”

  He takes a step toward me, and I take one back, leery of him getting too close, the proven weakness in my armored heart. “I wasn’t that bad,” he says softly. “We were good together.”

  I bat away his hand when he reaches out to touch my arm. “Yeah, and the good was only about twenty percent of the time,” I tell him. “I seem to remember the other eighty percent a whole helluva lot more.”

  “But that twenty percent? I’ve got fond memories of that twenty percent.” He grins at me, trying to get me to remember the damn good sex we used to have. I figure I’ll beat him to the punch.

  “I don’t.” I lie without batting an eyelash since he’s the king of telling untruths.

  He stares at me for a moment before taking another step toward me. I tell myself not to be affected, and then of course his cologne hits me, causing memories to surge to the forefront of my mind. “It seems you’ve gotten all hard on me, babe.”

  And I can’t help it: My mind immediately flashes to last night. The word hard makes me think of the look on Becks’s face when he wanted to prove just how hard he was. I shake my head and exhale in exasperation, thinking about how different Becks and this man in front of me are.

  But both dangerous.

  He tilts his head down, smile still in place, and looks into my eyes. “Ahhh, she’s giving in. You know you can never stay mad at me. Resistance is futile, babe.”

  And I’m so pissed because he’s right. I never can. Of course, I respect myself and all that shit, and would never allow myself to go back down that path with him again, but I swear to God, Dante can make me bend my rules like no one else can. I fight the smile that threatens to curl up one corner of my mouth, knowing it’s basically useless to even try. “Dante …” My voice trails off, my internal war waging within me, as I try to figure out what he wants this time. “Why are you here?”

  His smoldering smirk surges to a megawatt smile because he knows he’s got me now. “I need a place to crash for a bit.” His eyes darken with an unexpected solemnity that throws me, but wi
th him, you never know what’s the truth and what’s a game.

  “And you see a vacancy sign on my porch or something?”

  He blows out an audible breath. Used to taking without asking, he doesn’t like having to explain anything. “C’mon, babe, I know Ry moved out.” I raise my eyebrows, causing him to pause and explain. “It’s not like speculations over her wedding details weren’t the buzz all over TMZ last night or anything.” He rolls his eyes and flashes that smile at me again, but I stand my ground, arms crossed, impatient. “I just need a couple of days, a week or two at the most, so that I can straighten some shit out.”

  There is something about the way he says it—something about the stress lining his face—that has me angling my head and looking past his tough exterior and wondering what he’s really doing in town. “So, you came here? You think you’re charming enough that I’m just going to forget all of the shit from before?”

  “You suck.” I almost laugh at the grade school response coming from this big, bad rebel.

  “No, actually I don’t.” I shrug, looking down at his crotch and then up to his eyes. “Sorry, but small objects like yours are a choking hazard.”

  A half smile plays at one corner of his mouth. We stare at each other silently for a moment before he begs. “Please, Haddie?” His plea does me in, and I’m ready to consent, but he continues before I can reply. “You know me. Know my story. Thought you might take pity on me when so many others would turn me away.”

  We stare at each other for a few moments as I try to decipher what he means. Because yes, I do know his story: only child raised by his mom, dad nonexistent, so what’s changed now? Does this have to do with his mom? His job? What? Frankly, it’s none of my damn business, but between the look in his eyes and the desperation in his voice, I begin to feel sorry about my initial desire to kick him in the nuts.

  Hell, it’s still an option, but I’ll make sure he’s okay first. I shake my head in resignation and close my eyes for a moment, mentally chastising myself for the disorder and chaos I know I’m inviting into my life.

  “No funny stuff, Dante. I mean it.”

  He holds his hand up. “Scout’s honor,” he promises with a victorious smirk.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” I tell him, knowing full well the Boy Scouts kicked him out for inciting mutiny when he was in grade school.

  He flashes a devil-may-care grin and steps over the threshold.

  And so it begins, I think as he walks past me and into my house.

  Chapter 5

  BECKETT

  I roll my truck to a stop, glad to finally be here and thankful traffic was nonexistent. I turn off the ignition, and say a silent thank-you to Howard Stern for allowing me to push the fucking thoughts out of my head, all the ones I’m not supposed to be thinking.

  As I climb out of the truck and look at the trees around me, I take in the one place where I’ve always been able to clear my head, forget my worries, and just chill. So why, when I should be walking up the porch, cracking a cold one, and sitting by the pool, are my thoughts still stuck on her?

  Haddie.

  Sweet fucking Haddie, and that look on her face as I pulled her to the edge of the bed last night and stared at her: blond hair fanned out beneath her, cheeks red, lips parted, and pussy so goddamn wet and tasting like Heaven. Why do I keep remembering that look in her eyes—taunting, innocent, and weary—and wondering what put it there? Am I right to assume she wanted to feel to forget?

  I shake my head and whistle at Rex to jump out of the truck before I slam the door. Her words run through my head over and over now that Howard Stern’s voice is no longer filling my ears. We said no strings. But there was no fucking we about it. She said no strings. She made it clear over and over that we were a one-night stand. No strings, my ass. I feel like she threw a goddamn lasso around me and pulled it tight.

  No strings, yeah … but rope? She didn’t say a fucking thing about any rope.

  I knew I should have done more to resist her advances last night, knew that one goddamn taste wouldn’t be enough. Shit, that’s why I’ve kept her at arm’s length this past year and a half. Haddie being sexy was a given, but getting tangled with her in the sheets was something I didn’t want to risk since she was Rylee’s best friend. And best friends dating best friends usually always turns ugly.

  So I tried to play it safe. Lot of good that did me since I fell off the cliff last night and don’t even think I want to be rescued from the rope I’m dangling from.

  I reach up and adjust my ball cap, and then I grab my bag out of the bed of the truck. This is the problem with pussy: When you want it you can’t get it, and when you don’t want it, you get it and then you can’t get it out of your fucking head.

  And fuck if I can erase sweet goddamn Haddie’s from owning my thoughts.

  “Hey, asshole?”

  The voice shocks me from my thoughts. I snap my head up and look toward the porch. “What the fuck are you doing here, Walker?”

  “Glad to see you too, dude,” my brother says as he leans over to get a sloppy kiss from Rex. He laughs and ruffles his fur before looking back up at me.

  I look around to make sure I didn’t miss seeing my brother’s truck on the way in, but nope, it’s not here. “I didn’t know you were going to be up here.” I pull my bag over my shoulder and start walking toward the old ranch house.

  “Yeah, well, it was last minute. Aubrey had a bachelorette party in Vegas.” He shrugs as he lifts the beer in his hand to his lips. “I figured I’d head out here for a couple of days while she was gone. Recharge. Relax. Become one with nature,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows as he repeats the motto our mom used to say when she hauled us off to this old house in Ojai. It has been in her family for years. We used to roll our eyes at the motto as kids, but understand it as adults.

  “My truck’s behind the barn. I was letting Raul use it,” he explains, causing me to look over toward the barn to see if the caretaker is there to wave a greeting to, but he’s nowhere in sight. “What’s your excuse for coming up?”

  “I was looking for some time. Alone,” I say as I climb the steps.

  “Oh, poor baby,” he teases. “Is my big brother sad that his bromance has been interrupted by a little wedding?”

  “Fuck off,” I tell him, even though I already know he’s not going to. He never does, when it comes to how close Colton and I are. “I just needed some R and R. I drank too much last night … thought I’d come up for the weekend and recover. By myself. Leave it to my dumb-ass little brother to ruin my plans.”

  He slaps my back and laughs. “Good thing he did, because he stocked the fridge with ice-cold beer.”

  “Seriously?” Sweet. Saves me the trip into town to get more.

  “Seriously. Dontcha love me now?” he says as he heads toward the kitchen while I head toward the bedroom to drop off my stuff.

  “I’d love you even more if you grabbed me one. Or two or three,” I yell down the hallway to him.

  Pulling the brim of my hat down, I sink down in the chair a bit more. The sun feels good on my skin and the ice-cold beer sliding down my throat feels even better. Walker keeps yakking on and on like a woman, and I tune him out. He definitely got our mother’s talk-about-fucking-nothing-ad-nauseam gene.

  I close my eyes, and my thoughts wander back toward last night. And then they drift to how fucking great the sex was. How great Haddie was. I feel like a chick thinking about it again, about her again, but shit, the sex was incredible. Not to mention that it’s such a damn turn-on when a woman is confident and not afraid to speak her mind in the sack.

  “What’s your deal, dude?”

  “Huh?” I glance at Walker.

  “Who is she?” he asks with a smirk.

  “Who is who?” I aim for classic avoidance. Walker doesn’t need to know zip about Haddie because it was just a one-night stand. And if he thinks any differently—Mr. I love to be in a relationship—he’ll run blabbing
to Mom, and then she’ll start in on me about grandbabies. And of course, then I’ll get the phone call from Dad telling me she’s driving him crazy with all of this baby nonsense, but can I hurry it up some so that he can have some peace and quiet? Shit, I’m okay with having kids someday, just not now.

  I’ve still got oats to sow, places to see, and people to do before I take a chance and bareback.

  “Becks … you’re sitting over there with your eyes closed, a stupid-ass smirk on your face, and you’re adjusting your dick every five fucking seconds.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “So either you’re remembering getting lucky—and it seems like it was a damn good lucky—or else you’re having some kind of pornographic wet daydream, and if that’s the case, you’re a sick fuck since you’re doing it while I’m sitting right here.”

  I stare at him and see amusement in my pestering little brother’s eyes. “Shut up.” It’s not a very good comeback, but it’s all I’ve got, because he caught me red-handed.

  “Ha! I knew it!” he says, turning in his lounge chair to face me. “What poor woman was subjected to your lack of skill last night?”

  And so his screwing with me begins. I love my brother to death, but he needs some new fucking comebacks. I swear to God he hangs out too much with his girlfriend, Aubrey, because he couldn’t be sporting more estrogen if he were wearing some lipstick and heels.

  I start to respond to his dim-witted comment when I hear a cell phone ring. I drop my head to the side and stare at him. Yep. Way too fucking much estrogen. “Please, tell me that is not your ringtone?” I beg of my brother as a Katy Perry song plays on.