What I Like About You

by Kait Nolan

  “Yeah, yeah. I still don’t understand why this would be hitting me now.”

  Sebastian angled his head, those dark eyes studying her. “Being used as a blunt instrument to bash your brother’s choices probably didn’t help matters.”

  This man was too observant by half. He’d been thrown into the deep end by standing in at this wedding, and he’d already zeroed in on their fucked up family dynamics. Wincing, Laurel closed her eyes, wishing that would wipe away the scene still playing on a loop in her head. “God. Dad has no shame. I can’t believe he just did that. This is Logan’s wedding. None of this is about me.”

  “For what it’s worth, it’s not you everybody’s judging.”

  Laurel opened her eyes at that, noting the simple sincerity in Sebastian’s expression.

  “I feel like I should go apologize for him.” And that would go over like a ton of bricks. “Except nobody calls out Lawrence Maxwell.”

  “You aren’t your father’s keeper,” he said easily. “As to the rest, I’m getting the sense you’re not too keen on the job your dad thinks you’re going to accept.”

  That was putting it mildly. She began to think about the rock and hard place she was wedged into, where the choices were to be railroaded into a job and a life she was no longer sure she wanted, or to give up the accolades and approval she’d worked so hard to attain in favor of…what? She wasn’t like her brother. She didn’t have another plan. Law was all she knew. It was the only path she’d even considered. And now…now it felt like a cage door was swinging shut, trapping her.

  That just kicked off the panic again. She recognized it now that Sebastian had pointed it out. Her breath went ragged.

  Not wanting to descend into the depths of another attack, she focused on him again, on leaning into that feeling of attraction. Because he was still touching her, still stroking his thumbs gently over the insides of her wrists. She wasn’t even sure he was aware of it. But she was. Oh, mercy, she was. And she wanted—needed—more of that contact. Slowly, she rotated her hands in his grip so she could curl her fingers around his wrists, linking them. His pulse seemed to jump against her skin. She was surprised to find it wasn’t as slow as his rock-steady manner made it seem.

  Was it possible this attraction wasn’t one-sided?

  Before she could process the idea of that, she heard footsteps on the porch. Ari circled the corner of the house just as Laurel yanked her hands away, folding them into her lap.

  Ari went brows up at the sight of Sebastian still kneeling in front of her. “Sorry to interrupt. I got sent to check on you.”

  “I’m fine.” The answer was automatic, but Laurel was surprised to find it was true. She could breathe again. Sebastian had effectively squashed the anxiety. For now, anyway.

  Ari’s lips pursed a little, as her gaze slid from Laurel to Sebastian, who rose smoothly to his feet. “If you hurry, there’s extra dessert.”

  “Who do I have to arm wrestle for it?” Sebastian grinned and held out a hand to Laurel. “C’mon. You didn’t actually get to eat your first helping.”

  She let him pull her to her feet, disappointed when he released her hand. She was the one who’d pulled away first. He’d been watching her closely enough to know she hadn’t eaten? What did that even mean? As she preceded him into the house, trailing after Ari, she tucked that little detail away to pull out and examine later.

  Chapter 3

  Sebastian couldn’t sleep. That in and of itself wasn’t anything new. He and insomnia were close friends, and he’d lain awake so often, he knew every knot and swirl in the plank ceiling above his bed. But this time, it wasn’t for the usual reasons. He wasn’t thinking of war or death or those he’d lost on the field of battle and after. No, he was thinking of Laurel Maxwell. The absolutely off-limits woman he’d have on his arm in—he glanced at the clock—something like fourteen hours.

  He hadn’t been able to resist following her outside. Hadn’t been able to stop himself from doing what he could to erase the panic he’d seen so clearly in her eyes. That vulnerability tugged at him in a way flirtation never could. It wasn’t in him to ignore someone in need. So he’d intervened, touching her, breathing with her. Falling into those wide, hazel eyes. And now he couldn’t stop remembering the petal soft skin of her wrists. The way her slim fingers had felt curling around his own wrists, forging a link between them.

  No, not a link. It couldn’t be a link because she was Logan’s sister. Because she would be leaving the day after tomorrow.

  And yet, he couldn’t stop remembering how it felt to have her look at him with trust. He’d felt necessary, needed, a kind of validation he hadn’t sought since his separation from the Army. He’d wanted, needed to press his mouth to hers, to watch those pretty eyes fall closed, to watch them open again hazed with want instead of worry. But even if she wasn’t Logan’s sister, he couldn’t go there. He couldn’t be her short-term distraction, her temporary knight. He’d known too many good men who’d let their hero complexes draw them down dangerous paths.

  That way lay madness.

  But touching her had felt so damned good.

  Irritated and knowing he’d never find his way into unconsciousness, he gave up and dressed, shoving his feet into boots to head down to the barn. He’d check on his charges and work off some of this excess energy.

  The night was colder than he’d expected, and he wished he’d thought to drag on more than a flannel shirt. His breath puffed out in clouds just barely illuminated by the crescent moon. Nothing stirred in the night. That utter stillness soaked into him, easing some of the restlessness he’d been struggling with. By the time he opened the side door of the barn, he felt calmer.

  The interior was warm, full of the sweet, familiar scents of hay and leather, underscored with the musk of animals. This was the scent of his childhood. Of comfort. This was what had saved him after the Rangers. He hadn’t known it could or would, and he could only be grateful that Porter had shoved him into this opportunity.

  The sound of a low, female voice brought him up short. Stepping into the aisle, he saw Laurel at the other end, stroking a hand down Cas’s nose. The gelding’s expression could only be described as ecstacy. The moment she drew her hand back, he nudged her in the chest, hard enough she stumbled a bit.

  “Demanding, aren’t you?”

  “That’s Casanova. He thinks the attention of all ladies is his due.”

  Laurel startled with a little yip. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Sorry.” He ambled toward her. “What are you doing up?”

  Though her attention shifted to him, she stepped back to the horse and resumed her petting. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m still in exam mode, and I haven’t been able to convince my brain there’s not something else I’m supposed to be doing.”

  He doubted that was the only thing, but he figured she’d talk about it if she felt like it, so he let it alone.

  “You’ve spent time around horses before.” So many people were leery of the big animals, but she didn’t seem intimidated at all.

  Her lips curved into an easy smile—a real smile, rather than the socially-appropriate one she’d been using all evening. This was the real woman. No artifice, no shields. And standing here in flannel pajama pants and a Vanderbilt sweatshirt, she was even more stunning than the put-together debutante he’d met earlier.

  Danger. Danger, Will Robinson.

  “Yeah. A long time ago. I was horse crazy like any little girl, and my parents indulged me for a while, expecting I’d get over the phase. They never would buy me my own horse. So that’s on my bucket list someday. I haven’t been riding in years.”

  Yeah, he could imagine the kinds of bullshit reasons they’d have given her. It wasn’t appropriate. Wasn’t ladylike. Didn’t expand her resume.

  If it hadn’t been the middle of the damned night, he’d have saddled one of the horses and put her in the ring. She obviously missed it. Instead, he strolled over to lay a hand on Cas’s nec
k himself.

  “It gets in your blood and you never really forget.”

  She looked up at him in open curiosity. “Did you stop?”

  Sebastian didn’t people much. He preferred the company of his animals. And those people he did hang out with all knew his history, or enough of it to cover the big stuff. It was a new thing to be around someone who didn’t know him at all. Didn’t have any preconceived notions about who he was or what he’d been through. He could pick and choose what to tell her. What guy to be for this short, weekend entanglement.

  “For a while I had a job that didn’t allow me access. I didn’t know how much I needed it until I got it back.” Understatement of the century.

  “How did you get into horses?”

  “My mom. She worked for one of those horse farms everybody thinks of when they think about Kentucky, so I grew up around prize-winning Thoroughbreds and spent as much time in barns as I did our house.”

  Laurel beamed. “That sounds amazing.”

  “A lot of it was pretty awesome.” Until it came to an end.

  Her involuntary shiver pulled his brain away from that dark, mental path.

  “It’s freezing. You should be getting some sleep. It’s an earlier day for you ladies tomorrow.”

  She studied him for a long moment, still absently scratching beneath Cas’s forelock. “I’d rather keep talking. Unless you’re headed to bed.”

  Her innocent words sent his brain down a merry, fantasy path involving her in his bed, where he found out exactly what was beneath that shapeless sweatshirt. His body stirred at the notion.

  Nope. He needed to get that shit under control and fast. He ought to walk her back to the house. Instead, he found himself striding into the tack room to grab one of the blankets he kept for the nights he spent out here keeping watch on injured or sick horses. Shaking it out, he wrapped it around her shoulders, tugging the ends together like a big shawl. The motion inadvertently brought her a step closer to him, and he caught the faint, subtly floral scent of…what was that? Chamomile? Lavender? It reminded him of the herbal teas his mom used to drink.

  Laurel reached up to clasp the edges of the blanket, her hand brushing his. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” He managed to withdraw without acting like he’d been scalded and nodded to a stack of square hay bales. “Want to sit?”

  “Sure.”

  Sebastian sat first, back against the wall. He realized his mistake almost immediately when she sat beside him. They weren’t touching, but it wouldn’t take much to reach out and twine his fingers with hers. He was surprised by how much he wanted to. The dim interior of the barn in this silent stretch of night felt too intimate. Yet he didn’t want to walk away and go back to his empty house.

  Laurel let out a long, weighty sigh. “You were right, earlier.”

  He dragged his attention away from his desire to touch her and back to the conversation. “About what?”

  “I don’t want that job. It’s what Dad wants me to do. What he’s expected me to do from the moment I announced my intention to pursue the law. I didn’t even know he knew about the offer. I was hoping he didn’t, so I could avoid…well, exactly what happened.”

  He rolled his head toward her, catching the misery in her eyes. “What do you want?” It was a basic enough question, and one he doubted anyone else had asked her.

  “To survive my last semester.”

  That wasn’t the whole answer, certainly not the honest one. So he pushed, just a little, hoping to draw her out. “What else?”

  She turned her head, and something other than misery came into her eyes. “To satisfy my curiosity.”

  Her voice was barely above a whisper and he found himself leaning closer to hear whatever she wanted to confide. “About what?”

  “This.” Lifting her face to his, she closed the distance between them.

  Her lips were soft against his, but not tentative. It was a gentle question, and it shocked the hell out of him. For long moments, he couldn’t do anything but sit there, stunned.

  Laurel pulled back, a flush staining her cheeks. “Sorry.” She looked away. “That was—”

  Sebastian didn’t allow himself to think about the wisdom of his actions. He could only focus on the need to know the taste and feel of her. Sliding his hand into her hair, he framed her face, bringing her gaze back to his. Her eyes were full of distress and a guarded hope.

  “A surprise. It was a surprise.” Then he lowered his mouth to hers.

  Her hands came up to circle his wrists and he braced to pull away. Instead, she melted into him in a surrender that tore straight past what was left of his good sense. He was in so much trouble here, but hell if he could find the will to pull away.

  Sweet. She was so damned sweet. And when he angled his head, tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue, she opened for him, pressing closer, as they both took the kiss deeper. Her hum of pleasure shot straight to his groin. Even as he fought not to drag her straight into his lap, she was shifting to straddle him. The weight of her against his erection almost had his eyes rolling back into his head.

  Christ, she was going to kill him. And if she didn’t, her brother surely would.

  That reminder of the reasons he shouldn’t be doing this provided a fresh injection of sanity. This was Logan’s sister. The sister who didn’t live here. Who he shouldn’t—couldn’t—pursue.

  It took everything he had to gentle the kiss rather than gripping her hips and grinding against her. He eased them back, ending with short, nibbling kisses at each corner of her mouth before resting his brow against hers.

  His breath was ragged. “Did that satisfy your curiosity?”

  Laurel’s voice, when she answered, was surprisingly steady. “Pretty sure it only gave me more questions.”

  Searching for some humor to lighten the mood, he pulled back to look at her. “Curiosity killed the cat.”

  “But satisfaction brought it back.”

  “What?” he laughed.

  “That’s the rest of that proverb. Everybody gets it wrong. So from my perspective, a healthy curiosity is a good thing.”

  As she grinned up at him, unabashed, Sebastian decided it was a damned good thing she was only here for the wedding because she was a temptation and a half. And one he couldn’t afford to indulge in any further.

  Thank God for waterproof mascara.

  From her position at the end of the line of bridesmaids, Laurel couldn’t see Athena past all the standing guests. But the look on her brother’s face as he caught the first glimpse of his bride had tears welling. He was rapt, eyes shining with more than simply joy. His throat worked, and the edges of his smile looked a little strained as he struggled to control his emotions. She hoped the photographer captured this moment so that Athena could remember it for the rest of their forever.

  What would it be like to have someone look at her like that? Like she was the sun, moon, and stars. It would be easy to get drunk on that kind of adoration.

  Athena reached the front of the aisle, radiant, as all brides ought to be. She wore no veil, and her long, golden brown hair was loose and curled, adorned only with some jeweled combs on either side. The simple column dress suited her down to the ground, as did the bouquet of calla lilies and greenery she carried.

  Beside Laurel, Ari was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. On her other side, Pru was already crying, with an equally wide smile on her face as Athena paused, bending to kiss the cheek of her father, in his wheelchair at the head of the bride’s side, before stepping to the altar and taking Logan’s hand.

  He radiated happiness and contentment. A part of Laurel envied that. He’d bucked family tradition, gone his own way, and he was legitimately content with the life he’d built in a way very few people were. Everything about what he’d chosen was different than the life they’d led growing up. Different from what their parents had expected. What they’d been groomed for. How much of his happiness was rooted in defiance of all those implicit and ex
plicit expectations?

  As she stood in the sanctuary of the little church, listening to her brother make his vows to the woman who’d turned out to be his perfect match, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more for her. Something else. Because she couldn’t escape the probability that if she continued on her current path, she wouldn’t find this. She wouldn’t have time to because she’d be working as hard or harder to make partner as she had to maintain her academic standing in law school. Doing it for a few years was one thing, but for life? That didn’t feel like an acceptable trade off.

  Her gaze slid over to Sebastian, looking very 007 in his tux. Broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, he stood perfectly still and balanced. No fidgeting, no shifting. Was that stillness something he’d honed in the Army or was it simply him? He hadn’t told her he was former military, but Logan had mentioned it when he first took Sebastian on. She’d cared more about the fact that Logan was getting horses on the farm, but now she wondered about what had made Sebastian get out. If he felt her watching, he gave no sign. His focus remained on Athena and Logan, his expression appropriately serious.

  Laurel hadn’t seen him this morning. She wasn’t sure if that was by his design or just because she’d been tied up with hair and makeup and pictures. There’d been no chance to talk to him alone. What would she even say? Some variation of “Please, kiss me again?”

  Yeah, she could go for that. She could go for a lot more than that.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  The minister’s words sent her brain right back to the barn last night, and oh mercy, what a kiss that had been. Taking the lead was totally unlike her. And okay, maybe a little bit of it was to avoid talking about law school and the job thing because she’d been afraid to really consider her answer. But more, she’d been wondering what he’d taste like and whether that sizzle she felt every time he touched her would translate to a kiss.