Chasing the Sun (A Rebound Novella Book 2) (13 page)

“Hey…I have feelings for you, it’s not just fucking to me…And Trey, she’s my friend and I care about her too, but nothing’s going on. I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
 

 
It was kind of a non-answer, but it seemed to help.
 

She sighed, the tension ebbing from her body. Ian ran his hands down her back, then the outside of her hips and legs. His fingers nimbly inched the material of her dress into his palms. Where her panties should have been, he felt only skin. He pulled back and looked at her, cocking a brow.

“Couldn’t have panty lines with this dress, now could I?” she said, unbuttoning his shirt
 
leisurely. The thought that she’d been bare under her dress all night made his pulse race and his hard-on thicken. He whipped the dress over her head with what could only be qualified as a growl. He ran his hand down her stomach, then rubbed his palm over her. Her chest rose a few times and her eyes rolled as she hiked her leg around his still clothed waist. Ian grabbed the hip of the elevated leg and pulled her onto his fingers. She rode his hand with his guidance until her body shook and quivered.
 

Rory put her hand on top of his, holding him inside of her as she rode the last wave. A curse left her lips just before she licked them.

“You’re still dressed. Come, let me help you with that.” Her voice was husky and her grin wanton. She ran his hand up her stomach, leaving her wetness in its wake.
 

Ian let her pull him towards her room, the moon shining from the windows made her naked skin seem pale like snow.

 
Whatever thoughts he was grappling with disappeared when he was moving inside of her—the
 
blinders of his building orgasm gave him a welcome bout of amnesia.

After the echoes of their groans were gone, they lay in a twine of sweaty limbs. Rory’s fingers drifting up and down the toned planes of his stomach. Ian had one hand in her hair and the other around her shoulder.

“When I was little I never wore shoes, ever. I loved the feel of the dirt under my feet and the grass between my toes. Through brambles, over rocks, didn’t matter…One day I was running, my friend Jacob was chasing me as usual. I was looking over my shoulder at him, so I didn’t notice the jagged rock sticking up from the ground.”

Ian lay still, lulled by her voice, picturing her running barefooted through the woods. He pictured her hair wild and her cheeks flushed like a forest sprite.

“What happened?” he asked gently.

“Seeing that he was about to catch me, I sped up. The rock sliced through my foot from the base of my toes to my heel…I didn’t cry at first. I guess I was in shock. But the tears and blood came soon enough. The pain was electric…Jacob tried to carry me, but he only made it halfway. I was tiny then, but he was even smaller.” Her laugh was silent, but Ian felt it.

“Did someone find you?”

“I told Jacob to run and get help, but he wouldn’t leave me at first. Finally I convinced him and he must’ve run like the hounds of hell were chasing him. He was back with my mom in minutes and she carried me the rest of the way. My dad took one look at my foot and drove me into town. I got twenty stitches.” She pulled up her foot, revealing the scar on her arch. Ian kissed his finger and ran it along the thin white line. She smiled into his chest where her head rested.

“I never ran barefoot after that, too scared I’d get hurt…I know it sounds silly, but that was the last day I remember feeling completely free. Since then I’ve always been a little more cautious and guarded. I guess I’ve been like that with love, too. It’s funny how something small can have such a big impact when you’re a kid.”

“What happened to Jacob?”

“After we moved away I never saw him again.” Sadness laced her voice.

“I hate that, that it changed you, but I can’t imagine you any more free spirited than you are now.” Ian attempted to lighten her melancholy.

“Most of it’s real, but some of it’s just…shoes, I guess.”
 

“Ah, I get it, your protection…But Rory, you’re an amazing woman. You don’t need to act and you don’t need to put up walls.”

“Just go barefoot?” she asked, lifting her head to look at him.

“Yeah, just go barefoot.”

“You make me feel that way, Ian.” It wasn’t an I love you, but it was probably as close as Rory Monroe got.

He didn’t respond, what could he say? So he smiled and she kissed his chest, laying her head back down. He held her until she fell asleep. He stared at the ceiling for another hour.
 

The bright mid-morning sun woke Ian. He slid out of bed. Rory was still sleeping like the dead. He needed a shower, but didn’t have anything to change into. A note would be a jerk move, so he had no choice but to nudge her.

“Hey, I’m heading home. I need a shower, I’m meeting my folks for lunch.”

“Mmmkay,” she murmured from under a mass of hair.

“Call you later.”
 

No response, she was snoring softly. It was a cute sound. He took one more look at the parts of her body that weren’t covered by her beige sheets. An ankle, one ass cheek, her entire back. It was a nice view.
 

All that he saw before him could be his if he wanted. If, one, he lived here, and two, his skin wasn’t crawling at the thought of Trey wrapped in Professor Dicklick’s arms.

He walked down the stairs of Rory’s apartment, wondering what was going on with him? He felt like his heart was being stretched, each girl pulling a side. Did he love Rory? No. But he felt something for her, like it could be something. And then there was Trey. His feelings for her, well, it was complicated—like a ball of tangled yarn. It didn’t have to be, but sometimes life, and certainly love, wasn’t black and white.

He paused, his keys in the ignition.
 

 
“Well, fuck me,” Ian said under his breath.

Epiphanies weren’t always pleasant, sometimes they were like a swift kick to the balls.
 

He got it, in that moment, he got it—how Katrine must have felt. Having feelings for him and for Mr. Money Bags, feeling confused and ultimately having to choose between them. The anger, hurt, and his ego had kept him from putting himself in her shoes. She’d loved him as much as she could—she just loved the other guy more, and chose
him
.

Ah, but that was the difference, he didn’t have to choose….he just had to leave.

He turned his car over and slipped on his sunglasses. Leaving sounded pretty good right about now.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Do you have plans with Rory tonight?

 
Ian read the text from Trey and smiled—he was excited to hear from her. He’d been lying on his couch, the History Channel was playing a marathon about the American Presidents. It was great background noise for the half dozing thing he’d been doing for the past hour or so.

That depends…

On what?

On what you had in mind?

 
I wanted to make you dinner to celebrate. I didn’t get to talk to you much last night.

That’s because you were hanging all over Professor Chump. Rory has a show, but don’t you have to work?It’s Saturday.

Jealous much? And no, I took the night off.

Wow, both nights off for me? I’m touched.
 

Well, you’re leaving soon so I better get my fill ;)

In that case I’m all yours.
 

My house 6:30.

I’ll be there with balls, I mean bells on.

Dork.

But you love me.

Yup, you’re pretty lovable.

I know. Okay, need to get my nap on. See ya then.

See ya.

The thought of spending the evening with Trey made him happier than it should, but he wanted to get his fill of her, too. She’d been an incredible friend to him, especially when Ruby died. But it was more than that. She made him feel good. That’s what friendship should be—feeling better than before just having spent time together. She was never moody or bitchy, sassy and sarcastic sure, but never bitchy. Smart, funny, and beautiful, the whole package. She was going to make someone very lucky one day. He guessed it could be him if he could get with the program. But when it’s right, you know it. No need for figuring it out or convincing yourself…at least that’s what he believed to be true.

Contrary to popular belief, most men do care what they wear and Ian was no exception. He didn’t stress about it, but he also didn’t shake out the first quasi-clean T-shirt he found on the floor, either. He had a friend in high school, Ryan Smith, who would always wear the latest styles and brand names, never wrinkled nor a hair out of place. He also had a friend, Nate Amery, who didn’t care how his hair looked, and if he had sleeves on his shirt then he was dressed up. Nate was above average in the looks department, so girls were never phased by his who gives a shit approach to clothing.
 

Ian was somewhere in the middle of that spectrum.
 

Like tonight—he was having dinner at Trey’s and although it wasn’t a date he was just vain enough to care about his appearance. This would be one of their last nights together and she was cooking for him, so he decided to chuck the cargo shorts and opt for his linen pants. He slipped on his deep blue v-neck, one that Trey said brought out the blue in his eyes. He ran his hands through his hair, brushed his teeth, put on his watch and flops. Fifteen minutes, bada bing…done. It would have taken longer if he’d shaved, but the two days growth was still in the realm of appealing five o’clock shadow.

Cologne? Why the hell not.
 

Just one spritz though, there was nothing worse than smelling like a Guido on the prowl. He felt the same way about women. If he could smell a girl’s perfume from ten feet away she got the buzzer, much like his Aunt Helen. Break every bottle on the perfume counter at the department store then roll around in the liquid naked, and that was what hugging her was like.
 

In fact, he liked when a girl didn’t wear any at all. Then he could lick and kiss all he wanted without his tongue tasting like a perfume sample.
 

 
Ian didn’t want to show up empty handed, so he decided to stop at the high end grocery store by his house. Flowers screamed date and he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression considering the thin lines of their current situation, and Trey had an extensive wine collection. That left dessert, or a cheese ball…but he wasn’t that clueless.

Trey answered the door wearing her best smile and an emerald green sundress.

“Ooooh, only good things come in a big pink box,” she said, stepping to the side. “Come in, handsome.”

He pecked her cheek and followed her into the kitchen.
 

“May I?”

“Of course, I got them for you,” Ian said as he handed her the box he carried.

“Mmmmm. These look so good… you remembered, how sweet.”
 

“Well, you’ve only told me a hundred times how you love the pastries there, so…”

“It’s still nice that you remember things like that. I dated a guy for a year and he was still surprised every time I told him I didn’t like eggs.” She took two wine glasses from the cabinet.

“Is that why you broke up?”

“That and he had a really small dick. After a while personality will only get you so far, ya know?”
 

Ian snorted a little. The best part was he had no idea if she was serious or not.

Trey’s head was no longer visible, she was hunched down in front of her wine rack giving giving him a nice view of her round back side. Speaking of dicks, his took notice.

“White or red?” she asked.

“Whatever you think will go best with the food.”

“Well, I’m going to grill some jumbo shrimp to go with the short ribs, so we could do either.

“I love shrimp and short ribs.”

“Thus the genius of my menu selection.”

“Oh right. I guess you listen, too,” Ian said, followed by a shy grin.

“I’m a woman, of course I listen…So red? I just received a tasty Malbec from my wine club.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Trey poured the wine and grabbed the large platter of marinated shrimp from the wide stainless steel refrigerator.

“The ribs are in the oven keeping warm, so let me just throw these babies on the grill and we can eat…Can you grab the wine, please?”

Ian grabbed the glasses and followed her to the back. Her yard wasn’t large but it was landscaped beautifully, with tall wispy grasses and bright flowers. A chime jangled in the breeze and a small tiled fountain burbled. The effect was very serene. The large board on board fence lent privacy and muted the sounds from downtown less than a mile away.
 

They walked down a narrow pebbled path leading to the grill which was on a small raised deck, stained in a golden rust color. The deck was big enough to hold a low round table and plush outdoor chairs.

Ian offered to grill the shrimp, but she refused.

“You are the honored guest, so just sit back and relax. These will only take a few minutes…Oh crap, I forgot the snacks. Be right back.” She scurried back up the path, her bare feet surprisingly nimble over the small rocks. Ian took her advice and sat back into a the love seat. The cushions were thick and swathed in thick red and gold striped material.

All her things were elegant and well made. Ian wondered just how much Trey’s grandmother had left her.
 

“Here you go,” Trey said. She was a little out of breath by the time she placed the snacks in front of him. If you could call three kinds of olives, two of which were stuffed—one with roasted red pepper and the other with blue cheese—hummus, fresh pita bread, and dolmas, snacks.

“Wow. When you said snacks I was thinking chips and French onion dip,” he teased.

“Puh-lease, never! I made the dolmas myself. It’s my mom’s recipe, well my sitti’s really.” He knew that was what she called her maternal grandmother, who was Lebanese. Trey’s father side was Eastern European. It was no wonder Trey was so exotic looking. Ian was some innocuous mix of caucasian.