Need You Tonight (8 page)

He walks inside, and my heart flutters at the sight of his chiseled good looks. His sexy lips curve into a smile, dimples that make my knees weak appearing. Before I met Parker, I never knew I had a thing for those.

“Smells good.”

With a pleased smile, I finish chopping up the salad and turn to him. “I hope you like roast.” Grabbing a beer from the fridge¸ I offer it to him and he takes it.

“I like anything I don’t have to cook myself,” he says. “You got a bottle opener?”

Nodding, I grab the one from the drawer beside the sink. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He pops the top, throws it away, and takes a drink, his golden-green gaze never leaving my face. “I’m ready for your list.”

“My what?” I can’t stop staring at him. Rowan is right, the man is fine. Ovary-exploding fine. I snort a little.

“What’s so funny?”

My eyes round. “Ah, nothing.”

His grin widens. “That was not a nothing snort.”

I wave a hand in the air. “Just some… gossip I heard about you.” His grin practically turns into a glower. “Nothing bad. It was very complimentary and flattering.”

Obviously unconvinced, he crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles bulging slightly with the movement.

Danger, Brooklyn Reeves, danger. Forearm porn in the vicinity. Look away. Look away.

But I can’t. I’m a slave to my sudden lust for him and suggestion by Rowan to try hitting on Parker to see what happens. Something she had to tell me again right before I left work for the day.

His eyebrows rise. “I’m all ears.”

I swear my face turns red as I stammer, “That you’re ovary-exploding fine.”

He purses his lips, one hand coming up to stroke his jaw. “But not panty-melting?”

Biting my lip, I shake my head. “Sorry.” Those sexy lips of his twitch a little, and I let out a huff. “You were giving me a hard time, weren’t you?”

“Maybe.” Smiling, he takes another drink of his beer. I can’t help but watch his mouth and then his throat as he swallows before he sets the bottle down on the table behind him. “Do I have enough time to work on the window before supper’s ready?”

Right. The window. The doors. The list. “Oh, the list. You want my list.” I smack my forehead, and then walk to the living room. “It’s right here.”

Braden’s picture stares back at me. I let out a shaky breath. What was I thinking? I can’t be with another man, not even one as sexy as Parker Morgan.

I feel Parker’s presence behind me before he speaks. My skin prickles with awareness. Guilt slams through me. How can I react to another man with Braden’s picture in the room? Rowan is wrong. So is Soon Lin.

“Is that your husband?” he asks softly.

Unable to speak, I nod.

“He looks like a good guy.”

Finally I turn, grabbing the paper as I do. “He was a very good man.” I gaze into Parker’s face. “The finest. I know I’ll never meet another one like him.”

Something flashes in Parker’s eyes, but it’s gone too quickly for me to figure out. “No, you probably won’t.”

For some reason, his compliment strikes me wrong. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It means nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Parker tilts up his chin a little. “Fine. You want honesty?”

No.
“Yes.”

“I think you’re afraid to meet someone new, but here’s the thing, finding someone else to love won’t diminish him.” He touches my collarbone with the tip of his fingers. “There is room for more love in your life, Brooklyn.”

I was expecting honest from him, not poetry. “Maybe I have all the love I need.”

A sad smile touches his lips. “A picture can’t love you, sweetheart. No matter how much you wish it were true.”

“I’m not your sweetheart,” is all I can say in my defense.

His fingers linger for a moment, then travel up my neck to cup my cheek. I shiver in response, my nipples hardening, and my panties growing damp. “No, and that’s a damn shame.”

He walks away, leaving me staring after him and wondering what just happened. And what could have happened.

“Great. Supper’s ready.” I gesture to the already set table. Steams wafts up from the roasted veggies and mashed potatoes.

He holds out my chair. “My lady.”

I smile and sit down, allowing him to scoot my chair up. “Thanks.”

Sitting across from me, he begins to fill up his plate. “You’re welcome, and thank you for feeding me. You really didn’t have to, because I do get paid for my time here.”

“Right.” I look at my empty plate. “I knew that.”

“Hey, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings. I just didn’t want you to think you had to waste this meal on me.”

“I know.” My vision gets all watery as I realize I had prepared Braden’s favorite meal. The meal I had planned to have ready for him the night he came home. The meal he never got to eat. My heart twists in my chest, and a tear slides down my nose and drips on the plate.

“Fuck.” I hear the clatter of utensils. Suddenly, Parker is at my side, tipping up my chin to look at him. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, baby.”

I sniff. “I’m not. I won’t.”

He takes me in his arms, pulling me into his hard, muscular chest. Strength and his male scent surround me. “What did I say that made you cry? I swear I’ll remove the words from my vocabulary.”

“It’s not what you said. It’s the meal.”

Pulling back a little, he looks at me. “I like what you fixed.”

“So did Braden. It was his favorite.”

“That’s fine with me.” His eyes are open and honest. He truly means it. “Fix all his favorites if you want. I’ll eat every last one.”

I smile a little. “It’s not that… this meal was the one I had planned for the day he came home. But he never came home alive.” More tears fall. I try to brush them away, but Parker beats me to it. His fingers are gentle as they wipe each one.

“Tell me how to fix this,” he says.

“I’m sorry. It’s stupid. You’d think after two years, I’d be better, but I’m not. People keep telling me I should be—my friends, my family. Even Rowan and you, two people I barely know can see all the reasons why I shouldn’t be stuck in this. In my life.” My voice cracks. “But I’m not ready to date again. I’m just not, Parker.”

“You don’t have to, sweetheart. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” I say helplessly. “I don’t know
anything
.”

With a tender look on his face, he sweeps me up in his arms and carries me out of the room. I slide my arms around his neck, torn between screaming at him to put me down and snuggling in closer.

He bumps open the guest bedroom door and lays me down on the bed. “If you give me fifteen minutes, I’ll make us something else.”

I blink up at him, my lashes spikey with tears. “You’re going to cook for me?”

“Oh yeah, and you’re going to eat every bit of it.” He flashes his dimples at me. “Sit tight. Think happy thoughts and I’ll be back.”

Brooklyn is still right where I left her, only she’s asleep. Dark lashes fan out on the top of her cheeks, and her plump lips are slightly parted. Like this, she looks young, far too young to have been married and widowed. Hell, her husband had probably been too young as well.

“Are you still hungry?” I ask, sitting down beside her on the bed with the tray in my hands.”

Her lashes slowly lift, giving me a glimpse of what it would be like to wake up with her. My heart slams against my chest. I don’t need that glimpse. Not one damn bit.

“Starving.” She gives me a crooked smile. “I fell asleep.”

“Rough day at work?”

She gives me a grateful smile and sits up. “Very rough.”

I carefully set the tray in her lap. “Eat up.”

“My bacon is smiling at me.”

“That okay with you?” Jesus, I hope her husband hadn’t done this for her. “My little sister, Kelly, loves bacon smiles on pancakes.”

“Never had one before.” She takes a bite, letting out a little moan. “Why does bacon have to be so good?”

“Because it’s bacon.” I scarf down two pieces, and then start on my pancakes, covering them with syrup.

“Your logic is truly astounding.”

“It’s a gift,” I confide with a wink. “I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?” she asks, her tongue darting out to catch a drop of syrup. I stifle a groan.

“Maybe I could help you out.”

“You’re
already
helping me out with the house.”

“But what if I could help you out with more than just the house. What if I could help get your friends and family off your back?”

Her brows crease. “Why would you help me?”

“I don’t know…” I stretch out beside her on the bed. “Maybe we both need people in our lives who aren’t pressuring us.”

She grabs a glass of orange juice. “I’ll drink to that.”

I toast her with my glass. “Cheers.”

In some ways, I find it odd how modest she is. Or maybe modest is the wrong word. Shy might fit her better.

“Need some help?” I ask as I get out my truck.

“Sure. Just let me run inside and get another uh, rag.”

While she’s inside, I start scrubbing the tires.

“Here you go.” She stands beside me—this time with a t-shirt over her bathing suit top. Brooklyn catches me noticing the wardrobe change and tugs on the hem of her shirt. “I was getting a little cold.”

Nothing on this planet can get me to point out that it is already eighty-five degrees and climbing. Taking the rag, I throw it in the bucket. “After I’m done with the tires, I’ll get the roof.”

She flashes me a sweet smile. “That would be a big help. I have a hard time reaching the middle.”

Turning my attention back to the tires, I start washing rims. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I thought if I came over early, I could finish up the majority of your list this weekend.”

“Oh.”

Oh? I look up at her. Her grey eyes are soft, like rain falling. “You don’t sound happy about that?”

She shrugs. “I’m happy to have help, just not the fact that you’ll finish so soon. Why else would you keep coming over?”

I stand, cocking my head to one side. “I think I made that abundantly clear last night.”

“You did, but I didn’t want to hold you to it, if in the morning you felt differently.”

She’s giving me an out, and a graceful one at that. I’d be a liar not to admit that it had crossed my mind a time or two last night, after I left her in bed. Still clothed. Still untouched by me.

“I’m sure I could think up other things we could do in order to get everyone off our backs.”

Her pink tongue darts out, licking her lips. “I don’t want you to feel obligated because of my meltdown.”

I take a step closer to her, unable to stop myself as I cup her cheek. “The last thing I feel is obligated.”

A smile transforms her face to beautiful. “Then I’m glad you’re here.”

Letting go of her, I get back to work, barely noticing when water rains down on me. Another shot, this time directly to my face, leaves me sputtering, “What the hell?”

Brooklyn peeps over the hood, her pretty eyes innocent. “Did I get you?”

“A little.”

“I’ll be more careful next time. I just found a super stubborn spot on the side panel.”

With a half salute, I kneel once more. A few seconds later, I’m practically drowning. I hear a giggle, and shoot to my feet, only to catch Brooklyn red-handed.

“You’re so going to get it,” I warn seconds before I take off.

She lets out a squeal while simultaneously letting go of the water hose. “It was an accident.”

I catch up to her in three steps, locking her within my embrace. Lowering my mouth to her ear, I whisper, “Do you know what happens to naughty girls like you?”

“They get cookies?”

Reaching down, I grab the hose and take aim. “They get soaked.” I pull the trigger, and water blasts out. She bucks against me, her curvy, little body wriggling in my arms.

“Let me go,” she squeals. “It’s frickin’ freezing!”

“Well water doesn’t get too warm, since it’s coming from underground.” I can’t help but laugh, even as she wrestles the hose from my grasp and turns the water on me. Soon, we’re both soaked. “Drop the hose. I won’t squirt you anymore.”

“Promise?” she asks, not letting up.

Water snakes down our bodies in rivulets. Her shirt clings to her. Tight little nipples poke at the material, and I have the sudden urge to suck them in my mouth. My dick gets hard at the thought. I force myself to think of how she was in the kitchen last night, weeping and broken.

Letting go of her, I take a step back to put distance between us. She gives me a funny look, obviously unaware of my erection.
Thank God.
“Promise.”

She laughs, and I can’t help but grin. “We look like drowned rats.”

“Speak for yourself.” I shake the water out of my hair like a dog would.

Brooklyn squeals, holding up her hands to shield herself. “Stop it. You look
amazing
. Like a magazine cover.”

“What magazine?” I ask, just to tease her.

“Drowned Rats Weekly.”

“So not the right answer.”

I lunge for her and she takes off in a run, her legs pumping and her wet hair flying out behind her. For a few seconds I watch her, entranced by her and the joy on her face when she glances over her shoulder. Then I take off, catching up to her easily with my longer strides.

She veers to the right at the last minute, but I keep up. There’s an old tractor up ahead, with an aerator attachment. The spikes on it, meant to dig into the soil, could kill a man.

Brooklyn looks back at me, laughing, as she starts jogging backwards. “You sure run slow for a guy.”

She doesn’t see it.
Holy fuck
, she doesn’t see it. “Watch out,” I roar.

Time seems to slow to a crawl. I watch her face go from happy to confused, and then, as she turns, I hear her scream. Her body contorts, twisting to one side. Diving for her, I grasp at air at first and then her hair. I yank back, wincing even as she cries out in pain.

Time speeds up. She falls backwards we land with a thud on the ground, my hand wound tightly in her hair and her fingernails digging into my wrist.

“Let go of me, baby,” I pant, and her grip loosens. My heart pounds as I carefully untangle the strands of hair. I rise up, leaning over her while she rolls to her back. I search her face, running her hands down her arms, chest, stomach, and thighs. “Are you okay?”

“That’s the most alive I’ve felt since Braden died,” she whispers. Her face is nearly devoid of color; even her lips are tinged in white as she smiles. She sits up, forcing me backwards.

I swipe at a streak of dirt on her cheek, only to come away with a pink-tinged fingertip. “You’re bleeding.”

Her gaze falls to my finger as she touches her cheek. “Ouch.”

I stand, holding out my hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“What about you?”

“You first, then I’ll go home and come back.”

We walk to the house. I keep one hand on the small of her back while the other hangs loosely at my side. We go through the door on the back porch. It swings shut, but doesn’t close all the way. I make a mental note to adjust the frame later today.

As soon as we hit the laundry room, Brooklyn begins to peel out of her clothes. Just the sight of her smooth, creamy back is enough to make me tense. She glances over her shoulder, her grey eyes flicking over me.

“I still have my bathing suit on,” she says, as if her in a bikini wouldn’t affect me. Then she stops undressing, and I send up a silent prayer of thanks. “You don’t have to stay. I’m going to get in the shower. You should do the same.”

With you?
I take a step closer, and she turns toward me. “Are you sure you don’t need my help to clean up?” I ask hoarsely.

“No.” Her gaze slips from mine, but she doesn’t move. “I’m not sure.”

I take another step and then another, until hardly anything separates us. Slowly, I cup her bare shoulders and slide my hands down to her wrists. She lets out a shuddering breath. I can feel her heartbeat in her pulse. It’s frantic, but is it a result of what had happened outside, me touching her, or a combination of the two?

I don’t want to push Brooklyn, especially with the way things went down last night. I had offered to be the guy to help her, to be the guy who kept everyone else off her back. If I take this any further, then all I’ll be is the guy who leaves her in the end.

Dipping my head, I press my lips to her cold cheek, the one not scraped and step back. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll be back in a little bit to start on my list.” Then I run like hell away from the woman who’s tempting me like no one should.