Pushing the Boundaries (Picking up the Pieces #3) (24 page)

We all clinked our glasses in cheers and spent the next several hours lamenting all things male.

Girls’ nights out are the best!

This marriage thing was. The.
Shit
! With every week that passed I fell more and more in love with Lizzy, and even if we hadn’t said the words yet, I had no doubt she felt the same about me…even if she got inside her own head a little too often.

“Y’all coming to Colt’s tonight?” Brett asked as we worked on the last bit of Lizzy’s expansion. Once we were done and the rooms were set up, Elegant Nails was going to have a ton more business. My girl already ran a lucrative salon but with extra treatments being offered, she was going to be so swamped she wasn’t going to know what to do with herself.

“Yeah, we’re heading over as soon as I close up the shop,” I responded, but when I looked over at Brett he wasn’t even paying attention. He was too busy staring at the hot chick who worked for Liz. “So, what’s going on there?” I asked with a laugh, tilting my head in her direction.

“Huh? Oh, nothing.” He shook his head and went back to mudding the joints in the drywall.

“Doesn’t look like nothin’. Looks like you got a hard-on for Lizzy’s friend.”

“Nah.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but I knew he was full of shit. “Woman’s got too much baggage. Two little kids. I’m not looking to play daddy any time soon.”

That was an unexpectedly-cold remark coming from Brett. “Jesus, man. What the hell?”

Brett let out a deep sigh and dropped his head. “That was harsh.”

“Uh, yeah. That’s a fucking understatement. What was that all about?”

We both turned at looked in the woman’s direction, but she wasn’t at her table. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just finish this shit up,” he grumbled and went back to work. I didn’t push, knowing it was pointless to try and get anything out of him when he was in such a bad mood.

“All right man, I’m heading over to the shop,” I told Brett a few hours later. “Got a few clients before I can call it a day.

“Okay, brother. See you tonight.”

I headed out with a wave and walked the few blocks from Elegant Nails to Ink Addictz. “What up, boss man?” Mickey called as I came through the door. “I’m taking lunch orders. What do ya want from Virgie May’s?”

“Oh, hell yeah!” My stomach grumbled at the thought of the diner’s food. “Get me a number seven. Oh, and a number two! And a slice of pie, whatever the special is for the day.”

“Then gimme some money. I’m too broke to be spending all my cash on just your meal.” I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet, handing my credit card over without a fuss. I didn’t put up a fight when it came to anything having to do with Virgie May’s, especially the pie. “Oh, and there’s someone here to see you. She’s back in your office.”

That took my attention off my stomach. “Who is it?”

“Don’t know. Said she was an old friend and didn’t want to wait in the waiting area. Eyed me like I was a piece of white trash. What kinda snooty bitches were you friends with back in Louisiana, man?”

Fuck, whoever was back there, it couldn’t be good.

“I don’t talk to anyone from back home.”

Mickey headed for the door and called out over her shoulder. “Maybe one of the chicks you left behind?” she asked with a wink.

I sure the hell hoped not.

Once Mick was gone I headed back to my office to see who the hell from my past came all the way to Cloverleaf to see me. I couldn’t name one person from back then who I’d want to see today. When I pushed the office door open and saw the woman sitting comfortably at my desk, I knew I was in a shit-ton of trouble.

“Marissa, what the fuck are you doing here?” I growled, staring at the bitch who had the audacity to sit in
my
office like she owned the goddamned place. But I wouldn’t expect any less from a vindictive, poisonous she-devil like Marissa Boudreaux.

“Now, is that anyway to talk to an old friend?” Her cultured southern accent still set my teeth on edge even after all these years.

“You’re not an old friend. You’re a goddamned succubus. Now get the fuck outta my chair.”

She let out a snarky laugh and stood from the chair, rounding the desk until she was in my personal space. It was way too close for comfort; I quickly stepped back until she was out of arms’ reach.

“I see hanging out with the tattooed degenerates like that
woman
up front has taken a toll on your vocabulary,” she said with disgust, curling her collagen-filled lips into a sneer. Honestly, with all the Botox in her face, I was surprised she could make any expression at all.

“That
woman
has a thousand times the class you could ever hope to have. Just because you wear fucking sweater sets from Neiman’s doesn’t mean you aren’t a first-class whore.”

“I see you’re still clinging to the past,” she replied with a roll of her overly-lined eyes.

“Clinging to the past? Are you kidding me?”

“Trevor, there are things we need to discuss—”

“How did you even know where I was?” I asked, ignoring her previous statement.

She let out a sigh like my question was an annoyance. “Carlisle told me.”

I couldn’t help the sarcastic laugh that rumbled from my chest. “Of course he did! Why doesn’t it surprise me that you two are still in contact? Still doing each other’s dirty work, and each other?”

“You need to get over it, Trevor. It was years ago. And it’s not worth ruining your life over. You can’t honestly tell me you married some woman who does nails for a living because you’re in
love
with her,” she scoffed sarcastically.

I was done. I didn’t owe her an explanation, and I certainly wasn’t going to waste my breath defending my and Lizzy’s marriage to a bitch like Marissa who didn’t deserve it. She wasn’t worth my time back then and she certainly wasn’t worth it now.

“Get the fuck out,” I seethed between clenched teeth.

“We need to talk, Trevor. I’m staying at the Inn in Eagle Lake Park,” she told me as she grabbed her purse and placed her hand on the door knob.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I don’t want to see you again, let alone speak to you. Get the hell out of Cloverleaf and get out of my life.”

“I’m not leaving until we talk,” she insisted as she pulled the door open and sauntered out, adding an unnecessary sway to her pencil-skirt-clad hips.

I slammed the door behind her and stomped over to my chair, collapsing with an exhausted sigh. How stupid was I to think my past would stay exactly where it belonged…? In the fucking past.

I’d be damned if I let life-sucking leeches like Marissa and my father affect my marriage to Lizzy. No way in Hell.

“Who was that?” Mickey asked a few minutes later as I came out of the office.

“No one important, just some chick from high school. She was in town and heard I lived here, thought she’d stop by for a visit.”

“No offense, Trev, but she was kind of a bitch.”

“No ‘kind of’ about it,” I laughed as I dug through the diner bag looking for my food. “The woman’s a raging hemorrhoid.”

“You have such an eloquent way with words, my friend,” Mickey rolled her eyes and walked back to her station.

I’d been at the shop for just a few minutes and already, I needed this day to end. I needed Lizzy. She was the only one with the ability to pull me out of a funk. Just being in her presence put me in a better mood.

“Stop looking at me like that.” I cut my eyes down to Merle as he sat beside me, watching me prepare dinner. I could feel those huge puppy-dog eyes practically begging me to drop something on the floor for him. Mr. Bojangles came sauntering in and plopped his fat ass down next to Merle and they both continued to watch me as I cooked.

Sometime over the last few weeks, those two managed to become friends. Hell if I know how. I walked into the living room the other day and found them snuggled up together in Merle’s doggy bed under the window. They went from hating each other to being besties in no time at all.

And with them both looking up at me, begging me with their eyes, I was starting to feel ganged up on. Assholes.

“Fine,” I harrumphed. “But this is it. No more begging.” I dropped some food on the ground, and they snatched it and bolted from the room. When had I turned into such a sucker?

I had the meatloaf in the oven and was working on cutting up potatoes to boil when the front door opened and Trevor came walking through.

“Hey, dinner will be in about an hour if you want to take a shower real quick. Tonight is meatloaf and mashed potatoes. It’s not Virgie May’s meatloaf, but it’s still pretty damn good if I say so myself.”

I barely had time to get the words out before I was being spun around and pinned against the counter. The kiss Trevor planted on me wasn’t like any kiss he’d ever given me before. His lips were desperate and needy as he grabbed my chin and tilted my head to the side for better access. He nipped and sucked at my lips like a man on the edge and when he ground his hips into mine, rubbing the hard length of his erection against me, I couldn’t do anything but moan wantonly. One kiss, one touch from Trevor, and I was a goner. I’d never craved anyone the way I craved him.

But when he finally pulled away, breaking the kiss in order to breathe, I saw something unsettling in his eyes. They seemed lost, vulnerable as they looked back at me. There was a sadness in his eyes I’d never seen before.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered, running my finger lightly over the crease in his brow.

He rested his forehead against mine and exhaled deeply. “Just had a bad day.”

“How can I help?” I cupped his cheeks in my hands, relishing the feel of his course stubble against my palms. I would have done anything in that very moment to take away that look on his face.

“I need you,” he answered, leaning in for another kiss. “I just need you,
cher
. You make everything better.”

“You’re scaring me a little, honey,” I said against his lips. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

His hands slipped down between our bodies and he began working the button and zipper of my jeans. I didn’t have time to formulate any sort of response before he was yanking my pants and underwear off and planting me on the island. The sorrow in his face disappeared instantly, replaced with hungry determination as he whipped my shirt over my head.