Swoon (15 page)

Ethan disappeared to take food to Lissa but reappeared quickly with a sheepish expression.

“Forgot to cut up her steak,” he mumbled.

I giggled to myself as he took his time cutting her food into perfect bite-sized pieces, trimming any undesirable edges and scraping them onto his own plate before returning to his wife. Lawrence settled next to me on the couch and leaned over to refill my wineglass.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

He winked at me and we started to eat in silence.

After several thoughtful bites, he said, “This is a really weird dinner party.”

I choked on a sip of wine as I snorted in laughter, eyes watering and nose burning. I wasn’t sure why it struck me as so funny in that moment, but after our emotionally charged day, I couldn’t stop. My face was buried in my hands, and my shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. Lawrence patted my back in concern.

I sat up and wiped under my eyes carefully, trying not to smear my mascara. By the looks of my fingers, I wasn’t very successful.

As I calmed down and regained control over myself, I became aware of Lawrence’s hand still on my back. Low on my back. Then lower on my back. To where my shirt had ridden up from when I was bent over. To where my bare skin was exposed. I was aware of heat from his hand throughout my body. I was aware of the calluses of his hand gently scraping across the soft skin at the base of my spine, and the goose bumps that traveled up from there as he slowly took his hand away. His palm rose first, leaving only his fingertips to trail down, just barely dipping below my shorts and tracing under the seam. I was frozen, watching his face as he watched his hand.

He cleared his throat and pulled away, turning back to his food. “You okay?” He smiled, his face returning to normal, cheerful.

I blinked a few times, then mirrored his expression. “Yep. It’s just been a long day.”

Ethan walked back in and sat cross-legged on the floor across from us at the coffee table.

“You guys okay?” he asked as he dug into his dinner, no doubt feeling the tension vibrating throughout the room.

“Yep,” I repeated.

“Good.” He nodded, then grinned at Lawrence. “So when are you going to tell me the story of your flip-flops?”

* * * *

Lawrence

I had completely forgotten I was wearing those fucking shoes. I shrugged off Ethan’s teasing though, telling him I’d be making him a pair next. I’d actually really like to see that.

We finished dinner and Ethan kicked us out before we could help clean up. It was just me and Steph walking out into the humid Virginia evening. They weren’t kidding about the early dinner. It was only seven.

We didn’t say much on the drive back to town. And I didn’t say anything when she bypassed the inn and drove to the school and her house. She put her car in park in her driveway and shut off the engine but didn’t move to get out. The slide and click of my seat belt retracting was remarkably loud against the quiet between us.

She sucked her lip between her teeth, and when she released it, I couldn’t stop staring it the slightly swollen, pink, soft flesh.

“Do you want to come in for a drink?” she asked.

I tore my eyes from her mouth. “I should probably head back to the inn. I’m getting up early to help Ethan out at the barn, and then I’m driving back home in the afternoon.”

She nodded slowly. “Do you know when you’re coming back?”

“No plans right now. There’s a lot to do at home.”

“Can you”—she paused and looked at her hands twisting in her lap—“can you just come in for a minute?”

“Steph, look—”

“No wait. Just… I have some things I need to say. Please.”

Sighing, I pushed my door open and climbed out, waiting for her to do the same. She walked around in front of me and I followed her to the back of the car to grab the cooler and bags from earlier. We carted everything up to the door, and I reached ahead of her to twist the handle and open it for her, letting her walk over the threshold before following her.

The light outside was just beginning to wane, and she flipped on a few lamps to illuminate her little kitchen where we placed our items on the floor.

“Beer or wine?” she asked, opening a cabinet high above her head.

“Beer is good.”

She reached for a wineglass and I leaned back against the counter, watching the light shine through her sheer blouse, watching the outline of the dip of her waist and curve of her hip disappearing into the waistband of her shorts. I couldn’t stop watching her because I knew I shouldn’t. She poured wine into her glass, the deep red color swirling, catching the light. Then she opened the fridge, pulled out a beer and popped the top. Without looking at me, she turned and walked out of the kitchen and into her living room. I followed, again, and watched, again, as she sat on the couch, her back to me. She placed my bottle on the coffee table across from her and leaned into the cushions, taking a long sip from her wineglass.

I walked around the couch and sat on the opposite side from her, grabbing my beer and taking a drink, my eyes still on her.

Finally she spoke but didn’t look at me. “I want this. I want you. I want”—she blew out a nervous sigh and took another sip of wine—“us. I want us.”

I took a deep breath. There was a moment of expectant silence where I knew I was supposed to say something. But nothing came out.

She continued, rambling. “I don’t do feelings. I don’t talk about my feelings. Not these kind of feelings, anyway. We’ve danced around each other for so long. Too long. What was the point?” Her hands were waving around, wine sloshing dangerously around her glass. I watched it. “I don’t even know. I always knew that with you, I couldn’t keep you at a distance. Geography made it easy to pretend we could have a fling. I don’t know how to make it all work. I don’t know if I’m capable of it. But I think that with you, maybe I could do it. I think we could figure it out. I’d like to try. That is… if you…?” Her voice trailed off when our eyes met.

She stood and set her wineglass down carefully. I didn’t move when she took my beer and set it down as well. I didn’t move when she straddled my lap, except my hands had a mind of their own and slid up her hips to her waist, dipping under her shirt and skimming her skin with my fingertips. My mind was working overtime. I had a decision to make.

Right or wrong?

My mom used to ask me that when I was a kid and I acted up. Was it right or wrong? As I got older, I was supposed to ask myself the question before I acted.

Right or wrong?

Steph’s hands rose from my shoulders, up my neck to stroke my jaw, her thumb pulling my lip from my teeth.

“You do this thing with your lip when you’re mad at me,” she whispered. “Why are you mad at me?”

She touched her forehead to mine.

Right or wrong?

“I’m”—I cleared my throat, stalling—“I’m not mad. I’m seeing someone. Back home.”

The girl who seconds ago was soft in my hands, warm and melting toward me, went stiff and cold. She scrambled off my lap, bumping into the table behind her, knocking over my beer and not caring. The hurt in her eyes made me want to take it all back.

“It’s not that serious,” I said. “It’s not. But it’s not casual enough to… I can’t…”

“Not casual,” she repeated. Her eyes were hard, face shuttered.

“Steph, I hadn’t heard from you. I didn’t know if I’d ever hear from you. You can’t have expected me to have been waiting around!” I threw up my hands, furious at her sudden shutdown. She wouldn’t give me a chance.

“No, Lawrence. I certainly didn’t. Just like I wasn’t waiting around.” I flinched at that thought and the venom in her voice. “But it’s probably something that you should have brought up at some point today. If not earlier, then maybe before I just poured my heart, my fucking feelings, out for you. You could have stopped me. I can’t believe you didn’t stop me.” She was shaking her head and turning away, agitation radiating from her.

“I didn’t know where you were going with this conversation. I’m sorry. I should have stopped you but I… I couldn’t. I never can.” I rubbed my hand over my head and stood to reach for her.

“Just get out, Lawrence.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe she wouldn’t let me speak. “You can’t kick me out now. Just give me a second to process everything you just said. You said you wanted us!”

“I was wrong. There is no us.”

“I don’t even have my truck here. What do you want me to do?”

“Walk.” Her voice was hard, but there was a telltale glisten in her eyes as she sucked in a deep breath. “Just go. Please, Lawrence. Just go.”

The pleading in her voice made my chest ache. I nodded, mostly to myself. God forbid she showed her feelings.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Steph. But I’ll go. This right here”—I waved my hand between us—“this is why we’ve taken so long. And I don’t know if you can figure it out. I’ll handle things on my end. You let me know when you’re ready to talk it out. It doesn’t have to be this complicated.”

I turned and walked out the door, letting it slam behind me.

That was the right thing to do.

But it felt so fucking wrong.

Chapter 17

Steph

H
e was going to handle things on his end? What the shit does that mean?

He didn’t know if I could figure this out? The fuck?

I’d been pissed off, hurt, and feeling stupid all week. All fucking week. I was mad at him for not being up front with me. He’d led me on, even if it was unintentional. Actually, unintentional was worse! And that was why I felt so stupid. And mad at myself. But I also never gave him the chance to explain. I didn’t demand any answers. I didn’t even ask. I’d just thrown him out, and when I’d done that, I might have thrown any chance we had out along with him. I’d made him walk. Good Lord, I was such a bitch.

I’d taken to running every morning to burn off excess energy. On Saturday morning I ran my way straight up to the arena to teach a group lesson. The school ran a summer program, so we didn’t get a cool summer break like most teachers. I was technically supposed to wear riding clothes when I taught, but I also wasn’t technically supposed to have to work on a Saturday, so fuck them.

I stood in the arena, tapping my foot and watching the girls huff and puff, trotting around with no stirrups. They’d been fifteen minutes late and they fucking lived on the property. How late could you be? So I’d taken their stirrups away.

“Ms. Holt,” Sally said as she gripped the pommel of the saddle and let her horse walk. “I don’t think this should be allowed.”

I watched her with a raised eyebrow as she slid off her mount, stumbling on landing. “Hard work shouldn’t be allowed?”

“You could be responsible for damaging future generations.”

I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”

She glanced down at herself. “My vagina,” she whispered loudly.

The other girls all walked their horses and nodded enthusiastically as they hopped off.

I placed my hands on my hips and walked a circle. “You girls are worried about… your vaginas? That’s the concern here?”

They all murmured their agreement.

My voice rang out, and I spoke slowly and clearly. “Your vaginas would not be in danger if you strengthened your stomach muscles and moved your hips instead of jackhammering into your horses’ backs. Until you manage that, yes, they will suffer. But also, until you manage that, no one is going to want to sleep with you anyway. So in that sense, your vaginas are very safe, and our future generations are not at risk.”

“Ms. Holt!” My boss’s voice called out from the in-gate.

I turned to face her, the girls snickering nervously.

“Can you come here please?” she asked.

I looked around the ring, considering. Taking a deep breath, I walked out to Mrs. Lawson, who stood glaring, her arms crossed in front of her chest. But I also saw her lips tighten, suppressing a smile.

I grinned at her. “I don’t think I’ll be renewing my contract for next semester.”

* * * *

I’d jumped straight into my car and started driving. Eight hours later, I texted Lissa for the address. I wasn’t in the right spot, so it took another half hour for me to figure out how to get where I needed to be. Needed? Shit.

So there I was at ten o’clock at night in dirty running clothes, my hair a rat’s nest on my head, pounding on the door of the most frustrating man I’d ever met to prove that I could “figure this out.”

I looked down at myself. So far it wasn’t going so well.

Lights flipped on from inside the house, giving me a moment to mentally compose myself. I’d had nine hours in a car to think of something to say.

The door swung open with a creak.

I had nothin’.

He was wearing a pair of black boxers. That was all. Well, that and a wide-eyed expression. I ogled his broad shoulders, the definition of his muscles standing out against the light behind him, the light sprinkling of hair on his chest trailing down his abs to the vee that disappeared into the waistband of his shorts. The American flag, so lifelike and waving around his ribs. Good glory.

I raised my eyes before I got myself into more trouble. His expression, which had started as shocked, had changed to a sort of incredulous amusement. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking, his gaze swiftly running over my body. My outfit.

“Steph.”

“Hi.” I cleared my throat. “Can I come in?”

He turned sideways and gestured for me to enter his house, but he didn’t move away from the door. My body brushed his and every hair stood on end. I rubbed my hands over my bare arms, the coolness from the air-conditioning making it worse.

“Hang on,” Lawrence said after shutting the door, disappearing up a small staircase to our left.

I used the opportunity to look around. There was a dining room table directly in front of me, and I could see into the kitchen through the dim light. The living room was to my right, an overstuffed dark leather couch facing big bay windows that looked out onto a blinding crescent moon sitting high in the star-studded sky. I had to blink a few times to return my vision to the indoors. Walking farther into the room, I took in the flat-screen on the wall, bookshelves filled with hardbacks and framed photos. Hardwood floors ran throughout the house.

It was extremely clean. I carefully slipped off my running shoes and pushed them aside, padding barefoot over to the couch where I slumped against the cushions and folded my legs beneath me. While I studied my hands, twisting them this way and that, something soft landed in my lap. A sweatshirt. I smiled without turning around and slipped it over my head, inhaling Lawrence’s scent as I did.