Swoon (2 page)

“Ah.” I searched for something to say, but what else was there? “Can I ask a question?”

“Sure.” He turned his head to look at me.

I waved my hand back and forth between us. “What… um… happened here?”

He laughed and sat upright again. “You passed out in my arms, and I brought you home. That’s it. Unfortunately.”

“You didn’t even try to cop a feel?” I asked with raised eyebrows.

“I didn’t say that.” He shook his head. “But you were a goner. Even I have standards.” At my smirk, he added, “I didn’t say they were high standards. But they’re there. Drunk sex only works when both parties are at the same level. We weren’t. I was also afraid you’d puke on me.”

“I don’t puke. Ever.”

“That’s a comforting thought.”

“Okay.” I stood and steadied myself beside my bed when the room swam a touch. “I’m going to shower. I think it’s necessary at this point. You can make coffee and breakfast.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “Yep. I’m gonna need coffee and breakfast.” Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, I shuffled my way to my tiny bathroom to see if it would transform me into a real person again.

* * * *

Lawrence

I stared after Steph, who was looking rough but still gorgeous in her rumpled gown. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if her hair was housing a squirrel family. But I’d really had to use some serious willpower to keep from stripping her dress off. You know, I’d never been so easily friend-zoned by girls before. At least with Lissa there was a distinct reason. With Steph, I didn’t know. I could see in her eyes that she was attracted to me. Shit, she was even honest about it. She just didn’t want anything more.

I groaned as I rolled out of bed, uncomfortably adjusting my morning wood and deciding that my boxers would suffice for getting dressed. It was that or put my suit back on, which wasn’t going to happen. Steph’s house was small. Really small. But cute. You pretty much could walk from the bedroom, take three steps through the living room, then three more steps to the kitchen. There was actually only one dividing wall. She’d made it very… homey, though. There were lots of throw pillows on her bed. A lot. And it was about the most emasculating color pattern I’d ever seen. Part of me wanted to rise to the challenge and perform very masculine acts with her under the pink covers. Part of me actually had risen to the challenge, but it didn’t look like he’d be getting relief anytime soon.

Rolling my shoulders, I headed to the kitchen to see about the breakfast she ordered. First on the list was coffee. I found the machine was all set and ready to push power. Convenient. I clicked the button and opened the fridge, grabbing eggs and bacon and english muffins. For such a young chick, Steph was amazingly neat and organized. She was such a nut sometimes, I found it surprising. But she seemed to have her shit together. Outwardly anyway.

I laid the bacon out on a rack and popped it in the oven, then got to work cracking eggs to scramble them. Once everything was prepped, I filled a mug with coffee and leaned against the counter to wait.

And wait.

It wasn’t until halfway through my second cup that I heard the shower finally shut off. My view was directly through her open bedroom door, and I didn’t even try not to look. Steph darted out with a towel under her arms, unfortunately shielding my view. She was out of eyesight in a split second.

“You know, a true gentleman would not be trying to sneak a peek,” she called out from her room.

Shrugging, I responded, “I never claimed gentleman status.”

She appeared in the doorway wearing a long-sleeve T-shirt and the smallest pair of shorts I’d ever seen.

I choked slightly on my coffee. “I don’t understand what you’re wearing,” I finally said after regaining my breath.

She scrunched her eyebrows together as she walked into the kitchen, standing on tiptoe to reach for a mug. Filling it, she said, “What are you talking about? Why do you have to understand what I’m wearing?”

“Well, long sleeves would imply you’re cold. But I’m not even sure you’re wearing pants, so you can’t be too cold.”

“We’re clear that you’re actually only wearing underwear right now, correct?” She then looked down at herself. “These are yoga shorts.”

“Ah. Do you do yoga?”

She raised a brow at me and gave a sexy smirk. “I do not. But these are really comfortable. Plus, my legs get hot.”

“That’s really odd.”

She shrugged. “What’s for breakfast?” She opened the oven and peeked in. “Mmmm, bacon.”

“Sit down, queenie, and I’ll serve you.”

She grinned at me, grabbed more coffee, and plopped down at the tiny kitchen table. I turned to the counter to finish making our food, but I felt her eyes on me the entire time. The thought of her watching me while she was wearing those shorts of hers was causing a problem in my own, so I concentrated really hard on getting the english muffins in the toaster. It wasn’t really enough to keep my mind from wandering. I kept picturing how she looked when she’d stood next to me and reached up into the cupboard, how her ass was perfect, her legs toned, how her shirt rode up just a little…

“What was your brother’s name?” she asked quietly.

Oh, well, that worked to cool me off.

I didn’t respond right away, instead pouring the eggs into the skillet to scramble them. The only sound in the kitchen was coming from the bacon sizzling away in the oven. I was lost in thought, chewing my lip, when the toaster beeped and the muffins popped up. Quietly, I plated our food, blotting the bacon with paper towels. Grabbing both plates, I finally turned to Steph. She was also gnawing on her bottom lip, eyes narrowed as she looked at me, waiting.

I sighed as I sat down and passed the plates over. “Shane. His name was Shane.”

She nodded and took a bite of bacon. “How come you’ve never mentioned him?”

“I don’t tend to bring it up. What’s there to say? My big brother died in Afghanistan. It happens. It’s happened to a lot of people, actually. He loved being in the Air Force, but he hated being stuck in that sandbox. And he didn’t come home.” I took my own bite of bacon, staring down at my plate.

“Did you get the tattoo after he died?”

I shook my head, laughing as I thought back. “No. Shane went with me before his first deployment. He picked out the whole thing. And laughed at me the entire time. Hurt like a son of a bitch.” I gestured to my ribs. “I think my mom cried harder about this thing than each time Shane went overseas. No one knew at the time how much it would mean later. He was killed on his fourth tour.”

I raised my eyes to meet Steph’s. Beneath her thick lashes, her eyes were a little shiny, making the gold flecks stand out against the mix of green and brown. She reached out and put a piece of her bacon on my plate.

I looked down and then back up in confusion.

“Bacon makes everything better.” She lifted her shoulders and her lips turned up in a small, tight smile.

Letting out a bark of laughter, I grabbed the bacon and took a bite before tossing it back to her. She caught it in one hand and laughed back.

“You’re right. That does make me feel a little better.”

Chapter 3

Steph

I
’d always known there were more layers to Lawrence than met the eye. He was so funny and charming and, I thought, genuinely… good. But I couldn’t believe anyone was that happy all the time. Life threw shit at everyone at some point.

Lawrence and I had spent the whole day together before I drove him back to stay at Ethan’s house. Just hanging out and talking. As friends. I’d never spent much one-on-one time with him before, not sober anyway. I really liked him as a person. And I couldn’t stop thinking about him in nothing but his boxers. That wasn’t fair. I only had vague and fuzzy memories from our one night naked together, and that was months ago.

Sometimes there are people we meet in life that we just know will be important. Significant. Someone who would be around forever, in some capacity. Lissa and her family were those people for me. Then Ethan, by extension. I felt like Lawrence was in that same category, but I didn’t know why. There were no actual ties. It freaked me out a little.

I was not and never really had been the relationship type. Don’t get me wrong, I like dudes and all, but my parents were, well, not great. I was an only child born to an older couple who had been falling apart long before I came along. Think of me as a last-ditch effort. That’ll give you the warm fuzzies.

I had seen great relationships though. I knew they existed, and I wasn’t against the idea. For other people. What I wasn’t sure about was how certain people make that work. How would you know if you’d made the right choice? It seemed risky and ill-advised. I asked Lissa once how she could be so certain of Ethan. She told me she could feel it in her breath when they were together. Yeah, great. That was super fucking helpful.

I liked things neat, organized, and compart-mentalized. If I wanted sex, I found someone like Paul. Paul was sort of a friend because we spent time together. He did some kind of investment work and used me as arm candy for occasional business dinners. I used him for a different kind of business. I knew next to nothing about his family, and he knew nothing about mine, because it had never occurred to either of us to ask and I had no desire to talk about it. We were convenient to each other, had a decent time together, and the relationship, if that’s what we were calling it, allowed me to keep everything separate. If I were to give in to my burning desire to see Lawrence all the way naked again, it would blur the lines of friendship, and things would get messy. And not just for me, but for Lissa and Ethan as well. Lawrence was a mess I wouldn’t be able to clean up.

I flopped on my couch with a glass of wine. I know, right? How could I want a drink after the past night? My hangover was gone by noon. I think it was the bacon. It really does make everything better.

My phone pinged with a text and it was from Paul, wondering what I was up to. Seeing as I definitely didn’t have the energy for a booty call, I responded that I was lying low for the night and I’d catch him another time. See? How convenient was that?

I had to get up extra early the next day. Lawrence and I were helping out at Ethan and Lissa’s barn for the next two weeks while the newlyweds were on their honeymoon. Their vacation sounded blissful, a good reason to get married all on its own. Lawrence would be spending all day helping with clients, and riding some, and I’d planned to pick up extra slack before and after work. I really was a great friend.

As I flipped on the television, my phone pinged again. This time it was Lawrence checking in on me. I took a picture of my glass of wine and sent it on. Thus began an hour-long text war that had me laughing, my eyes glued to my phone and with no idea what was playing on the TV. It was only when my eyes couldn’t stay open any longer that I signed off and headed to bed.

* * * *

Lawrence

I was a glutton for punishment. I was not friends with hot, single girls. I was not friends with clear one-night stands. I didn’t spend hours on the phone with them or texting them for pure enjoyment. I was nice, but I didn’t particularly care about what they were doing with their lives or why they were the way they were. But with Steph, I wanted to figure it out. There were so many facets to her I wanted to learn.

I’d spent the past hour walking around Ethan and Lissa’s house, snooping on their lives together just because, and texting Steph. I could picture her face every time I made her laugh. The way her eyes would widen dramatically and she’d cover her incredible lips with her hand. If it was really good, she’d even stomp her feet. Her wild, curly hair would bounce around, making me want to wind it around my fingers.

Jesus Christ. Somebody stop me.

When she texted that she was going to sleep, I wandered around a little more, looking at framed pictures on the walls, unable to settle down. Lissa’s dog, Charlie, was asleep on the couch, and I decided we could use a walk. I whistled to her and she opened one wolfish eye to stare at me.

“Come on, lazybones.”

She lifted her head.

“Seriously, get up.” I walked to the couch and pushed under her shoulder. Her two front feet reached down to the floor, but her hind end remained seated on the couch. I shook my head in disbelief.

“You are the biggest, laziest mutt I’ve ever seen. The worst guard dog ever.”

She blinked her dark yellow eyes at me and slowly stood, her back reaching all the way up past my knees. I scratched her head, and we walked together to the door. As soon as we got to the lawn, she sprang forward in pursuit of some kind of varmint, taking off at lightning speed. She sure could move fast when she wanted to.

I took a long walk through the barn and around to all the fields of horses. I was looking forward to the next two weeks. I didn’t ride that often at home, being too tall for any of the racehorses. Sometimes I rode out on a pony horse, but that was more or less just walking and standing around. I’d ridden the steeplechases when I was younger, but I was a late bloomer and kept growing, and my size had put an end to that. When Shane left to join the military and I fully joined my family’s horse-breeding business, there was no real reason to ride much. It would be a nice change of pace to be in the saddle again and have a little breathing room from my wonderful but meddlesome family.

Plus I’d get a little extra time with Steph. Not only did I enjoy spending time with her, but I couldn’t wait to see her ass on a horse.

Definitely a glutton for punishment.

Chapter 4

Steph

“W
hat in the name of
all things sacred are you wearing right now?” My hands were covering my face with my fingers parted just slightly so I could peek through, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably with laughter.

Lawrence looked down and adjusted his pants. “Lissa said I had to ride in breeches and not jeans or else I’d ruin the leather of Ethan’s new saddle,” he explained. “I don’t own breeches. These are all she left for me.”

I snorted and shook my head, doubled over. “She’s amazing,” was all I could choke out.

“Stop laughing. You’re hurting my manhood.”

“You have no manhood,” I finally said, breathless. “Those are women’s breeches.”

After a moment of silence while I attempted to keep tears from leaking out of my eyes, I looked up to see Lawrence staring down grimly at the navy spandex encasing his legs, hands on his hips.

“I’m gonna kill her.”

Nodding, I said, “You probably should. But first, go change. Ethan wears jeans or pants every day, and his new saddle isn’t that new.”

“She’s such a fucking weirdo,” he muttered.

I continued chuckling to myself while he stomped back up to the house, then I headed out into the barnyard to greet José, who had one of my two morning sets ready.