The Girl He Needs (16 page)

“I’ll get the fish and chips.” He throws the towel back and laughs. “Is that why you called her vanilla scoop?”

I catch it with one hand and flip it over my shoulder. “Among other reasons.”

Brinn laughs and sits back in his chair, rubbing his hands together. “But think of all the ways vanilla can be spiced up. It’s the most versatile. Unlike flavors like rocky road. What can you do with rocky road? It’s pretty limited.”

“You’re a pig.” I swipe his half-empty mug and dump the contents in the sink to emphasize my disgust.

McRae tosses his head back and produces a deep, hearty laugh. “But you don’t care or anything.”

He’s right, and I can’t decide whom I’m more disgusted by, him or me. What do I care if he sees forever with country club type girl? Now I can’t seem to abide by the rules I put in place.

He reaches across the counter and snakes my arm as I’m trying to walk away.

“Her brother is a college buddy of mine serving overseas. I told him I’d keep an eye on her and keep my brother away from her.”

I stop and face him. “Vann’s into her?”

He lets go, nods, and sits back down. “And she’s into him. You’re hot when you’re jealous. Like hotter than normal hot.”

“I’m taking my break right now. Sometimes I like to step outside and take in the fresh air.”

He sits up straighter. “What about my food.”

“Seriously?” I cross my arms.

“Yeah, now you got me all worked up to eat. Food is all I can think about.”

If his lips hadn’t twitched, I’d have had a hard time sussing out the truth. He has a clever mind. “It’ll hold.”

I walk from behind the bar and beeline straight for the back exit. I don’t have to look behind me because the current radiating through my sensory system tells me he’s a few steps behind.

As soon as I step outside, I’m pushed against the wall, McRae’s body suddenly flush against mine. The exit door bangs closed but neither of us jumps. He lowers his head.

“What flavor am I?” I tilt my head to the side, exposing the area of my neck he’s kissing, and lift my legs to wrap them around his waist. Thank heavens I’m wearing frayed jean shorts and not some confining skirt.

“You’re every flavor. You smell like fresh oranges and sweet mint, and I can’t go by an orange grove without getting a hard-on.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and grind against him. “Happy early birthday.”

“Best birthday ever,” he says, pressing his lips at the top of the valley of my breasts.

What kinds of birthdays did he have? Did his mom remember or had she been too high to care?”

“What’s your best birthday memory?” I ask.

He stops blazing a trail of kisses across my chest and lifts his head. He looks at a spot over my shoulder and I try to quiet my lingering pants.

“No one’s ever asked that before.” He swings his gaze to mine.

“I’m guessing you don’t have many stories of themed parties or get away birthday trips?”

“Birthdays were never a big deal in our house. There was this one year, we were just kids, but Vann and I spent it at the beach. I’d earned enough from mowing yards that I treated us to a day out. When we came home our mom was out for the rest of the night, so we watched movies until the late hours and ate junk food all night.”

“And tomorrow?”

“Vann’s working and I’ll probably get caught up on a few things. But I got this going for me right now. How long’s your break?”

“Only long enough to leave us both unsatisfied.” I arch my hips to grind again.

“I’ll take what I can get.” He slips his hand up my thigh between my shorts and presses me to him as he crushes his mouth against mine.

With Jayne’s help, I devise a plan.

My alarm goes off at seven and I want to throat punch it. Then I remember what I intend to accomplish today, so I drag my lazy ass from bed and stretch with some of my favorite yoga moves before I shower. I leave my hair loose and add a few curls before I pull the sides up. I dress in long white board shorts, a gray peasant shirt with aquamarine embroidery, and accessorize with aquamarine mules and a bracelet, all items Jayne’s talked me into on a shopping spree. At this rate, I’ll need another suitcase when it’s time for me to bail.

The drive to McRae’s is quick and I’m walking to the door when his brother comes out, sees me, and does a double take.

“Your brother in?” I ask. Vann’s wearing the uniform for the local electronics store and the moment for me to back out is gone. What I’ve planned for McRae negates the premise of booty calls and no-strings, but I want to do it for him more than I want to make sure we don’t cross some self-imposed line. I want to leave him with a good memory of me, one that’s more than us having sex.

“Uh, yeah. He’s still asleep,” he says, nodding to the house. “I’ll just—”

“No, I got it.” I flash him a smile and walk in.

It’s exactly like I thought it would be. A large-screen TV hangs from the center wall, flanked by older furniture that’s worn but clean. Wood floors appear to run throughout the house and floral curtains hang from the windows, clearly placed there by a woman who gave a shit. The place is small so it doesn’t take me but a second to find his room.

He’s sprawled on his back. The sheet barely covers his legs and I want to eat him up. His chest is toned and broad and though I’ve run my hands over his body before, it’s an entirely new sensation to see him like this. The desire I have for him is palpable and insane. I’ve never experienced a wave of this magnitude every single stinking time I’ve looked at someone like I do when I look at McRae.

I must be losing my mind.

I ease onto the bed and he doesn’t wake. The steady rise and fall of his chest speaks to how deep his sleep is. His mouth’s slightly open but he’s not snoring. What is it about this guy who works crazy hours, eats fish and chips with his fingers, and has no plans for his birthday? This guy whose lips are soft even when he’s out of control, whose touch makes me see the light, and who no one ever made a big deal about the day he entered the world?

Until now.

I straddle him and plop down. He comes awake with an
oomph
and grabs my hips.

“Holy shit. You trying to kill me?”

“Wakey wakey. Time to start your birthday celebration.” I run my hands across his shoulders, enjoying the feel of the dips and curves of his muscles.

He stretches beneath me, his pelvis rubbing against my girly parts, and I nearly come undone. He tucks his hands behind his head and his bemused, sleepy expression is adorable.

“Please tell me you came here to get naked. Because you keep that up, I’m pretty sure shouting out each other’s names will be in our future.”

“Ooh, predicting the future. That must be a sign.” I tickle my fingers down his pecs and bite my lip. Maybe I should go stand outside the door and yell across the space to get him moving because scrapping my idea and staying in bed with him is starting to sound like the best idea of all.

“What are you talking about?” He circles my waist with his hands, his thumbs at my ribs.

“I’m talking about what I have planned for your birthday. You need to get up and get dressed.”

“Isn’t this crossing some line we aren’t supposed to cross? Aren’t we supposed to just have sex?” His face is serious even though he’s trying to convince me by his tone that’s he’s teasing. It’s heartening to know that’s he’s got some unanswered questions like I do. Saying we were just going to have sex to burn up this chemistry was fine, in theory, but it’s unavoidable that we’d experience overflow. Like a potential friendship.

And the chemistry?

Holy shit. It’s just gotten hotter.

“It’s natural, us becoming friends. Honestly, who could just have sex and have nothing further evolve? Don’t answer that,” I say and point to him.

“Friends, huh?” His lips twitch. “So maybe we’re more friends with benefits than having no strings attached?”

“Does it matter what we call it? We’re having sex. We’re trying to burn off this chemistry between us so that we can co-exist without the distraction—”

“Yeah, look how that’s working out.”

Our eyes meet and we laugh. “Let’s not make it anything more than what it is today. I don’t expect you to call me or take me to dinner or to only see me. I hope you feel the same way.”

“But do you want me to take you to dinner?” he asks, seeking further confirmation.

“I don’t expect you to date me. If we end up having dinner, great. For now, what I do want is for you to get your ass moving so we can celebrate your birthday.” I swat at his shoulder.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says and does the fastest gator roll I’ve ever experienced. One moment I’m straddling him and the next he’s above me, the sheets tangled between us, his body pressing down on mine. I want to chuck all plans out the window and strip him naked. I want to feel his hands on me, his gentle yet eager caress. I take in a shaky breath.

“You better go soon or we might never leave this room,” I whisper.

“That’s every man’s favorite gift.” He dips his head and nuzzles my neck before placing a soft, moist kiss under my jawline next to my ear.

“Well, you’ll just have to wait for that part of the birthday present. But have no fear, it’s part of the plan.”

“Score,” he whispers and kisses my neck again.

“Go,” I say, bundling up my energy and attempting to channel it into staying the course. “Go shower or we’ll be late. Go.” I push him off and it takes more resolve than I thought I’d ever need. With him, I’m more in my skin than I have been since I left Connecticut.

He grumbles as he shuffles out of his room and down the hall. I lie in the warm spot he vacated and listen to him going through the motions of getting ready. The shower goes on and I laugh when he begins to whistle, pausing, I presume, when he puts his face under the stream.

Resting my head on one arm, I go over my agenda for the day. It makes me feel like a giddy teen, but I drink in the smell of his simple light blue sheets. Brinn—funny, when did I stop thinking of him as the hulky, hot, good-for-a-one-off McRae?—smells like clean air—fresh and free with a hint of starched linen—and his room is just as crisp. His large bed is centered in the space with one dresser on the wall across from his bed. One night table to the right of his bed and a simple wood desk with three side drawers that looks like it’s long past its prime is tucked in the corner. There are no extras. No books stacked along the wall, falling over. No half-full cups left on the tables. His coins are in a bowl, his keys next to that. His diplomas, undergraduate and graduate, hang over his desk and only one picture stands in a frame on the night table.

I roll over, stretch, and reach it. It’s Brinn and his brother when they were kids. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen and Vann even younger. They aren’t smiling but sitting close on old worn suitcases, Brinn’s arm around Vann. Their clothes are faded and well used, their pants too short, their tennis shoes coming apart at the seams. They look unkempt and I want to cry. I want to brush back this boy’s long hair, pushing it from his eyes. I want to wrap my arms around him in a hug and never let go. This boy, this man who thinks birthdays are no big deal. This peek into his childhood changes me instantly. There’s something in his eyes I recognize, and I’m willing to bet it’s loneliness we share.

I no longer only want to jump his bones every other minute, but now I want to make him laugh and show him how to live life a little differently. It’s not pity because there’s nothing pitiful about him. But when you’ve grown up having everything, you’ve clearly got enough to share. And boy do I want to share with him.

I place the picture back on the nightstand and quickly jump from the bed. From the hallway I can look into the bathroom and Brinn is standing there, towel around his waist, shaving. His skin is tan and I flash back to when I watched him swim in the ocean.

The memory causes my stomach to flutter and my toes curl.

He bangs the razor against the sink, turns toward me, and our eyes meet. Brinn winks, drops the razor in the sink before resting one hand on the overhead doorjamb.

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep the party here? Vann’s out for the day.” His other hand goes to his towel, gripping the fold, fingers teasing their readiness to let it go and drop.

I cover my eyes with one hand and reach out to feel the wall with the other. “Stop it. I’ll not look therefore I’ll not be tempted. Get dressed so we can leave already.” I feel my way along the wall, but before I can skirt around the corner he steps up next to me. I know he’s there because my body tightens with need. It’s as if we’re on a pulley system that reels me in once we get within a certain distance from each other. I smell his shave cream, sandalwood, and it reminds me of how he tastes. I moan, push away from him, and run out of the hallway into the living room all while he laughs behind me.

“Keep laughing and I’ll take the after party off the table,” I call over my shoulder.

“You’re a cruel woman, Josie Woodmere,” he says and I hear drawers opening and banging closed. Hearing my name from his mouth gives me a warm fuzzy. That’s how stinking hard up I am for this guy.

In the living room, I busy myself with looking at the other two photos of him and Vann. They look current. One is of Brinn graduating college.

Brinn comes around the corner dressed in tan cargo shorts, a solid navy button-down shirt. He’s tucking his wallet into his back pocket when I push him out of the house. It’s either that or strip him naked in his living room. Something as simple as watching him be all manly makes me lose my mind for him.

“Hurry or I might change my mind.” I wait impatiently for him to lock the door.

“Hmm, such a dilemma.” He smiles and turns the key slowly. A sporadic hum comes from his back pocket.

“Is that your phone?” I reach in and whisk it out before he can stop me. A glance at the screen confirms my suspicion. “I can’t believe you forwarded the calls from the shop. I thought we’d kicked that habit.” He reaches for the phone but I tuck it behind my back and step away.

“It’s in case—”