Unstable (22 page)

A tingle starts at the base of my spine, and I shift my hips faster, whispering “close” into his mouth.

He pulls away long enough to ask in husky yearning, “Henley, baby, are you gonna come for me?” He thrusts upward again, harder, quicker, his chest heaving. I keen past the onslaught of euphoria, a wave of heavenly loss of control taking over my body. “God yes,” he grunts on my neck where his mouth nips and sucks dreamily. “For
me,
come for
me,
Henley.”

I CAN’T DECIDE IF
I’m being so quiet because I’m embarrassed or still in a daze of ecstasy. Merrick and I had fooled around, even had sex
once
, but all of what we did together combined didn’t come
close
to whatever that just was with Keaton.

Merrick had never made me come—let alone with my clothes still on—and never cared that he didn’t.

I sneak a side glance at him, then turn away to hide my smile, because it does all sorts of weird, happy things to me to see that he’s still wearing his. A cocky, ear-to-ear grin of male confidence.

It’s pretty adorable. Not that I’d tell him that, thus hiding my smile.

We finally pull up in my driveway and he leaves the headlights on. “Let me have your house keys,” He holds out his hand.

“I’ll go unlock it and hold the door open for you to carry Bourbon in,” I contend.

“Well that didn’t take long. Time to add to the list of rules for our relationship. The one we
definitely
have now that I know every inch of your sweet lil’ mouth and you came beautifully in my lap. I get out and unlock doors in the dark while you stay safely in the vehicle. Keys, baby.” He motions with his hand again and raises both brows in challenge.

“You wear me out,” I grouse, forfeiting the keys over to him.

“Sure did, without even getting under your clothes,” he smirks. “How ‘bout that?”

“Bourbon, what am I gonna do?” I consult with my dog after Keaton’s out of the truck and headed to unlock the door. “I fed right into his ego and insane insistence of a relationship. Okay, ssh, here he comes,” I straighten my posture…after warning
the dog
not to say anything in front of him.

Yeah, I’ve totally got my shit together.

He opens my door first and offers a hand to help them out, then opens the back one to once again lift Bourbon out.

“Can you run ahead and hold the door?”

My answer is scurrying to do so and flipping on a few lights.

“Where do you want him?”

“In the living room. I’ve got him a bed made up by the couch. Just settle him down, and I’ll go get his pill and a snack to hide it in.”

I get his medicine shoved in a piece of hot dog then join them in the living room. “Here you go boy, a treat for being so brave,” I coo, kneeling beside him.

“Hen.”

“Yeah?” I turn and look at…a scowling Keaton, sitting on the couch.

“Gotta get ya sleeping in a bed.”

“I will,” I lie, my head dipped. “Soon. Once things calm down.”

“I get it babe, I do, but this is a three-bedroom house, right? What about the third one?”

I hadn’t even thought of that, far busier focusing on the rooms I feared too much to be considered an option.

“I don’t know what’s in there. I guess maybe that could work. And it’s downstairs, so Bourbon wouldn’t have to climb the steps.”

He stands and extends his helpful hand. “Come on, show it to me.”

I take his offered hand and get to my feet, then let it go, walking fast to lead the way.

I think we’ve touched enough for one day.

We get to the door and I freeze, no idea what may lay in wait on the other side. Positive I don’t need any surprises.

“Will you open it and see what’s in there first?” My voice shakes with the fear of uncertainty that overpowers any chance of shame in my cowardice.

“Sure.” He kisses the top of my head before I can dodge it, and I step back as he opens it so I can’t see what he might not warn me about fast enough.

“It’s pretty bare, Darlin’. Couple boxes of what looks like paperwork, a file cabinet, and an old, maybe broken, recliner.”

I heave out my relief and have a look for myself. Next to nothing in here. No pictures, no items that trigger any memories. Not even a familiar, lingering scent.

Yes, this could definitely work.

“Wow, Keaton, thanks for thinking of this. I’ll call Merrick tomorrow to see how I get to some of my money to furnish it.” There’s candid excitement in my voice…squashed immediately.

“You don’t have all, and the
only
, access to your money yet?” he roars, his whole face taking part in his irate glower.

“We talked about this.” I remind him with a hint of sarcasm. “I told you I needed to go sign the papers, and you beat on your chest and demanded that I not go without you. Ringing any bells?”

“I had no idea you literally meant you hadn’t signed
anything
. Bank accounts should’ve been first thing, would’ve taken five minutes.”

“So I’ll call and take care of it. What’s the problem?”

He nods repeatedly like he’s listening and agreeing, but his eyes are cast across the room, simmering with deep thought. “Okay,” he flips his gaze back to me, “you call him tomorrow and say you’ll be in Monday to sign
everything
. Make it clear you’re only making one trip, so he needs to have it
all
ready. Don’t tell him I’m coming with you.”

“Okay.” I feed off his cynicism, mine airing as worried suspicion. “And Monday works for me, yes,” I sass. “Thanks for asking. I have to go into town tomorrow,” I shiver at the thought, “for Bourbon’s new food. And I want to visit Donna. I was thinking of taking her a thank you gift. I
might
, if I survive those stops, also drop by and pick up a few clothes. I have enough money for that on me, and I didn’t bring very many clothes with me. Kinda sick of doing laundry every other day.”

“See?” He grins and taps a finger to his temple. “I knew all that, which is why I
suggested
Monday.”

This man.

Infuriating.

BOURBON STAYS IN BED
today, a miniscule tail wag from his laying position my “Good morning.” I slip him a pill before giving him a real helping of food and water, waiting ‘til he’s finished to gently coax him outside to take care of business.

After he’s done and again resting comfortably, I take a shower and make myself some toast for breakfast. Then I go outside to track down Gatlin ‘cause I’ll need him to look in on Bourbon and the horses while I’m out today. Cows should be fine, unless he has extra time for a quick check on them too.

I finally find him, already in the horse barn—so one task tackled. I explain about yesterday and he assures me he’ll keep a close eye on my dog.

So I’m set to head out for my two—maybe three if I’m up to it—stops in town.

First I go and buy the new dog food, avoiding being stopped and chatted up, thankfully. When I’m climbing in my truck, my phone rings. Not only is he the only person who ever calls me, but “I’m Moving On,” his subliminal ringtone, is also a big clue.

“Hello, Keaton,” I answer.

“Darlin’. How’s your day?” His velvety voice eases over the line.

“Just getting started. Yours?”

“Good. I’m at the hardware store grabbing some paint for my shed, and it occurred to me, I don’t know your favorite color anymore. I know it used to be hot pink back in the day, but girls change it a lot, don’t they?”

Not an out of nowhere, random question like he’s trying to pretend. Nope, he’s up to something. And for fear of sounding full of myself or presumptuous, especially with the way all his radical declarations have been scrambling my brain lately, I don’t dare assume out loud. But the first thing that pops in my head is jewelry.

At a hardware store, though?

No, Henley!
Jeez—that’s part of his cover story.

Or
, I am full of myself and being conceitedly assumptive. See? Brain-swirling vortex of confusion.

I decide to play it safe, and humble, seeing if I can trick the turtle out of his shell and not embarrass myself like a pompous ass.

“So you were just curious, looking at all the paint, what my favorite color was?” Wow, that came out more aloof and non-teasing than I figured it would.

“Yep. Wanna know everything about you.”

“Well, it’s kinda a trick question. It depends on what we’re talking about. Favorite color on me, favorite color in a sunset, color that makes me feel happiest? I can’t answer accurately without more information.” I suppress my snicker. Bet he wasn’t planning on that long-winded loophole.

He wasn’t. Thus the frustrated sigh in my ear. “Say you went colorblind tomorrow, except for
one
color, the only one you could see for the rest of your life. What would you pick?”

It’s actually a pretty cool question—seems the turtle has some clever tricks of his own and I can appreciate the match in wits. Keaton’s always held his own there, I should’ve known.

And I also know, we’ll go back and forth on this if I don’t just call it out. “Don’t buy me anything, Keaton, I mean it.”

“Who’s got the ego now?” he fires back in a taunting lilt. “Just answer the damn question, stubborn ass.”

I’m gonna go ahead and answer, honestly, despite already knowing what it’ll do to his head. “Blue. A pale, crystalline blue.”

It’s the truth. Even at our worst, Keaton’s eyes have never failed to catch my attention. They’re truly the prettiest pair I’ve ever seen, able to change from a marine so clear you could swim in them to a sapphire so deep you could get lost.

But the light, see-through shade, when he’s at his happiest has always been my absolute favorite.

“Darlin’,” he croons in a husky whisper, “you just made my damn day. The moments you give me may be very few and
very
far between, but when you do, you give ‘em just fucking right.”

I knew he’d make the connection.

“Glad I could oblige,” I secretly smile. “Was that all you called for?”

“For now, yes. Where you headed next?”

“Guess I’ll go to Miss Linda’s boutique for Donna’s gift. That place still open?”

“Yep, still open, same spot. Have fun and tell them both hello for me.”

“Will do. Bye.”

I sit there a minute more, reviewing what just happened. Someone thought of
me
right at the start of their day, and I’d be lying if I said a tiny flutter of…something unique and enjoyable didn’t stir in my stomach when the phone rang.

And grow even stronger after we hung up.

Is it truly okay for me to entertain the possibility of being happy, as though I deserve it? And what will people say? Probably something along the lines of “
‘Can you believe her? Abandons her mother and doesn’t even wait for the dirt to settle on her grave before she’s flouncing around like a lovesick fool.’

I can hear it now.

I’m nowhere near ready to handle that. So I have to try and keep my walls up. But Keaton is making that seem damn close to impossible.

My head and heart in disagreement, I walk into Miss Linda’s Boutique.

I always did love this store—so trendy, especially for Ashville, with colorful, enticing displays and something special and one-of-a-kind for anyone on your shopping list.

I hurry my way toward the back, but she spots me.

“Henley, sweetie, how are you?” Miss Linda herself comes over and I brace for her hug.

“I’m getting there, thank you for asking. I hope you’re well?”

“Dandy. I never get a customer this early! What can I help you find?”

“I want to buy Donna Simms a thank you gift, for, all her help.”

Linda’s happy expression stays firmly in place and she claps her hands. “It just so happens, Donna was in here not too long ago and was eyeing a certain pair of earrings I still have. Let me show you.”

I follow her to the glass case up front and she pulls them out. They’re beautiful, just like Donna, and I know they’re the right choice. “How much are they?”

“Only fifty dollars.”

“Sold.”

And then something else catches my eye. It’s a square belt buckle, mostly silver with edging and a bull’s head in the middle, both in gold.