Lucky Charmed Page 19

  “It’s universal.”

  “True. Do we have whipped cream for the sex dessert?” she asked as we rounded an aisle. A stock boy stacking cans of tuna turned and stared at us. He looked like he was still in high school.

  Lanie threw an arm around my neck and sniffed me. “That’s right. We get extra.”

  The poor boy froze, his hand midway to the shelf as we strolled away giggling like twelve-year-olds.

  “You’re horrible.”

  “I’m awesome,” she countered.

  “What else,” I said, looking at my list. “We have both puddings, cream cheese, vanilla, butter—oh, pecans!”

  We rounded the end cap, and I tossed bags of pecans in the basket. It didn’t matter how many because, one, pecans go great with chocolate ice cream, and, two, more is better.

  “Do you have a chopper?” Lanie asked.

  “Of course I have—”

  “Ladies.”

  My feet stopped. My mouth stopped. My heart damn near stopped. The two bags in my hand hit the floor. On the upside, at least I didn’t walk into him this time. On the downside, I would have loved to walk into him.

  Lanie kept going, barely missing a beat. “Two for two. Hey Sully,” she said as she passed him. “I’ll be in the bakery,” she called back to me.

  He stood there with a basket full of meat, wearing his trademark T-shirt, jeans and work boots. His hair hadn’t grown out, so he must have decided he liked the mid-length look. I liked the mid-length look. But mostly I couldn’t look away from his eyes. They had me rooted to the floor in a wary but holy fuck it’s good to see you way. At least I hoped that’s what they said. And all that meat meant filling a freezer and staying a while, right? Wow, how my direction had flipped.

  He didn’t look completely surprised to see me, so someone must have given him the heads-up. Probably Kia. How long had he been back?

  Neither of us spoke for a minute. Finally he stepped forward and kneeled down for the pecan bags. When he rose, his face was only inches away from mine.

  Breathe.

  Something had changed in that two-second span. His eyes had glazed over; walls had gone up. His feelings were disguised behind a protective layer.

  My own walls should have gone up, but they were slow to move.

  “Get done what you needed to?” I finally managed to squeak out, holding out my chin so I looked stronger than I felt.

  He nodded. “I think so. Did you?”

  Cute.

  “I think so.”

  He nodded again. “Good. See you later.”

  He started to walk around me, and my head exploded.

  “Wait, what?”

  He turned slowly, exhaling like I was the last person he wanted to talk to.

  “What?”

  Hello? I shook my head, giving him my best “what the fuck?” look. What was he—why was he—what was I missing? Was this reunion a little anti-climactic, or what?

  “See you later?” I asked. “After all this time—see you later?”

  “What do you want, Carmen?” he said.

  I wanted my blood pressure to go back down to a safe level, that’s what I wanted. He was playing me, right? Getting back at me?

  “Um—something?” I said.

  “Something,” he echoed. “Something like what? My deep relief that you’re back?” He held up his hands. “Fine, you have it.”

  I blinked. “You’re mad at me.”

  He laughed and rubbed at his eyes. “No. I’m just done with the push-pull. You have no idea what you want, Carmen. One second it’s me, the next it’s the road—no, it’s always the road.”

  “Excuse me?” I said. “Who was all about the ‘one last night of fun’ and ‘let’s not talk about tomorrow?’ I didn’t see any heartburn over pushing or pulling when you were getting some—”

  “My mistake,” he said.

  My breath left me in a rush, and I struggled to inhale.

  “Mistake,” I repeated in a whisper. “Nice.”

  “I knew you were leaving and went there anyway,” he said. “I shouldn’t have.”

  “Well, I told you I loved you—” I said, my throat closing on the words as they hit the air. “I guess I shouldn’t have.”

  “And then drove away,” he said. “Away.” A sour smile crossed his face. “I get it, Carmen,” he said. “I do. Payback’s a bitch and I was due, but telling me that as you left—”

  “And getting tattoos that stood for forever the day before you left was any different?” I threw back. “Don’t be a hypocrite, Sully.”

  A lady walked by, smiling and then looking at us funny. I grabbed a pack of chopped walnuts off the shelf just to have something in my hand to mangle.

  “You made a choice,” he finally said softly.

  “And then stood outside that door begging you to stop me,” I said under my breath.

  Something pierced the walls he had up. Just for a second. I saw it. Then Dean rounded the aisle. His eyes went from me to Sully and then closed as he scoffed.

  “Of course,” he muttered, pushing his basket around us.

  I drew in a shaky breath. My chest heaved like I’d run five miles.

  “If you didn’t want to go, you didn’t have to go,” he said when we were alone again. “All you had to do was reopen the door.”

  “I’m opening it now,” I said.

  His jaw muscles flexed. “And the next time you feel the need to fly?” He shook his head. “I told you that night. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t give you the road, and live my life in the temporary. I did enough of that. I need the real deal or nothing at all.”

  “I’m… not… temporary,” I said, a little too loudly. “When I said what I said to you, it wasn’t just for that moment, Sully. I’ve loved you my whole damn life.” I pointed behind me. “Want to know why Dean looks like that? Because I was the asshole who could never love him like I loved you. I came back looking for you before I even unloaded my car because when you figure out what you want, you can’t get to it fast enough. I’m not going anywhere. But you know what? I’m not going to do cartwheels trying to prove that to you. You can trust me or not trust me; that’s on you.”

  I snatched the pecans from his hand and walked around him, gulping air, my fingers and lips numb. I was probably having a stroke, destined to die in Brewsters.

  “Welcome home,” he said to my retreating back.

  Don’t stop.

  “Ditto.”

  * * *

  We bought the damn apples.

  “Are you sure you still want to do this?” Lanie asked while we worked on our respective dishes in the kitchen. In pajamas. Because sleepovers are normal in your mid-thirties.

  “For the third time, yes,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  “But you could go talk to him—”

  “He made it really clear that he’s not interested in talking,” I said, putting the final layer of pudding on my creation. “Now for the whipped cream layer.”

  “It’s okay if you want to talk about Sully,” Lanie said. “I get it. Believe me. Do you remember how messed up I was over Nick when he left?”

  “Screw Sully,” I said, scooping a big trench out of the Cool Whip tub with my finger and holding it out for Lanie to do the same.

  “But you’re making his dessert,” she said around a mouthful of whipped cream.

  “I’m never getting hot sex again,” I said. “That was a mistake. So why not have the next best thing?”

  “Here.” She handed me a bowl of the hot steaming apples with cinnamon that her aunt used to make for us. “Eat while you work.”

  “Mmmm,” I moaned as the mixture of hot, sweet, and tart melted in my mouth, soothing my raw nerves. “Aunt Ruby would be so proud.”

  Lanie beamed. “Now get that finished so I can have a foodgasm too.”

  We did. And she did. She agreed it was a good sex substitute as well, except that Nick was evidently a porn star in bed and nothing short of him actually f
eeding this to her while having sex would make this better.

  I couldn’t argue with that logic.

  We were loading up our bowls with a second round, planning out the ice cream for after the sugar crash hit, when my doorbell rang. Lanie and I looked at each other instead of the door, and I tried really hard to mask the anxiety and play it off.

  “Did you order pizza?” she asked.

  “Nope,” I said. “It’s probably my neighbor. He locks himself out a lot.”

  She nodded, a fake pensive frown on her face. “Sure, or it could be people selling Bibles or—hey! Maybe it’s Publisher’s Clearinghouse!”

  “Don’t laugh. I actually entered this year,” I said, carrying my bowl to the door and gripping it tightly as my heart played table tennis against my ribs.

  Somehow, even though I was ninety-eight percent sure who it was on the other side, seeing him standing there as I opened the door didn’t soften the squeeze to my chest. I refused to let it show, however, mentally ordering my hand to pick up my spoon and put food into my mouth. It managed to do that without dropping any or putting it in my eye, so I was impressed. At least I was wearing a T-shirt and soft floppy pajama shorts this time, and not flashing my boobs.

  “I know you have company, and I wasn’t going to do this, but—” he began.

  “Excuse me.” Lanie scooted past me, robe tied around her waist, purse on shoulder, bowl in hand.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, panicking as if we were in the fifth grade and she was leaving me alone to talk to a boy.

  “Things to do,” she said, winking at me.

  “Dressed like that?” Sully asked.

  “Don’t knock it,” she said, holding up a double-loaded bowl. “But I’m bringing this with me.” Call me, she mouthed.

  “You don’t have to go,” Sully said.

  “Oh, I know I don’t,” she said. “Consider it a gift, and if you fuck it up, I know where you live.” She shrugged. “Actually I don’t, but this one does, and she’ll tell me.”

  Sully chuckled as Lanie walked down the steps, but when he turned to look at me, his face was serious. I nervously shoveled pudding in my face like someone might snatch it from my hands.

  “Can I come in?” he asked.

  No. No. Say no. Say hell no.

  “I’ll come out.” I pushed past him, trying not to breathe him in as I did.

  Get a grip, Carmen.

  I sat in one of my new fancy wooden rockers I bought with some of my unused travel money, thinking he’d sit in the other one. No. He leaned on the railing, facing me, arms crossed. God help me.

  “You were right,” he said, finally.

  “I know,” I said around another mouthful. “Want to narrow it down?”

  He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it.

  “You made a list?” I asked.

  “Didn’t want to leave anything out,” he said. “Number one… about me being a hypocrite.”

  “Mmm,” I said, nodding. “That.”

  “I felt a little of what you probably did when I left,” he said.

  “You felt nothing like what I did,” I countered, scraping the bottom of my bowl and willing my hands to quit shaking. “I looked you in the eye and told you what I was doing. You watched me leave.” I shook my head and scooped up the last of the pudding. “I stood in an empty parking lot and waited for someone who never came.”

  “I can assure you, one’s not better than the other,” he said.

  “Whatever,” I said and stood up. “Next?”

  “Next,” he echoed, stepping forward. I felt that step in my bones. “I wanted to tell you that it wouldn’t have mattered.”

  “What wouldn’t have mattered?”

  “If you’d opened the door,” Sully said, shaking his head. “If you would have asked me to stop you, I still wouldn’t have done it.”

  My bad-assery wavered. My knees went wiggly. No. Stay strong. But he was so close, and that damn magnet thing of his was tugging at me. Like I needed to hold on to that beam over there before he pulled me all the way in.

  “I couldn’t be the reason,” he continued. “You had to make that decision on your own.”

  I nodded. “Okay, fair enough.” I held up my chin and forced my expression to stay neutral. “You know, you could have waited to tell me all this. You didn’t have to come over here tonight and—”

  “Well, you know, when you figure out what you want,” he said. “You can’t get to it fast enough.”

  The spoon rattled in the bowl as my trembling hands wouldn’t be denied. He was good. Fuck me, he was good.

  I cleared my throat. “So,” I managed, glancing at the support beam again. It looked further and further away. “Is there a number three?”

  Sully looked at the paper for an extraordinarily long moment, before resting his focus back on me.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I love you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  My spoon clattered to the deck, jarring me from a stunned state of paralysis. I didn’t bend to pick it up. It could stay there. I was surprised the bowl hadn’t joined it.

  I love you.

  “Th-that—that’s—actually on the paper?” I managed, giving up my last vestiges of playing it cool.

  Sully held it up, and even in the low light from my window I could read it.

  Hypocrite

  Wouldn’t have stopped you

  I love you

  Kiss her

  I looked up at him, my eyes burning.

  “You forgot one,” I whispered.

  “No, I didn’t,” he said, the paper fluttering to the ground as he stepped forward. He cradled my face in his hands as his mouth landed on mine.

  Everything stopped. The pain, the hurt, the drama, the world, any possible reason not to kiss him for days. We both inhaled deeply, as if the very touch of our lips seared and sealed the deal. Holy shit, I’d missed him. I knew that every day, but I never knew just how much until I was tasting him, touching him, breathing him in.

  My right hand, still clutching the bowl, reached out blindly for the beam in a desperate effort to find the railing and get rid of it. I needed both hands. I needed all of him. Then his fingers twisted in my hair, and he growled into my mouth.

  I tossed the bowl over the railing.

  I wrapped both arms around his head as we dove into each other, every single nerve ending firing. Needing more. Craving and reacting to every touch.

  He loved me. He was here. I was here. No one was leaving. His hands reached under my shirt and roamed my back, groping my ass, picking me up as I wrapped myself around him. This was different from the carnal driving need of before. It was hot, it was delicious… and it was slow.

  We had time.

  “God, I missed you,” he breathed.

  “I love you,” I whispered back.

  He exhaled sharply. “Please say that again.”

  “I will,” I said, smiling. “In a little while.”

  Sully turned and pushed me against the beam, rotating his hips into me.

  “Mmm,” I moaned softly against his lips. “Do that again.”

  “I will,” he said, looking down to watch his hands caress my bare thighs all the way up under my easy-access shorts. When he met my eyes again, they were heavy-lidded with desire. “All night if you like. But I want to see you looking at me from your bed.”

  “A bed,” I said, my hands trailing down his chest as he kissed below my ear. “Have we ever met such a thing?”

  “A rock,” he said, his lips moving down the side of my neck.

  “Love that rock,” I breathed.

  “A post,” he said, pulling my hair gently to give him better access.

  “Lots of—posts,” I gasped as his fingers came teasingly close to ground zero. “Back seat of your—dad’s Cadillac.”

  “Mmm, good memories in that car.” His hands slid around back to pull me harder against him.

  “Fuck,” I moaned, the sensation
driving every pulsing need to that one place. My hands slid up under his shirt, needing skin.

  “No,” he breathed back against my ear, his voice sounding strained as my fingers unbuttoned his jeans. “No fucking tonight. I’m making love to you.” He picked me up from the beam, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. “In your bed.”

  He carried me through the door with relative ease, considering I was dragging my teeth down the side of his neck. Stopping in the hallway, he pinned me against a wall, shoving hard between my legs and making me groan.

  “Keeping doing things like that, and the first round will be right here in this hallway,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “And that’s supposed to punish me?” I kissed him long and deep, squeezing my thighs tighter around him.

  He pulled me off the wall. “Not getting off that easy,” he said, grinning. “No pun intended.”

  I giggled as he bumped us into my room, but stopped him as he moved to lay us on the bed. Suddenly I felt his need to make it different. To make it real. To make it solid and permanent.

  “Put me down first,” I whispered. He obeyed, looking at me quizzically as my feet hit the ground. I wrapped my hands in his hair and pulled his head down. I kissed him softly, tasting his lips and trailing my fingers over his face, his neck, and down his chest. “I want to undress you.”

  I lifted his shirt over his head slowly, never breaking eye contact, and a smile crept into his eyes. I let my lips follow my hands down his torso, dropping kisses as I went, licking his skin, feeling the rush of adrenaline and female power as my kisses went lower and his abs contracted in anticipation. I lowered that zipper slowly, tantalizing him, knowing full well there was no underwear in the way and what I was unveiling.

  His breathing quickened as his dick was freed. I slid down his jeans and untied his shoes in no rush, sliding them off his feet and tossing everything aside until he stood before me, glorious and naked and mine.

  Mine.

  Heat pricked the backs of my eyes. From my knees, I looked up into his. They weren’t just burning with lust, knowing he was about to have his mind blown. He loved me. And sweet God, I was head-over-heels myself. Again.

  I stood and backed out of his reach. I slid off my shorts and slowly raised my shirt over and off my body, standing before him in just a thong and nerves running at such a high frequency I could almost hear them hum. I wanted this to be special and amazing, and yet I was teasing myself. His eyes on me were almost as palpable as if his hands were caressing every inch.