Crazy Imperfect Hearts

Chapter Twenty-two

Lucas

Did I really just ask if she wanted me to finger her ass?

What the hell is it about Regan Lucas that has me wanting to do things like that? Things I’ve never done before. Things like dirty talk. Whipped cream. Anal play.

And when did I become so forward and demanding? Sure, I’m that way when it comes to business. But not in the bedroom. Never in there. I’ve always let the woman take the lead, afraid to push the boundaries of regular, vanilla sex.

I look back down the alley. Maybe that’s what’s been missing.

Ever since we signed the contract last week, I’ve wondered if she would have done it if she knew I still had a major boner for her. Even after all this time, through all the women I’ve been with—it’s still there. I just didn’t realize it.

Does that make what I’m doing unethical?

I think it must be the whole orgasm thing. I’ve always been competitive. I hate to lose. And I’ve been confident in my abilities as a lover, as mainstream as it’s been for me.

Ah, shit. What if all the other women were faking it?

Not possible. I’m getting all up in my head. And I vow tonight, I’m going to bring my A-game and prove to Regan and myself that it’s achievable.

I need another cup of coffee. I round the corner at the end of the alley and head into The Criss Coffee Corner. It’s bustling on this Saturday morning.

Ava is behind the counter, busy with the cappuccino machine, and I notice Gray Calloway taking orders. I step up when it’s my turn. “Didn’t know you were working here.”

“My dad made me get a job. He said I can’t work for his security company until I’m twenty-one because of all the regulations. Gotta be that old to get a gun carry permit.”

“My brother Blake worked at Gigi’s Flower Shop when he was your age. I worked at the hardware store. I can’t remember what Dallas and Allie did. We all had to have other jobs before the winery. It’s good to get different experiences. How’s your dad’s business doing?”

“Great. Storm started working with him last year. Colt will as soon as he graduates. He says as each of us join him, the business will expand. He’s thinking of getting into personal security, too.”

“As in bodyguards?”

He nods. “Wouldn’t that be badass?”

Ava comes up behind Gray and clears her throat. “We’ve got quite a line of customers. I’ll take him. You take the next.”

Gray looks guilty for making others wait. “Sure thing, Ms. Criss.”

Something tells me she’s taking me for reasons other than moving the line along.

“Good morning, Lucas,” Ava says with a shit-eating grin.

And there it is. My head bobs to the side. I thought Regan wasn’t going to tell anyone.

“How’s your quest coming ?” She giggles. “No pun intended.”

Right. Regan told them about our original mission. Maybe she didn’t bother telling them that deal was off. That way she could explain any awkward moments of us being caught together.

“I never kiss and tell.”

“Good thing she does.” She refills a large canister of sugar, completely unaware that Regan has no intention of telling a soul about what we’re doing. She looks up. “I’m sure I’ll hear all about it.”

I ignore her comment and peruse the menu over her head. “I’ll take a caramel macchiato.”

She grins. “ Coming right up.”

Outside, my drink in hand, I park myself on one of the benches lining The Circle. It’s a pretty good place to people-watch. Several families are in the park across the way, beyond the statue of Lloyd McQuaid that stands tall in the middle of the roundabout at the end of McQuaid Circle. I cock my head as I observe them, wondering if that will be me soon, holding hands with my daughter or pushing my son in a stroller.

I lift my chin when I see Jaxon Calloway and one of his daughters Ashley or Aurora—I can never remember which is which—walking their golden retriever in the large grassy area. I wave when Ginny Ashford emerges from the jewelry store across the street. I laugh when two kids come racing down the sidewalk on skateboards, remembering all the shit I did with my brothers when we were kids.

“This town sure is a wonderful place to raise children.”

My head swings up to see Rose Gianogi standing next to my bench.

She motions to the empty space next to me. “Do you mind? It’s a long walk here and I need to rest.”

“Please. Sit.”

“I like to get my steps in,” she says. “I walk here almost every morning. I usually go to the park and feed the birds, but when I saw you here, I thought I’d stop and make conversation.”

Finding it unusual that Rose Gianogi wants to talk to me , I ask, “Is there anything in particular on your mind?”

“I know things.” She looks directly at me with her old, weathered eyes. “I see things. And I’m very protective of the ones I love.”

“I’m sure you are,” I say, not liking where this is going.

“You’re a nice boy, Lucas. I like you. I think you have a good heart. But Regan is like a granddaughter to me. I don’t fancy seeing her get hurt.”

Amused that she called me boy , I say, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Mrs. Gianogi.”

She scoffs. “I’m old, but I’m not senile. Saturday mornings aren’t the only times I’m around. I’ve been filling in at the flower shop a few hours a day so Maddie can spend more time with that precious baby. I know The Circle. Which means I know you don’t spend much time here.”

“Don’t have much reason to.” I hold up my cup. “But I do enjoy a good cup of coffee.”

“You also seem to have a penchant for pastries, no?”

My eyes snap to hers.

“I told you. I see things. When you’re old like me, with nothing better to do than watch people, you notice differences. Patterns.”

I set my coffee down and lean my elbows on my knees, settling in for what I’m sure is going to be a lecture.

“I’m the last one to argue that people aren’t allowed second chances. My husband is a prime example. He wasn’t exactly the Norman Rockwell poster boy. But I saw the good in him. Saw his potential. And look at us now. But, second chances are one thing. With your… track record… a second chance is miles behind you. And with that track record, I’m not sure you’re capable of making promises. So best you not be makin’ any.” She stands. “You’ve heard the story of the boy who cried wolf?”

I nod.

“It may not be exactly the same. But one of these days, you’re going to find the person who completes you unlike any other. The person you’re sure you can’t live without.” Her pointed stare bores into me. “What’ll you do when you decide she’s the one, but this time you’re the person being left behind?”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Mrs. Gianogi. I know my own faults. I never plan to marry.”

She flashes me a disapproving glare. “You young people think you can get the milk without buying the cow.”

I want to tell her she has no idea what she’s talking about. That if anyone is the cow in this situation, it’s me. That Regan is merely using me as a sperm donor and nothing else. That Regan hasn’t so much as looked at me as anything more than a means to an end.

That this…. whatever we’re in… is completely one-sided.

I pick up my cup and stand. “I’m not looking to get the milk, Mrs. Gianogi. And rest assured, nobody will be getting hurt. I’ve decided I need a change, and I like it here on The Circle, that’s it. So I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Mmm,” she mumbles as I walk in the other direction, crossing the street until I get to my car in the parking lot behind Donovan’s Pub.

I wonder why the change of heart. When she saw me in Regan’s shop a few weeks ago, I could have sworn her intention was to marry us off. I must have read that situation all wrong.

When I reach the Jag, Cooper Calloway is carrying a bag of trash toward the alley twenty feet to my right. I lift my coffee and tip it at him. His face scrunches in thought. “Interesting how your car was parked in that exact same spot last night when I closed.”

“Nice to see you too,” I say and get in.

The people in this town have far too much time on their hands.

~ ~ ~

Me: I’m at the back door. Can you let me in?

I stand out back, my head on a swivel until she lets me in. This door she locks.

She looks beyond me. “You didn’t park back here, did you? That’s just for business owners.” Then her gaze focuses on my face. “You’re all sweaty.”

“I jogged here.”

“Why?”

“Because there are a lot of nosey people in this town.”

Upstairs, I tell her about Rose and Cooper. “And Ava wanted to give me the third degree this morning when I stopped for coffee.”

“We need to be more careful. And don’t go to Ava’s shop anymore.”

“But she has good coffee.”

“I know she does. Too bad, though. Go somewhere else.”

“You could always come to my place.”

“I don’t have a car. And unlike you, I’m not a runner. Five miles each way—not going to happen.”

“I’ll pay for an Uber.”

“I guess that’ll work.” Her nose crinkles. “Wait, no. What if the Uber driver is someone we know? Is Dax Cruz still doing it?”

I shake my head. “He’s working at the auto shop with the rest of his family.”

“I thought he was moonlighting.”

“Hmm. I don’t know, and I don’t keep tabs on them. So, no Uber. I could just keep running here.”

“No. It’ll raise too many suspicions.”

I uncork the half-full bottle of wine from last night, and pour us each a glass, thinking of our options. “I could meet you somewhere and drive you the rest of the way.”

“Somewhere prying eyes won’t see?” She snorts. “Me getting into your car may be far worse than people just seeing you hanging around McQuaid Circle.”

“That’s true, especially because you’re hard to miss.” I take a sip, eyeing Joey who’s staring at me from behind a chair. When I look back at Regan, she’s glaring at me. “What?”

“Low blow, Montana.”

I replay my words and feel guilty as hell. “Shit, not because… no, I meant your clothes. Those striped tights you wear. The extremely loud shirts. They practically scream ‘look at me.’ Maybe if you tamed it down and wore normal clothes…”

She glares in dissonance. “You want me to wear sweatpants and a Nike T-shirt?”

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing.” I tap a foot on the floor. “You have a clothing shop, Regan. I’m sure you can find something that won’t make you stick out and be so obvious. Then we can meet in the very back of the parking lot behind the train station.”

Her mouth moves from side to side as she contemplates it. “I could say the same thing about you. Nobody else in this town drives a dark green Jaguar.”

“Wyatt Ashford drives a Jag. But he owns the four-door sedan. And it’s silver. I’m the only one with an F-Type coupe.”

“Yeah, that’s not conspicuous at all.”

“Got any better ideas?” I ask.

“We could meet in the city.”

I shoot her a cockeyed stare. “You want to take a train all the way into the city and get a hotel room, for what, an hour? And then come back on the train? Seems like an awful lot of trouble.”

“It would be more like three or four hours,” she says.

My mouth forms a grin.

“Easy, Casanova. It’s so I can lie down for a while. Not so you can work your magic, or whatever you had in mind. And definitely not so you can stick any fingers up my bumhole.”

“Hey, maybe you shouldn’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“Have you tried it?” she asks with an inquisitive leer.

“Nope.” I smile. “But I might be willing to if you—”

She covers her eyes with her hands. “Oh my god, we’re not having this conversation. We’ll try it your way tomorrow. I’ll dress down and meet you in the back parking lot. Just text me when you get there. If there’s anyone around, we’ll move locations.”

I smile.

“What?” she asks, clearly irritated.

“I’m kind of liking this covert operation.”

She rolls her eyes, takes a very large gulp of wine and heads to the back. “You coming or what?” she shouts over her shoulder.

I laugh, thinking about how I should be asking her the very same question. Then I stride to her bedroom, full of determination, only one thing on my mind. Making. Her. Come.