Chapter Twenty
Faith had fallen asleep on the sofa, and it was dark by the time she woke up. Her neck was stiff, she had a kink in her back that needed to be worked out, and her arm was frozen. She hadn’t eaten; she was hungry, pissed off, hurt, and a bunch of other things she had no name for.
They had had plans, and he’d bailed, and she’d seen him downtown. At a flower shop. He’d walked out with a dozen yellow roses but never showed up at her place. So where was he? If she could throat-punch him, she would.
She glared at the door, visualized the one opposite of it, and got to her feet. She stood with the fridge door open with Taco at her side. He wagged his tail happily and poked his nose at the container of leftovers on the bottom shelf.
“Shit,” she muttered. “You need to eat too.”
She grabbed some fruit, plain yogurt, and granola, then made herself a bowl. Before she sat down to eat, she fed Taco. “Sorry for the late meal, buddy.”
Strawberries and blueberries were her favorite, but Faith could have been eating sawdust for all it mattered. She couldn’t taste anything, and, if not for the hunger pains, she would have done without. She was too upset to eat. Had been for hours.
She ate half of the bowl before pushing it away because any more of it and she’d be sick. It had been a hell of a day.
She walked over to the window and peered out. Then she felt her heart plummet to the bottom of her toes when she spied Gus’s truck. He was home.
She hated that she felt so uncertain. Hated that he mattered that much.
Faith wasn’t sure how long she stared out the window, but it was long enough for her vision to blur and for Taco to whine and prance near the door. With a sigh, she grabbed a bag from the box on the counter and his leash.
Quietly, she let herself out and made her way downstairs without so much as a peek toward Gus’s apartment.
She headed down Cedar and took Taco for a brisk twenty-minute walk, and when she returned, she felt no different.
She was still angry and confused, and as she reached the landing at the top of the stairs, she decided it was time to do something about it.
She let Taco inside, then turned and marched her butt across the hall. Without pause, she knocked. Then took a step back because . . . was she really doing this? Was she going to expose herself and cause a scene?
No, she thought. I’m not that girl.
She should have left — should have disappeared into the safety of her own space, except the door opened, and Gus stood there, shirtless, shorts hung low on his hips, hair a mess like he’d just woken up or . . . she sniffed the air.
“You’ve been drinking.”
“No hello?” His smile was sloppy.
“You smell like a brewery.”
“That’s because of the drinking.” His sloppy smile disappeared, and there were shadows around his eyes.
For a moment, she didn’t quite know how to proceed. She’d never seen him like this. Obviously drunk and more than a little dark.
“Are you alone?”
He frowned and rubbed his temple. “Who else would be here?”
“Maybe the lady you bought roses for?”
“The lady I . . .” His frown deepened. “How do you know about Misha?”
She had a name. Her heart sank.
“I was there. Downtown. I saw you in the flower shop.” Faith tried to keep her cool, but for him to outright name the woman was too much.
Anger, the kind that leaves a trail of heat and bad decisions rolled over her, and she took a step forward.
“We had a deal.” Faith thumped him on the chest. “No other women.”
His nostrils flared, his eyes glittered.
“You think I’ve been seeing another woman.”
“Who is Misha?”
“Christ,” he muttered. “She’s not someone you need to be concerned about.”
“I’ll decide what and who I need to be concerned with.”
“I don’t have the energy for this, Faith. Not tonight.”
His attitude, his words, pushed every single button she owned.
“We had plans. I waited for you.” God, she sounded pathetic.
She saw the confusion and didn’t know what was worse. That he’d been with another woman or that he’d forgotten about their plans, which meant he’d forgotten about her. Incensed, she fisted her hands together. “You’re such an asshole,” she ground out.
“Then why are you here?” he shot back.
“I don’t know.” The words fell like stones. “Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment. Maybe I’m lonely. Maybe I want to fight.”
“She’s pushing eighty.”
“What?” She pushed hair from her face and glared at him.
“Misha is going to be eighty in a couple of months.”
“Oh.” The wind left her sails and her knees shook. She was embarrassed — mortified. Yet still confused and a little pissed. “You left last night and said you had work to do but you went for a run. And today it’s been crickets. I haven’t heard one word from you.”
He leaned forward. “Maybe if you used that cell phone that you’ve got hidden away the communication thing would be a lot better.”
What in the actual hell? “How do you know about that?” She tried to ignore the guilty flush that rolled over her skin, leaving a hot and uncomfortable wake.
Gus stood to the side. “Are you coming in or are we going to hash this out in the hallway?”
She should turn her butt around and go home. This wasn’t going to end well. She could feel it. But if Faith were the kind of person who listened to good advice, she wouldn’t be here in the first place. She brushed past him and waited until the door was closed.
“You snooped in my apartment.” Her accusation fell between them.
“Nope. I was getting dressed that first time I stayed over, and your phone pinged.” He raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Declan?”
Her heart was pounding so hard that it was all she could hear. “Someone I used to know.”
“Okay.” His reply was clipped, his mouth tight.
“That’s it?” Angry, she had to physically stop herself from throwing a punch. What the hell was wrong with this man? She’d lied to him, and he’d known about it.
“I don’t need to know your history to fuck you.”
She flinched at his words. Then, she raised her chin.
“I’m going to blame the booze for your crudeness. And I don’t know what’s going on, but something has clearly changed. So, let’s just be honest, shall we?”
“By all means.” Gus held her gaze and gave an answer she wasn’t ready for. “A lot has changed.”
She hoped that the disappointment currently ravaging her insides didn’t show. “Okay.” Her answer was small, and inwardly, she cringed.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Misha is eighty. I get it.”
But who was this woman? She meant something to Gus, and that didn’t make sense.
He’d only been in Fire Lake for a short period of time.
Unless she was someone from his past who had moved here?
Her need to know was strong, but she had no right.
Not really. She was just the woman he was currently screwing.
His dark eyes saw too much, so she turned from him and wandered over to the counter. There was a large manilla envelope beside a half-empty bottle of bourbon.
“Look, I’ve got a lot to deal with right now and I don’t want you to think that any of it has anything to do with you.” His voice was low, and she felt his warmth at her back. “It doesn’t. It’s stuff to do with my family and my past.”
Faith should be happy Gus didn’t have a sidepiece, but she wasn’t. In fact, a deeper sadness settled over her, and she wrapped her arms around herself, looking for some kind of comfort in a storm of emotion she didn’t understand.
He was leaving her. She felt it in her bones.
She turned and faced him. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.
“I’ve been better,” he replied gruffly.
But he wasn’t. It was as clear as day.
She took a step toward him and reached for his face. His skin was warm. Rough. Her heart ached for him, for whatever it was he was going through.
Because she loved him.
Holy. Hell.
She’d gone and fallen in love with a man who was leaving her. And she couldn’t be mad or upset with Gus because it had been his plan all along. He’d been open and honest about it.
“I’m going to make things easy for you,” she said softly, moving closer.
“One more night and then you can leave. You can go back to your old life if that’s what you want.
You can stay here, and I won’t ask questions.
” She pressed her mouth against his neck and smiled when she felt the rapid pulse.
Then she moved upward. Had to stand on her tiptoes, but she wrapped her arms around his neck, and when he lowered his head to accept her kiss, a little piece of her heart broke away.
She would never forget this man.
The kiss was full of things unsaid. It was in the way they cradled each other — the way they clung to each other. Everything she felt was communicated through her eyes and mouth and hands and fingers.
At first, the kiss was slow and thorough. But as the heat built between them, it became a fever that spread so fast it took her breath away.
Gus ripped off her blouse, and buttons flew as he rushed to caress her breasts and murmured things she couldn’t understand. He kissed her nipples while she frantically tore at his shorts.
Once they were both naked, he spread her legs and sank to his knees, his mouth seeking, his fingers relentless. She orgasmed so quickly it made her head spin, and when he pushed her to the edge of the sofa, she was ready for more. Wet. Slick. Throbbing.
There were no words. No soft kisses or endearments. This was needful sex. Hot Sex. This was connecting on a level that neither one wanted to acknowledge because to acknowledge that need meant that whatever this was, it was a hell of a lot more than nothing.
And one thing was clear. After tonight, it was over.
Gus flipped her and bent Faith over the sofa, then eased into her, his length filling her completely.
He paused, then bent closer to whisper. “Do you like that?”