3. Duke
3
DUKE
I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. Instead, I paced around the cabin, my mind racing with thoughts of Ariana. Only when Scout gave me the stink eye for keeping her awake did I finally retreat to my bedroom, tossing and turning until morning.
I never usually take measurements for custom furniture. People do it themselves, telling me the dimensions they need. But I couldn’t resist an excuse to see Ariana again as soon as possible. Hell, I’d have left the store yesterday and gone straight to her apartment, but I didn’t want to show up sweaty and covered in sawdust. I’m not a vain guy. With my ugly scars, I can’t afford to be. But it doesn’t stop me wanting to look less like a wild animal before I visit Ariana.
After showering and washing my hair, I grab a comb and try to tackle my beard. It looks as wild as ever once I’m done, and I scowl at myself in the mirror before pulling on a fresh flannel shirt and jeans.
“What do you think?” I ask Scout as I head into the living room.
She hasn’t forgiven me for keeping her awake last night, and she stares blankly at me before getting up and sauntering away.
With a grunt of amusement, I grab my keys and hop into my truck, my pulse already racing. As I pull away from the cabin, I picture Ariana waiting for me, soft lips parted, her thick curves begging to be worshipped.
Fuck.
I wish I was going to see her for more than just taking some damn measurements, but I know there’s no way in hell a gorgeous young angel like Ariana would ever want a big brute like me. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I’m a giant middle-aged grump with scars that will never fade. But even though I know it will never happen, I still need to see her again.
Need.
Not want.
It’s like an insatiable craving I can’t shake, burning through my veins, pumping me full of adrenaline as I enter Cherry Hollow. The spaces outside Mountain Brew are full, so I park down the street, the usual stares and double takes bombarding me as I walk toward the coffee shop. But I’m too damn excited to care.
Instead of heading into Mountain Brew like I did yesterday, I walk around the side of the building. There’s a door standing slightly open, and I duck my head to enter, heading up a spiral staircase before I reach Ariana’s door. Sucking in a breath, I raise my fist and knock.
The door opens immediately, and every muscle in my body tightens as Ariana appears at the threshold. She looks even more gorgeous than yesterday. How the hell is that possible? My eyes flicker downward, my cock twitching at the way her thick thighs fill out her jeans. She’s a fucking goddess, and it takes me a moment to speak as those golden brown eyes blink up at me.
“Hi,” I say, my voice hoarse. “I’m here to take those measurements.”
She nods, smiling shyly. “Come in.”
The apartment is tiny, and boxes of books overflow from every surface. There are spines stacked all the way to the ceiling, books of every color and size, from old leather-bound tomes to bright and colorful paperbacks.
Damn. No wonder she wants a bookcase.
“Sorry about the mess,” Ariana says sheepishly as I step over several boxes. “I just moved in and haven’t done much unpacking yet.”
“Where’d you move from?” I ask, unable to hide my curiosity.
“Only the other side of town.” She smiles sheepishly. “I figured it was time to be independent.”
It’s crazy to think that I’ve been sharing this town with an angel and didn’t even know. But I don’t have much time to process it because a second later, Ariana is leading me into her bedroom, and my heart feels like it might burst out of my chest.
The room smells like her—sweet and fruity—and my gaze drifts to her bed. There’s no damn way I’d fit on that thing, but it doesn’t stop me imagining Ariana splayed out on the mattress, head tipped back, her luscious curves on display as she waits for me to claim her…
Goddammit, I need to stop acting like a creepy old man.
“I’d like the bookcase here,” Ariana says, gesturing to a blank expanse of wall. “As big as you’re prepared to make it.”
The apartment is so tiny that even a bookcase the size of the wall won’t be very large. It probably won’t even fit a tenth of the books that are strewn about the living room, but I dutifully start taking measurements, making a note of the dimensions.
“You sure you don’t want one in the living room?” I ask.
“I thought about that, but there’s not enough space.” She gestures to the doorway with a wry smile. “Once I get a couch and a table, there’ll barely be room to move in there.”
I think of my cabin—all the empty rooms I never use. If this girl was mine, I’d let her have them all. She could fill my place with all the books she wanted. Anything to make her smile.
The sight of a framed photograph on Ariana’s nightstand pulls me from my thoughts. It looks like a family picture, and there’s a flicker of recognition as I look at the people in it.
“That’s my family,” Ariana says, looking self-conscious. “As you can see, I’m kind of the odd one out.” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it.
I see what she means. Her dad and brothers are tall and muscular; her mom and sisters are thin and sinewy. They’re all tanned and grinning at the camera, flashing their pearly white teeth. Ariana’s smile is small and awkward, like she’s uncomfortable being photographed. She looks gorgeous as ever, pale and curvy, wearing a baggy t-shirt and holding a book under her arm.
“Your family looks familiar,” I mutter, frowning as I try to place the smiling faces.
“They’re all athletes. My dad is Bruce Carmichael, the swimmer.” She joins me in front of the nightstand and points to him. “He’s retired now. Then my brothers, Bobby and Nick, are professional basketball players. My mom was a gymnast when she was younger. Meredith Carmichael. And my sisters are too.” She points to one of the girls in the photo. “Fiona just came back from the Paris Olympics. She won bronze for Women’s Vault.”
“Damn. That’s impressive.”
She smiles, and this time it’s genuine. “It is. I’m so proud of her.”
My gaze drifts back to Ariana’s mom, and it finally clicks.
“I went to school with your mom,” I say, cringing slightly. “She was called Meredith Tremblay back then, a few grades above me.”
I only vaguely remember Meredith and never spoke to her, but it still makes me flinch to know that I’m a similar age to Ariana’s parents. It’s just another reason why nothing can ever happen between me and this gorgeous girl. She’s half my age. Off-limits.
“Really?” Ariana asks, looking surprised. “What was she like?”
“We didn’t know each other, but I think she was a cheerleader.”
“That sounds like my mom.” She shakes her head, smiling as we step away from the photograph. “You know, I used to think I was adopted.”
I shouldn’t encourage any more conversation. I should get out of here, make the bookcase, then leave this girl alone. But I can’t resist.
“You did?”
She nods. “I was totally convinced that one day, my parents would sit me down and tell me I wasn’t their biological daughter. It was the only thing that made sense to me as a kid. I couldn’t understand why I was so different.” Her voice trails off, golden-brown eyes glazing over for a moment until she seems to come back to herself, cheeks pinkening. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m talking about this.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I tell her, frowning. “You can talk about anything you want.”
But even as I say it, Ariana’s shaking her head, forcing a smile. “You’re already doing me a huge favor by making my bookcase for free. I’m not going to force you to hear me complain about stuff as well.”
My frown deepens. “I mean it, Ariana. You can talk about anything. I’m interested in anything you have to say.”
Her eyes widen in surprise and her plump lips curve into a surprised smile. “Really?”
“Yes.”
I take a step toward her. She has to lean back to hold my gaze, and my heart melts at the look of affection she gives me as she says, “Thanks, Duke.”
She’s so fucking cute. Everything about her is sweet and sexy as hell, from her soft voice to her rounded cheeks. Being alone with her in her bedroom, without getting to touch her…it’s a special kind of torture. All I want to do is wrap her up in my arms and never let go.
There’s something shy and self-conscious about Ariana, like she’s uncomfortable in her own skin. I can recognize it easily—that stifling discomfort. It’s something I’m all too familiar with. This girl deserves to know how beautiful she is, and more than anything, I want to be the one to show her.
But I can’t.
Ariana’s a beauty; I’m a fucking beast. A grumpy old stranger—too big, too ugly, too broken for a princess like her.
She deserves more.
“I better get to work,” I say, trying to swallow down the heaviness in my throat. “Should be finished in a couple of days.”
“Perfect. Thank you so much.”
She smiles up at me, and I’m struck by the softness in her gaze. I’m so used to people looking at me with suspicion or wariness, intimidated by my scars and my size. But there’s nothing but gratitude in Ariana’s golden eyes, and it only makes me want her more.
I force myself to take a step back toward the door. “See you soon.”
Something flashes across her face for a split second before she says, “Can I watch?”
Her voice comes out in an urgent rush, and it takes me a second to figure out what she means.
“Watch?”
She nods eagerly. “Watch you make the bookcase, I mean. If that’s not too…weird.” She chews on her bottom lip, which I’m starting to think is a nervous habit. “I’d be really interested to see how it’s made. But I don’t want to bother you if?—”
“You can watch,” I tell her immediately, my pulse quickening.
Her pretty face splits into a grin. “Great!”
I tried to walk away. I tried to do the right thing. But fuck, how can I resist her request? Even if I don’t have a chance in hell with Ariana, I can’t say no to spending more time with her. I’ve always been a strong-willed person, but dammit, this girl is my kryptonite, and I’ll do whatever it takes to be around her, even for just a couple of days.
“My truck’s out front,” I tell her. “Ready?”
She nods, eyes bright. “Let’s go.”