Chapter 9
Lauralee
What just happened?
Well, I had sex with Baylor Greene multiple times after he showed up like a man on a mission to see me and charmed me right into bed. And by charmed, I mean he kissed me like he couldn’t survive another second on earth if he didn’t.
I practically swooned to death right there under his passionate lips, his strong hold on me, and the intensity that we both totally understood where this was heading . . . to bed.
Lying with my head tucked into the nook where his shoulder meets his neck, I’ve slept very little, too busy staring at the ceiling and thinking about how much I like the feel of him in my bed, against my body, and how comforting his presence is.
Unexpected.
Unexplainable.
Unfortunate since he leaves in twenty-four hours.
He stirs and places a gentle kiss on the top of my head. “ Have you slept at all?” he asks, his rugged voice groggy from exhaustion yet still so sexy.
“A little,” I lie, but maybe I dozed off a few times over the past few hours. I don’t feel tired at all.
“What’s on your mind?”
The slightest of laughs escapes me. “It might be easier to talk about what’s not on my mind.”
“Okay.” I hear the lightness in his tone like a smile has taken hold. I bet it’s a great smile, but I’m too comfy to move to see it in the dark. “What’s not on your mind?”
“The Dow Jones and what makes the Curacao liquor blue.”
There’s a pause in his breathing, but then he chuckles. “Being in finance, the Dow Jones is always on my mind. As for the drink, isn’t it just blue dye?”
“I don’t know. I’ve not been thinking about it, but I guess I’ll add it to the long list of other things on my mind now.”
“There’s no need to concern yourself with things that can wait until daylight.” His finger finds the base of my chin and lifts until our eyes find each other in the dim light of early morning that dares to sneak in through the crosshairs of the blinds. “What’s got your mind all tangled, Shortcake?”
“Everything,” I whisper, knowing full well that’s a cop-out.
His left cheek lifts so slightly, but it’s so comforting to see him relaxed and dare I say, happy. “This. You’ve been here for two days, and it already feels like you’ve unpacked and taken up your own corner of my thoughts.”
“Oh yeah? Is that good or bad?”
I laugh, tempted to hide my eyes from him because I know they give so much away. I don’t, though. I hold the contact and reply, “Too good if that makes sense.”
“It does.” Baylor slides his hand across my collarbone to my back and then brings me in closer. “We struck like lightning. Out of the blue.”
I nod. “With daylight coming, it’s starting to feel like the end is near.”
He kisses my forehead. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”
“Until the farm comes to life and your family starts looking for you again.”
This time, I feel him nod against the top of my head. “Why don’t you come out for lunch? Chris is planning a big meal to send me back to the city stuffed with some of my favorite foods. I think it’s a ploy to get me to come back more often.”
“I wouldn’t be so upset if it worked.” Why hold back? There’s nothing to lose at this hour by saying what’s hanging on my heart. The sun will rise, and we’ll return to being the casual friends we’ve always been.
“Guess we’ll see.” Rolling to his back, he lies with his arm over his head as if the weight of something came over him. Maybe I said too much? Perhaps my being sentimental with a man I just had sex with is too soon? Maybe this is a lot for both of us to process? “Stop overthinking it.”
“What?” I reply defensively because I was in so deep with my thoughts that I’ve looped back around to the top to start overthinking from the beginning again.
Turning to look at me, he asks, “Do you regret what we did?”
“No.” I won’t lie about that. “I liked it too much.” I grin like a fool for this man.
Best part? He grins right back at me. “Me too, so how about we take one step at a time? Come for lunch at the ranch.”
“And eat corn on the cob like I didn’t have the best sex of my life just hours prior with the man sitting across from me while my best friend talks about her favorite potato salad recipe?”
“Yes.” His hand finds mine. He brings it to his mouth and kisses my palm. “And tell me again about that best sex part.”
I giggle. “How about you tell me about it?”
“Best sex ever,” he whispers, shifting to his side to face me.
He kisses my shoulder. My neck. That spot behind the ear that gets me worked up every time.
The scruff from the shadow of his beard scrapes against my jaw, and then my lips are met by the pressure of his.
He deepens the kiss as his knee spreads my legs apart for his body to take possession of the space.
I welcome him into me in all ways, this time taking the time to memorize the weight of his body on mine, the way his tongue twists with mine in a slow, calculated dance that has me humming in response.
But it’s his fingers dipping between my legs, the way he takes control of my orgasm, bringing me to the edge and then slipping on a condom to finish the job inside me that makes me miss him before he’s even left the bed, much less Peachtree Pass.
I let go of my thoughts and the tension that uncoils from my body, releasing the worries I usually carry and embracing the release.
He finishes just as I land back in reality.
I hold him, needing to feel the erratic movements, the groan, the satisfaction as it rips through him like it did me. I need this to hold me when he’s gone.
He exhales as he falls to his back on the mattress beside me. His hand takes mine with him as he holds it to his chest. “I think we should keep us under wraps at lunch.”
I hadn’t been thinking about lunch or that I was probably on the same page as Baylor when it comes to outing us. But hearing him say it as if I weren’t . . . as if I’m now a lovesick teenager drooling over him changes things, and offense sets in.
Pushing up on my arm, I rest my weight on my hand and stare down at him. “Did you think I was going to waltz onto the ranch and announce we’re sleeping together?”
He rubs my waist like he’s trying to coax me back into his arms. “No, that’s not what I thought. I just wanted us on the same page.”
“That page being a dirty secret we’re keeping?” I turn away, slipping off the bed.
“Come on, don’t take it the wrong way.”
“Is there another way to take it?” I snap.
“Yeah, how it’s meant. It’s too soon?—”
“Please don’t.” I throw my hand up between us, hoping to stop him from saying more because if I let him continue, I’ll feel the need to say something I might regret. So it’s best to stop this conversation before it gets us both in trouble.
I grab a previously tossed shirt only to realize it’s cropped as soon as I slip it over my head.
With the lower part of my body fully exposed, I should probably be more concerned by how ridiculous I must look.
Anger fuels a different energy, so I don’t care one iota about my bare ass as I walk into the bathroom and shut the door.
I'm not sure what to do other than pace the tiny space, but taking two steps in one direction and three in the other isn’t enough to burn off steam.
A soft knock on the door has me standing still. “Don’t hide from me, Lauralee. Let’s talk about this.”
I hate miscommunication, but this doesn’t feel like something that will work itself out through words. His words cut like a knife after what we just did. I move closer to the door. “Baylor, I don’t want to argue?— ”
“Neither do I. Come back out here. We’ll get some rest and see how things are in the morning.”
I can be mad all I want, but he’s being reasonable.
I’m sure he’s right. It’s the late hour, a lack of sleep, but it was also expectations that had no right to grow into something of substance.
I open the door to see him dressed in his boxer briefs, a small smile weighing on his cheeks that leans more toward sympathy than charming, but when I look in his eyes, I’m not sure how to read the emotions inside.
Taking me by the upper arms, he holds me with care as if I’m on the verge of breaking. “We’re tired. Messages get mixed in the late hours. It doesn’t have to be like that, though.”
I slide my fingers across my forehead, wondering how I got here with him. It’s not like me to invest in something not real, but I did with him. Embarrassment slips through my veins. With few options to get out of this unscathed, I say, “I haven’t slept much.”
With the minutest nod, he says, “Let’s change that.”
I’m better than the weakness I feel. I lean against him, hoping to hide what’s on my mind and deal with this in the daylight. “Yeah, we should sleep.”
When he walks to the bed, I detour to grab my pajama shorts and pull them on. His eyes are on me as he gets in bed, watching every move I make as if I’ll escape before he can capture me in his arms again.
It’s rational to recognize I might not be thinking clearly right now. It’s also reasonable to realize that sleeping with him wasn’t one of my best ideas, especially if we’re to move on in life pretending it was casual sex.
He asks, “Are you coming to bed?”
I’d come so close to climbing under the covers. It would be so easy to enjoy the time we have left, but what happens after? “I think . . .”
He sits up, and the covers fall from his toned torso, his strong shoulders displayed as he rests his arms on his knees. “Do you want me to leave, Lauralee?”
The question lies between us as the words race through my brain in search of the answer. I shake my head. “I don’t know what I want, but I shouldn’t want this like I do.”
Without words, he gets out of bed and moves across the room to where he’d left his jeans on the floor. “I’m gonna go.”
“Maybe that’s best.” My insides sure don’t believe what I’m saying. I feel closer to being sick.
He stilled when I spoke, but without looking back at me, he gets dressed, grabs his socks and shoes in his hand, and walks into the other room.
I make it to the doorway in time to see him grab his keys and unlock the front door.
With his hand on the knob, he looks back at me over his shoulder.
“I didn’t want to complicate your life.” He opens the door and steps outside.
One last look back not only captures my eyes but also my heart.
That’s when I know that complicated is all we can be together. “See you around, Shortcake.”
I raise a hand, but the words choke in my throat until it’s too late to respond. The door is closed, leaving me with a heavy chest that I’m pretty sure is my heart. “See you around,” I whisper while locking the door.
Leaning my head against it, I tap my forehead twice, conflicted if I made the right decision by cutting him out before getting hurt, or if I just let one of the best things to happen to me in forever walk out the door.
I lift my head and turn back to the bedroom. Walking through the quiet apartment leaves too much room to second-guess myself. It was a fun weekend fling. Nothing more.
“Exactly.” I laugh, though it’s forced. Throwing my hands up in the air, I try to laugh harder with real intention.
“You’re being absurd, Lauralee. It’s not like Baylor Greene’s your soulmate or anything.
” Even saying it out loud sounds ridiculous to my ears.
But then my feet stop just as I reach the bed, and I look back toward the front door again. “I’d know if he were. Right?”
Ignoring how my entire body wants to run to see if he’s still here by chance, I lie to myself, and say, “I’d feel it. Right?”
Would it be so bad if I just checked?
I roll my eyes as I head back to the door. Unlocking it, I rationalize once again that I was never supposed to fall for Baylor Greene. So I need to stop acting like I have.
Tugging the door wide open, I stare at the empty lot. Why do I do this to myself? Now all that’s left is a stupid buildup of hope dropping to the pit of my stomach. This is good. Pain into power. Now I have the answer I needed.
There’s no such thing as soulmates.