Chapter 10
Instead,Slick snuffed the fire out. “It’s too cold to be out here.” His breath came out in white puffs. “You’re shaking.”
Yeah, because I’m desperate for you to touch me. “That was pretty aggressive.”
He hunched a shoulder. “I was under attack.”
“Yeah, by a five-six woman who hasn’t lifted a weight in three months. I was hardly a threat.”
“Oh, you’re a threat, all right. The worst kind.” He tried to let her go. “Now, get inside.”
But she couldn’t leave the shelter of his arms. “I can’t move. I’m frozen solid.” She tucked her face into the crook of his neck.
“Fine.” Bending his knees, he lifted her, carrying her like a bride across the threshold and into the house. He set her gently on the couch.
“I can’t believe you did that. You’re the guy no one wants to play Monopoly with.”
As he unwound his scarf and pulled off his hat, he chuckled. “So, that’s why I can’t get anyone to play board games with me?”
“Yeah, that’s why.” She sat up to remove her wet gloves and coat. “I threw one little snowball. And I have the upper arm strength of a cockatoo.”
“There you go with cocks again.”
“Okay now, seriously. You’re the one who brought up cocks.” She pulled off the scarf and set it to dry by the fire. “I was only talking about a bird.”
He shot her a challenging look. “Cockatoo? Out of all the birds in the world, that’s the one that came to mind?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“You could’ve said Swallows. Robin red breasts.”
“Do you hear yourself?” She had to laugh. “You’re the one with the filthy mind.”
“Why do you think I had to go outside and shovel snow?” He sounded frustrated.
“Because we had a conversation about jungle cock?”
“No, because you invited me into the damn shower.”
“It was a joke.” Liar.
“Well, it was so funny that you just got reamed with snowballs.” When she removed her hat, he gave her a hard look. “You went outside with wet hair.”
“I was trying to get you to come back inside. You can’t shovel snow in this weather.”
“Well, I can’t be in here either.” He hung his parka on the hook by the door. “Talking about cocks and balls and naked women in showers.”
“Fine. I’ll watch what I say.” She headed into the bedroom. “Men and women can be roommates without lusting after each other, you know.”
“Not this roommate,” he muttered, flinging his beanie across the room.
As she changed back into her leggings and oversized sweatshirt, she realized she wasn’t being fair to him. He wasn’t the one experiencing some kind of sexual awakening. She was. And it was wrong of her to impose it on him when he was just trying to get through an unfortunate situation with a snowstorm and an unwanted roommate.
When she came back out, she found him stripped down to his jeans, a black Henley, and wool socks. He crouched by the fire, warming his hands.
“I’ve always been selfish.” She sat on the couch.
He cut her a look.
“The world revolved around me for years, and while I’m going through an identity crisis, it’s horrible of me to tease and flirt with you. You’re kind enough to let me stay here, and I appreciate that so much. I promise to stop making you uncomfortable.”
“Oh, yeah? You’ll stop saying the last thing I’d ever expect you to say? You’ll shut down all that sunshiney energy?” He got up, stood right in front of her, and braced his hands on the back of the couch.
Was he telling her she wasn’t being inappropriate, that he was attracted to her? It was hard to think when she was caged in like this.
“I try hard to do the right thing, Hellcat. I’m honest with my clients. I try not to step across an ethical line in a business that blurs it. I try to be a good man.”
She could smell the fresh cold snow in his hair, the laundry detergent in his shirt, and an unfamiliar scent that roused her libido. It was pine and woodsmoke, warm skin, and something unique to him.
He turned his mouth to her ear, so close, his hot breath sent chills skittering down her spine. “But in bed, I’m bad. Very, very bad.”
Her fingers lifted of their own accord and grazed his scruffy jaw. “Are you trying to scare me away? Because it’s having the opposite effect.”
“Trust me, you can’t handle me.”
She sat up, bringing their faces so close she could smell the coffee on his breath. “What does that mean exactly?”
“It means I take what I want.” He straightened his elbows, giving him enough distance to look into her eyes. “And good girls like you don’t want their plump little asses smacked.”
My ass smacked?
He’d spank me?
No one had ever done that. She’d kick them in the balls if they even tried.
Wouldn’t she?
She could imagine the red slap mark on her cheek, feel his fingers digging into her hips as he held her in place. She’d hike her bottom up, thrusting back to chase his dick because she was so desperate for friction she could hardly stand it.
He pushed off the back of the couch and headed into the kitchen. “You want coffee or hot chocolate?”
Yanked from her sexual haze, she was on fire. Head to toe, her entire body trembled with excitement. She wanted to taste his mouth and slide her hands under his shirt. She wanted to unbutton his jeans and pull him out, hold his hot, hard length in her hand.
Never in her entire life had she been so attracted to a man. But this one? He was the opposite of what she’d thought she wanted.
He was dark, intense, broody. Something volatile simmered just beneath the surface.
With her girl-next-door looks and lack of experience, she was not his match on any level.
And yet, the word cock coming out of his mouth was the most erotic thing she’d ever heard. She grew restless at the image of him big and thick, so erect it hit his flat belly. Need tore through her. She wanted him in her mouth, her hands on his ass. She wanted him inside her, filling her?—
“Which one do you want?” his deep voice jerked her out of her fantasy.
“What?” She started as if he’d heard her thoughts.
Which do you want? My cock in your mouth or your pussy?
Heat flashed across her body, making her burn.
“Hellcat?” He leaned out of the kitchen. “Coffee or cocoa?”
“Um...” She couldn’t even look at him. “Cocoa.” Get up and act normal. “Actually, I want to watch so I can learn how to make it.” This is good. She’d keep busy. Take her mind off sex. She got up and headed into the kitchen.
And since when is sex all you can think about?
It had never been a priority. It was fun. It relieved stress.
Well, wait. If she really thought about it, it was a way to connect to Landon. A moment of intimacy with him in an otherwise crazy day of business meetings and recording sessions that went on for twenty hours.
They had so little time together that when they talked, it was about business. How her interview went or what riff he’d come up with for a song. What their tour schedule looked like or the ongoing battle she was having with her producer.
Sex was the only time they connected outside of work.
Of course, it hadn’t been enough for him.
She could see that now. And really, how had it been enough for her?
It seemed another thing she and Slick had in common, valuing career over relationships.
If she’d been raised by a loving parent like her dad, she might’ve turned out differently. But she’d been raised by a money and status-hungry woman who’d pushed her to achieve.
She had to think about that.
“You want to grab the cocoa from that cabinet over there?” he asked.
She followed his gaze and found the box on the shelf. “Sure.”
“Scoop out half a cup and dump it into this pot.” He touched the handle.
It felt good to work, to stop thinking. The powder clumped, and half of it spilled onto the counter. “Sorry.” Quickly, she brushed it into the sink. “What next?”
He whisked the cocoa into the warming milk. “Add a cup of sugar.”
“An entire cup?”
“We’re not drinking it all at once. We’ll have enough to heat some up later.”
She wiped the cocoa powder off the measuring cup with a dish towel and then filled it with sugar. “Done.”
“Cool. Now, we’ll need two-thirds of a cup of hot water.” He’d already filled the kettle and it was starting to rumble. “Let me grab the vanilla.”
“So, what was the plan out there, Slick? Shovel a path to Calamity?”
“Just burning off some energy.”
“Sexual energy?” Dammit, Lor. What is your problem? “I’m sorry. I keep provoking you, and I have no idea why.”
“Maybe you like the idea of a swat on your ass.” He looked away, but there was no hiding that spectacular grin.
“No. That’s not…that’s not going to happen.” And it wasn’t. Of course not. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I swear, I’m not sex-crazed. Normally, I don’t even think about it.” Well, that wasn’t true. She took care of herself regularly. “You know, with men.”
He looked amused by her idiocy.
“Oh, man. I am just stepping in it. I’ve been alone way too long. I meant I’m out here alone so I’m not meeting men. I’m just reading romance books, and the sex scenes…” Really? You’re going to tell him you get off to smutty scenes? “They trigger reactions. You know?”
“No, Hellcat. I don’t know. Are you saying you don’t like sex with men?”
“No, I like it just fine. But I’ve only ever been with one person.”
His grin began at one corner of his mouth and took a slow crawl across his lips, blooming across his features. “Just one?”
“Yes.” She sounded as defeated as she felt. She’d just told Mr. Slick Butt-Whacker that she’d had one lover.
“Would that be the man who betrayed you?” He concentrated on whisking.
“Yes.” She couldn’t be that surprised he’d figured it out. She’d said the people closest to her.
“Fucker.”
She liked the way he said that. It gave her a feeling of solidarity, like she wasn’t so alone in this.
He stilled. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“Because I’m discovering something about myself.”
“I’m listening.”
“My ex was super easygoing. I always thought that was a good thing, a yin to my yang. But when you said, ‘Fucker,’ like a total thug, it made me feel protected. He never did that for me. When I’d get all upset about something, he’d listen, but he just wasn’t invested.”
Once, on her second album, her producer had changed the sound of a song so completely that Lorelei refused to accept it. He was an older man who thought he had authority over a teenage girl, but she’d taken it all the way down to the mat. She’d gotten the president of her record label involved. Ultimately, she’d won. She’d asked them to trust her instincts, and they had. But she’d gone through that whole process with her agent. Not Landon. Because her ex didn’t get fired up. He didn’t fight them with her.
He”d left her to handle everything.
“Isn’t it funny how I justified everything he did? Like when I got riled up about something, and he stayed calm, I told myself that he kept me sane. But really, he wasn’t an equal partner. What did he even bring to the relationship?” She’d mistaken an easy-going nature for apathy. And that was such a turn-off. Good riddance. “I’ll get the whipped cream.”
As she turned away, it struck her. That was the difference between the two men.
There was nothing apathetic about Slick.
It kicked up her libido all over again, because what would it be like to have sex with a commanding, take-charge man?
“You find it?” he asked.
She found the canister. “Yep. Right here.” She joined him at the stove and held it up to him. “I can’t believe you don’t make your own. Maybe I should call you Slacker instead of Slick.”
“That’s fair. Normally, I would, but this was meant to be a short trip.”
“You know that’s adorable, right? The big badass hockey player brings whipped cream for his cocoa on his little getaway?”
“It wasn’t for the cocoa. It was for the strawberries. In case they were tart.” When she grinned, he said, “I had a whole plan.”
“Cigars, whiskey, cocoa, and whipped cream. You’re a complicated man.”
“I don’t know what’s complicated about those four choices.” He tipped his chin to the living room. “I picked up a couple of books at the airport and figured I’d read by the fire.”
“That sounds like a perfect getaway. And I ruined it. I’m so sorry. Of all the wrong cabins to break into, I chose yours.”
He set the whisk in the sink and poured the cocoa into mugs. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be snowed in with.” Then, he picked them both up and headed back to the living room.
Warmth rushed through her. She stood there for a moment, the can in her hand, letting his words sink in before she followed him. “Did you mean that?”
He set the mugs on the coffee table and sat on the couch. His big feet landed on the table, and he tossed the cashmere throw across his lap. “I never say anything I don’t mean.”
She believed him. “Well, that’s really nice.” Popping off the lid, she squirted a mound of frilly whipped cream on top of each mug. Then, she settled in beside him.
He unfolded the throw and tossed some of it her way. “So, are you going to forgive fuckface?”
“My ex?”
“Is there any other fuckface?”
“No. There isn’t. And yes, I’m trying to do that. I want to forgive all of them.”
“But?”
“But I think the more important part is forgiving myself.”
“For what? You have no control over what weak, emotionally immature people do.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t paying attention.” He didn’t know her situation, that Landon had cheated on her with her best friend. The fewer details she gave, the better. She didn’t need him piecing it all together and figuring out who she was.
His hand landed on her thigh, and he gave her a shake. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Waste time scrolling through a catalog of memories to find clues you missed. Your recall is flawed, and trying to do a forensic analysis isn’t going to give you the answers you need.”
“True. But I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“That’s because you’re trying to put together a puzzle that has missing pieces.”
“Well, I don’t know how to stop.”
“Let me ask you this. If you did have all the pieces, and you could look at the whole puzzle, see a timeline of when everything happened, where you were at the time they were together, would that give you peace of mind?”
With her hands wrapped around the warm mug, she let the flurry of images fill her mind.
The time she’d gotten off a call with her manager and AR team and come into the kitchen to find Cissy all flushed. She’d thought it was the hot, humid summer. But now she was thinking they’d just had sex.
On the tour bus, when she was sleeping—crashed out from yet another performance—did the two of them sneak into the hallway bathroom? No, that space was too small. Where then? Where did they have sex? Was it backstage while Lorelei did her meet and greet? In Cis’s bunk?
Even if they wrote up a list of every time and place and handed it to her, she still wouldn’t be able to let it go and move on.
“No.” She sipped her cocoa, the cool whipped cream a delicious contrast to the hot, creamy chocolate. “I wouldn’t.”
“Then, stop. The only thing you can control is you. If you think you had a part in it?—”
“I did. I absolutely did. I was so ambitious that I neglected my relationships.”
“Hey. You are not the reason they betrayed you. They could’ve made any number of choices, but they chose to lie and deceive you.”
“You’re right.”
“Did fuckface ever talk to you? Tell you he felt neglected? Did he say, ‘Hey, I miss you. Grab a suitcase. We’re playing hooky this weekend.’”
“Never. I swear I didn’t have a single clue he was unhappy.”
“Then, how could you fix things?” He sat forward, leaning toward her, his hand squeezing her thigh. “It’s not your fault.”
She nodded and gave him a faint smile. “Guess you’re not the only one who believed in something that turned out to be fake.”
He sat back. “Can I ask a question?”
“Sure.” She knew she sounded wary, but she couldn’t blame him for wanting more information. If she didn’t want him to figure things out, she needed to shut her mouth.
“Are all three people part of the same betrayal?”
“No. My mom’s is on a whole other level.”
“Your mom? This is why you said we have things in common?”
“Oh, trust me. You might not like your parents’ choice, but at least they wanted what’s best for you. My mom’s the most self-serving person you’ll ever meet.” She shook her head in disgust.
If he was shocked, he didn’t show it.
The lawsuits were all over the news, so she wouldn’t bring them up. Besides, that part was the least traumatic. “My parents divorced when I was six, and from that moment on, I was told my dad didn’t care about me. At the beginning of this year, I found out my mom lied about everything. Not only did he love me and want me, but he was the one who’d supported my dreams all along. I honestly don’t know if I can ever forgive her for what she did. I have siblings I’m just getting to know because they chose to live with my dad.” Frankly, once her mom recognized Lorelei’s talent, she’d had no use for her other two kids.
“I’m starting to see why you’ve been here for three months.” He wound the throw’s fringe around a finger. “Did she give you a reason?”
“Well, first off, I don’t think she meant to divorce him. I think she was trying to manipulate him. She wanted to move to a bigger house, closer to the city, and he couldn’t do that. She thought if she took his kids and left him with an empty house, he’d beg her to come back.”
“And he didn’t?”
“No. I asked him about it not long ago. He said he didn’t want his kids to grow up in a home where their parents didn’t love each other and blackmail was a way of life.”
“Did he know about the lies she told you?”
She noticed he hadn’t touched his cocoa. “Oh, God, no. If he had, he’d have done something about it. He thought…well, I guess he thought I was just like her.”
“So, where do you and your mom stand right now?”
“I don’t have anything to say to her. Even if I could forgive her—and believe me, I’m not there yet—I don’t want a relationship with her. It took me till my mid-twenties, but I finally drew a boundary, and I’m not going to put up with toxic relationships.”
“I guess that means she hasn’t apologized?”
“Oh, no. She’s the victim in everything. She’d never see herself as the problem. In her mind, she truly believes my dad’s awful and that she did the best thing in the world for me.”
“So, you’re just an ingrate?”
“Pretty much.”
“Classic narcissist.” He settled back against the cushion. “They don’t change, by the way.”
“Okay, you’re a therapist. You have to be.”
“That’s one of my hats.” He tugged his side of the throw over his lap. “You’ve been hit with a lot this year. It’s no wonder you need to step back and reevaluate. The question is, what’re you doing in this cabin when you could be getting to know your dad?”
She pressed a hand to her chest. “Ooh. Ouch.” Because I nearly brought the paparazzi to his doorstep, and he’s trying to raise my nephew. “I was living with him, but let’s just say my problems followed me to his house, and that didn’t seem fair.”
“Did he say that? ‘Hey, don’t bring your shit here?’”
“Oh, God, no. Just the opposite. He said not to worry about it. He could handle anything.”
“Your ex isn’t dangerous, is he?”
“No. It’s not that kind of trouble. My ex is harmless.”
“No. He’s really not.”
He was right about that. Affection poured through her, but she stopped herself from touching him. Maybe this was another thing they had in common? “Did someone cheat on you?”
“Never dated anyone long enough for that to happen.”
“I know you don’t date now, but surely you had a girlfriend in high school or college. Right?”
“Sure, I did. In fifth grade, Missy Tomlinson and I were a thing. She was hot.”
She grinned. “You realize if I had Wi-Fi, I’d be hunting her down. Let me guess. She was blond, skinny, and the most popular girl in school.”
“You could not be more wrong about me. Missy T, as we call her, could climb to the top of a tree as fast as a squirrel. She could stuff three hot dogs in her mouth at once, and we only broke up because she tried to beat me in a race by pulling my hair.”
“That bitch.”
“Exactly. I’d put my money on her being a professional wrestler.”
“She turned you off dating, huh?” The way they smiled at each other, their gazes locked, it rocketed through her.
“Nah, it wasn’t Missy. It was life. I was on the NHL path from the time I was a kid. And that’s serious stuff. Ten percent of kids make it to collegiate hockey. One percent of college players make it to the NHL. Most of the time, a coach can spot that kid right away.”
“And you were that kid.”
He nodded, staring into the fire.
“That must’ve been awful. To come so close and then lose it all.”
“It was awful. But in any event, when you train that hard, you can’t keep up your grades, spend time with friends and family, and have a girlfriend. I tried it a few times, and it was a shitshow. Then, I went to college, then law school…and now, I’m trying to make partner in my firm…I don’t have the time to devote to a relationship.”
Okay, he’s a lawyer.
That tracks.
“I don’t know. I’m not buying it.”
“Not buying what?”
“That you didn’t date because you were too busy. Athletes get married and have kids all the time.”
“Yeah, but it’s a choice. I know I can’t give a wife and kids enough time. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Oh, come on. Love doesn’t work like that. It isn’t convenient. Feelings can’t be locked in a compartment until we’re ready for them. Believe me, if you’d met the right woman, you’d have found a way to make time for her.”
“That’s fair. Okay.” He nodded. “I haven’t found the right one.”
“Well, of course, you haven’t. You walk into the bar, skimming over all the women, looking for the one who wants to toot it and boot it.”
He snickered. “Toot it and boot it?”
“You know, a pump and dump.” She thought about that one. “That’s gross. Let’s just say you’re looking for a drive-by.”
“A smash and trash,” he agreed.
Now, they were laughing. “A Waikiki sneaky between the cheeky.”
“What the fuck is that?” he asked.
“It’s from the movie 50 First Dates.”
“Never seen it. But I do like the bonus waffle.”
She was cracking up. “I have no idea what that means.”
“It’s a parting gift. Instead of kicking her out, you hand her a waffle.”
“A waffle?” She was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. “You hand her a frozen waffle? Do you at least toast it first?”
“Of course.”
“What if she prefers a Pop-Tart? Or a toaster pastry?”
“I’d give her a cinnamon roll if she’d just get out of my house.”
“You’re so mean. And I’m na?ve enough to be the woman who takes the waffle and goes, ‘Do you have syrup?’ I wouldn’t have a single clue it was my parting gift.’”
Laughter erupted out of him. “I’d put the bottle in a bag?—”
“Some plastic cutlery?—”
“And a napkin.”
“I would die. I would literally die of shame. This dating world is not for me. Are men really that mean?”
“I don’t know. I’m not like that.” He had a thoughtful expression. “Actually, yes. I do know guys who’ve done that.”
“I don’t know which is worse, men who cheat or men who pump and dump and hand you a waffle. Relationships are hard and?—”
“You can’t control them.” He seemed surprised at what came out of his mouth. But after a moment, he settled into it with a look that said, I stand by that.
“That’s it right there, isn’t it?” It was so clear to her. “I want to be in a relationship. I love being in love. I’m born to be monogamous.”
But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust again.
So, where does that leave me?