Chapter 17
West
By Thursday evening, I was ninety-five percent sure Presley was avoiding me.
After a quick dinner with my girls, I headed to her shop to get a few hours’ work in while Sam Cordova, Chance’s daughter, babysat.
I parked at Bergman Hardware, grabbed my tools, and hoofed it toward the shop in the rain.
I’d only seen Presley in passing since finding her and Magnolia at her shop Monday afternoon.
A good morning on her way out of her house, an impersonal wave as she passed through our work zone, a brief response to my text on Tuesday, in which I’d explained I’d be sanding that evening at the shop and that it was a dusty, dirty, one-person job she’d be better off staying away from.
As I neared her shop, I noticed two things. One, she’d papered over all the windows so no one could see in. Two, the lights were on, telling me she was inside.
That made me way too fucking happy.
The main door was unlocked, so I went in, anticipating laying eyes on her. The first sign of her was the open, brightly colored umbrella lying on the concrete floor to dry.
When she appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, I nearly swallowed my tongue as I drank in the sight. She wasn’t dressed up, wasn’t wearing anything sexy, just a simple cami and some cotton shorts. Plain as plain could be.
The truth was, Presley did not look plain no matter what she wore or didn’t wear.
“We’re painting today?” she asked, her eyes lit with excitement. About paint.
No matter how much I tried to build my resistance to her, it was pointless. It crumbled with one glance at her, one eager question out of her mouth.
“Painting today,” I said, shooting for professional but unable to keep the dumbass grin off my face as I walked toward her. “Are you here to help?”
“Am I allowed?” She moved out of the doorway to let me by, but I still managed to catch her light, sweet scent.
“You’re the boss.”
“That’s not what you said Tuesday. You were bossy.”
“Drywall dust is nasty.” I set my tools down and tried to gather my thoughts about how to split up the work tonight. This woman had a way of scrambling my brain. I hadn’t been sure she would show up. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”
“I was,” she said, surprising me with her bluntness.
“Why?” So much for staying professional.
“I might be slow, but the message finally got through to me.”
“What message was that?”
“That we were a one and done, emphasis on the done.” She shrugged. I tried to discern whether she was really that carefree about what she was saying, but I couldn’t tell. “Sorry about the kiss in my garage Monday morning.”
I busied myself opening the paint, putting on gloves, and crouching to prep a strainer to run it through. “You don’t have to apologize,” I finally said. “I liked it. But we were supposed to be a one and done.”
She moved in close, watching me pour the slate-blue paint into the strainer bucket as if it was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen. “Supposed to be?”
I watched the paint flow too, trying to figure out what to say. How much to admit to. “I gave in to our…chemistry, we’ll call it, against my better judgment by convincing myself it would mean getting you out of my system. Seems that was a misfire.”
She crouched down next to me. “I’m not out of your system?” Her blue eyes were intense, focused. Curious. So damn enticing. And definitely not carefree. “Is that even a thing?” she asked, raising her brows in question. “Getting someone out of your system by sleeping with them?”
“Maybe,” I hedged. I stood and squeezed the paint out of the strainer, then took the gloves off.
Presley stood too.
“But apparently not for me when it comes to you,” I admitted.
The slow smile that lit up her face made me wonder if being honest was a mistake. That smile was so pretty though; drawing one out of her couldn’t be a mistake.
“Maybe you just need a second dose,” she said, stepping closer, peering up at me.
“A second dose of Presley?” I tried to resist the urge to move a fallen strand of hair off her cheek but couldn’t do it. I gently brushed it away with the backs of my fingers.
Turning her cheek toward my hand, she said, “Mm-hmm,” her lids fluttering shut.
I let out a quiet growl, my blood pounding with desire, teeth clenching with frustration at this weakness for her. “It wouldn’t be smart.”
“Because of your job?”
I studied her beautiful face, working to get my mind to focus on the question instead of the little bow of her upper lip. In that moment, I admitted to myself, as important as my job was, it wasn’t what had me fighting myself so hard.
“We proved we could keep it a secret,” I said. “What Levi doesn’t know can’t hurt me.” His main concern seemed to be the optics anyway. I kept it to myself that he’d seen us Saturday, knowing it would only embarrass her.
“We did prove we could keep it a secret.” She looked at me expectantly. Hopefully?
“The thing is, I can’t give you anything, Presley.”
“You proved you can give me a hell of an orgasm…or three.”
This woman…
I loved the way she could be so proper and put together one moment, then throw out a blunt comment the next. The contrasts in her fascinated me and made me want to know her inside and out.
As she watched my reaction, desire was clear in her eyes. I ached to make her come apart right here, right now.
I put some space between us. Inhaled deeply, trying to get a grip on myself and this need for her that was more out of control than a runaway train.
“When my last relationship ended,” I said, unfolding the large cloth tarp and spreading it over the patio table to protect it from the paint sprayer, “my daughters suffered a profound loss. The second mother figure in their life left just like their mom did.”
“Oh, those sweet girls.” She pressed a hand to her chest and frowned.
“There’s nothing worse than watching my children’s hearts break—except knowing I caused it. I vowed to myself not to get involved with anyone while they’re at such vulnerable ages and so readily latching on to any woman who’s kind to them.”
Presley closed the space between us again and touched my chest. “Such a good heart in here,” she said quietly. She met my gaze. “They’re so lucky to have you, West.”
I swallowed. “That wasn’t true when April left. That was my fault. My careless decision to invite her into their lives got them hurt.”
“You couldn’t have known how it would end.”
“I should’ve known it would end sooner rather than later.”
“Your daughters seem like well-adjusted, happy little girls.”
“I can’t risk them getting hurt again because of my inability to make a relationship work.”
She nodded. “That’s a noble decision.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out whether that was a sincere comment. I didn’t give a shit about being noble. I just didn’t want anything to hurt my girls again, especially not something I brought upon them. I couldn’t spot any hint that she didn’t mean it.
“The thing is,” she continued, “I’m not a relationship girl myself.
I’m not looking for anything permanent, West. I wouldn’t know what to do with a real relationship if it smacked me upside the head.
” Her lips flickered into a vulnerable smile.
“I like what I know of your daughters, but I’m not asking you to take me home to them.
I happen to love what you do to me when they’re not around. ”
I had a hard enough time resisting her when she wasn’t saying things like that. “We’re supposed to be working on your coffee shop.”
“You haven’t started working yet,” she said, her tone dripping with flirtation. She stepped closer, facing me, leaving inches between us, like a dare.
As if I needed to be dared.
I cradled her cheek in my palm and kissed her, aiming to be gentle and civilized instead of crazed, but at the first taste of her sweet, tempting lips, need shot through me. Presley seemed right there with me, gripping my upper arms as if she wouldn’t let me go if I wanted to.
As I kissed the hell out of her, I wound my arms around her, trailed them down to her sweet ass, and gripped her to me, pulling her against my erection, aching for release.
Our moans and sighs filled the new room, bringing me out of myself enough to remember the door was unlocked.
I carried her to the table and set her on the edge of it.
“Hold that thought,” I said, dipping my hand into my pants pocket for my keys. I held them up and headed for the door.
I took long strides out to the public room, fumbled the key with shaking hands, and managed to shove it in the hole and lock the door.
When I returned to the kitchen, Presley leaned against the table with not a stitch of clothing on her gorgeous body.
“Jesus, Pres.” I froze for a second in the doorway, drinking in all that perfection, then moved toward her.
I lifted her to the table and laid her back on it, leaning over her to feast on her perky tits.
As I laved my tongue over her and teased her nipple, she wound her legs around my waist and rubbed her soft core against my rock-hard dick, still covered by my pants.
I was dying to strip down and thrust inside of her, but I wanted this to last more than three minutes.
Still standing, supporting my weight with one hand on the table, I used the other—along with my mouth—to drive her wild.
Her gasps and sighs and pleas were the sexiest guide to what she loved most—a combination of tongue and teeth.
I worshipped one nipple then the other, then stretched over her to her mouth.
She arched up to me hungrily, grasped my head, and kissed me till I forgot my name.
Someday I’d like to kiss her for hours, as if it was its own sport, but not when she was bare naked and begging me, her legs hooked tightly around my ass as she ground her hot center against me. I was a mere mortal, unable to resist her for much longer.
“West,” she cried, pulling our mouths apart. “Why do you still have your pants on?”