Chapter 9 #2
I’m not above begging, wanting to understand this shut down, that’s even colder than the chilly behavior outside.
“You don’t deserve it,” she whispers, like I’ve scorned her somehow.
The edge to her voice has me flinching.
I could blame Emerson for the charade we’ve built.
Town mayor. County sheriff. Visually, we make sense, but Em and I have never been together.
That’s the image she wants to portray to cover her secrets.
As her friend, I want to protect her. It started as a united front.
A fundraiser. A public event. But as the rumors grew, so did the lie.
For my own part, I might have used Emerson as well. Hanging out with her allowed me to avoid the complications of a real commitment. Protect myself from ever getting in that position again. I haven’t had the time or interest in dating anyone seriously, so Em was convenient for me.
Our little arrangement even worked for getaways. A false weekend here or there that allowed Em to go where she goes and me some rare time off, which is how we both ended up in Knoxville.
Not together, but seemingly together.
And I see now I’ve really messed up because what was always intended to skew perception has turned into a giant misunderstanding.
“Emerson and I were not together that weekend. Or any weekend ever. She wanted a weekend with—” I cut myself off before I share more than necessary.
This isn’t about Em. It’s about me. “The timing was just convenient. She wanted to go to Knoxville, and I had a retirement party for an old college buddy. Plus, I wanted to check in on Judd. See his fight.” I pause. “Then I met you.”
A second encounter that I considered a twist of fate, when I didn’t believe in fate.
And yet, here Taxi is again, staring at me with narrowed eyes like she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
On the flip side of that disbelief is the fact she isn’t moving yet.
Isn’t opening the door behind her and shutting me out completely.
Which leaves me questioning once again what she’s doing here.
If we had our chance, and lost it in Knoxville, what is Taxi doing standing in my bathroom, arms crossed, glaring at me like a bull prepared to charge a red flag?
I am not a red flag. I’m as green as they come, but that doesn’t mean I’m one-thousand percent innocent. I wear guilt in many areas, but not in relationships with women.
“I’ve never touched Em. Not like you might think. We aren’t involved, not even interested in one another, other than as companions in our respective civic duties. She’s the town mayor.”
Once upon a time, I might have been a bit enamored with Emerson. She’s pretty and intelligent, kind and devoted to this town, but Em loves someone else, and that’s her secret to keep.
And this moment right here is teaching me a hard lesson.
I can’t be the guardian of that secret any longer, because it is keeping me from what I want.
Taxi.
“I’ve never kissed her. Never kissed anyone the way I kissed you.”
Taxi’s eyes soften only a fraction at the truth.
“And like you kissed me back,” I add, because I felt it. I couldn’t be completely wrong. There was a connection, at least briefly.
Her chest heaves again, and her nostrils flare once more. She doesn’t break from lasering those sterling eyes on mine.
Slowly, hesitantly, I lift my hand again to cup the edge of her jaw and stroke my thumb over her smooth skin, marveling at the softness underneath the rough of my hand.
I watch how she licks her lips. Her voice is quiet when she finally speaks, “Why didn’t you tell me? That night.”
“Because I wasn’t thinking about Em when I met you.”
Emerson and I didn’t stay in the same room. We didn’t even stay in the same hotel. She went where she goes and met me in the morning for breakfast.
“What you saw in the morning . . . that was me telling Em about the incredible woman I’d met the night before.”
I lean closer, feeling the cool metal of her bib overall clasps brush against my bare chest. Her gaze drops to the thick dusting of hair just below my collarbone. Slowly, ever so slowly, she lifts her hand, placing it over my heart, where it races beneath my skin.
The second she touches me, my flesh pebbles and my dick jolts, poking at the loose, hip-hung towel and nudging toward Taxi.
If she notices, she doesn’t react. Instead, she keeps her hand on my chest another second, both of us watching where she’s touching me.
Where sparks fly and my skin sizzles like she’s branding me.
Then, she moves her hand, gliding it up and over my shoulder.
My eyes close, like I can’t handle the sensation, when I’m drinking in every atom of her palm against my flesh. It’s been so long since someone has caressed me, held me, fucked me.
The urge to rush this woman is almost overpowering, and yet, I don’t want this moment to end. Her slow map of my skin. The heated touch of her hand on my chest.
“Why didn’t you ask to come into my room that night?” she whispers, coasting her hand down my arm. The heat of her palm leaves a lingering trail of sparks, crackling and tickling my flesh.
“Why didn’t you invite me in?” I counter, low and deep, as I open my eyes and focus on her mouth again.
She shrugs, subtle and hesitant.
“I don’t do things like that, Taxi. I don’t meet women at random or invite myself into hotel rooms for one-night stands.”
It isn’t like I haven’t had them. I just haven’t had one in years. Watching my siblings fall in love, one by one, over the past twenty-four months has made me yearn for something I didn’t think I’d ever have. Didn’t dare to hope for. Something I’d given up on as a possibility.
As much as I’ve tried to reassure every one of my siblings that love exists, that they are worthy of it, that they deserve it, I haven’t bought into the philosophy for myself.
But now, I want it.
And I want it with this woman who felt unique and special that night.
What are the chances of not only a strange encounter in a hotel hallway but a second meeting in a bar?
And the way she batted those lashes at me, laughed with me, told me passionately about something so significant to her as her art.
Told me with heartbreak in her voice about her mother.
Taxi was beautiful on the inside as well as the outside, and something deep inside me cried out for more with her.
I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted it.
And here she is a third time, taunting me with her presence and her saucy attitude, and making me question everything again.
“Why should I believe you?” she asks, the question honest and raw.
I want to beg her to trust me, but it’s never that simple. “Let me show you who I am.”
Taxi focuses on her hand, blazing a pattern against my chest, over my shoulder, down my arm. I’ll get a tattoo to permanently mark where she’s blazing that trail over my skin.
But then her hand abruptly stops right over my heart, and she applies light pressure, extending her arm, gently forcing me back.
“I can’t.” No more whispers. No more caution. Her voice is strong and firm.
Why? It’s on the tip of my tongue when a sharp knock rattles the door behind Taxi, and we both jump.
“Uncle Stone, you about done in there. I’m starving.”
Hudson. My innocent eleven-year-old nephew. I’m going to strangle whichever brother sent him up here. Or maybe it was Vale.
While I pride myself on being the grill master for every special occasion, I want to shout, I’m busy.
I’m trying to woo a woman who doesn’t want me.
The truth stabs me in the sternum.
“Be out in a minute,” I say over Taxi’s head, toward the thick barrier behind her.
Pausing a second, I wait for Hudson to disappear down the hallway before I glance back at Taxi.
I don’t know what to say. Her mind seems to be made up.
Whatever I thought we had, thought we shared, hadn’t happened. At least, not for her.
Taking a giant step back, I tighten the towel around my waist, struggling to keep it on my hips because my dick hasn’t gotten the memo yet.
Taxi glances down at where my hand fists the twisted terrycloth. She digs her teeth into her lower lip, but as much as I want to read that reaction as a sign that I’m affecting her, she’s already said I’m not.
I hang my head, avoiding my own eyes in the reflection of the mirror. I know what I’ll see. A man aging alone. A man who already lost a girl once, a long time ago, which caused him to never put his heart out there again. Never trust that love would happen.
Taxi felt different, although I can’t put my finger on why.
I’ll never have an answer. There isn’t one.
Quietly, she spins for the door and opens it, cautiously checking the hallway before slipping out of the bathroom.
When she closes the door, I take another minute for myself.
Inhaling a deep breath, I reconstruct the shield I often wear to keep emotion away from logic.
The emotion being the desire to pursue this girl.
The reality is saying step back, old man.
She’s not the One. Again.