Chapter 15 Lofton #2
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve shared information, Devon. Black and white facts that you carefully drop knowing they could never paint a full picture.”
His chin jerked to the side like I’d slapped him. “That’s not true.”
“Okay, for example. You grew up in California. But where? It’s a big state. You have two sisters. Though you’ve never mentioned either of their names. You live in Chicago? House, apartment, parents’ basement?”
He scoffed. “I’m thirty-four, Lofton. If I still live in my parents’ basement you should fire me immediately.”
“Oh, so you’re thirty-four. Never would have known.” I shot him a sardonic smile.
“Didn’t know my age was proprietary information.”
“It’s just a stroke of color on the canvas of Devon Grant.”
He was silent for a beat, his eyes flicking from side to side, focusing on absolutely nothing. It was what he always did when he warred with himself.
And I sat there patiently, waiting to see if he would finally open the book for me.
Victory sang in my veins as he blew out a long-suffering sigh, another one of Devon’s tells.
“I grew up in Fresno. My sisters’ names are Elena and Bella. No girlfriend. No wife. No significant other.”
“Oh, look, more nondescript answers.” I smarted, all the while secretly celebrating that last part.
Chuckling, he shook his head. “Fine. I grew up with a single mom in Fresno. Her name is Leslie, and she’s a retired paralegal.
She’s incredible, and we text daily. My dad, however, is not incredible.
He left when I was a baby, never looked back, and I never cared to find him.
I’m the youngest. Elena is forty and Bella is thirty-eight.
They are both married, though no nieces or nephews yet.
” He drew in an exaggerated breath, pinning me with a teasing stare before continuing.
“While I might be tragically single, I do like to live on the edge, so I quasi-recently bought a house in the burbs with a homeowners’ association.
Most days, I’m allergic to drama and gossip, but the neighborhood Facebook page is a dumpster fire of the highest order—and my favorite guilty pleasure. ”
“Shut up,” I breathed, barely able to contain my joy. That was a whole damn rainbow of colors from Devon Grant, and yet not nearly enough. “Or actually, don’t shut up. I need all the HOA deets.”
He leaned back, folding an arm behind his head.
“Let’s see. Last month, Diane posted at six in the morning, demanding to know whose dog had peed on her hydrangeas.
There were fourteen responses within the hour stating that they didn’t own a dog, like it was a roll call or something.
” He paused, a breathtaking grin painting far more colors than his words.
“Then there’s Gerald, who lives two doors down from me.
He’s currently threatening legal action over the placement of the community Christmas wreath. ”
I blinked. “It’s April.”
“Yeah, but Gerald ran for the decorating committee chair last year and lost by a landslide. He, of course, maintains that Sharon bribed residents with homemade blueberry muffins.” He hooked a thumb toward his chest. “Which, by the way, are freaking delicious.”
I pressed my hand to my chest in mock horror. “Gasp! You took a bribe?”
He looked at me, our matching smiles so close his breath fluttered across my skin.
“Babe, the woman goes full winter wonderland at Christmas. Lights on every surface, a sleigh on the roof, fake snow in her yard. She sets up a mailbox for Santa on her front lawn and responds to every letter a kid drops in. Hand-written notes. With candy canes. I didn’t need a bribe to vote for her, but I’m never gonna turn down a muffin. ”
“Noted.” I bit my bottom lip, taking great pleasure when Devon tracked the movement.
“Anyway. Gerald’s never recovered. Last season, the committee hung the Christmas wreath four inches lower than the bylaws specify, and Gerald still brings it up on the Facebook page damn near weekly.”
“Wow, that is…fascinating.”
“It’s petty is what it is.” He shrugged. “But it’s entertaining.”
He chanced another glance at me from the corner of his eye. “That enough colors for ya, Bob Ross?”
“It’s a good start.”
He chuffed. “What about you? What are Lofton Beck’s colors?”
“Well, you’ve seen most them already. But if you’re still curious, there’s an exhaustive palette on my Wikipedia page.”
“I’ll see if I can fit that in tonight after I check up on Gerald.”
Giggling, I stretched out my legs, our thighs becoming flush. The bed was only so big, and Devon took up the majority. I could have teetered on the edge, close but not touching.
I didn’t even pretend to try.
Catching his wrist, I lifted his arm and crawled underneath until my head rested on his chest.
After he’d been such a weirdo about sitting on the bed with me, I’d half expected him to stiffen at the contact. Maybe even try to reclaim some space between us. Or worse, get up and leave altogether.
But thankfully, Devon didn’t pretend either.
“Jesus,” he breathed, curling his arm around me, anchoring his hand in the curve of my hip.
Relaxing into his side, I draped my arm across his stomach.
The intimacy of that moment wasn’t lost on either of us.
Not as his thumb casually grazed up and down my side.
Or as I brought my hand up to rest on his pec, his rapid heartbeat once again betraying his casual demeanor.
I’d fantasized about finding my way into Devon’s bed more times than I could count.
But never like that.
Fully dressed.
Lights on.
A connection that had nothing to do with ecstasy and everything to do with trust and vulnerability.
And for that reason alone, I confessed. “Tonight was a mess.”
He flinched, his other hand coming down over mine at his chest, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Shit, Lofton. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” I traced an absent pattern against his shirt. “I was nervous before we left. I think it was too soon to put myself back out there, but there was another part of me that just desperately wanted one normal night.”
His thumb stilled against my side. “I’m not trying to be a dick here. But I do not live in your world. What does normal even look like for you?”
“That’s an excellent question.”
He was quiet for a moment. Not the uncomfortable kind. Just the warm silence of a man patiently waiting to actually listen.
“It used to look like this place. The farm. Early mornings. Bickering with Jenn. Daddy at the head of that table with half of Dollton crammed around it.” I drew in a shaky breath.
“But everything is just so damn sad here now. This place used to be so full of life. And now, it’s all either dead or dying.
The grounds, the horses, my father…” Emotion lodged in my throat.
“Marty,” Devon finished for me.
His arm curled tighter around me, forcing me closer until I was more on top of him than at his side. “It’s a lot, babe. A real damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation. It steals your breath to leave, but staying suffocates you too.”
“It does.” I agreed, hugging him impossibly tight. “But, I hope you know every time I saw you tonight, air filled my lungs again. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.”
He pressed his lips to the top of my head. It was so brief and gentle I wasn’t even sure he’d meant to do it. Then all at once his body sagged, but not in relief or relaxation. It was almost as if he’d deflated, resigning himself to something I didn’t understand.
I started to look up to see if I could get a better read on him, but he just gathered me closer, his lips once again skimming the top of my head.
“Because I’m the steady during the worst chapter of your life,” he stated with heartbreaking confidence.
A smile tipped my lips as the words landed somewhere so deep inside me I hadn’t realized how empty I’d truly been.
I had yet to taste his lips.
Or given him my body.
But the ground had begun to shake, and it wouldn’t be long before I started to fall.
“You are,” I said softly. “You absolutely are.”