Chapter 16 Scarlett
SIXTEEN
SCARLETT
The ride back to Connor’s house is quiet. Snow started falling while we were in the bar, and everyone seemed to have disappeared inside. Connor keeps one of my hands in his, almost like he’s afraid I’m going to jump out of the car if he lets me go.
“What if I change my mind when we get to your house?” I ask.
Connor glances at me. “Then I’ll drive you right back to the Inn. Or, if you prefer, we can stay at my house and talk.”
“Oh, now he wants to talk,” I say.
Connor cuts me a look. “I always want to talk to you, Scarlett.”
“Except when it actually matters,” I retort.
He looks away, but not before I catch his flinch. I feel bad for being mean, but I have to be. I trusted him and he took advantage of that trust.
“I’m guessing you still haven’t read my letter?”
“Who leaves a letter Connor? How hard was it for you to pick up a phone and call me? We were together for six months and you called and texted me more than my parents or sisters. Sometimes I worried you were love bombing me.”
He looks horrified at the accusation, and it makes me laugh.
“I wasn’t! I just like talking to you.” Like, he says. “Even when you’re angry at me, I just want to listen to your voice.” He looks at me briefly. “Not in a creepy, sexualized way because of your job.”
I didn’t think it was creepy and sexualized, but I appreciated the clarification.
“Not that you’re inclined to talk to me right now,” he adds.
“Oh, so it’s my fault?” I turn to him.
“No!” He squeezes my hand once and looks at me suspiciously. “This reminds of that time you picked a fight with that kid.”
I gasp. “That kid was evil, Connor!”
I’m surprised he remembers. We’d been out at dinner one night and this toddler at the next table was having a tantrum and kept throwing pieces of bread at me.
The parents were too busy talking and while I would never try to parent someone’s child, I made an exception in that case.
Only it came across as me picking a fight with a toddler.
I look at him. His face is in shadow and even though he has one hand on the steering wheel and it’s snowing outside, his confidence isn’t wavering. His thumb rubs circles on the back of my hand.
“I didn’t think you’d remember,” I say honestly.
“What do you mean?” He looks at me in question.
“I don’t know why I thought you would purge all your memories of me.” I shrug, looking out the window. Him leaving meant he didn’t want to be with me and in my mind that meant he was going to make a concentrated effort to forget all about me, including the memories we made together.
“I will never forget you, Scarlett,” he says, voice full of conviction.
“I know I haven’t done a good job of proving it, but you can trust me on that.
It’s impossible for me to forget you when you’re the reason I breathe.
And I know I’m the last person you want to trust right now, but I’m going to change that as well. ”
“We’ll see,” is all I say.
“Do you always have to give me a hard time?”
“Hey, you said it yourself you’re practically geriatric. I have to keep you young.”
“That’s why I’m dating a younger woman,” he says, winking at me.
“Ugh! Gross! We’re not dating.” I laugh at his joke.
“We’re not dating yet, baby girl,” Connor says, turning the truck into the drive leading up to his house. House was putting it mildly. It was the kind of sprawling mansion which spoke of generational wealth. The ranch was far enough from town that he practically lived in the middle of nowhere.
“Don’t you get scared living out here by yourself?” I ask, when the house appears. He’s left the exterior lights on.
“I like being away from the town, and I’m not alone. Oliver lives over there.” He points to a smaller structure in the distance. “It’s where the ranch hands live during the summer, but it’s just Oliver right now.”
“And Oliver is…?”
“The ranch foreman,” he explains. “He manages the day-to-day work.”
“Is he cute?”
“No!”
Connor rolls the truck to a stop and puts it in park, his face set in harsh, angry lines. I giggle when he gets out and walks around the truck to open my door. Unlatching my belt, I give him my hand and Connor wraps his arm around my waist, lifting me out of the truck.
I shiver as the cold hits my exposed face and neck and Connor tucks me in against him, leading me up the steps to the porch.
My heart beats wildly as I wait for him to unlock the door.
I wasn’t nervous in the bar, but now that we’re here, I’m suddenly worried about following through.
I believe Connor and I know he’ll drive me back to the Inn in an instance.
We haven’t had sex in a year and a half. In that time, I haven’t had sex with anyone else either. I’ve been on a few dates but none felt like they could replace the hole in my chest left by Connor.
With the door unlocked, Connor pushes it open and steps aside, letting me enter first. I stare at the open entryway. Slowly, Connor reaches for my hand and brings it up to his mouth, kissing the back of my fingers.
“If you want to leave, or stay and talk, that’s fine. I just want to be with you. I didn’t bring you here for sex.”
“But it’ll be nice if it is sex?” I take a tentative step closer to him, tilting my head back to look into his eyes.
“Nice isn’t the word I’d use to describe our sex life, but yes.”
I find it so strange how he keeps referring to our relationship in the present tense.
As if the last year and a half was a break and not a break-up.
The way he’s looking at me right now, full of desire and tenderness, I’m sure that Connor wants me back.
That he’ll go to any lengths to get me back and if that means spending the rest of our lives convincing me that our relationship is worth saving, then he’ll do that.
I reach up onto my toes and kiss him softly.
“You’ll have to beg for my forgiveness first, beg for a taste. And then I might consider letting you in.”
I step into the house and Connor closes the door behind us. The sound of the door clicking shut has a finality to it.
“Do you want something to drink?” Connor asks, his voice low.
I really shouldn’t drink, but I need something to calm my nerves. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
I remove my coat and Connor crouches down to unzip my boots, helping me remove them one at a time. Seeing him kneeling before me sends flutters to my belly. Oh, I’m going to enjoy making him beg.
Taking my hand, he leads me into the living room where he starts a fire in the fireplace and offers me a glass of scotch. I don’t drink hard liquor. I take a tentative sip and cough at the burn.
“I also have beer,” Connor says.
“This is fine.”
I look around the living room. There are two brown suede couches, a cream and brown Aubusson rug, and a brown leather wingback chair by the fireplace. There’s a small table beside it and there’s a book set upside down on it. Family photos line the mantel above the fireplace and over the piano.
“Do you play?” I ask, nodding at the piano.
Connor is watching me carefully as I examine his house.
“No, it was my mother’s.”
“What about your brothers? Do they play?”
He shakes his head.
Connor hasn’t turned on any of the big lights. The only light in the room is from the fireplace and the floor lamps he turned on.
I take another sip of my drink and set the glass on the mantel. Outside the window, snow continues to fall. I can’t see anything beyond the few feet illuminated by the house lights. It’s almost like there’s no one else in the world except Connor and me.
In the reflection of the window, I see him step up behind me and brush my hair over my shoulder. Bending forward, he places a searing kiss on my neck. I tilt my head to the side to give him easier access.
“Connor,” I whisper.
I turn to face him, slipping my arms around his waist. His lips meet mine in a lush, wet kiss that I feel all the way to my toes.
“I’ve been dying to taste you,” Connor murmurs. “Five hundred and thirty-six days, baby girl. Every day has felt like a new hell.”
I stare up at him. “You’ve counted the days we’ve been apart?”
Connor caresses my cheek, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Like I said, every day away from you has felt like hell. One that I brought on myself, I know. But that hasn’t made it easy. The only thing which made it easy was knowing you weren’t going through it with me.”
What? He thinks I’ve been happy without him? Five hundred and thirty-six days have been easy? I want to argue, but he’s kissing my neck again and I’m distracted by my need for him. I close my eyes, letting my body grow lax.
Reaching between us, Connor tugs at his shirt I’m still wearing and pulls it over my head.
“Do you want me to stop?” His eyes bounce between both of mine.
I step away from him, back towards the warmth of the fire. Slowly, I unbutton my jeans and shimmy them off with my back still to Connor, letting him see my high-cut lace thong. He makes a sound that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. Turning, I kick my jeans over to him.
I cock a hip, slowly reaching up to pull my hair up into a bun, letting Connor’s heated gaze trail across my body.
“Do you want me, Connor?” I ask, my voice breathy. I’m not putting it on like I was at the bar. This is just the Connor effect.
“More than my next breath,” he says, voice roughened with desire.
“Then you’ll have to get on your knees and beg for a taste.”
Without a second thought, Connor drops to his knees and crawls to me. Oh, fuck. The image of him crawling towards me will be forever burned in my mind. There’s something so heady about having a man get on his knees for you. It’s the ultimate power trip.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, when he’s kneeling in front of me.