Chapter four
Climbing the steps to her room, Amber pondered the words Juan had all but whispered earlier. You were a different woman last year.
She’d been grateful to have an excuse not to respond when a customer stepped up to the window, but he wasn’t wrong.
A year ago, she’d barely managed to make it through the day selling lemonade to smiling families and jovial friends.
Today, she enjoyed the noise, the laughter, the community, the families, the friends.
Even the occasional tired, cranky child.
And the heat of Juan’s fingertips on her bare skin.
Yes, she had definitely enjoyed that. She’d stopped lying to herself about it around the time he insisted, again, that she call if she needed help.
Even so, the idea didn’t settle easily. It wasn’t one she should entertain or let get away from her.
Juan was a friend. A good friend. She didn’t need to make things awkward.
As she already had. No doubt her weird reactions throughout the day confused him.
Including when he’d walked in on her rereading the note she’d found on her car.
She’d felt like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, although she didn’t know why.
She hadn’t done anything wrong. And if she received another, she would tell him and the others.
But with the hours between when she’d found it and now easing her panic, it didn’t seem like anything worth interrupting everyone’s day with.
They’d all worked hard, not just today, but in the weeks leading up to today, and everyone deserved to let loose and have a good time tonight.
She smiled at that thought as she walked into her room.
Half the guys would be at Rita’s, either working or enjoying the night off.
The other half would be out and about around town, maybe party-hopping.
The Warwick family always threw a few, one at Charley’s brother Asher’s house on the lake and the other at the large lodge the family owned on the north shore.
Mantis would probably be at the former, while Lovell and Daphne would probably be at the latter, the lodge being closer to their new home.
The restaurants and bars would also be packed, and she’d bet dollars to doughnuts that Lina and Viper were at the Boom.
The only people not out were probably Philly and Callie. With Callie five months pregnant and Philly in guard-dog mode, she’d wager they were already home, tucked up on the couch watching something on TV.
Leaving her at the clubhouse alone. An unusual but not unwelcome occurrence.
Walking to her window, she looked past the parking lot and into the pine forest on the other side, a trailhead visible between two towering trees.
Maybe a shower and a walk would do her some good.
Help her come up with a few ideas on how to smooth over the weirdness she’d created between herself and Juan and maybe even figure out why her libido suddenly decided to reemerge.
The note, she’d think about later. Or not at all, if a third never appeared.
As she watched a pair of birds circle above the forest, she kicked off her sandals. Or tried to. Her left one stuck, the leather strap glued to her skin thanks to a lemonade spill hours ago.
Leaning down with a groan, she tugged it off. Who knew that selling drinks all day could tire her out so much? Then again, the cleaning frenzy she went on afterward probably didn’t help.
Someone knocked on her door, startling her. Straightening, she called out, “Who is it?” as she walked toward the door, trying to remember if she’d locked it. She never worried about safety at the clubhouse, but she wasn’t home alone very often, if ever.
“It’s me.”
Juan. Her stomach flipped. She’d thought she’d have time before seeing him again. Time to make a plan.
“Come in,” she called.
“You’re back,” he said, walking in and letting the door swing shut behind him. He looked freshly showered, his hair still damp, a drop of water forming near his temple. The subtle spice of his soap filled her room.
She swallowed, made a face, and tried to act normal.
“I am,” she replied, holding her hands away from her sides, wanting as few of her body parts touching as possible.
That part wasn’t an act. The way the skin behind her knees and on the insides of her elbows stuck together as she drove home gave her the heebie-jeebies.
At least she’d had an extra towel in her car to protect her seats.
“No dinner tonight with lemonade guy?”
She searched Juan’s eyes, then shook her head.
“I never intended to accept, but I had plans with Dottie anyway.” Unable to meet his gaze, she’d dropped her eyes to her toes.
She didn’t want to see his expression when she talked about maybe dating someone.
Or maybe, she admitted to herself, she didn’t want him to see hers.
“I canceled those, too, though,” she continued.
“I’m too…sticky. It’s going to take an age to get all the sugar and lemonade off the various parts of my body it managed to weasel onto.
I’m debating getting into the shower, clothes and all.
” She hadn’t been, but that plan didn’t sound half bad.
“I was thinking about maybe taking a walk later. If I can get out and back before dark,” she added, her attention going to the window.
Reminding her of the things she’d planned to ponder on that walk.
Only a few months ago, during an awkward conversation with Callie and Daphne, she’d insisted she hadn’t hopped back on the horse, sexually speaking, nor was she ready to.
And until a few hours ago, that had been the truth.
But something had happened today. She didn’t know what or why, but something had woken inside her, whispering that it was time.
Time to see if she could trust herself with another man.
Time to see if it was possible for her to enjoy the act of sex as she once had.
Before Anthony had turned it into a weapon.
She turned her gaze back to Juan. She knew some of the Falcons helped women like her.
Helped women who’d been dehumanized, beaten, and isolated take back their sexuality as a part of taking back themselves.
As part of finding themselves again. Not any of the attached Falcons, of course. But Juan wasn’t attached.
Could she do it, though? Could she ask Juan, her friend, to be that person for her?
And if she asked, would he agree? He wasn’t just her friend, but one of her closest friends.
And she’d stayed longer with the club than any other woman they’d helped.
Her life was more closely intertwined with theirs.
That made the situation different from others he’d helped in the past, riskier.
How different, or how risky, she didn’t know.
And whether it would matter, she couldn’t guess.
She did know, though, that she trusted him. Completely. And if she wanted to give herself the best chance of healing in that way, she had to be with someone she trusted. Not some random man who’d given her his number or connected with her on a dating site.
The words from the note flitted into her head again.
She didn’t understand why her mind had decided to co-opt them, decided to change the meaning, but she no longer read them as a threat, a warning, or even a statement.
Especially not with Juan standing in front of her, fresh from his shower, looking at her so intensely.
As foolish as it was, she could only see them as a reminder.
A reminder that she was very much alive. Every part of her was alive.
And with that reminder came the acceptance of responsibility. How she lived the life she’d been given was her choice. Hers.
“Amber?” Something edgy and reckless flickered in his eyes, disappearing before she could understand its meaning.
Her gaze slid from those green eyes over his cheekbones, across the lines of his five-o’clock shadow, then down his body.
Dressed in a T-shirt and cargo shorts, there wasn’t much to see, but she’d seen him shirtless, and she had an excellent memory.
Attraction was far more important than looks when it came to a relationship, but she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Neither was he.
She conjured memories of him from last summer: swimming at the lake in his board shorts, yanking his shirt over his head and using it to wipe the sweat from his body after a grueling day clearing away dry brush from the clubhouse, coming into the kitchen shirtless after a workout.
She didn’t stop the memories from sliding into a fantasy. Sliding into images of her tracing the lines of his body with her fingertips, feeling his bare skin beneath her lips.
And for the first time in years, she yearned for it. Longed for that kind of connection. For the woman she’d been before Anthony.
“Amber?” he said again, his voice deeper, huskier than moments before.
Again, she lifted her eyes to meet his. Could she do it? Could she take the risk? Coming back from the awkwardness of today would be nothing compared to what they’d face if she asked what she wanted to ask and he declined.
He took a step forward, hesitated, then stepped back.
That tiny hint of vulnerability gave her the courage that she needed and, on an exhale, she chose. “Will you teach me how to enjoy sex again?”