Chapter 6 #2
Lucy watched his throat work as he swallowed, then turned her attention to the dark scruff on his face, the full mouth, the straight nose…
What intrigued her most, however, was that he seemed so comfortable in his own skin, in who he was, and in the things he did.
He seemed to know exactly what he wanted out of life, something she respected. Something she wished for herself.
Lucy leaned against the wall, pulling her legs close to her body. If she possessed just an ounce of that confidence and belief… But she was working on it. She had to stop counting herself out, had to stop the self-sabotage, and telling herself she wasn't good enough to try.
"I can feel you frowning at me," he said before opening his eyes and turning slightly so that his shoulder rested against the wall.
Lucy didn't bother denying it. She shrugged, giving him a half-hearted smile. "Just thinking."
He arched an eyebrow. "About me."
"Don't flatter yourself."
He snorted at her obvious lie.
"Well, I was frowning, so it's not like it was a good thought."
"Gee. Thanks. So what is this horrible thought?"
"Why are you being so kind to me? I haven't exactly made the best impression."
"No," he agreed. "You haven't."
Ian went quiet as thunderclouds rolled in, making the room darker and the flames brighter. Shadows danced on the walls. The fire snapped and sparks shot into the air. "I was pissed," he admitted.
"But you're not anymore."
"I'm pretty good at reading people. Kind of obvious the whole thing was giving you grief. You didn't enjoy lying. I get trying to help someone. But why did you let me think you were your cousin?"
She really didn't want to get into details.
But she knew he deserved an answer. "I don't know.
I was embarrassed, already nervous about your reaction once you learned Riley wasn't coming.
I couldn't seem to open my mouth and say it.
I guess . . . I didn't want to be a disappointment yet again.
Which is my own issue, not yours, so..."
"I would have been disappointed," he admitted. "Riley is one of the top travel writers in the States. But why 'a disappointment, yet again'?"
"You really don't want to know."
"I think we have some time." Thunder shook the house and Ian glanced out the window. Concern flashed across his face and then was gone. "Start talking."
She scooted closer to the wall and stared at the fire, listening to its pop and snap as thunder rumbled again and rain continued to batter the roof.
She wasn't as opposed to sharing as she thought she'd be.
Maybe it was time to get it all out, to set it free.
And maybe that was easier to do with a relative stranger than it was with her family.
"All right. Well, why do I feel like a disappointment? Let's see. Because I've failed at most everything I have ever tried. Because I'm thirty years old and still don't have a defined goal in life." She thought of her parents, her voice dropping. "Because people leave me and never come back."
That statement hung in the air for a moment before Ian asked, "What people?"
"My ex, for one. Dumped me at our engagement party." Ian winced. "Said he tried, but just couldn't live an entire life with someone who had no ambition, no goals, someone who was okay with bathing and smelling like dogs forever. He hated dogs."
Ian watched Lucy's profile and felt the first stirrings of anger. "I hope you laid him out flat."
She turned a sad smile his way, and it made him want to punch the guy himself.
"No. I was pretty pathetic. Just stood there.
I think I was in shock. I didn't say anything.
" She toyed with the hem of her shirt, her voice quiet when she spoke again.
"Seeing him walk away… That was hard part.
That feeling of being left where you stand. Knowing you're no longer wanted."
Christ. He hadn't thought by pushing her to open up that it'd be so goddamn sad and infuriating. He was torn between trying to make it better—even though he had no clue how to do that—and wanting to hurt the man who'd put that deep sadness in her eyes.
"Funny thing is," she continued, "I think I was more stunned and hurt by being left than by the actual breakup, if that makes sense."
He nodded. "Who else left you?" he asked, surprising himself. Normally, he'd be distancing himself by now. Getting too involved was a distraction and complication he'd always avoided. He hadn't wanted a relationship while he was in the military; he'd seen too many of them crumble under the strain.
But he was never going back. This time he actually wanted to know more, wanted to know what made this woman tick, what led to her feeling like such a disappointment to herself and others.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You said your ex, for one. So there were others…"
"Oh. Yeah. I mean, no. Not like you're thinking.
My parents." Ah. Now Ian could see where the root of her sadness came from.
It didn't get any deeper than that. Lucy drew in a deep breath.
"My father died in a car accident when I was twelve.
My mother fell into a deep depression. Six months later, she committed suicide. She couldn't live without him."
Bloody hell.
She said it so matter-of-fact, as though it no longer hurt. But he knew that was a lie. Lucy's mother had left her child alone when she needed her the most. No doubt it had left her feeling like she wasn't worth living for. He felt blind-sided and hurt for her. Angry, too.
"So there ya go,"' she added with a thin smile. "Sorry you asked?"
Was he?
"No," he answered, honestly. "Not sorry at all."
She shifted, facing him, and let the side of her head rest against the wall. "Your turn."
"Not much to tell."
"Right. Scared?" Her gaze went challenging. "Dare I say, chicken?"
Ian laughed. Lucy was smart, funny, and she obviously loved her family—otherwise she wouldn't have traveled across the Atlantic to help out her cousin.
She had a quirkiness about her, which he thought was sexy as hell.
It didn't hurt she was a stunner with those big brown eyes, sweet lips, and that infuriating ponytail. "Your ex was an idiot."
Her smile faltered. Pink crept into her cheeks.
Silence swept in, filling the space between them with awkwardness.
His mouth went dry. She was looking at him with a mix of interest and anxiety that made his heart pound.
Then, she licked and bit her lip. A flash of teeth and tongue.
Hell. That did all kinds of things to his resolve.
Screw it. She'd started it by kissing him last night; he might as well finish it right.
He leaned forward, slipped his hand behind her head, and pulled her in.
A fraction before his lips touched hers, he paused. He loved this moment, the way anticipation shot straight through his chest and exploded in his stomach. Lucy hadn't pulled back. In fact, she fisted his shirt, pulled him closer with a hitch in her breath, and kissed him. Again.
He sent up a silent prayer of thanks, then licked her bottom lip.
As she opened her mouth and he slipped inside, an arc of lust slammed him hard and he felt it all the way to his toes.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking hers hot and slow and thorough just like he liked it, just like he'd wanted to do the first time she'd kissed him.
Lucy moaned and wrapped her arms around him, sliding her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and pressing her breasts against his chest. He cursed in appreciation, a faint whisper against her lips, feeling lost and reckless. And not himself. And sure as hell not flatlined.