Chapter 6 Evan
Ipoured water over a bag of chamomile tea, staring down into the mug, all the while acutely aware of Becca”s presence beside me.
Her soft, slow breathing. Her floral scent.
The subtle folds of her pajama top as the fabric rested across her chest, accentuating every curve.
“So, have you lived here long?” she asked, her voice curious.
I nodded, turning to face her as I pushed the mug toward her. “Yep,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I took over the gas station from my dad when he passed away. Been running it ever since. The cabin came with it.”
Becca”s expression softened. I could tell she was about to say something kind, sweet, sympathetic.
“It was a long time ago,” I added, quickly, shortly. The way she was prying information out of me so easily that I never volunteered so easily had me on edge. Not that anyone in the area asked me personal questions very often. Pretty much every local had known my dad, knew me and my brother, so there wasn’t anything to ask. “What about you? You”re a city girl born and raised, aren”t you?”
She laughed a little, the sound bringing a warmth to the room that I hadn’t known it had been missing. “Is it that obvious?”
I nodded. “Yup.”
I reached down for my mug on the counter between us when our fingers brushed. She’d gone for the same one.
I pulled my hand back.
“Sorry,” she said, blushing. “Which one is mine, again?”
I nudged her mug closer to her.
“Thanks,” she muttered, eyes downcast and cheeks flushed while blowing gently on the surface of the liquid before taking a tentative sip. She licked a drop of the liquid from her lips with the tip of her tongue and I grit my teeth.
God damn it.
As much as I could logic away why I had to stay far, far away from Becca, my body was hearing none of it. And these sweats were going to do nothing to hide that fact.
I tried to think of anything else. Focus on the fact she was easily over a decade younger than me. Maybe fifteen years. Think about how she must be feeling -nervous, on edge, at my mercy.
Her fingers brushed mine again, and I looked down. On purpose, this time. She let her fingertips linger on the back of my hand.
My eyes closed for a moment as I savored the feeling of her skin against mine. “Becca,” I murmured, my voice rough with desire. “Don’t…”
“You want me too, right?”
The words hung in the air.
Turning what neither of us had said into reality
And she was real. Real, in the flesh, just inches away. Soft, sweet-smelling, looking up at me with wide eyes and parted lips…
I gently pulled my hand away from hers, taking a step back to put some distance between us. The hurt and confusion that flashed across her face twisted like a knife in my gut, but I knew I had no choice.
“Becca,” I said, my voice low and serious. “I can’t.”
Her brow furrowed, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. “Why?” she breathed, nearly pleading. “There’s… We could… You don’t…” She trailed off, biting her lip as she seemed to collect her thoughts. “I’m not imagining… this… between us. I know I’m not.”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I, too, struggled to find the right words when all I wanted was to pull her in and show her just how right she was. “It”s not that simple,” I said, finally. “You”re young, Becca. Too young. You”re out here on your own, relying on me. It wouldn”t be right.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but I shook my head, continuing. “I”m not the man for you, sweetheart. You”ve got your whole life ahead of you, a city full of men your age. You don’t need a jaded asshole bringing you down.”
The frustration in her expression faded to a faint flush on her cheeks. The corners of her lips pulled down. “Well,” she said, speaking to the nearly full mug of tea in her hands. “Now I’m just embarrassed. I definitely misread things. I’m… I’m sorry. You’ve been so kind and I fucked this up.”
It took every ounce of my self-control not to reach for her, to kiss away the pain I saw etched on her face.
She set her mug down on the counter with a thump and made toward the stairs, her shoulders stiff with rejection. I wanted to tell her that this wasn”t a reflection on her. That any man would be lucky to have her.
But I knew it would only make things worse.
“Becca,” I said instead, my voice stopping her in her tracks. She paused, but didn”t turn around. “Sleep well.”
She nodded once, a sharp jerk of her head, and then she was gone, her soft footsteps fading as she climbed the stairs and went down the hall to the guest room. A moment later, I heard the door click shut with a finality that felt like a punch to the gut.
I leaned heavily against the counter, my head bowed. I knew I”d done the right thing.
Hadn’t I?
In a matter of hours, Becca had proven to be a bright light in my solitary world. And as much as I wanted to bask in her warmth, to lose myself in her sweetness…
I knew she deserved better than a man like me, a man who’d thrown himself wholeheartedly into continuing a legacy that wasn’t his own and had lost years, nearly decades at this point into a dead end of a life.
I poured out the rest of our tea and headed for bed, knowing that sleep would be a long time coming. My mind was too full of Becca, of the hurt I”d seen in her eyes, the possibilities I’d thrown to the wayside.
But I knew what I had to do. I would do right by her, even if it killed me. And in the morning, I would take her into town and say goodbye, letting her go back to the free spirited life full of joy and spontaneity she was meant to live.
A life that sure as hell didn”t include me.