7. Cian
Chapter 7
Cian
T he screen door slaps and I hear footsteps pad across the wooden porch. My pulse quickens but I don’t look back.
Henry looks at me from where he’s sitting next to me on the top step. “Keep your cool,” he tells me.
We came out here with glasses of iced tea after we heard the shower shut off upstairs. I figured Scarlett needed a little space when she came downstairs and ate some dinner and caught up with her family.
But she and I are going to talk.
Henry knows I’m barely holding things together.
Nothing about this is the way I imagined it.
I certainly did not expect there to be an exact replica of Scarlett. I didn’t expect my best friend to have fallen for her sister. I didn’t expect Scarlett to be a mom, rather than the cool aunt, and for her daughter to be a pretty great teenager .
But most of all I didn’t expect Scarlett to not want to see me.
Henry stretches to his feet, giving up his spot next to me.
I don’t know if they exchange a look or a smile, but they don’t say anything to one another as Henry passes Scarlett on his way back into the house.
“Hey,” she says softly.
I look up at her, dragging my gaze up her long, smooth legs on my way to meet her eyes. Fuck. She’s so beautiful. She’s barefoot, and is wearing denim shorts and a black tank top with spaghetti straps. Her long hair is wet and twisted up into a messy bun on top of her head. She smells fresh and sweet, and I tighten my hand around my glass to keep from reaching over and running my hand up her calf and tugging her closer.
If this was the woman I’d spent the weekend with, I wouldn’t have hesitated. She would’ve welcomed my touch. But, as everyone keeps reminding me, this isn’t her.
“So, I have to make some bars for a friend tonight. But I thought maybe we could talk while I do that?” she says.
“Sure.” I get to my feet.
We’re almost eye to eye with her on the porch and me on the first step down. We just stare at each other for a moment. Then she turns and heads back into the house.
I follow, trying to gather my thoughts. Where do I start?
Probably not with ‘will you marry me?’ but that’s what’s on my tongue.
She rounds the center island where three boxes of cereal, a bag of marshmallows, and a rectangular glass pan are already set out.
I take a seat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. Maybe it will be good to have distance and big, solid objects between us. “What are you making?”
“Marshmallow cereal bars,” she says. “Like Rice Krispy treats, but with three different types of cereal. Turns out kids don’t care if you use generic brand cereal if it’s coated in melted marshmallow and butter.”
I smile. “Do kids care if you use generic brand cereal anyway?”
She shrugs. “Okay, the moms don’t care. They can’t even tell.”
I don’t say anything to that, but what moms are nitpicking what kind of cereal is used in sugary treats like this?
“Are these for Mariah?” I ask, watching her dump butter and marshmallows into a saucepan on the stove.
“Mariah makes her own stuff if she needs something,” Scarlett says, stirring everything together. “These are for a friend’s daughter. Harley, the little girl, has to bring treats to school tomorrow and her mom is working at her salon until nine tonight.”
Ah. “Is she a single mom too?” Scarlett jumping in to help another mom makes complete sense to me. And makes me even more certain I did get to know her in New Orleans. At least important things about her.
I’ve realized I don’t really care about what she likes on her burgers. I can find that out going forward. I know what I need to about this woman. I’m sure of it. I didn’t fall in love with a lie.
“No,” she answers. “But her husband works at the tire factory on the third shift so he’s not at home tonight to do this. Harley didn’t tell Amber she needed these treats until after school today. Amber called me in a panic.”
“Is she paying you to do this?” It’s none of my business and I wouldn’t ask anyone else, but I’m planning to make an important point, and this goes along with it.
Scarlett looks over at me. “No. We trade for this kind of stuff.”
“Trade what?”
“Amber cuts my hair for free. If a lot of these kinds of things pop up, she’ll throw in extra services. It all works out.”
I nod. This is exactly the kind of thing I would have expected. I’ll bet she has a similar arrangement with other women in town too.
I’m impressed and gratified to know I’m right about her, even as annoyance pricks at me. She is going to keep insisting I don’t know her. And she’s wrong.
“So what was New Orleans?” I ask, jumping right in. “Besides you stealing my heart and keeping it for nineteen months?”
She freezes for a second, but then she shakes her head. “God. Dramatic much?”
I shrug. “Yeah. Often.”
She laughs as if my answer takes her by surprise. “Do you also fall in love quickly and often?”
That one’s easy. “No.”
She looks at me.
I take in every detail of her face. She’s so fucking beautiful. How can this not be the woman I spent that weekend with?
I decide to be honest. “Okay, I become smitten kind of easily. I’ve been infatuated a few times. And I was enamored once.”
A flash of something crosses her face. Jealousy? That’s just wishful thinking on my part, I’m sure.
She focuses on her stirring again. “I see. Well, New Orleans was fun. A fling. A crazy weekend.”
“I’ve had a lot of fun. Flings. Crazy weekends,” I say. “But I’ve never felt like this, Scarlett.” I keep my tone even, but I make sure she can hear the sincerity. “I’ve never not been able to get over someone. I’ve never been smitten or enamored or whatever for almost two years .”
She swallows hard.
Finally, after several long seconds, she says, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I had no idea it would. You were… my last hurrah before moving back here where I knew everything would have to be…more…tame. Buttoned up. Strait-laced.”
What the hell? “So you decided to live in your sister’s shoes for a couple of days?”
She meets my gaze again. She nods. “Something like that. I’ve always been hyper-aware of my actions, my words, what people think of me. Ruby tells me I need to let go of other people’s expectations and be less concerned with rules. When I met you, at first I told myself no way. You were absolutely not someone I would typically even talk to.”
I frown. “Why not?”
“You were so…hot.” She sighs. She keeps stirring. “You were clearly younger than me. Clearly comfortable being in a strip club. Once we talked, you were so confident and charming. I knew you had women throwing themselves at you all the time. And then you bought the rest of my private dances for the night, and I realized you had money and you were used to throwing it around.” She shakes her head. “I never spend time with young, hot, rich, charming guys.” She sighs again. “Then you just wanted to take me out. You bought me a burger.” She laughs. “I was worried about embarrassing myself by coming too fast when we got to your hotel, and you just wanted to buy me a burger and talk.”
Her mention of coming too fast sends lust coursing through my veins. “I did not just want to buy you a burger,” I growl.
She had come fast. Not too fast, but very fast that first time. I’d loved every damned thing about that.
She doesn’t comment on that. She keeps going though. “But then I remembered that we were leaving the next day. Not just leaving town but leaving the whole state. We were leaving our lives behind to come here. To start over in our hometown, where everyone knows us, where we have history. I knew if I was ever going to do something wild and crazy, that night was my last chance.” She pauses for a breath. “So I said to hell with it, and seduced you.”
My brows slam together. “You seduced me?”
She nods. “Yes. I thought you were interested in a one-night stand. That you were experienced with those. I had no idea you’d fall in love with me. If I had, I wouldn’t have… done that.”
“Seduced me.”
“Yes.”
Jesus. She thinks she had to talk me into that weekend? And that I fall in love so easily that she somehow messed up?
I shove a hand through my hair. I want to deny all of the conclusions she drew about me, but…I can’t. I don’t frequent strip clubs—didn’t even then—but I’d been to a few before, and the nightlife and clubs were nothing new. The rest of what she said—the money, the women, the confidence—well, that was all spot on.
“You did not seduce me. I was a very willing participant and knew exactly where I wanted to end up from the first moment I saw you, Scarlett.”
“But I asked you to take me to your hotel.”
“Not because it hadn’t occurred to me that’s where I wanted you.” I lean onto the countertop. “And I told you, I’ve never felt this way before. So stop with that.”
She swallows. And doesn’t agree. But she doesn’t argue.
She removes the pan from the burner and carries it to the island. She starts stirring cereal into the marshmallow mixture.
“So Ruby’s wild and crazy?” I ask.
She laughs lightly, but it doesn’t sound amused. “Ruby is the fun one. Always has been.” Scarlett looks up and meets my gaze directly. “I’m the good girl. The very good girl.”
I realize that she’s telling me this in an attempt to shut me down. Push me away. Turn me off.
It has the exact opposite effect.
“How so?”
She starts spooning the sticky cereal into the glass pan, pressing it down as she goes. “No partying. No night clubs. No staying out late. No drinking. No wild sex.” She pauses. “Not really any sex at all. I’m very responsible. A rule follower. Above reproach.”Her tone of voice changes slightly on those last two words. Almost as if she’s mimicking someone else.
I grip my glass a little tighter. “I’m not sure you should’ve told me that,” I tell her.
She looks up. One brow lifts. “Why not?”
“Because there’s nothing hotter than a good girl who will be bad for only you.”
Her cheeks get pink. She quickly turns away, setting the pan in the sink and running hot water into it.
I also don’t need her to admit that there are several details of our weekend flipping through her mind like a very sexy movie. I know that’s exactly what’s going on.
When she shuts the water off, I say, “And you were a very good girl for me.” My voice is gruff. “I think I told you that. More than once.”
She thinks she seduced me? No way. She might have been the first to say the word ‘hotel’ but I was the one making her moan and gasp and scream all weekend.
Scarlett was a very good girl for me. Over and over.
She turns, but leans against the sink, as if she needs the support. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, shaking her head. “You have to stop that.”
No fucking way. “See, I think there are actually a lot of honest things you told me that weekend, Glinda,” I say. “I think you were completely honest when you told me how much you liked the way I ate your pussy. I think every time you begged me to fuck you harder and deeper, that was totally honest. I think that you were being entirely yourself when you asked if you could ride me.”
She stares at me for a long moment, then groans, and covers her face with her hands. “Oh my God. Seriously. Stop it.”
Under other circumstances, I might find this funny. But remembering that weekend and thinking about the fact that she is trying to convince us all that it was fake isn’t fucking funny at all.
I stand and stalk around the counter, not stopping until I’m standing directly in front of her. I can smell the scent of her shampoo, count the freckles on her shoulder, study the tiny stud earrings in her ears.
I tug her hands away from her face. When she looks up at me, I’m hit with a rush of emotion.
There you are.
Unlike the moment I first saw Ruby, when I look into Scarlett’s eyes, the familiarity hits me directly in the chest.
It’s how I feel when I first step off the plane in Cara. It’s how I feel when I smell my mother’s perfume. It’s how I feel when I hear my sister’s laugh. It’s how I feel when my niece comes running at me with a bright smile.
It’s a feeling of home and contentment and belonging that sucks the air out of my lungs.
I take a deep breath. “You were pretty specific about the things you wanted me to do to you, Glinda. You got those all from your sister?”
Scarlett shakes her head. “Seriously, Cian. That weekend was a one-time thing. I am not usually like that.”
Heat rockets through me. I couldn’t have kept my eyes from dropping to her mouth for all the money in the world. I remember not only the things that gorgeous mouth did to me, but I remember every word it said.
“That makes it even better. It means those were fantasies . Fantasies that you shared with only me. Fantasies that you asked me to help make real. And fantasies are about the most personal, intimate things you can share with someone. Don’t fucking tell me that you were anybody but yourself during those moments.”
She’s staring at me, her eyes wide. She’s breathing faster and I’m guessing her heart is pounding.
Mine sure as fuck is.
“Okay,” she finally says. “You’re right. That was all me. That was me letting go. That was real. And I get why you have strong feelings about it. It was a very… fun weekend. But you’re not in love with me. That was lust. It was physical. Chemical. And you can’t tell me that you haven’t had amazing sex before.” She pauses. “Or since.”
Okay, now I’m pissed.
Again.
I never get pissed and I’ve been wound up since I got on the damned plane in Cara.
I don’t like being angry. Probably why I don’t do it very often.
“First of all, no, I haven’t had sex since,” I say tightly.
She frowns. “You’re telling me you haven’t had good sex since we were together?”
“I’m telling you I haven’t had any sex since we were together. Except with my hand if you count that, which I do not.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but I lift my hand and press my finger over her lips, keeping her mouth shut.
“But here is why I’m mixed up and pissed off,” I tell her. “I loved fucking you. But the reason I can’t stop thinking about you is because of the program for single moms we brainstormed together. I fell in love with the woman who had that in her beautiful head and who got me excited and motivated to do something amazing with it.”
Her big green eyes widen, but I don’t move my hand away from her mouth. I’m not fucking done.
“I thought we both had a sister who is an amazing single mom. I thought we were both proud of how we’d been a part of their support systems. I fell in love with the program we dreamed up for moms who don’t have family and friends like our sisters do.
“I fell in love with the way you got me excited about making a difference. With the way you gave me a purpose, a way to use my connections and money to do something important.
“I fell in love with how you made me feel important and passionate about something I could do . A way to finally contribute the way my siblings do. I told you how I feel like the sidekick to my brother and sister. How I’ve always wanted to find a way to measure up to the amazing things they do. I confessed some pretty fucking vulnerable stuff. And I thought you understood all of that.”
I let my hand fall away from her face now.
“But you’re Mariah’s mom. Not her aunt. And that idea was all Ruby’s, right?” I ask. I don’t actually believe that, but I need to hear her tell me that. “ She is the one who came up with the way to bring single moms together to support one another when they don’t have family or friends to help.”
I’m watching her face carefully, but I’m on a roll and I don’t stop. “Did you get the idea to help your stylist friend from Ruby too? You help her with her daughter’s school treats and projects and she does your hair in exchange? That seems like something Ruby would dream up.
“I suppose it’s Ruby who loves elephants because of how the females create families and bonds that last all their lives.”
I take a breath. “See, that’s why I’m annoyed. The fact that the sex was phenomenal was because I liked you so fucking much. I felt like I really knew you. And vice versa. I’ve spent nineteen months missing that connection . Not just your amazing body, and hot mouth, and greedy pussy, and dirty imagination. All of that too, for fucking sure, but it was especially incredible because of your brain and how you made me feel .” I step back. “But it was all really me feeling that connection with Ruby , right?”
I stand staring at Scarlett, watching her process all of that.
Is she going to keep lying to me? Is she going to let me keep thinking that? Is she okay with believing that I feel affection and respect for her sister based on the things Scarlett shared with me that weekend?
Things that I know are really about Scarlett.
All of that was her .
But she has to admit it. She has to let me in. She has to let me close.
She stares at me for several seconds.
The clock above the sink ticks at least ten times.
She swallows hard. Then again.
She starts to nod…
But then she stops and my heart squeezes.
She shakes her head. “No. Dammit, Cian.”
“No what ?” I press. She has to say it.
“That wasn’t Ruby. I should let you think so, but…” She trails off.
“Which part wasn’t Ruby?” I demand.
She tips her head back and closes her eyes. “All of it. The program for moms was my idea. I thought of it a couple of years ago when we lived in New Orleans and a couple of moms and I were exchanging favors. Like making bars and cutting hair, but on an even bigger scale. We always said that living together would make it all easier.” She opens her eyes and our gazes lock. “When you and I brainstormed, that was me. And I’m the one who loves elephants.” She takes a deep breath. “And I’m selfish enough to want you to like all of that about me , not Ruby.”
Fucking finally. That’s what I needed to hear.
“I do.” I slide my hand into my front pocket, then take her hand and put the bracelet I’ve been carrying around for nineteen months in her palm.“I knew it was you. All along, Glinda. Every second.”
She stares down at the silver bracelet with the elephant charm. Then her gaze flies back to mine. “ You’ve had this? All this time? I thought I lost it.”
“I would have happily returned it. If I could have found you,” I say dryly. The elephant is holding a gem in its trunk. “Mariah’s birthstone, right?”
She nods.
I’d remembered the date from her tattoo, and I’d looked up the stone. It’s a garnet. The deep red could also be described as scarlet.
I drag my finger over the tattoo on her inner wrist. “I loved the idea you were an aunt. That we’d both helped raise our nieces,” I tell her. “But you being a mom is fucking amazing, Scarlett.”
She takes a shaky breath. “Ruby is an amazing aunt. You two really are a lot alike.”
I sigh. She’s so fucking stubborn.
She takes a deep breath. Blows it out. “Okay,” she finally says. “I’m…really sorry about…everything.”
I frown.
I don’t frown a lot either. All of this being annoyed is really starting to annoy me.
“Do not be sorry about anything we did or talked about that weekend.”
She shakes her head. “No. Not that. I guess… the time since then. I’m sorry you…” But then she shakes her head again. “No. You know what? I’m glad all of that mattered to you. I’m glad you felt excited about something and that you felt important.” She leans in. “You’re a fucking prince , Cian. You’ve been hiding out for over a decade . What are you doing? You should feel important. You are important. You should be doing things. Making a difference. And I’m glad you felt a spark for that.”
She’s right. I should be making a damned difference. And I intend to do exactly that.
I reach up and cup the back of her neck, keeping her face close. I study her eyes. “I felt a lot more than a spark, Scarlett.”
I mean that in every way. For the project and passions we talked about, and for her.
She swallows hard. “I did too.”
“Dammit, Glinda,” I mutter. Then I kiss her.
I couldn’t have kept my mouth off of hers for all the riches in the world.
There is nothing soft or tentative about the kiss. I immediately open my lips and stroke my tongue over her lips, demanding entrance.
She moans and submits.
I taste her fully, letting her know that I haven’t forgotten a thing about our time together. I know how she likes to be kissed. I know that sliding my hands into her hair makes her whimper. I know that nipping at her bottom lip will make her arch closer.
I need more though. A firm surface behind her, so I can truly press into her. I need to be against her. I need more than her mouth.
Then she’s walking me backward, and I feel one of the kitchen chairs at the back of my knees. She pushes me down into it and climbs into my lap, straddling my thighs. My hands move to grip her ass, pressing her against my aching cock as her hands slide into my hair.
We both groan at the contact. All of the contact.
It’s been nearly two years for both of us, but it’s as if our bodies have simply been waiting for one another. She circles her hips and I press up into her, relief and frustration flooding through me at the same time.
My fingers steal up under the hem of her shirt and I spread my palms over the bare skin of her back. I stroke up and down, absorbing the warm, silky feel of her.
She copies the action, dropping her hands from my hair to my waist and bunching my shirt up so she can get her hands underneath. She glides her hands up my ribs and around to my back, curling her fingers into the muscles, then stroking up and down.
The feel of her touch again after all this time sends a wave of lust through me.
I drag my mouth along her jaw to her ear. “Need you so bad.”
She tips her head back so I can drag my stubbled jaw down her throat. My hands slide around to cover her breasts. She’s wearing a bra, but I can feel the pebbled tips of her nipples, and I rub my thumbs over them, eliciting a shiver and moan.
“So much,” I say against the front of her throat, kissing, then nipping lightly.
“Me too,” she pants. Her fingers are digging into my shoulder blades again, holding me close.
Her breasts are small, but they fit perfectly against my palms. Her nipples are incredibly sensitive, and I remember every minute of teasing them with my hands and mouth.
I pluck a nipple. “Can I make you come? Right here like this?”
Her answer is a soft moan and her pressing down against my cock.
“Oh yes, I remember this greedy pussy very well,” I say, kissing along her collarbone and moving one hand down to cup her through her shorts.
She grinds against my hand, almost instinctively.
“Cian,” she practically pleads.
“Right here, my good little witch. Whatever you need.”
Just then a door shuts somewhere in the house, and she jerks back.
I realize that she forgot where we were for a moment. I take pride in that. But now that she’s remembered, we’re done here.
For now.
She quickly pushes back then gets to her feet. She stands, staring down at me. She’s breathing hard, her cheeks are pink, and she’s clearly not sure what to do. I reach down and adjust the fly on my jeans that is pressing against my very angry-at-being-blocked cock.
Her eyes follow that movement. She squeezes her eyes shut and runs a hand through her hair.
“Scarlett,” I say, keeping my tone calm. “It’s okay.”
She shakes her head, then opens her eyes and meets my gaze. “It’s not. I can’t do this.”
“Fuck me in your kitchen with your family in the house? Or are we talking about something more?”
“Yes. More. Both.”
“Okay, I get the not in the kitchen part. Why not the rest?”
“Because…”
Her eyes go to my still very evident erection, then come back to my face. She backs up until she’s leaning against the kitchen counter, bracing her hands behind her. “I’m not the woman you think I am.”
“So you keep saying. I’m getting very tired of this particular conversation, though.”
She blows out a breath. “But it’s true. So yes, parts of our weekend together were real. The sex was amazing. We talked about some real stuff. And I’m very glad that you felt important and got excited about doing something big. But, I am not fun or spontaneous or uninhibited or at all able or willing to be involved in a relationship with you.”
“Why not?” I shrug. “You obviously are capable of being uninhibited and having fun. Why can’t you do that with me?”
“Because…” She gives a quick, humorless laugh. “I am actually a pretentious, uptight bitch.”
I blink at her.
I repeat those words in my head.
Pretentious. Uptight. Bitch.
I frown. What?
“What?” I finally ask when nothing else comes to mind.
She moves to cross her arms. “At least I used to be. When I lived here. I spent six years of my life, junior high through high school, being a pretty terrible person. I acted like, actually believed, that I was better than everyone else. I was judgmental, stuck up, and bitchy.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “So I’m here for a second chance. I’m back to try to show people that I’ve changed. To make amends. My goal is to lead a simple, humble life, and show them that I am capable of kindness and being genuine and that I know I’m not better than anyone else. But that means there is no way I can date a semi-famous, incredibly wealthy, powerful prince . That is the opposite of what I’m trying for here.”
I let all of that roll around in my head for a moment. It’s nearly impossible for me to imagine this woman, who is concerned with women and families having the support they need, who was self-deprecating and funny and sweet the entire time I knew her—okay for the entire fifty-two hours I knew her—is a bitch.
But she does keep telling me that I don’t know the real her.
“So, you don’t actually know me. Which means you can’t actually be in love with me,” she says when I don’t speak.
This headstrong, gorgeous little witch. My palm itches with the urge to spank her ass for being so obstinate. She actually thinks she can out-stubborn me? I’ve been resisting the King of Cara for twelve years. Please. I need to show her that I can be just as…
Wait a second. That’s a great idea. “Okay,” I say. “Prove it.”
She frowns. “What?”
“Prove you’re not the woman I think you are. Make me get over you. Help me get closure on this so that I can go back home and do what my family wants me to do.”
“What does your family want you to do?”
“Get married.”