Chapter Thirty-Seven
Theodore
The smile on my face screams pathetic schmuck.
For a brief moment in time, I forget that inside I’m still at war.
Is it—can it be—possible that I got it wrong?
Is my purpose the woman before me? Because I seriously cannot stop grinning.
The Scarlet Stone on Tybee was a glimpse of the woman who insisted she have her own horse to ride—the woman who rode it with such command it made my dick hard, the woman now hugging the gentle giant, giving me the can-we-keep-him look.
“Say goodbye.”
“I want to steal him.” She gives me a Cheshire cat grin.
If anyone else said that, I would laugh. Something tells me, if given the chance, she could steal that thoroughbred. I don’t give her the chance.
“I have something else you can ride.”
Two perfect eyebrows perk. “I’m listening.”
“Maybe we leave the horse and steal a riding crop.”
She kisses the horse and struts toward me with purpose. “Leather riding boots would be fun too.”
My fucking zipper is about to bust. “They would.”
“Meet me in the truck, Mr. Reed.”
She brushes past me.
“Where are you going?”
“To steal a riding crop.”
Hooking my finger through the belt loop of her jeans, I tug her toward me then flip her little body over my shoulder.
“Hey!”
“Shh. You’re going to scare the horses.” I smack her ass.
She fights for all of two seconds before her body goes limp. I love her surrender.
I cut her back.
I held a knife to her throat.
I threatened to kill her.
Yet … she gives me everything. Why, Scarlet? I will never fully understand how you do it.
Her hands tug at the back of my shirt, inching it up until I feel the warmth of her lips on my skin.
Ambling to the truck with the best part of this world hanging over my shoulder, I close my eyes for a few breaths.
Can a hundred and fifteen pounds of sexy, sass, and stubbornness save me?
I swear to God … I think it’s possible, and I have no idea what to do with that possibility.
I unlock the truck and ease her from my shoulder, setting her in the seat.
She grabs my shirt and pulls me to her lips.
There’s no one more undeserving of this moment than I am.
Scarlet likes the idea of Karma. Not me.
Karma would never give this woman to me.
It will be fine with me if Karma dies in a cosmic accident before my name comes up on her Scores to Settle List.
Pulling back, I try to hide the fucking fear that’s eating me up inside. The moment I surrendered to her was a drop-all-weapons-raise-the-white-flag moment that’s left me scared shitless—completely vulnerable. “I’m—” I can’t even speak past the fear. It’s a living thing pulsing in my throat.
Her hands press to my cheeks. “You’re forgiven.”
I don’t deserve her.
“But not forgotten,” I whisper. She’ll never forget what I did. It’s not humanly possible. Sometimes I want the impossible.
Her expression doesn’t change. “My head is undiscriminating with the memories it keeps, but my heart has already forgotten.”
I don’t want to move. Hell, I don’t want to blink. I think if I could stay lost in her long enough, I could let go of everything and my past would truly not matter.
“Let’s go.” I bite her bottom lip, tugging at it until she laughs.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” I grin and shut her door.
*
Scarlet
“Where are we?” I look around at the tall, tangled trees and overgrowth of weeds hiding the gray-sided two-story house.
“This is where I grew up.” He turns off the truck and stares out the window as if he’s waiting for something. Courage?
“Who lives here now?”
“No one.”
“Who owns it?”
“I do.” He frowns, eyes still trained straight ahead.
“Are you trying to sell it?”
Theo shakes his head and then gets out. I follow him as he plods through the tall grass that’s overtaken the brick walk to the front porch.
“Siblings?”
He shakes his head.
“How old were you when you moved here?”
“I lived here my whole life until I moved into an apartment my first year of college.” Resting his boot on the first porch step, he shifts his weight forward like he’s testing it. The white paint has weathered leaving rotting planks with cracks and holes. It creeks when he steps up.
“When was the last time you were here?”
Gripping the column at the top of the porch, Theo releases a sigh. “The day I found my father’s body.” He lowers his head while his knuckles turn white with his tightening grip on the column. “His face was unrecognizable,” he whispers.
The bottom step creaks again as I step onto it.
Theo turns and holds out his hand. “Here. Careful. The place was in need of renovation before they died. The years since haven’t done it any favors.”
We test each of our steps until we reach the door. Theo fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks the front door. It, too, whines as he eases it open.
“Oh, wow.” The inside of the house doesn’t match the outside at all.
The dark wood floors have a layer of dust blanketing them, but it’s easy to see that beneath the dust, they are flawless.
The elaborate trim work of the stairway bannister, crown molding, and built-in bookshelves in the study to our left all scream Theodore Reed.
“My father and I were in the process of remodeling the whole house when …”
I nod. “Is that how you learned to do this? Your father?”
“Yeah.” He takes my hand and leads me up the solid stairs, not one single creak. Theo wraps his hand around the doorknob on the right but his gaze drifts to the closed door at the end of the ginger-painted hallway adorned with black frames—the Reed family story in pictures.
I imagine that story ended in tragedy in that room at the end of the hall.
“Is this your room?”
His head jerks back to the door before us, back to the present. “Yes.” He opens it.
With one step, my mind is blown by what I see. This isn’t a lie. This is real. This is Theodore Reed.
“My mom decorated it after I moved out.” He laughs through the palpable pain in his voice. “I’m not this vain.”
Who is the boy in all of these pictures? Shaggy, blond hair and a smile that could light an entire universe.
Theo as a baby in the arms of his beautiful mum. She was truly stunning.
Theo holding his first hammer as a toddler, standing next to his father, both wearing overalls and tool belts.
Theo riding horses.
Theo playing American football in school.
Theo in a deep red suit with a black tie, standing next to a girl with long blond hair, dressed in a strapless black dress. Maybe a school dance. I smile.
“Your band,” I whisper as my fingers wipe away the dust from the black and white photo of The Derby performing on stage. Just like the video Nolan showed me, Theo is zoned into his guitar.
He wasn’t always the law. Theo lived a normal childhood. He had girlfriends, loving parents, and a beautiful life. It’s so perfectly … heartbreaking.
I turn and study the vulnerable version of my Theodore Reed perched at the end of his bed, hands fisted on his jean-clad legs.
“You had a normal life.” I exhale a whisper of a laugh.
“I think. Actually, I’m not sure I know what that means.
I never had normal. Nothing about me has ever been relatable.
Oscar told me to just be me. I’ll be thirty-two next month, and I still haven’t got a clue who I am.
” I roll my lips between my teeth, easing my way to Theo.
His mouth stays firm; his eyes sparkle with something hopeful.
He grabs my hips and straddles me over his lap. I lace my fingers together behind his neck.
“Maybe you could just be mine—the naked body I worship, the mouth that sucks my—”
“Stop!” I pinch his lips together like a duck’s. His grin makes my grip on them slip.
“No gag reflex.” He shakes his head.
I shove him back on the bed. His body vibrates with laughter. I’ll let him make crude comments all day if it means I’m rewarded with smiles and his endearing chuckles—so uncontrolled and innocent.
My face hurts. I think my grin could crack it.
Theo squeezes my legs with a firm grip. “Scarlet Stone?”
There it is again.
His voice.
My name.
It forms a lump in my throat and makes my eyes burn with tears.
“Hmm?”
“I don’t deserve you.”
My grin chases the tears away. “You really don’t.”
“Can we keep that little secret just between the two of us?”
Twisting my lips, I cock my head to the side. “Yes. But I’ll need it in writing.”
“In writing?”
I nod. He interlaces his fingers behind his head. It makes his white T-shirt pull up just enough to expose a few centimeters of his abs.
“Like a contract?”
I shake my head. “Something more permanent.”
His right eyebrow peaks. “Such as?”
I trace my finger along the wide waistband of his black briefs, to the left of his happy trail.
His erection grows firm, inching closer to my finger.
My lips curl into a smirk that matches his.
His muscles tense, tipping his pelvis up a bit as if he thinks I don’t already see how turned on he is right now.
“Right here.” My finger dips under the waistband.
He groans as I tease his skin so close to where he’s most begging for my touch.
“This is where I want you to put in permanent writing that you don’t deserve me.”
Theo’s eyes narrow. “You want me to get a tattoo?”
I nod.
“About you?”
I nod.
“Right there?”
“Yes. Right here. My name in red, everything else in black.”
Stealing my breath, he sits up, stopping when the tip of his nose touches mine. “We’ll see,” he whispers.
“Will we?” I breathe back, a little more breathless than intended. I’m rubbish at hiding how much he affects me.
“Yes. Now … what else do you want from me?”
Forever. I want all the days. All the smiles. All the breaths.
“I want to hear you play.”
His gaze goes through me. A contemplative side I’ve seen a million times.
“There’s one of my first guitars … in the attic. I think.”
My eyes roll to the ceiling. “How do we get up there?”