Always For You (Always Love Book 1) (12 page)

BOOK: Always For You (Always Love Book 1)
4.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

S
MITH STAYED UPSTAIRS IN HIS
apartment while I got ready for my date, and for that, I was extremely grateful. I wasn’t sure I could handle him standing around, offering me commentary as I figured out what to wear to go out with another man. Not when I knew, deep down inside, that I’d give almost anything to be spending the evening here with him, at home. Snuggled up in his arms as we watched a movie, or even just talked over dinner.

But instead, I slid on my favorite denim skirt, topping it with a silky tank top and stepping into black flats. I loved clothes as much as the next girl—well, maybe not every girl, but I liked to look good—and my job didn’t offer me many chances for dressing up. I made a mental note to look into better clothes if dates were going to become a regular part of my life.

I caught part of my hair back in a clip, keeping it off my face but letting the length curl around my shoulders. Standing in front of my bathroom mirror, I surveyed myself critically. My make-up was light, but it did make my eyes pop a little more, thanks to Ali’s lessons way back in high school. My cheeks had their natural pink flush, and I’d left my lips bare. Was I hoping for a kiss? I thought about that for a minute, trying to imagine how it would feel to have Tim Walker kiss me. If I were honest with myself, it didn’t excite me. Not at all.

“Looking good, Evans.” Smith lounged in the doorway of my bedroom, leaning against the jam and watching me. I met his eyes in the mirror, and if I hadn’t known better, I might’ve thought I saw a mix of frustration, irritation and . . . want?

I gave my head a little shake and turned around. I was projecting again. Fooling myself into thinking I saw what I wanted to see. That had to stop now.

“Thanks.” I forced a smile. “Now let’s just hope I don’t fall asleep in the middle of dinner.”

“Where’re you going, anyway? Kenny’s or the barbecue joint?”

I stuck out my tongue at him. “No, smartass. We’re going to the Road Block for dinner. And I guess if things go okay, maybe we’ll stay to dance. But no worries, because I’m sure Mason will be there to keep his eye on me and give Flynn a full report.”

“Oh, you’re going to Mason’s place? I met him today. He brought in a kitten his little girl found.”

“Piper conned Mason into a kitten?” I grinned. “Oh, that’s just wonderful. He’s so funny with her and with Rilla. You know, big tough guy, and those two women just have him wrapped around their little fingers. It’s darling.”

Smith chuckled. “Funny, that’s the feeling I got, based on how he was talking about them. I guess it’s a good thing Rilla’s having a boy, huh? Evens up the numbers in their family.”

“Yup. They’re adorable together. Rilla was this quiet, shy little thing up until last year. She was raised by a very protective father, and he pretty much disowned her when she moved in with Mason to help him with Piper and his mom. But after they got married, Rilla really started to come into her own. She has her own business, and she helps with advertising and promotion for the bar. She’s fairly amazing.”

“I didn’t realize she was Millie’s niece until Mason said something today.” Smith came further into the room and dropped onto the end of my bed.

“Rilla didn’t know it until last year. Her mom is Boomer’s sister, but she left town when Rilla was just a baby, and then her dad refused to let any of the mother’s family see Rilla. But they’ve been making up for lost time. Rilla’s close to both Boomer and to her aunt Tammie. And Millie just loves spoiling her and Piper.”

“That reminds me. Mason asked Millie how everything was going at her house, and Millie said they were taking everything one day at a time. Is something wrong? She’s not sick, is she?”

I sighed. “No. Millie’s fine. It’s just . . . well, it’s a kind of a messy situation.”

Smith shrugged. “You don’t have to tell me if it’ll break a confidence.”

“No, everyone in town knows. You should hear it from me, because you’ll get the whole story.” I sat down on the bed next to him. “There was a guy in Ali and Flynn’s class. His name’s Trent, and he comes from a kind of bad background. His mom was in and out of trouble, and I think she was even in jail for a while. Trent was in foster homes now and then, when he wasn’t living with her. Anyway, he grew up rough. I don’t know why I’m telling you that, only that maybe it explains a little about him.”

“Okay. I understand. Kid came up fighting, right?”

“Pretty much. Well, after graduation, Trent drifted a little. He worked out at a farm as a hired hand for a little while, and he had a job in town at the hardware store. But what he was mostly known for was drinking and womanizing. He was the original man-whore. Hit on anything in a skirt. We all knew about him, and honestly, he was sort of a joke in town. You know—lonely on a Saturday? You should go to the Road Block and let Trent Wagoner keep you company.”

“Did you ever . . .?” Smith wagged his eyebrows at me, and I swatted his shoulder.

“Eww. No. First of all, he’s younger than me, and second, I’m smarter and better than that.”

Was it my imagination, or did he look a little relieved? “Good to know. Okay, go on.”

“Early this year, Boomer and Millie’s youngest daughter Jenna turned twenty-one. Her friends all took her out to the Road Block, and of course, they all drank. One thing led to another, and Jenna ended up going home with Trent.”

“Oh, my God.” Smith looked sick. “Did he . . . was it rape?”

“Noooo.” I shook my head. “I mean, technically? Jenna wasn’t
that
drunk. She says it was a decision she made. She was ready to cash in her V-card, and I guess she’d kind of been crushing on Trent for a while. She’d gotten to know him when they both worked at the hardware store, so she thought they were friends. And maybe they were. She said the sex was consensual and that she was fully aware of what she was doing.”

“But?”

“But afterward, Trent was—well, he was Trent. He pushed her out the door in the morning, and yeah, he didn’t call her. Jenna’d gotten it in her head that she could change him. So she went back to the Road Block, tried to act like a girlfriend, tried to lure him into a second night together. From what I hear, Trent wasn’t too bad at first, but when Jenna wouldn’t take no, he was . . . brutal. He told her he wasn’t interested, only he said it in much cruder terms.”

“Ouch.” Smith looked uncomfortable. “God, that’s rough.”

“Yeah, and it got worse. Nobody knew it, I don’t think, but Jenna was devastated. She’s always been this strong girl, sassy and tough. But this broke her, somehow, and back in April, she tried to commit suicide. Took a bunch of pills, and if Boomer hadn’t stopped home for lunch that day—” A lump rose in my throat as I remembered that horrible day. “By the time Millie got home, it would’ve been too late. As it was, she was in the hospital for a week, and she’s been in therapy ever since.”

“My God. I can’t even imagine.” Smith rubbed the back of his neck. “It makes me think—you know, I was being straight with you the other night. I don’t do casual hook-ups. But I think of the girls who used to hang around Epsilon, and some of them would get hung up on one guy or another. And we’d laugh. Some of the brothers were mean about it, making fun of them, stringing them along. I never thought what it must’ve been like for those girls.”

“Yeah. You know what they say about a woman scorned? Sometimes that fury is turned on others, but when it’s turned on herself, it’s even more dangerous.” I thought about my years of loving Smith from afar. Well, not so much afar, maybe. Loving him in silence. There’d been times when I had despaired. When it had felt like I’d never be happy if he didn’t someday love me back.

“She’s doing better now, though?” Smith reached over to pick up my hand where it lay on my lap. He did it almost absently, like we were an old couple, hanging out on our bed, killing time before one of us went out on a date.
Oh, yeah.
I was going out with someone else tonight. I gave myself a little shake.

“Yes, she seems to be. Still, it’s been hard on Millie and Boomer. They’ve always been a close-knit family, all their girls and them, and this has shaken them up. But they’ve circled the wagons and drawn even closer.”

“That’s good.” Smith held my hand a little tighter, using one finger on the other hand to draw lazy circles on the back of it. “What happened to Trent? Is he still around?”

“Um.” Distracted by his touch, I couldn’t focus on his words. “No. I mean, he hadn’t really done anything wrong—nothing he hadn’t done before—but Boomer was livid. Nobody messes with his little girl. He threatened Trent, and I think Trent got the message that it’d be a good time to leave town. Last I heard, he was living up in Michigan with his uncle, working on a Christmas tree farm.”

“Huh. That’s good.” Smith sounded a little distracted himself as he lifted my hand closer to his face. “You’ve got the prettiest fingers, Reen. Long and tapered and beautiful.”

My face grew warm. “They’re a mess. I never have my nails done, because it’s not worth it when I’m just going to ruin them at work. And they’re not exactly delicate.”

“Beautiful.” Smith repeated the word, his voice softer and his eyes holding mine. “All the more because of the work they do.” He slid his fingers between mine, caressing me hypnotically. As I watched, he turned my hand over and spread it open, smoothing his fingers over the palm, staring deep into my soul as he raised my hand to his mouth and pressed one perfect, open-mouthed kiss right in the center.

I was about to melt into a puddle, right there on my bed.
Bed
. Well, here we were, sitting on my bed, and all I’d have to do was fall back onto the mattress, taking him with me—

The doorbell rang, the sound intruding rudely on this moment, and I wanted nothing more than to ignore it. To pretend no one was waiting on the other side of my front door, expecting to take me out on a date. I wanted to swing shut the door to my bedroom, push Smith to his back flat on my bed, and straddle his body. And the intensity of his eyes and the way his breath was coming in short bursts made me think maybe, just maybe, he’d be onboard with this plan.

But the doorbell rang again, this time sounding more insistent if that were possible. Smith sighed, dropped my hand and closed his eyes. “You better go get that.” I couldn’t miss the regret in his voice, and it made me want to happy-dance all over my room.

I forced myself to stand and somehow made it out of the room, down the hall and through the living room to my front door. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

Tim Clark stood on the other side, smiling at me. “Hey, Maureen! Phew, I was afraid maybe I had the wrong house. But I saw your truck so I figured it had to be the right place.” He thrust a bouquet of wildflowers into my hands. “Here, these are for you.”

“Thank you.” I held them to my nose out of habit. “So pretty.” I remembered my manners in time to step back away from the door. “Won’t you come in?”

“Sure. Wow, this is some place you’ve got here. These old houses just fascinate me. Think of the history they must’ve seen.”

“Uh-huh.” I led him into the kitchen, where I rooted around in a cabinet to find a vase. “This one was owned by one family until I bought it. I found all kinds of cool stuff when I was moving in.” I ran water into the crystal vase. “You know, like old silverware, letters—well, those I gave to Mrs. Walker, of course. But there are some old carvings in the attic, some of them dated before the War.”

Tim grinned. “And by war, of course you mean the Civil War. Or wait, what does Gram call it?”

“Probably the War of Northern Aggression.” I put my hands on my hips and cocked at eyebrow at him. “You’re from Virginia. You should have the same Southern sensibilities as the rest of us.”

He shook his head. “Northern Virginia, and that’s whole different land. We’re a mishmash of Yankee and rebel. I grew up going to a battlefield on field trips—same battlefield, mind you, but different teachers called it by different names. First grade, Mrs. Somers called it Manassas, and third grade, Ms. Holmes said it was Bull Run.” He shrugged. “You learn to walk the line.”

I heard footsteps approaching, and my heart sped up.
Shit, here it came.
Smith ambled into the kitchen, smiling amiably. “Hey, there.” He walked right up to stand in front of me, his body nearly touching mine, as he leaned forward to pick up the vase of flowers. “What’s this?”

Other books

Altai: A Novel by Wu Ming
Home Before Midnight by Virginia Kantra
The Promised One by David Alric
Don't Vote for Me by Krista Van Dolzer
BlackMoon Beginnings by Kaitlyn Hoyt
An Inch of Time by Peter Helton
The Art of Happiness by The Dalai Lama
The Faraway Drums by Jon Cleary