Dirty Little Mistake (Dirty #2) (14 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Brenna

I was too worn down – emotionally and physically – to do anything more than sob into my pillow.

I knew it was Ridley
the moment my lips met his.

Maybe I knew it
was him before the kiss. 

Maybe I knew the second he spoke. 

Maybe when I’d acknowledged him as Ian in my mind, I’d done it to fool myself.

And I was selfish.

I’d let myself continue to kiss him.  I’d let myself do more. 

I told myself I
was continuing to do it so I could wash myself clean of him.  Get him out of my system.  But the truth was…I’d done it so I could have what I wanted.

The heat of
his touch warmed me from the inside out.  His lips on my skin set me afire.  With each of his kisses, the line between what I should do and what I was actually going to do had blurred further.  By the time we hit the bed, I was a helpless mess.

How was it possible that my body had such a singular reaction to his ministrations?  How was it that he seemed to know so well what I wanted? 

What I needed.

Even as I’d told him to stop, I’d really been begging him to continue.  And he’d known that, too.  Any minute – any second – I was going to succumb to the yearning between my thighs.

My weakness would cause a whole world of regret. 
A lifetime of it.  And not just for me, but for Ridley and Ian and the baby, too.

So I did the one thing I knew would stop him.

I called him by his cousin’s name.  Repeatedly.

I wondered who it hurt more.  Me?  Or him?  The searing pain I felt in my heart was enough make me think it might be me.  And it was enough to make
me pray it wasn’t him.  Because anything that hurt more than this did…I wasn’t sure someone could survive it.

With a choked cry,
I buried my face in my pillow once more and let the tears pull me into sleep.

***

Risa’s hand on my shoulder and her urgent whisper woke me. “Hey! You’ve got to get up!”

I
opened my eyes slowly.  My head was throbbing worse than the worst hangover and my vision was blurred.  I reached for my glasses automatically before remembering they were somewhere in Ridley and Ian’s living room.  My heart lurched and my eyes closed again.

“Brenna.” Risa shook my shoulder. “You have
got
to get out of bed. The guy from next door is downstairs.”

My lids flew open.
“What time is it?”

“Three in the afternoon
.”

“Shit.
He said he wasn’t coming until six o’clock.”

“
Not that guy. The other guy.”

All the blood drained from my face.  What was Ridley doing there?  Had he come to confront me about last night?

Dear God. What am I going to say?

Risa’s next words made me feel even sicker.

“He’s got your glasses. And your
purse,
” she hissed. “I thought you went over there to get that last night. What the hell is going on, Bren? You’ve been sleeping all day, which I chalked up to baby-ness, but now Bookworm is downstairs looking all pissy and I’m getting worried.”

I pulled myself up and my head pounded in return.  I
didn’t think Risa was lying about the time, but out of habit I still glanced at my bedside clock.  Of course I couldn’t see the numbers. 

Because
Ridley
has my damned glasses.

My friend grabbed my arm and yanked on it.
“Earth to Brenna!”

“Oh, God,” I groaned. “I don’t
even
know
what’s going on, Risa. I think I’m seriously fucked.”

My roommate’s eyes widened, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of my rare – though not totally unheard of – F-bomb or the ready-to-die look on my face.  Either way, she stopped trying to coax me from the bed.

“I can tell him to go,” she said. “Tell him you’re sick or have cramps or something.”

Ridley’s voice – strained but amused – came from my bedroom door.
“He might not believe you.” He paused a few feet away from the bed and gave me a once over. “Although now that he’s seen you…You do kinda look like shit, Pancake.”

I bit my lip to keep from
blurting out that it was his own damned fault.  Because he didn’t know that I knew it was his fault.  Did he?

Risa looked from me to Ridley and back again.

She cleared her throat. “I think I’m going to leave you two alone for a second.”

I
wanted to protest, but Ridley was already ushering her out the door.  Which he then closed firmly before he made himself comfortable on the end of my bed. 

He held out my purse and my glasses and I took them wordlessly, careful to keep from touching his fingers as I did it.
  I slipped the glasses on and stared at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  He opened his mouth.

This is it,
I thought in a panicked internal voice.
He’s going to ask about the paperwork in my purse. He’s going to talk to me about last night. He’s going to admit it was him and demand to know why a pregnant girl was -

“
Why do you look so worn out?” he asked.

I felt a little frown form on my forehead, sure I’d misheard him. “What?”

“You look like shit,” he repeated.

“I do?”

He chuckled. “In a pretty way. But yeah. I mean, I thought
my
sleep was bad, but you look like you went through hell and back.”

Was he serious?

Judging by his face, he was.

“It wasn’t great,” I told him guardedly.

“Shove over.”

Still cautious, I wriggled sideways on the bed.  Ridley
slid up so he was beside me.  He put his hands behind his head and leaned back on the bed with his back against the wall, as comfortable as if he’d done it a thousand times before.

I
clutched my purse in my hands, afraid if I moved I’d brush up against him and send myself back into some kind of crazy tailspin of want.

“You wanna know why I slept so badly?” Ridley asked.

Crap. No.

But I nodded anyway.
“Okay.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you and me and last night,” he told me.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“
And I was glad when I found your stuff this morning. It gave me an excuse to come and say I’m sorry,” he said.

“Sorry?”

He cracked one eye and looked at me sideways. “Don’t make this harder than it is.”

My mouth worked.  What was he sorry for?  Making me hotter than I’d ever been?  Letting me put my hand down his pants?

“Oh, c’mon, PC. Don’t make me beg. I was kind of a jerk about the whole Shay thing last night and I think I ruined your and Ian’s date. I need you to forgive me so I can go back to work in peace. I only get an hour for lunch.”

He’s not going to say anything. And he didn’t look in the purse
.

My entire body relaxed with the realization.  Tears actually pricked at my eyes and I was glad I had my glasses on to cover it.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” I managed to get out.

Ridley slipped an arm across my shoulders.  He kissed my forehead.

“So we’re good?”

“Perfect.”

He sighed and left his arm around me.  I knew I should pull away.  Or at least feel a little awkward.  But he was just too damned comfortable.  I hated myself a little for leaning into him and breathing in his heady, masculine scent.  Still.  The self-loathing didn’t make me stop.

We sat that way for several minutes, me in my favorite ratty pajamas, tucked into him, in his crisp chef’
s jacket. 

“Well,” he said finally, sounding as sleepy and content as I felt. “I guess I’d better go.
My break’s not that long.”

“The masses won’t want to wait for their strawberry thingies,” I agreed.

“Actually, I’m doing something different today,” he replied.

“Different?”

“Don’t sound so appalled,” he teased. “I occasionally do things other than make treats for you.”

I blushed. “Well I know
that.
I meant what are you making that’s different?”

“Samples.”

I pulled away and narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you being purposely evasive?”

“Yes. It’s a secret and I know you can’t be trusted.”

“I can be trusted!”

“No way. The second someone tickles you, you’ll give everything away.”

“I was able to successfully avoid being tickled for twenty-two years until you came along. Besides which…You already know your own secret,” I pointed out.

“So you think you can avoid it again for another twenty-two years?” He wiggled his fingers at me threateningly.

“You don’t scare me,” I replied with mock-defiance.

Ridley’s poked my ribs once and I
fought a giggle. “Cookies.” He poked a second time and I clenched my jaw shut. “And.” He jabbed again, this time with each syllable hespoke, and with each one, a laugh burst through. “Cream.”
Giggle.
“Cup.”
Jab. Giggle. Jab.
“Cakes,” he finished.

My laughter died in my throat, and I gripped his arm tightly. “What did you say?”

“Cookies n’ Cream Cupcakes. I’m in search of the perfect recipe. Or my boss is. He gave me a mission, and I chose to accept it,” Ridley explained with a wink, then paused when he caught the look on my face. “What’s the matter?”

“I have it,” I said.

“You have what?”

“The perfect recipe for Cookies n’ Cream Cupcakes.”

“And…You
hate
them? Because you look a little like you might puke. Again.”

I ignored his joke. “
No. I love them. As much as – no maybe more than - I love the Strawberry Turnovers. It was the one thing my mom could always get right.”

Ridley’s arm immediately cocooned my once more.

“Every birthday,” I murmured into his chest. “After every long, drawn-out bout with alcohol or drugs, she’d have an apologetic sober moment and I’d find a tray of the damned things waiting.”

“I’ll tell my boss I can’t do it then.”

I swivelled my head up to look at Ridley’s face.  His strong jaw was set and his grey eyes were concerned.

My heart swelled. “Don’
t be silly.”

“It’s not like I could have an item on my dessert menu that would make you make that face every time you saw it.”

“What face?”

“The trying-not-
to-cry face.”

“It’s okay. I swear it’s a bittersweet memory with more sweet than bitter. Really. I mean, I
wanted
to hate them. Sometimes I wanted to say no, just to punish her. Once I tried to
not
eat them, but I just ended up sneaking some in the middle of the night. And I always forgave her. They were that good…Or they meant that much to me.”

“Still making the face,” Ridley told me softly.

“I just hadn’t thought about the cupcakes in years. My mom…The recipe was in with my things when she sent me packing. For a long time, I thought maybe it was an accident, that she’d shoved it in there by mistake with my books and papers and stuff. But I think that’s just because I couldn’t admit she might’ve done it on purpose.”

“Because then you might forgive her
again,” Ridley filled in.

I nodded.
“Exactly.”

“And have you?”

I was stalling and I knew it. “Have I what?”

Ridley put his fingers overtop of mine in a backwards handhold.

“Have you forgiven her?” he prodded patiently.

“Mm hmm,” I hedged.

“But?”

I took a deep breath and spat out the words in a rush
, like I was ripping back a bandage and the wound underneath wasn’t quite healed. “But what if she put it in there so I would come back? I know she was mad enough to send me away, but maybe it was an olive branch. One she was investing in the future. Or maybe she thought it would make me angry and I’d come home because of it. I’ll never know why she stuck it in there because I never bothered to ask.”

Ridley ran his thumb down my cheeks and wiped away the tears I didn’t even know I was crying. “Maybe she just wanted you to know she loved you.”

“Maybe,” I whispered.

“Hey, Brenna?” he hesitated. “I believe you when you say you’ve forgiven your mom. You’re too determined and too strong and I think your heart’s too big for it to be any other way. But have you taken the time to forgive yourself?”