More Than Rum (The Maple Leaf Series Book 3) (8 page)

Adam let out a groan as she straddled
him, completely naked. Her breasts were phenomenal, and his hands itched to
touch them. She went for the zipper on his jeans, but he grabbed her hands,
corralling both of her wrists in his grip.

“Hope. Don’t.”

She froze, some of her lovely
fingers tucked between his hips and the waistband of his jeans. “You’re
serious?”

He nodded once then sat up,
shifting her farther down on his lap. “I can’t do this to you.”

“But I want you to. I want you
to do exactly this to me.” Something flashed in her usually friendly eyes. “You
don’t want me?”

“Jesus, Hope. Of course I want
you.” He thrust his hands out to her. “Look at you. You’re the hottest thing
I’ve ever seen.” He scratched at his buzz cut, his left ear really humming
tonight. “I’m the problem here, not you.”

“Oh, it’s you, not me. I see.”
She got off his lap and sat on the edge of the bed.

When she didn’t move for a few
moments, Adam rested his hand on her shoulder. She jerked away from his touch
and looked back at him. Her lips were red and puffy from the kissing they’d
done, but they were no longer turned up in a seductive grin. They weren’t about
to say something sultry.

“I get that you had a hard time
in the Marines. I obviously don’t know the whole story, because you won’t let
me in.” She tapped a finger to his temple. “I thought if I gave you some time,
you’d decide to trust me. You’d see that I wasn’t going anywhere, but I don’t
know how much longer I can wait, Adam.”

She rose, in all her naked
loveliness, and collected her clothing. Silently, she dressed. When she was
finished, she faced him and he saw it. On her face. The last thing he wanted to
see.

Pity.

“Get out.” His voice came out
as a low growl as he barely contained himself. This was exactly what he’d
wanted to avoid. No one felt sorry for Adam Rouse.

“I’d love to, but you drove me
here, genius.” Her eyes shot fire at him now, and dammit, she was still
entirely too beautiful.

“Well, I guess I’ll drive you
out of here then.” He put his shirt back on, stalked past her in the hallway,
and grabbed his coat off the stool where he’d left it. He sat on the edge of
the couch and jammed his feet into his work boots.

She poked her arms into her
jacket, slid on her boots, and stomped to the door.

He met her there and said,
“Look, Hope, I’m—”

“Do not say you’re sorry, Adam.
Do. Not. Just take me home.” She wouldn’t look him in the eye and her cheeks
were red. She was either royally pissed or… embarrassed.

Fucked this one up good,
Rouse.
God, he was such an asshole. How could he have treated her the way
he just did? She’d been naked and ready and willing moments ago, and now she
probably wished him dead.

Well, join the club,
sweetheart.

Besides he didn’t want to have
sex with someone who saw him as a pity case. A woman was supposed to look at a
man and see strength, someone who could protect her, someone she could trust. She
wasn’t supposed to look at him and think,
Oh, poor guy. He’s so fucked up.
He needs serious fixing.

Grumbling to himself and
rubbing the bruise on his lip, he opened his apartment door and started down
the stairs. Hope followed behind him, not saying a word.

The cold outside hit Adam like
a frying pan to the face, which was exactly what he deserved. Walking around
his bucket truck, he unlocked his regular pickup truck and climbed inside. Hope
did the same, but sat as close to her door as physically possible.

As if she had to worry. He
wouldn’t be touching her again. Not ever. The sooner she moved on, the better.

He pulled out of his driveway.
It was a silent ride to her street. When he stopped in front of her mother’s
house, he started to say something—what, he wasn’t quite sure—but Hope simply
opened her door and got out. She slammed it shut and ran up the front stairs.

Adam made sure she got inside
safely then threw the truck in reverse, turned around, and sped down her
driveway, his tires slipping on snow several times. He’d thought about handing
his balls in before, but he was pretty sure the authorities would come and
collect them at this point. What guy in their right mind turned down a woman
like Hope Stannard?     

Simple. A guy
not
in his
right mind. A guy just like him. That was who.

He arrived back at his house,
parked his truck, got out, and stood outside for a few moments, letting the
cold seep into him. Hard to believe that earlier this evening he’d been naked,
aroused, and hot. Amazing that the switch could be flipped so suddenly.

He grabbed a shovel by the door
and pushed snow out of the way just to have something physical to do. His mind
may have decided he wasn’t having sex tonight, but his body still held out
hope. An energy bounced off his insides as if someone had wound him up like a
top but had forgotten to release him.

Not forgotten.
 More
like someone hadn’t
allowed
him to be released. The killer part of it
was that he was to blame. He was the one who had denied himself. How did that
make sense?

His cell phone buzzed in his
pocket, and he foolishly wished it was Hope asking him to come back and get
her. He dug the phone out and looked at the screen.

Wendie. At this late hour.

“What?” He nearly barked.

“Don’t be mad at me,” his
sister said. “You’re the one screaming into the driveway after one in the
morning, hot shot. Are you okay?”

“I’m super. Absolutely
wonderful.”

“He said sarcastically. Look,
do you want to talk about it or sulk around like you usually do?”

“Sulk.”

“Tonight the role of Bratty
Little Brother will be played by Adam Rouse. Stand back, folks, he is a
professional,” Wendie said.

“Good night, Wendie.”

“Fine. Good night. I’m right
here though,” she said, “if you need anything.”

He hung up, knowing full well
he didn’t deserve a sister like Wendie either. God, it was as if someone had
injected him with asshole-inducing serum and its effects were immediate.

Was there an antidote?

Hope slumped against the door
in the mudroom. She had never been this humiliated in all her life and that
counted the time she’d slipped off the stone wall in the high school parking
lot—wearing a skirt—in front of her secret crush, Billy Santos. Of course she’d
picked that day to wear Snoopy underwear, and before lunch period everyone
knew.

Yes,
everyone.

What she felt right now,
however, was at least forty-three thousand times more potent, more
embarrassing, more painful.

Adam said no to me.

How could she ever look at him
again? Easy. She absolutely could not and would not. She’d just swallow this
unpleasant encounter. Bury it deep in her subconscious and never speak of it
again.

But she’d think of it. Often.
And she’d wish for a hole to crawl into and die.

Huffing out a breath, she
shrugged out of her coat and hung it on a peg in the mudroom. She sat on the
bench Rick had made and pulled off her boots. Her sexy, “do me” boots that
apparently needed a significant tune up, because they did not work tonight.
Complete malfunction. She ought to return them for a full refund. Then she’d
have extra money to go buy that
Seduction for Dummies
book if it in fact
existed, because she obviously had no idea what she was doing.

A part of her brain knew it
wasn’t her. It was him, as he’d said… but still. Being shot down was being shot
down any way a girl looked at it. It sucked. In an epic proportions kind of
way.

Hope made her way into the
living room where the television was on at a low volume. When she rounded the
couch, she smiled at her mother and her puppy. Joy had on her pink, fluffy robe
with matching slippers. Pink and white striped pajama pants covered her legs
propped up on the coffee table. She was completely asleep, a faint snoring
sounding every few moments.

Olive was a tiny black and
white ball of fur on Joy’s lap, her nose adorably tucked under one paw. Her
dark eyes opened when Hope shut off the television.

“Hey, girl,” she whispered.

The puppy let out a small
whimper, and Hope gently picked her up.

Joy shot awake, her legs flying
off the coffee table as if she were ready to run. She blinked several times and
focused on Hope.

“Oh, I dozed off. What time is
it?”

“Late.”

“Did you have a nice time?”

“Nice? No,
nice
isn’t
the word I’d use.” Hope sat on the edge of the coffee table facing her mother.
Olive balanced on her lap, making preparations to settle in again.

“What word would you use?” Joy
narrowed her eyes at Hope.

“Amazing followed by a great
and terrible awful.” Hope waved her hand. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Maybe in the morning?” Joy
gathered the sides of her robe and wrapped them tighter around her.

“How about never?” Hope
scratched Olive’s head and the pup hummed.
Yeah, I should be humming like
that right about now.

“That’s not a good solution and
you know it.”

“It’s the only solution I can
manage right now.” Hope yawned. “I’m going to bed. Thanks for watching Olive.”

“Anytime. I’m pretty sure we
knew each other in a former life. Kindred spirits and such. I love her.” Joy
pressed a kiss to her hand and touched Olive’s black nose then she leaned
forward and dropped a kiss on Hope’s cheek. “Good night, sugar.”

“Night.”

Her mother walked to the
hallway, and Hope listened to the floorboard at the downstairs bathroom door squeak
under Joy’s weight. Still sitting on the coffee table with Olive in her lap,
she suddenly felt so alone. She knew she wasn’t alone. Not technically. Her
mother was there. Sage and Rick were only a phone call away. A living,
breathing puppy sat in her lap.

No, this alone was different.
This alone was an absence she hadn’t experienced before. This alone made her
feel as if perhaps something was fundamentally wrong with her. As if she were missing
that indescribable attribute that caused men to be attracted to women.

What if no man ever wanted to
be with her?

She’d had romps here and there,
but nothing like Sage. She didn’t have the ability to hook men, enjoy them, and
toss them back. Besides, at this point in her life, she was hoping to find her
Settle-Down Man—the guy who would be all she ever needed. She loved her work,
both at Rick’s store and web designing. She had a puppy now. Shouldn’t a man be
next on the life list?

Though things had been
progressing in ultra-slow motion with Adam, she had remained patient, thinking
she was laying the groundwork to a nice relationship with him. As Wendie had
said, he needed time. She could give him that. She’d felt he’d be worth it.

But now? Well, he’d made it
clear. He wasn’t ready. He might never be ready, and she had to stop pretending
something existed between them.

But there had been
something.

She hadn’t been the only one to
get all fired up tonight. She’d sat on his lap. She’d
felt
him. His mind
and his heart might have decided against her, but his body had sent a different
message. The way his hands had caressed her exposed flesh. The way his lips had
consumed her own. The heat building up between them. She hadn’t imagined all
that.

What’s the point?

It was all a memory now. She’d
file it away and move on.

“Right, Olive?”

The pooch licked her thumb then
shook out its small body. A whimper caused Hope to stand and climb the stairs
to her room. She put Olive in her crate so she could take a shower, hoping the
hot water and suds would wash away her humiliation.

No such luck.

Her cheeks got red as she
toweled off and replayed Adam stopping her from unbuttoning his jeans. She
would always have to call Sage before stopping by to make sure he wasn’t there.
She could never go in Black Wolf Tavern on the nights Adam bartended. She’d
have to ask Jake what his schedule was tomorrow. She didn’t imagine she’d be
needing any trees cut down and Rick would build her whatever she wanted, so she
wouldn’t have to interact with Adam on a professional level either. She could
avoid him. It could work.

Shame it has to work.

Danton wasn’t all that big.
Being careful not to run into Adam was probably going to be harder than she
thought. If things had worked out with Sam, her drumming/EMT hottie, she’d
never have been in this situation to begin with.

Men suck.

That was Hope’s ultimate
conclusion. Sam had found someone else. Adam didn’t want her. What would be
next? She’d probably fall madly in love with the next guy, and he’d turn out to
be gay.

“Then we won’t fall in love,”
she said as she came back into her room.

Olive let out a few squeaks
from her crate, and after brushing out her hair, Hope let the pup out. She got
into bed, and although she knew it was going to set an unfavorable precedent,
she let Olive settle down next to her. The pup cuddled close, exactly what Hope
needed tonight.

The clock on her bedside table
beamed a neon blue 2:00 in the morning. Good thing Jake was her only
appointment tomorrow, and he wasn’t coming until the afternoon. Plenty of time
to sleep in and catch up.

Hope shut off the light and
slid down under the covers. Olive got up and nudged Hope’s cheek with her cold
nose until Hope lifted the covers and let the puppy underneath. Feeling the
dog’s warm body next to her own took away some of the loneliness, but her mind
kept wandering to the man’s warm body she could have had next to her instead.

And what a body.

She knew Adam was in shape, but
she’d gotten a phenomenal feel of the details when she’d removed his shirt. Abs
like the ones her fingers had found should be considered lethal. His biceps
were equally as dangerous. The way he’d lifted her and carried her to his
bedroom had been impressive. He hadn’t struggled at all, and though Hope didn’t
weigh a ton, she was tall and could be cumbersome to carry.

Not for Adam though.

Those amazing arms could have
been around her right now. Her own hands could have been tracing the contours
of his abs and chest. She could be memorizing every inch of Adam Rouse, and
instead she was cuddled with a Dalmatian puppy currently gnawing on the edge of
a pillowcase.

“No, Olive.” Hope pulled the
puppy out of reach of the material and scratched the dog’s all black ear in the
darkness.

She closed her eyes, but sleep
was an alien concept to her body. She may as well have been trying to time
travel.

Damn you, Adam.

Hope never had trouble
sleeping. Usually her head hit the pillow and she was out cold. Now her mind
and body were both off track. How did she get them back on track?

And where the hell was that
track leading?

****

Adam applied glue to the
dovetail joints of one drawer on Diana’s coffee table. He fit the side panels
together around the bottom, wiped off the excess glue, and clamped the finished
drawer so it would dry nice and square.

Only five more to go.

The table in the picture Diana
had given him had six drawers total. Three in front and three in back. The
methodical, assembly line style of work involved in putting the drawers
together was exactly what Adam needed this morning—a morning following a night
of absolutely no sleep whatsoever. He’d gone from his bed to the couch and back
again at least seven times before he’d given up completely and pulled out his
laptop to study recipes for drinks he could try out at Black Wolf Tavern.

By the time the sun had slid up
from the dark horizon, Adam had ten new beverages he’d renamed to go along with
Jake’s wolfish theme. Among them were Bloody Moon Margarita, Carnivore
Cosmopolitan, and Howling Darkness, which was his favorite because it involved
dark rum.

Once he’d finished that, he’d
showered and headed down to the shop to work on the table. He’d been at it
since five in the morning. That was the upside to insomnia—more hours to do
stuff. Seemed like a blessing, but Adam would have given his left nut to have
slept instead.

And he had his left nut to give.
Hell, he had his whole package to give, because it wasn’t doing a single thing
for him. He’d tried to take care of himself after he’d dropped Hope off, but he
couldn’t even manage that.

I am one pathetic bastard.
Seriously.

If he were another guy looking
at himself, he would have turned up his nose and insulted his manhood.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t another guy. He was stuck inside the body of Adam
Rouse, Total Jackass and Bearer of a Useless Dick.

Well, now that wasn’t entirely
true. His dick worked just fine. Hope had managed to awaken it, get it to stand
at attention, and had even made it long for a hot, wet place into which to
dive. That place had been offered too, but Adam’s head had gotten in the way. Then
his mouth conspired with his head and, presto, he’d sent a perfectly lovely
woman home and spent the night alone.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

He ought to be at peace with it
by now, and yet, it still surprised him. He needed to get it into his thick,
fucking head that he wasn’t going to be good enough for any woman. He was
better suited to a solitary life, wandering in the woods, cutting trees, and hiding
in his shop building things. He wanted to take an oath or something, swearing
to never set his sights on another woman, to never let her down, to never lead
her down a path he couldn’t tread upon.

“Open up, Adam,” Wendie said
from outside as she banged on the door.

He ignored her, but heard the
jingle of keys and knew she’d let herself in if he didn’t answer. After giving
the clamp on the drawer he’d just assembled another crank, he opened the door.

“Why did I give you a key
again?” He stepped aside as Wendie pushed her way in.

“So I could tidy your apartment,
fill your refrigerator, and make sure you didn’t try to kill yourself in here.”
She gestured to all the tools, any one of which could dismember a man with
ease, especially a distracted, depressed Marine.

“Oh, yeah.” Adam closed the
door against the arctic blast of wind outside. “What can I do for you this
morning?” His words were laced with over-the-top fake politeness, followed by a
too sweet smile. Luckily, the split in his lip was better, only a slight
yellowy bruise remaining that didn’t hurt much.

Wendie narrowed her eyes and
pointed a gloved finger at him. “What happened last night?”

Adam picked up a piece for the
next drawer and applied glue. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit, Adam.” Wendie took
the glue bottle from him and set it down out of his reach. She folded her arms
across her chest, her jacket swishing loudly as she did so. “What did you do?”

“Me?” He angled his hand at
himself. “Maybe it wasn’t me who was at fault. Ever think about that?” Of
course, he
was
at fault. Last night’s events—or technically
non
-events—were
completely his doing.

“I did think that maybe it
wasn’t your fault. For like half a second. Then I knew better.” Wendie paced
away then faced him again. “I know you went to work at the tavern. I know you
invited Hope to visit you there. I assume you brought her here, and it went
downhill.”

“You’re a fucking psychic,
Wendie.” He swiped the glue bottle off the table and tackled the drawer again.

“Don’t get mad at me. I’m the
only person who can tolerate you besides Orion. You’re not in a position to
piss me off.”

He hated that she was right.
“Look, I don’t need to recount my monumental failure of last night, okay? Can
you appreciate the fact that I’m furious at myself and would love to forget how
I treated Hope last night? Can you?”

“How did you treat Hope last
night?” His sister’s eyes were narrowed again as if she were seconds away from
screaming at him.