Ready For You (10 page)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
 

Her voice was husky, and it gave me memories of that same voice crying out my name while I came deep inside her.
 

“Don’t you? That little show up there wasn’t for me?”

“No.”
 

“No?”
 

My hands slid lower, and a slight moan escaped her lips as her eyes lost focus. My attention shifted, and I found myself transfixed on her mouth. She had the most perfect lips, soft and pouty and made for kissing. She saw me staring, and she stopped breathing in anticipation. I moved in to kiss her. I needed to remember what it felt like to live, to feel my heart beating in my chest.

And then, I remembered everything she had taken away from me.

She can’t mean this. She would never do this.

Those words haunted me. I pushed away with an angry growl as she sank against the wall.
 

“Go home, Mia,” I barked over my shoulder as I stalked away in anger.

Anger was my true love and my only soul mate.

Chapter Seven

~Mia~

After a fitful night of sleep, I awoke in a tangled mess of sheets to the sound of thunderous banging coming from my front door. I glanced at my clock with fuzzy eyes and saw that it was barely eight in the morning on Sunday.
 

Who the hell was bothering me this early?
Sunday mornings were sacred and precious. I would sleep in, drink coffee, read for hours, and enjoy doing absolutely nothing.

Why was someone bombarding my solitude?
 

And why is that person knocking so damn loudly?

I threw on a sweatshirt, which was three sizes too large for me since it technically wasn’t mine, and I ran downstairs to see the person I would be yelling at. I pulled the door open and found a very angry Garrett on the other side.

“What took you so damn long?” he asked harshly. His eyes moved around me and started to roam my living room.

“I was asleep,” I answered shortly, folding my arms over my chest.
 

“Alone?”

“What? Yes—not that it’s any of your business.”
 

He barged past me and headed for the kitchen. Moving around the room like he owned it, he opened my dingy white fridge that had seen better days and started pulling out eggs, cheese, and bacon. From the cupboard, he picked out the bag of coffee I’d just bought from the specialty shop down the street, and he started a pot.
 

“What are you doing?” I asked, stunned by his display.

“Making us breakfast. I’m starving.”

“You came over here to make me breakfast?”

“No, I came over here to take you to get a dog. The breakfast is just an added bonus.”

I sat down in a chair at the kitchen table, tucking my feet underneath me, as I watched him. He turned on burners, and he began to scramble eggs. I’d never seen him cook before. That was something we’d talked about when we discussed moving in together and getting married—who would do the cooking and who would clean. We’d joked that we would live on macaroni and cheese and ramen for the rest of our lives and eat off of paper plates to keep from having to do dishes.
 

Obviously, he’d learned to cook more than those two dishes. Someone had taught him how to cook, or he’d learned on his own. I didn’t want to think about someone doing all the things I was supposed to do with him.
 

“I never agreed to a dog,” I said with a touch of annoyance in my voice.

“No one ever gave you a choice. You moved into this house by yourself. You need some sort of protection.”

“I don’t want to adopt Cujo,” I huffed.

“I didn’t say you had to adopt a snarling, man-eating dog. But you need one that will be attentive and bark if it senses an intruder.”

“And a security alarm won’t do that?” I challenged.

“I like dogs better,” he answered plainly.

“Then, why don’t you have one?”

“My place is too small, and I’m a guy.” He shrugged.

He’d never really mentioned his place, but considering how quickly he’d gotten over here the other night, I was assuming he lived close. How close, I didn’t know. The thought of him being just streets away at night sent my heart into double-time.
 

Garrett threw some bread in the toaster and continued to mix the eggs. He grabbed a handful of cheese and sprinkled it on top before turning off the burner. He glanced over at me, and his eyes lingered on my legs tucked neatly beneath me. My shorts were mostly covered by my sweatshirt, so it looked like I was bare underneath it. From the way his eyes heated, I didn’t think he’d actually taken the time to look at me until now.
 

“Is that my sweatshirt?”

I looked down and immediately blushed. “No, it’s my sweatshirt.”

“You mean, it’s a sweatshirt you stole and never gave back,” he corrected.
 

It was one of the few things I had taken with me when I left home. I had been leaving the life we planned, but I’d still wanted some pieces of him. So, I’d granted myself pictures, my necklace, and this sweatshirt. I hadn’t deserved more than that. I wore it all the time, and I’d completely forgotten I had it on when he came rushing in.
 

I needed to change the subject. “So, are we going to talk about last night?” I suddenly took a great interest in my fingernails. I couldn’t look at him. Instead, I stared at the chip in my purple nail polish while waiting for an answer.

“Nope,” was all he said as he dumped the eggs equally on two plates.
 

After he buttered the toast, he brought everything over to the table and chose the seat across from me. The food he dropped in front of me smelled delicious, and my stomach growled in response.
 

“Okay.”
 

I didn’t really know where to take the conversation from there, so I chose silence—awkward, long silence. It seemed to be the thing we excelled at nowadays. We used to spend hours, days talking, and now, we could barely speak a sentence without digging ourselves into a hole.
 

“Look,” he finally said with a huff, “I got jealous. It was a dick move. It won’t happen again. I want to be your friend, Mia, or at least I’m trying to be.”

He was being nice. What he really meant to say was,
I’m trying to be your friend despite everything you did to me.

I finished my eggs and took a final bite of my toast. “Friends?” I asked.

“Friends,” he confirmed. “And friends do things like take friends to choose a furry companion. So, go upstairs and get ready. I want to be there when they open.”

It was the first time I’d seen him smile. It was a forced smile, but it was still something. I nodded and rose with my plate in hand. I rinsed it off and placed everything in the dishwasher. I could feel his eyes on me as he finished eating. Without saying another word, I finished up in the kitchen and raced up the stairs to my room and shut the door, locking it behind me.
 

How could I be friends with him? How could I be around him and not want him? I’d just agreed to a terrible idea.
Friends? What the hell was I thinking?
 

I can’t be just friends with the man who owns the other half of my soul.
 

I was so screwed.
 

~Garrett~

The ancient pipes rattled, and I heard the shower kick on. I tried my best not to imagine Mia stripping down in the bathroom above me, that old sweatshirt of mine falling to the floor, before she stepped into the warm stream of water with the dewy drops of liquid cascading down every curvy inch of her sun-kissed skin.
 

Yep, I tried.
 

It didn’t work.

Finished eating, I got up from my seat at the table and began scrubbing the few dishes left out with a bit more vigor than necessary. When I’d just about taken all of my frustrations and probably some of the glaze right off of the plate, I put down the sponge and placed everything in the dishwasher, making sure to delay it an hour. I was pretty sure I was the only one in the house who needed a cold shower.

With nothing to do but wait, I paced. I walked through her living room and down the hall to her empty office. Nothing but unopened boxes filled the room. She’d barely unpacked. She had probably been too involved in remodeling the house.
 

Why was I here? Why did I wake up at the crack of dawn and drive myself over here, only to torture myself further? This was supposed to be our dream, our future. But it wasn’t. She had chosen to end that dream and leave. Did I need a constant reminder of that?

I heard the shower shut off, and I wandered back into the living room, sinking into the sofa. It smelled like her. She smelled exactly as I remembered—like fresh oranges in summer. It was some sort of lotion she used, and it drove me crazy. I had smelled it on her last night as I leaned in to kiss her.
 

And then, everything had gone to shit.
 

Memories had come racing back in a flash, firing through my brain like a pistol. I couldn’t get out of that bar fast enough. I’d made some lame excuse to Kara and bailed. I’d needed air and space, space from Mia.
 

Yet, here I was, not even twelve hours later.
 

It had taken forever for me to fall asleep, and when I had, I’d dreamed of her. This wasn’t a new thing for me. When I slept, I always dreamed of Mia. But last night, I hadn’t dreamed of eighteen-year-old Mia leaving me in that crowded football field after graduation. I’d dreamed of grown-up Mia—the Mia who had worn a tight black skirt and sang with a seductive huskiness that made me ache with need.
 

In my dream, I hadn’t pulled away. I’d kissed her and taken what was rightfully mine. In my dream, I hadn’t stopped, and I sure as shit hadn’t told her to go home. No, in my sleep, I’d dreamed of bringing her home where I had spent hours making her remember every touch, taste, and feel my body had to offer.
 

I’d woken up covered in sweat and sporting the biggest hard-on of my life. Groaning, I’d jumped out of bed and gotten in the shower. Hissing as my hand reached for my cock, I’d pictured her, and I’d fisted myself over and over, remembering how she looked when I sent her over the edge. As I had cried out her name in my release, I had known I would want her until the day I died.
 

No matter what she’d done in our past, I would always want her. I could turn away and show restraint a thousand times, and it would never lessen the hunger I had for that woman.
 

Before I’d had another thought, I was dressed and in the car, driving to her house.
 

It wasn’t until I’d driven up to the curb that I’d realized it was barely eight in the morning, and I’d had no excuse for being there.
 

Then, I’d remembered the dog.
 

She needed a dog, and I’d take her to get one.
Friends did that, right? We could be friends.
 

By the time I’d reached the door, I’d convinced myself that my need could be tamed with friendship. If I needed to be around her, I would be her friend.
 

Go home, Mia.
 

I remembered my angry snarl in the bar and her hurt expression.
Did she go home?
I didn’t have a right in the world to order her around, but at the moment, I had been livid. I’d been livid at myself for wanting her and angry with her for being so damn desirable. If I couldn’t have her, neither could anyone else. So, I had told her to go home.
 

Childish? Maybe. So, I’m an asshole. Whatever.
 

As I’d raised my hand to knock on the door this morning, I’d suddenly feared that she hadn’t listened. What if she’d lashed out and found the first guy she could and taken him home?
 

Anger could do strange things to one’s mind, and when I had seen her as she opened the door, I had been ready to murder the bastard inside who had been lucky enough to touch her. I hadn’t calmed down until about five minutes later when I finished scrambling the eggs and hadn’t heard any movements above.
 

I was going psycho. This woman was making me insane.
 

The woman in question breezed past me and entered the living room. The smell of oranges followed her, and I tried not to think about how much that scent affected me. She’d changed into a pair of jean shorts and a tank top. The fact that no bra straps were peeking out made me nearly groan out in frustration.
 

No bra. Awesome.

“You ready?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow in my direction.

There were so many possibilities with that question, but I went with the high road and settled with a nod.
 

I followed her out, and she paused a moment to lock her front door before we climbed into my SUV. She sat awkwardly next to me and fiddled with the ring on her right hand while I pulled away from the curb.
 

“That’s a beautiful ring. Did someone special buy it for you?” I asked.
 

I was fishing for information. She’d been back less than a month, and I didn’t know anything about her, other than what I’d observed.
 

“What? Oh, um…no. I bought it in New Orleans a few years ago.”
 

“You’ve been to NOLA, huh?”

She swallowed and made a noise that must have been a
yes
. “I went for a business trip. It’s beautiful.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I said absently.

“You haven’t done much traveling?” she asked.

“I travel for work but not much beyond that. I’ve been all over the Midwest, and up and down the East Coast, but that’s about it. We have territories, and mine has changed a bit over the last few years, but it has still stayed relatively boring. Nothing as exciting as New Orleans.”

More awkward silence filled the small space, and I played around with the air-conditioner knob, trying to make it cooler. It was summer, and the inside of the car was about a million degrees.