Rough Tumble (4 page)

“You slept over?”

Her eyes widened. “Yes—no, not really. I had to be at the diner at three the next morning. It wasn’t all night. Just until I had to be at work. By the time you got settled, it was just a couple hours.” She sighed and held his gaze. “This is only a big deal if you make it one.”

“It’s just not right. I would be furious if I was Marc.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not. And if a boyfriend furious because I cared for a friend, then he’s not a boyfriend worth having.”

“This isn’t just a friend. I’m not Flora or Gretchen. I’m a guy.”

The corner of her lips turned up. “I know. I saw.” Then she laughed. “Oh wait! I saw twice. I forgot about the swimming party. I guess I need to flash you again so we’re even. Today is probably equal to what I saw swimming. It’d have to be full on frontal and back nudity for us to be square from the bath.” She cleared her throat. “And then touching…since I’d used the rag on you.”

“Damn it, Tonya. This isn’t funny.” He was basically a home wrecker and she thought it was funny. And curse him for not remembering any of this.

“It kind of is.”

If she wasn’t engaged to someone else, then he could find something funny about it. He leaned back on his failsafe. Marc. It was the one trick pony in his pocket for some perspective that while Tonya was brilliant and fascinating, she wasn’t his. “Yeah, next time you talk to Marc, ask him and see what he thinks. He’d be an idiot to think it was okay.”

Her smile cracked at that. She patted his arm and walked back to the kitchen. And again, using Marc left him feeling like an ass for bringing the man up.

Though why, he didn’t know. The guy was supposed to be some hero. Went to war. All Trent saw was a jackass who signed up in the military, was supposed to be back after his four years and instead re-enlisted. Hell, if Trent was the man, he would have packed Tonya up and moved her across the country with him the moment he was stationed after boot camp. If that wasn’t an option, he never would have left.

Women like Tonya were rare. The guy was a shit for treating her how he had so far. Once he came back home though, Trent was going to have a little chat with to let him know that too.

He turned for the kitchen, heart pinching at the sight of her. His to be friends with. Nothing more. He looked down as he walked in to make sure his face was clear of anything but a friendly smile.

Chapter Three

Tonya dropped the last box of food on her kitchen table and fell on the nearest chair, shrugging off Trent’s coat. What a frustrating long evening of packing up food to loading cars to now. All in the pouring rain with dark, aggravated stares from Trent during half of the cleanup. Dipped brows, narrowed at the corner of his eyes. Jerky movements with anything he touched and clipped response to everything. Even his snarling grunting was all clipped.

At this point, she didn’t care if her dress was still wet and see-through or not. Hopefully wet. Just enough to add some sheerness. Maybe it’ll put a little extra kick in his pants for some more attitude. In fact, she leaned back in her seat, hooked an arm over the back of her chair to thrust her chest out just as he walked in the kitchen and set a box down. His gazed landed on hers then went right back to the box.

The breath that left her was long and deflating. She leaned forward, laid her hands flat on the tabletop, and stared up at him. “I’m sorry I wanted the fruit and my dress got wet.”

He blinked at her. “You’re…forgiven?”

“You’ve been grumpy toward me ever since it happened. So I’m sorry. Why I’m apologizing, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s that big of a deal, but since your ass is twisted and—”

“I….” He gripped the edge of the box and shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long week. Long day. It’s not you.”

She studied him a bit. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” His gaze moved lower, falling toward her lips, neck, chest. Instead of slashing brows and grumbling, he lingered. That was too weak of a word. He outright stared.

Against the rough fabric, weight filled in her breasts, the scratchy material hard against her sensitive nipples. His eyes widened ever so slightly at the corners. Lips parted, but he turned his head away with a clearing of his throat. “Doesn’t look like the rain is stopping anytime soon.”

What was that?

Other than the lump in her throat. She knew what she was thinking about. Unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. Peeling off the wet sleeves that were plastered against his sculpted arms and dropping them to the floor. Going for the buckle against his flat stomach.

But what was he thinking about?

That look on his face. Heat pooled through her veins. Had she imagined the heat of his gaze, the slight widening of his eyes? Or had he really stared at her with his lips slowly parting and breath deepening. It happened so fast. Maybe she was a little more see-through than she thought. And maybe he was open to more than a friendship as she’d hoped.

She glanced down the front of her and sighed. The dress was mostly dry, thanks to the protection of the coat, but the fit was loose. The weight of the material had stretched the neckline. The V-neck of the shirt was widened, the inside turns of her breasts were on clear display. Her shoulders dropped. It gaped a bit more and now the outer ring of a little nipple was playing peek-a-boo. She bit her lip.

She shouldn’t.

She was going to though. She just needed to know. Had to know. She rested an elbow on the table, swayed her back a touch and exaggerated the sagging of the material so just about all she had was on display. She followed his gaze to out the window and on the weather. “I think you’re right. Last I saw of the weather, it was a big system that was crossing over. Nothing nasty though. Just a spring drenching.”

“At least we’re out of it.” He reached in a nearby box and started digging around.

Not even a quick glance in her direction as he likely looked for the leftover cookies. She reached in another box, and when she pulled them out, his brows lifted and lips turned up in a grin as he took them.

She shook her head. This wasn’t going to work if he didn’t actually look at her. And what girl could compete with cookies the size of a salad plate? “Yeah. Until morning when I have to be at the diner.”

He pulled open the bag. “If someone had let me put up a simple carport by the back door, you wouldn’t have to worry about the rain.”

“Yeah, yeah. You do too much for me. I wasn’t having you build that too.”

“Someone needs to take care of you.” He offered the bag out to her, his gaze finally landing back on her and immediately his eyes fell back to her chest. He stopped with a cookie part way to his mouth and a thick swallow moved down his corded throat.

With a satisfied grin she took a cookie. “I take care of myself just fine.”

He blinked and sat back, shoving in the cookie and another just behind it and gulping them down nearly as fast. “Sure you do.”

She shook her head, biting off half her cookie and doing her best not to gloat. She didn’t know what was going on here. What possibilities there were, but she was liking the odds. “Most of the time.”

“You work hard and pick up your own rat traps, I’ll give you credit for those.”

Picking up dead pests. Not exactly the kind of admiration she hoped for, but something was better than nothing. “Thank you. Not much more a girl needs.”

Rain sheeted over the glass planes. He sat back in his chair, bag flopped over his belly while he worked through the assorted kinds, seemingly uncaring whether he grabbed a chocolate or a vanilla. Or even one of the meringues that was currently going in his mouth that she knew he didn’t like. He chewed it, swallowed, and went for another cookie without a blink. A chuckle started up, but she pressed her lips closed. Yes, something was absolutely happening here. She grabbed him a glass of milk from the refrigerator before he choked.

He nodded thanks, eyes firmly staring toward the windows. “
Gonna
need to mow the grass after all this.”

Back to the weather. He looked seconds from running out the door with his bouncing knees and restless hands working through cookies. With that in mind, she straightened her dress best she could. She didn’t want to scare him into leaving. When there was no hope of looking modest, she grabbed a dirty long sleeved shirt from the laundry room floor just off the kitchen and dropped it on over her dress. “Umm about the lawn mower…”

His brow lifted, head turned slightly, but he stopped his gaze. “Let me guess, your lawn mower won’t start?”

She moved through his eyesight, and there was no missing the deep breath he drew in. She sat at his elbow and gestured for the bag, picking out the meringue cookies. “No. It won’t do anything. No
clicky
turn over sound, not a whine. Nothing. Silence.”

He smiled and a small laugh skipped over his tongue. “I know. Your spark plug is bad. I already pulled it apart and had to order the new one. I almost ordered you a new riding mower, but figured you’d have my ass for that.”

“I’ve told you I don’t need a riding mower. That thing would probably take up more space than grass I have to mow.” She sat back and nibbled the last of her cookie, wishing things were different. Wishing he didn’t have to go home in a few minutes. Wishing she didn’t have to pretend there wasn’t this charged tension in the air. “You’re too good to me.”

“Nah. I was out of weed eater string. I was going to use your push mower to do the best I could when I found it wouldn’t start. Self-servicing in this case.”

“Either way, thank you. I really appreciate you helping me out like you do.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do when your boyfriend finally comes back. I’m not going to have anything to do.”

Not that he had anything to worry about there. She slouched in her kitchen chair, hugged her hands around her waist. He could take the truth way better than she was thinking. It was a stupid secret to make in the beginning. She knew it was stupid. He’d probably see it that way too. She just wanted more than what she had. So long as this secret was here, she’d never be able to move forward. Always stuck in place. Treading water. While everyone else around her got married, built houses. Did things with their lives.

She sat up in her chair and leaned on the table. A water ring was to the middle and she traced it. Round and round. The wood smooth under her fingertips. Could all her wishing for things to be different be a simple thing to take? “What if he never comes back?”

His eyes softened as patted her arm and gave her a comfortable squeeze. “He’s going to be fine. He’ll come home.”

Her eyes widened. Geez. Now he thought she worried he was going to die. Way to screw this up a little more. “No, I mean. What if he goes career in the military and he doesn’t want to come back home. Or if he found somewhere else to live he likes better?” Or someone…not that someone else was really a what if aspect anymore.
The Email of
Dooooom
had made that very clear.

The soothing caress of his thumb on her arm stilled for a moment. “Then he’s an even bigger jackass than I already think he is for not coming back for you.”

She lowered her gaze to the table. How far did she go? How far would her guts let her go? “Before he left, I should have seen that it wasn’t going to work out how I planned.”

“You couldn’t have known that.”

“I should have realized that long distance serious dating for a few years wasn’t going to work.” She shrugged, surprisingly calm. It actually felt good. “Who makes that work? Really. In his environment, surrounded by testosterone driven men who probably drink and party a lot when they’re not running their ass off in training. I was stupid to think he would remain faithful for longer than six weeks. Hell, a month.”

Trent put the cookies aside and watched her. “You’re making a lot of assumptions.”

“Am I?” This right here was why she didn’t like talking about Marc. He always pissed her off. Got her fingers curling in so tight they cramped. She wasn’t worried about Trent anymore. He’d surely see her side. Had to. Because now she was mad. And really, if Trent had to be talked into seeing her side, then he was no friend of hers. And Trent was her best friend. He would see. Just like Gretchen and Flora had seen. “I don’t think so.”

“Sounds to me like you’re tossing the beef without checking to see if the date is still good.”

She shook her head. “The date’s gone so bad on him, mold was growing a long time ago.”

“Tonya?” There was her name on his voice. But not how she liked it. This was full of concern and worry.

She looked up, leaned forward on her elbows, and raked her fingers through her hair. “We broke up.”

He started. “When?”

She hummed as she counted up the months. Nearly two years. Time flies when you put your head in the sand and surround yourself with work and distractions. “Going on about a year and a half now? About two months before you came to town.”

Trent got very still. “Funny since I think it was two
weeks
ago you mentioned getting a letter from him, with him saying the sun was hot in the desert.”

She rubbed at the drink ring again. Now that she thought of it, she got that damn ring because of Marc. Drunk herself to sleep with the aid of some frosted something that had been left to mark her damn table all night long. Now she hated him all over again. “I did. I lied.”