Sweet on You (The Wilde Sisters #1) (5 page)

“Spit it out, Bri,” Trent growled, picking up his beer bottle.

“Well, I guess there’s been some misunderstanding between you and Rayne. She seems to think that you are…that you and I are…” Brian shifted on his feet, made a flailing motion with his hands, and then shoved them in his pockets. “That, well, that you play for the other team.”

Trent choked on his beer. “I love women. I’ve had lots and lots of sex with lots and lots of women. Why the hell would she think that? What did you tell her?”

“I, uh, didn’t tell her anything. I ran into her at the grocery store yesterday and she said…some stuff. Before I could correct her she left.”

“You couldn’t say, ‘No, Trent’s not gay. He’s a freakin’ stud’?”

“Um, saying something like that, well, coming from me, would not really help our cause.”

“Who’s the muscle?”

“Her boyfriend?”

“No.” Trent shook his head. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend. Or didn’t last week.”

“They were talking babies and crap inside. Well, he was. Kevin said he—”

“Damn. Stay here.” He shoved the tongs and his beer at Brian. “Don’t burn my freakin’ chicken.”

Trent stormed in the house and zeroed in on Rayne. Cote and Thomas were flirting shamelessly with her and Claire in the kitchen. Not caring how cavemanish he looked, he grabbed Rayne by the arm and pulled her down the hall. “Come with me. Now.”

Shoving open his bedroom door, he pulled Rayne inside, slamming it behind her, then stalked up to her, pinning her to the wall with his body. Almost. He didn’t dare touch her. But he had to fix this mess.

“Trent, what’s wrong? You look…” She reached up to touch his face but he grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the wall above her head. Her gasp turned him on far more than it should have. He braced himself, propping his body away from hers.

“I…” he crushed his mouth to hers quickly, “…am not…” he whispered now, staring down at her pink, wet lips, and slowly brushed them with his mouth. “Gay.” He opened his mouth and prayed to God she would let him in. No coaxing necessary. Rayne opened up and gave him free rein.

It was true bliss. Strawberries and cream. He licked her, played with her, and she gave as much as she took. Her free hand fisted his shirt and pulled him closer. Damn. He could do this all day. The bed was five steps behind him. He knew he could dance her over, lay her down, and strip her of her tight denim shorts and sexy-as-sin red tank top. And she’d love every minute of it.

Someone moaned.

Rayne Wilde had lips and a body that were meant for loving—but no, Rayne Wilde was made for more than that. For true love. White knight. House. Kids. Promises. Trent was none of those things and he respected her too much to pretend otherwise. And making out with her like a dog in heat would only fill her head with romantic thoughts. And Trent was anything but romantic. And the exact opposite of relationship material.
Damn.
She molded her body to his, asking—hell, begging—for him to give her more. Rayne didn’t deserve this. He couldn’t let her think the kiss was anything more than a point being proven. Next thing he knew she’d be picking out flowers for the wedding.

Reluctantly, Trent pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers. “Clear?”

“Wow.” Her milk chocolate eyes darkened, and he imagined what they’d look like if he touched more than just her lips.

Yeah, totally shouldn’t have done that. She wanted a husband and kids. Badly. And she had a guy in the other room who was probably willing to give her a multitude of babies and the American Dream.

“I’m not, never have been, and never will be. Got it?”

“Hmm?”

“Gay. I’m not gay.”

“What?” She seemed to wake up now. Loosening her grip on his shirt, she tried to step back, but the wall prevented her from moving.

Realizing he had her trapped, Trent moved away, allowing her some room.

“You’re not gay?”

Trent rubbed both hands up and down his face. “Not even close. Why the hell would you think that?”

If he could only read the thoughts going on in that sexy mind of hers.

“But…Zumba?”

“Zumba? Zumba made you think I was gay?”

“No, well, yeah.” She pulled her hands through her hair—which she wore down, and damn if he didn’t find that sexy—and sighed. “The only men who have ever taken my class have been…gay.”

“We’ve been friends for over a month, talk almost every day, hang out a few times a week, and you hadn’t figured out that I’m not?”

“Well.” She was flustered and adorable, her lips begging to be kissed again. “Then there was Faith.”

“Faith told you I was gay?”

Rayne laughed. “No.” She relaxed a little and finally made eye contact. Damn those silky eyes. They made him think of erotic images of chocolate sauce and sweet whipped cream and all the wonderful ways he and Rayne could experiment and play with. “Brian came in with her and you two seemed so sweet together with the baby. And she looks like him and also like you…I know that doesn’t make sense. She couldn’t obviously be both of yours but it’s clear how much you both love her and each other.”

“Faith is my niece, my only relative other than Claire, and I love her dearly. Brian, well, yeah, I love him in the brother way, not…” He gestured with his hand.

“And you dismiss the looks and pick-up lines from so many women like they mean nothing to you. It’s like you’re embarrassed because they don’t know your secret. And the way you treat me…our friendship. You’ve never treated me like a piece of meat, or like you were trying to get in my pants. I thought you actually wanted to be…friends.”

Trent cursed. Friends. The worst F word in the dictionary. She wanted his friendship and so she’d have it. Obviously hurt after years of being raked over the coals by so many men, she didn’t need him pawing at her.

“Definitely friends, Rayne. Always friends. I’m sorry I kissed you. I shouldn’t have. I just…needed you to know that I’m not...gay. It won’t happen again. We’re cool, right?”

***

Rayne

She nodded.

And then the door burst open.

“Kip, sorry I tried to stop her—” Brian called from the hallway.

“Trent, honey! I’m here. I’m so sorry I’m late. I didn’t think I’d ever get away from my sister’s bridal shower.” A beautiful, tall, dark-haired woman waltzed into Trent’s bedroom as if she owned the place and kissed him square on the lips. On the same lips that had, not five minutes ago, been making sweet, magical music with her mouth. The same lips that made her lady parts sing and dance and come alive.

“Katrina,” Trent said.

“Trent, sorry, man. I tried to warn her—”

“Oh, please, Brandon.”

“Brian.”

“Brian, whatever. I know my way around here.”

Seeming quite uncomfortable, Trent introduced them. “Katrina, this is Rayne. Rayne, Katrina.”

“Uh, nice to meet you?” Rayne said, not sure of this woman’s role in Trent’s life. He never mentioned her before. Of course, she could be the pot calling the kettle black, but she had mentioned Kevin to him.

“Rain? As in
Rain, rain, go away
?” Katrina laughed condescendingly.

Rayne’s chest tightened and a weight pulled at her center of gravity, nearly causing her to double over in pain. Reaching down deep for the miniscule amount of dignity she had left, she smiled. “I, uh…I’ll leave you two.”

He didn’t try to stop her when she fled down the hall and into the guest bathroom, and that hurt just as much as seeing the beautiful woman who appeared too comfortable in his bedroom.

It didn’t make any sense. If Trent wasn’t gay, then why hadn’t he hit on her? Because he already had a girlfriend, Katrina. But that kiss, oh, that kiss was deeper and more sensual than one she’d ever experienced before. He wouldn’t kiss her like that if he and Katrina were an item. Would he?

They’d spent countless hours walking, running, talking, laughing, going out to eat, doing fun stuff, and never once had he made a sexy remark, stared at her boobs—granted, they were tiny, but still—made a pass, kiss her other than on her cheek…he never, ever, ever hit on her and that truly hurt.

The kiss in his bedroom nearly melted her kneecaps. Thank God she had his shirt to hold onto or she would have fallen over. He kissed her like a man—not a gay man—who was attracted—at least a little—to a woman. He kissed her like he enjoyed it, the moans coming not only from her but from Trent as well. Obviously she misread those cues too.

As usual. Typical Rayne Wilde making something more of a situation than there was. This was why she was no good at relationships. In her book, a kiss like that meant happily ever after. Okay, maybe she had been a bit presumptuous in her interpretations in the past, but that kiss was…wow.

If Trent kissed every woman like that, then she could understand why so many fell at his feet. Well, that and his scruffy good looks. And hot body. And killer smile. And funny personality. Other than that, Trent Kipson was a dog.

Rayne stared at her pale reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Get a grip, Rayne!
Her eyes weren’t red; she hadn’t had time to cry about it. And she definitely hadn’t had time to figure out what
it
would be. Crying about an amazing kiss that would go nowhere? Crying over the fact that the man of her dreams was not gay and not interested in her? Crying about Hurricane Katrina who was most likely doing the nasty with her One True Love? No, no. Nothing to cry about at all.

Rayne splashed water on her face, plastered on a fake smile, and stepped out of the bathroom, shoulders back, head high. The first person she saw was Claire, and the sympathy in her eyes nearly made the waterworks start to flow. No, she was strong and had years of experience in handling rejection.

“Hey, sweetie,” Claire said, rubbing a reassuring hand up her arm. “You okay?”

“Me? Of course.” Rayne laughed. “That was quite a misunderstanding. I must have really wounded his ego. I’m really embarrassed. Oh well. No harm, no foul, right? So let me guess, you and Brian are married?”

Claire nodded.

“How did Brian take it? Me thinking he was gay?” Better to laugh at the situation than think about what it all meant.

A sly smile erupted from Claire’s lips. “When it was just about Trent, he thought it was hilarious. Couldn’t stop laughing when he returned from the grocery store last night. When I pointed out that you must have thought he was Trent’s boy toy…well, that wasn’t so funny.” Claire laughed.

If she hadn’t been so coldly rejected five minutes ago by the love of her life, she too would view the situation as a little funny.

“There you are, babe,” Kevin said as he set his empty beer bottle on the counter. “Hey, so, Curtis texted me about some arm wrestling tournament at Breakers. Grand prize is five hundred bucks. I’ve got this one nailed.” He pulled up his shirtsleeve, flexed, and kissed the mountain peak on his bicep.

“Uh, yeah. Totally, Kev.”

“Knew you’d understand. The bar’s a few blocks from here. I’m gonna walk down, loosen up a little. You can come cheer me on when you’re done here. You don’t mind, do you?”

Aware of Brian’s, and now Trent and Katrina’s, presence behind her, she plastered on another fake smile. “Oh, gosh, Kev. This is a great opportunity. I don’t want to miss a thing. I’ll go with you.” Opportunity, her ass. It was the perfect excuse to rush out of Trent’s house before she lost all self-control.

She turned to everyone in the room, thanked them for a lovely time, and quickly headed out the door before anyone could object. Thankful that she had insisted on driving—more so because she knew Kevin would end up drinking himself stupid—Rayne slid behind the wheel of her car and fought back tears.

She pulled up to the curb in front of the bar. “I’m really not feeling well. Why don’t you go in, have some fun and call me tomorrow. Let me know how it goes?”

“Yeah, sure thing, babe.” He leaned over the console and kissed her on the lips. It felt like cold stone. Not the soft, warm, melt-in-your-mouth kisses that Trent gave her not long ago.

There was definitely no future in sight with Kevin; she’d break it to him easily. Turning thirty-five, which was old in the bodybuilding world, made him
think
he needed a wife and kids. Not that he desired them, but he thought it would be good for his image now that he was moving up in age. Four months ago she thought it sweet that he chose her to bear his children and take on his name, even though she had reservations about becoming Mrs. Kevin Magoo. She couldn’t imagine the taunting he got in school. Maybe that was why he turned to weight lifting and bodybuilding. Their relationship never turned too serious, so she’d never know.

Yet she had been willing to marry the man, pop out monstrous-size babies, no doubt, and didn’t know a thing about him. He didn’t know nearly as much about her as Trent did. She never told Kevin about her childhood obesity. That would have been a sure turn-off. Maybe she’d wave that red flag under his nose if he came back around asking her to be Mrs. Babymaker Magoo.

Her gas tank and heart were both nearly empty. It sure wasn’t the night she had anticipated. But what did she expect? Realizing she completely missed dinner, she pulled up to a drive-thru and ordered a cheeseburger and fries. The last time she’d done that she was one hundred pounds heavier and living a depressing life. When she got home she took two bites of the greasy burger, swiped three fries through a gallon of ketchup, and dumped the rest in the trash.