Timing (212 page)

through my hair before crossing to the dresser to find a new shirt. I had

to get out of there, go somewhere and drink, find somebody, and get

laid. If I stayed, I would just climb the walls.

“Stefan!”

I didn’t answer.

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Another call came through the door after more knocking, which I

ignored.

“Stefan!” he yelled for the third time.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t say ‘yeah’!” he yelled. “Open the goddamn door!”

“Fuck you, Rand!”

Momentary silence before his voice softened. He was right up

against the door. “Lemme in, please.”

“Screw you!”

“Please, Stef.”

“What the fuck is going on with you? Are you fucking with me

on a bet?”

“No.” His voice cracked, lowered. “Please just open the door.”

“I’m goin’ out. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You are not going out… no fuckin’ way.”

Obviously the man had lost his mind. “Are you high?” I asked as

I opened the door.

He nearly fell in on me.

“What are you doing?” I snapped at him, shifting to take a step

back to give him room.

He grabbed hold of my bicep to still my movement. “I was an

idiot. Forgive me.”

“Which time?” I barked back, peeling his hand off me, shoving

him away.

“You’re really mad, huh?” he asked, closing and locking the door

behind him.

“Now what the fuck are you doing? I’m going out,” I announced,

moving around him to reach the door.

He stepped in front of me.

“Move.”

He blocked my exit, arms spread. “I need you here, Stef. Right

here.”

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63

I knew the look. Charlotte had the same one. He wasn’t going to

move without a fight.

Throwing up my hands, I pivoted around and went back to the

dresser. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s true.”

I took deep breaths, calming as I looked for the shirt that would

get me laid. “Can you please just tell me what the fuck is wrong with

you?”

There was no sound.

“You’re never hot and cold, you’re usually just cold.”

“I know,” he breathed out. “I work at it.”

Whatever the hell that meant. “Is there something going on at

home? Is the ranch in trouble?”

“No.”

I looked back over my shoulder at him. “Then what is it?”

He crossed the room to stand close to me. “What are you looking

for?”

“A new shirt.”

“Why? I already told you you’re not going anywhere.”

I exhaled sharply and turned to look at him as he leaned on the

dresser. “Is the wedding bumming you out? Are you thinking about

when you were married?”

“No, but Jesus, your mind goes a lotta places, huh?”

I squinted at him.

“I like you worrying about me.”

“Why?”

“Just do.”

“Please, Rand.” I sighed, at a loss as to what was going on. “What

are you worried about?”

“I’m not worried,” he said flatly. “I just have a problem.” His

eyes were so dark, studying me.

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“You’re drivin’ me nuts. Either tell me or get the fuck out.”

“You are a heartless creature, Stefan Joss.”

I grunted, pulling out a tight, black short-sleeved shirt, ready to

put it on. “It’s true.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, snatching the shirt away, balling it up and

throwing it on the bed.

I tilted my head as I looked at him. “Just tell me what’s wrong

and I’ll fix it.”

His smile was instant, and it warmed his eyes, made them look

like melting jewels. “You can do that, can you? Fix whatever ails me?”

“I just want to help if I can.”

“All right.”

Pleased that he had finally agreed, I crossed back to the bed to

retrieve my shirt. I didn’t expect to be shoved from behind so I went

facedown onto the quilt.

“Better.”

I rolled over on my back to look up at him. “What the fuck?”

“Oh.” He swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw working. “Look

at your eyes.”

My eyes… my brain stumbled. He was not playing by our

rulebook, and I was at a loss as to what was going on in his head.

“Come here,” he said, one knee on the bed as he reached for me.

“Oh shit.” I jerked to my feet, his chin colliding with my chest as

I scrambled off the bed, moving faster than I had thought I could.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He was smiling, and I saw how big and wide it was as he moved

his jaw and rubbed where I’d clipped it.

I backed away, not taking my eyes off him. “Rand?”

His turquoise eyes were so dark they looked wet, the smile had

become very sexy, and the way his eyes raked over me from head to

toe… what the hell? Had I missed that he was drunk? “Rand, are you

drunk?”

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65

He motioned me to him. “I’m so tired of fighting… just c’mere.”

“Are you stoned?” Maybe he was stoned.

He shook his head. “Please come here.”

“Rand,” I said, feeling somehow naked standing there in just my

jeans. “Do you have any idea what you’re do––”

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

But I didn’t think he did. “Rand, I think you need to sit down.”

“That ain’t what I need,” he chuckled.

“Are you serious?” I blurted out as he rose off the bed and started

toward me.

“I don’t know. I don’t know about anything right now. All I do

know is that I need you so I won’t feel like this no more. I’m so sick of

feeling like this.”

Wait. What? “I’m sorry, what?”

He laughed softly. “You heard me.”

“No, I don’t think I did,” I assured him. “See, because for starters,

you’re straight.”

He nodded. “I am straight, with one seemingly very large

exception.”

I shook my head. “Listen, if you need to experiment, you––”

“It’s not an experiment.”

“That’s bullshit. How could it be anything else but––”

“’Cause of how I feel.”

He looked absolutely miserable and happy all at the same time.

What in the world was going on? How could I have missed all this?

“Ask me how I feel.”

“I… okay. How do you feel?”

“Sick,” he confessed, reaching for me, lifting his hand to place his

palm over my heart. “Every time I met some new guy you were

fuckin’, every time I saw you leave with somebody as I came in, every

time… it killed me. I remember at Charlotte’s graduation party, you

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were dancing with your boyfriend, some guy you dumped like a month

later, but that night… I was so fuckin’ jealous of him that night ’cause

you were all over him and it made me sick. It’s been killing me since

that first day when I walked in and you looked up at me and it was like

I got hit by lightening.”

I was stunned. What could I say? I thought he hated me. I had

always thought he hated me.

“The way you smiled that day was… but I was scared, so scared,

and you were young, Stef, but so was I,” he flared, irritated at me. “You

forget that I was young too.”

“Rand, what are you––”

“I was only twenty-one, and I… I mean, how could I want you

and still be me? There was no way.”

My mind worked fast. “So you insulted me.”

He nodded. “It was easy.”

It had been easy, and I could own that piece years later. “I used to

be hotheaded.”

“You still are.”

It was true.

“But then I wanted to fix it, but you wouldn’t even talk to me, and

then after a few years, you stopped even seeing me. Now it’s like I’m a

ghost.”

“I ignore you.”

“You try to.”

“You make it hard,” I conceded. He was always such an ass to

me, almost like he went out of his way to get in his digs.

“I try my damndest.”

“What are you talking about?”

He was silent, his eyes locked on mine.

At once, I understood. “All those times we… you… you did that

on purpose? You picked those fights deliberately?”

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67

He gave me a quick shrug. “If you were pissed at me, I knew you

still cared enough to be mad. At least it was somethin’.”

The confession left me reeling. Ten years of guerilla warfare with

Rand Holloway and I had been the only one really fighting? “I don’t

know what to––”

“You know Charlotte used to come home and talk about you and

all the men in and out of your bed, and I’d think how lucky I was that I

didn’t ever get near you.”

My track record was bad, there was no denying it. I changed men

like I changed clothes; the second they became clinging, I needed air.

“But how you are with Char, how loyal you are, what she tells me

you’re like with your friends… I know how you really are, Stef. I’ve

seen your heart in the way you are with her and with my Mom. I see

you.”

Shit.

“And the way you look at me with those eyes of yours just about

burns me up.”

I had no idea what I was supposed to say.

“When you’re really mad,” he said, smiling sheepishly, raking his

fingers through his thick hair, “your eyes get this color green that”—

quick breath—“it’s really somethin’, is all.”

What was something was that he was nervous, really nervous, and

I was the cause.

“Fighting with you was all I had, you know?”

He had deliberately fought with me, antagonized me, and picked

apart me and everything I did. The battles we had waged over the years,

the words that had flown between us and the insults hurled, I had to

wonder about the man. How had he always been able to push my

buttons? I never got mad at anyone the way I did Rand Holloway.

Maybe there was a reason?

“I know I should have told you all this before now,” he sighed,

fiddling with my hair, curling a long piece around my ear. “But you’re

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not the easiest person in the world to talk to.” The back of his fingers

ran up my throat under my chin. “And besides… you hate me.”

I took a step back and bumped into the wall behind me. I had

thought to move beyond his reach, to get his hand to slide off me, but

he wasn’t having it.

“Look at you all flustered.” He smiled down into my eyes.

Again I tried to lean out of his touch, but he fisted his hand in my

hair. It was way too long, hitting my shoulders, but at that moment I

was so glad.

“I always wanted to do this, put my hands in your hair.”

My heart hurt.

He ran his hands down my chest. “And touch your skin.”

I had to try and breathe. “Rand––”

“You sound like you’re dying.”

“I just––”

“You know how sick I am of watching other people touch you?”

I was silent.

“Charlotte and Ben and all the girls downstairs, everybody wants

to touch you all the time. I’m the only one who can’t when I want to be

the only one that can.”

The shudder tore through me, and I couldn’t stop it.

“Kiss me,” he said, his eyes locked on mine, absorbing me. “Just

once. If it’s bad, if I freak out or if you do… fine, we’ll forget all this.”

It wasn’t a good idea.

“Come on, you have nothing to lose.”

“I have you to lose, and I just got you,” I confessed, terrified.

“You’ll never lose me, I swear.”

His hand slid around the nape of my neck, and I felt the strong

fingers massaging gently as he eased me forward. His mouth hovered

over mine, and I heard his sharp intake of breath before he pressed the

length of his body against me.

“Kiss me.” His breath ghosted over my face.

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69

I leaned in and plastered my mouth to his, harder and faster than I

ever had before, trying to show him how fierce and grinding it was to

kiss a man in comparison to the softness of kissing a woman. But he

knew, somehow he knew what I was up to; his smile told me so, as

well as the long, contented sigh. When his lips parted over mine, his

tongue gliding into my mouth, his hands clutching at my skin, my legs

nearly went out on me. I had never been kissed with so much yearning

and so much heat. His kiss sent shivers rippling through me, making

me tremble in his arms.

“I knew you would taste good,” his voice rumbled in his chest.

“And I knew kissing you would feel right.”

“Then kiss me again,” I urged him without thinking.

The second kiss was devouring, and I gave as good as I got,

licking, biting, sucking, not letting him go, not letting him breathe. I

felt his hand slide down the front of my jeans, under the waistband of

my briefs, and fist around my hard, throbbing cock. I broke the kiss

then as electricity tore through me, needing air, needing to get my

bearings. He tried to follow me as I pulled back, but I reached up and

put a hand on his collarbone.