Chasing Forever, page 16
“I won’t lose her for them.”
And there it is. The first time I’ve said it out loud. I’m sure there are things Ben knows. He overheard the screaming when I got in trouble in high school. Even now, he knows my humor in uncomfortable situations is a defense mechanism.
“Whatever you need, I’m here.”
“I just… they’re assholes, yeah, but to walk away…”
He puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’s not easy, and I can’t say I understand, but if you love her, and she’s it for you, you have a tough choice to make. Maybe they’ll surprise you.”
“They won’t.” I frown.
They’ve never surprised me. Unless Lottie could help them get something they want, they’ll never come around.
“I’m sorry, man. You finally get everything you’ve wanted, and you have to deal with this.”
I don’t tell Ben it’s an easier decision than he probably thinks. But that doesn’t mean I have to feel good about it, even if my parents have done nothing but cause me grief my entire life.
Lottie dances over, her eyes only on me, which pulls a smile from me. “Come on, dance with your wife.”
As I allow her to drag me to the dance floor, I catch Ben’s raised eyebrows. We both know it’s Lottie over my parents every day of the week. But pulling that cord is harder than I thought it would be. I can see them doing something rash that might make me end up losing her. Which is the one thing I’ll never survive.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Brooks
Wednesday evening, I’m cruising down Main Street when I spot Lottie coming out of Laurel’s bakery with a box in hand. I tap the siren quick so it squawks, and I pull into the spot beside her car.
She turns and smiles as if she already knew it was me. She better have assumed it was me.
Her happy expression makes my night.
The problem is, now everyone getting off work or heading to dinner turns to look too. My tiny show of affection just bought us an audience I’m not sure she’s ready for.
I roll down the window as she steps over. God, she looks good. I wish I was off work already.
“This is a nice surprise,” I say.
She lifts the box a little. “I had to pick up the cookies for the store.”
“Do you need a lift? You can ride in the back.” I nod toward the cage, teasing her.
She checks out the back seat and shakes her head. “I have my car here, but if you promise to use those handcuffs, I might change my mind.”
I grin. “You say the word, and I’ll bring them home.”
Home. That word might scare her. But I can’t stop the image that comes to mind. Her shoes next to mine at the door, me pouring her a coffee before she goes to work, waking up to her body curled against mine in bed.
Then again, we haven’t slept together yet. We have a long way to go before we get to any of that.
“Maybe we’ll incorporate them and a little role play at some point,” she says, leaning closer.
I track her gaze when she glances around. We’re not exactly in private.
“I assume I can’t kiss you.”
“Are you allowed to kiss me in uniform?” she asks.
I wrap my hand gently around the back of her neck, my thumb brushing behind her ear, and bring her mouth to mine. “That’s not going to stop me from kissing my girl.”
I bring her mouth to mine, and I almost nut when she slips her tongue between my lips, as if she’s claiming me for everyone around to witness. Damn, it’s hot.
“In the town square,” a woman mutters from the sidewalk as she walks by.
I glance past her. Mrs. Little, my third-grade teacher. She never liked me anyway.
I mutter the code for meal break into my radio. “Can I take you to dinner?”
“Now?”
“Yeah.”
“Does it count as a date?”
I start rolling up the window. If she wants it to count, it counts. If she doesn’t, I’m still taking her out. I climb out, and she tilts her head to look at me.
“I think I’d term it an impromptu meeting,” I say.
She laughs and lets it slide. I love when she’s stubborn until she’s not.
“Put those cookies in your car, and then I’m taking you to The Sprout House.”
“Oh, yummy,” she says, unlocking the door to her SUV and doing just that.
My chest swells with satisfaction at her giddiness because I know she loves the chicken sandwich there, and I’m making her happy.
“How long is your dinner break?” she asks.
“An hour.”
She slides her arm through mine and curls her body against me. “We could do a lot of stuff in an hour.” She waggles her eyebrows.
I chuckle, but I don’t play back this time. I lean in a little. “Not tonight. I’m going to taste every inch of you the first time I have you naked.”
Her breath catches. Her body stiffens for half a second—then melts into mine again. And now all I can think about is her under me and moaning my name.
I could take her home now, but I don’t want our first time to be rushed. I don’t want her slipping back to her place afterward. I want her in my bed for the entire night. In the morning, I want her walking downstairs in my T-shirt, smirking over what I did to her the night before. Hell, I’d take her on the kitchen table. Maybe in the shower too.
“So, you’re good with this?” I ask, dragging myself out of the fantasy. If she only knew what I was picturing.
“What?”
“Walking with me. People knowing.” I nod at our surroundings.
“I think everyone already does know.” She looks around, noticing the lingering stares.
But none of them are mean. No whispers, no glares. Mostly smiles. Willowbrook loves gossip, but they enjoy a love story more.
“They know we’re married but not together.”
She laughs and leans her head on my shoulder. “The irony, right? I guess we’ll have to talk about that at some point. Do I only have so many days to change my name?”
Thinking about her sharing my name spurs a caveman response and it’s like she’s flipped a switch—I need to have her now. I groan and slide my hand into hers, tugging her faster down the sidewalk.
“Where are we going?” she asks, her steps trying to match mine.
I don’t even think. I just take her hand and lead her around the back of the buildings, cutting through the narrow walkway until we’re hidden in the alley. She follows without asking any questions.
The second we’re out of view, I press her against the brick wall and kiss her, all the desperation inside me that never gets enough of her coming through.
My mouth drops to her neck, to that spot just beneath her ear, and she gasps. My breath is ragged, and I don’t bother hiding how much I want her.
“I want to fuck you so bad.”
“I don’t think an officer of the law is supposed to be naked in an alley.”
Her voice has a breathy lilt to it, teasing and turned on, and I only grow harder. I push my thigh between her legs, right up to her center. She clings to me, and fuck me, I feel the heat of her through her shorts when she grinds against me.
Her arms loop around my shoulders, her body grinding down on my leg.
“I want to see you come.”
Again, she rolls her hips, slow at first, then more urgent. Her breath hitches with each grind, her nails digging into my shirt, fixing herself to get the friction she needs to get off.
I can’t strip my gaze from her. The way she moves, the way her body knows what it needs. The way she takes it from me is the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
I find her mouth again, kissing her deep and messy. I groan into her mouth. “That’s it, baby. Take what you need.”
And she fucking does. My thigh tenses instinctively beneath her, and she grinds harder, breathless and wild.
Her voice cracks. “Brooks—”
“Let go for me.”
I keep my eyes on her as her head falls back, her mouth parts, and her whole body pulses against me. She comes, right here in the alley, clinging to me as though I’m the only thing keeping her from not collapsing to the ground.
I don’t move. I let her ride out her orgasm, keeping my thigh in place, pressing soft kisses to her mouth, her cheek, her temple.
She laughs quietly, still catching her breath. “Holy shit. I hope no one saw us.”
“Work up an appetite?” I say, not even acknowledging the possibility that someone did. Because if they did? I don’t give a damn.
She eyes me. “What about you?” Her hand slides between us, her palm rubbing my dick.
I grab her wrist and shift my stance. “If you touch me right now, I’m going to embarrass myself.”
She laughs. “But—”
“Come on. I’m down to forty-five minutes now.”
As we walk out of the alley, hand in hand, she murmurs, “I’m going to reciprocate this weekend.”
“And you won’t hear any objections from me. Right now, let me get you fed.”
Her hand stays in mine as we cross the street, and I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. Her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are swollen. I know exactly what she’s thinking about because I’m thinking about it too.
She just came on my leg. In public. In an alley. And I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way her body ground down on mine, her labored breaths, and the way she whispered my name.
We’re almost to The Sprout House when my steps slow, and the air shifts around us.
My parents are talking to some couple on the sidewalk across the street. My dad is too wrapped up in conversation to notice us. But my mom? Her eyes snap to us. Her gaze drops to our linked hands and lingers. Her polite smile falters, judgment written all over her face.
Lottie leans toward me and whispers, “I’m starving.” She must not see them because I’m blocking her. Good. I’d like to keep it that way.
I squeeze her hand tighter and angle my body to make sure she doesn’t see them. Tonight is not getting ruined because of them.
My mom doesn’t look away. Not even as I pull open the restaurant door and place my hand on the small of Lottie’s back to guide her inside.
Let her look. Maybe she’ll finally realize I’m not messing around. Lottie is my future.
Chapter Thirty
Lottie
It’s Saturday morning, and I’m pacing around like a teenager crushing on her older brother’s best friend, pretending I’m not waiting for him to show up or checking the clock every two minutes.
I glance at the time again. Eight thirty. This is usually when Brooks comes in. My pulse skips, and I hate how hopeful I feel. Hope has been such a foreign emotion to me for well over a decade that it’s hard to be comfortable with it when it wells up inside me.
To distract myself, I head into the backroom, pretending to check off my to-do list. But then the door chime rings.
I spin back around as if I haven’t been counting the seconds since I got into my vehicle after dinner and messing around in downtown Willowbrook last night. And there he is, strolling in as though he doesn’t have a clue that he’s completely unraveled me. As if he’s oblivious that I’m falling for him.
“How’s my girl this morn—”
I don’t let him finish. I walk straight over, throw my arms around his neck, and kiss him. I kiss him the way I’ve needed to since we walked out of that alley last night. Picking us up right where we left off.
Brooks doesn’t hesitate. He steps us back, his hands settling on my hips, then slipping lower until he lifts me onto the counter as if I weigh nothing. His fingers dig into me just enough to make my breath catch, just enough to say he’s missed me too.
The kiss is slow but full of purpose. A push and pull, a give and take—we’re figuring each other out, but somehow it already feels like second nature.
When he pulls away, I lean forward instinctively, chasing more.
“I’ve been so stupid,” I murmur, brushing my mouth along the scruff on his jaw, willing him to stay right here with me forever.
Because I think I could love him. I push away the fear that chokes the breath from me with that thought. If I love him, I’m handing him the power to destroy me, and the last time I did that with a man, he left me in tatters.
“What are you talking about?” he asks with a low chuckle. His hands trail up and down my thighs as though he can’t bear to not touch me.
And God, I love that. I love the way he touches me. Both like I’m something delicate to be treasured and something he so desperately wants to manhandle.
“All these years you’ve been coming in for coffee, and I’ve been pushing you away. We could have had this.” I motion between us, my voice full of regret. “This is really good.”
I lean in for another kiss because I can’t help it. I want to memorize the way he tastes, the way his breath feels against me.
He meets me halfway, and this kiss is even deeper—sweeter, like a promise. When he finally pulls back, I swear I’m trembling.
His smile is dazzling. That’s the only word I can think of to describe it. “Does all this mean I can squeeze another date in?”
I slide off the counter, still breathless, and he helps me down, giving my ass a soft smack as though he knows I’m his.
“What are you thinking?” I head behind the counter to make his coffee, needing something to do with my hands before I start working his utility belt off him.
“I’d like a pottery lesson.”
I freeze for half a second, then reach for the pot. “Um…” I pour his cup slowly, heart thudding. “Let me guess, the Ghost scene?”
“Obviously.”
I grab the creamer and sugar from the fridge and smirk over my shoulder. “Of course.”
“Isn’t that the whole reason you got into pottery?”
I scribble on his cup and turn around to slide it to him, barely containing my smile. “Yes, that’s the entire reason.”
Not that he’s wrong. Every potter’s imagined that scene at least once.
Brooks looks at the cup and frowns a little, curious.
“It was his character’s name. I’m guessing you weren’t paying attention to that movie except for that scene?”
He sips his coffee and licks his bottom lip, and I swear I nearly combust. “Maybe we can watch it together since I didn’t know Sam Wheat was Patrick Swayze’s character. I think one of us has watched it a lot more than the other.” He taps the little time I wrote on the cup. “I’ll be there.”
I can’t resist circling the counter again. Now that I’ve opened myself to the possibility of something more between us, I kiss him quick but greedy because I don’t want to hold back. He’s become the best part of my day.
“I’ll walk you out,” I say, even though I’m not ready to let him go.
His radio crackles and ruins the fantasy. “I wish I could stay here all day. Maybe I’ll stop in for lunch if I have time.” We stop at the front door, and he pulls me in close, arm around my waist, mouth brushing mine. “I’ll be waiting until tonight.”
And I believe him. Because I’ll be waiting too.
One more kiss, and he’s gone, walking toward his squad car as if he didn’t just wreck me for the rest of the day.
“Man, how the tables have turned,” Bennett says, coming around the corner with a bucket of flowers. He waves at Brooks. “Flowers from The Perfect Petal. Apparently, I’m errand boy now.”
We step back into The Harvest Depot, and my morning rendezvous with Brooks stretches through my mind, warm and comforting.
And just like that, I miss him.
Already.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Chapter Thirty-One
Lottie
It’s during the lull after the lunchtime rush when the bell chimes at the front door.
Saylor is helping me put away all the sandwich fixings, so I tell her I’ll go out front and check on the customers coming in, but as soon as I walk through the doorway to the store, I come to a complete stop.
Brooks’s mom is perusing the shelves, and I take a moment to watch her. She picks up one of my mugs, winces, and puts it back down. Her purse hangs off the crook of her arm, probably designer. It’s paired expertly with her ankle-length slacks and ballet flats. She doesn’t look as if she belongs in Willowbrook, but that’s always been our problem. She doesn’t think she belongs here and believes she’s better than me.
Her gaze lifts, and she tilts her head when she spots me. “Lottie.”
My name sounds like it’s hard for her to get out.
“Mrs. Watson.” I push off the door, smacking on a smile. After all, if I want this thing with Brooks to go the way I do, I’ll need her approval. Or some semblance of it. “Nice to see you.”
She makes a sound that implies it’s not nice to see me, which makes me wonder why she’s even here. That sound alone causes me to brace for the punch in the gut she’s an expert at delivering.
“I haven’t been here in so long, I figured I’d pop in. It’s so charming that not much has changed.”
I don’t let my smile falter, even though I want to rattle off all the things I’ve changed since being put in charge of the store. The shelves I chose, the products I’ve curated, they’ve turned this store from country bumpkin to Instagram-worthy. But the pride I usually feel here shrinks and shrivels up under her scrutiny.
“Can I help you find something?”
Another one of her noises suggests this is all a ploy. Her arrow is already notched, and her aim will be precise. “You and Brooks really should show more discretion.”
“I’m sorry?” I clasp my hands behind my back to hide the fact that they’re trembling. Glancing toward the backroom, I beg the universe to send Saylor to my rescue. I’m ready to tag team out.
“I heard you were over at his house, and Deputy Moore was embarrassed when he clearly interrupted something. Saw you two fawning over each other on the sidewalk last night as well.”
