Broken Ground: (Broken Series Book 1) (20 page)

Neither of us spoke for a while, both looking at the crumpled photo. When I could find my voice, I caught her eye and held it, wanting so much to make this better. For her. For Ali. For me. "I used to carry around a picture waiting for that day, the day that it wouldn't hurt to look at it." I didn't know where the admission came from. I hadn't intended to say anything but it just spilled out in a small voice I almost didn't recognize as my own.

"What happened to it?" Talia's voice was soft, filled with compassion.

"I gave up on it, packed it away and buried it in the back of the closet. I wasn't as strong as you. I let the pain win." It came out as a whisper, the words barely able to push past the lump in my throat. My chest ached so deeply, that I found myself absently rubbing at it, as if to alleviate the pain.

She returned her gaze to the picture. "I'm not sure how strong I am. If it weren't for Ali, I'd have given up too." She tucked it back under the pillow and turned to me. "But I'm still fighting, still making progress even if it's just a little. Moving forward is moving forward, whether you sprint or crawl." That last part seemed more for me than for her. She blinked back her tears and stood, switching gears and changing the subject. "I better find my keys and get a move on. I'm going to be late."

Still kneeling in front of the nightstand, I forced a smile and spoke around the lump in my throat. "I think you'll be alright. After all, you do know the manager."

She placed a hand on my shoulder as she walked by, pausing. "I think we'll all be alright, Clay. We've made it this far, haven't we?" She patted my back and continued out of the room, not waiting for a response.

THE RAIN WAS
still falling when I picked Ali up from the office. When she got in the truck, she was soaking wet but she looked over at me and smiled as she fastened her seatbelt. "Glad I decided against wearing the white shirt today."

My eyes immediately fell to her chest. Damn. I tossed her a disappointed look. "Maybe
you're
glad..."

She giggled and changed the subject as a blush crept up her slim neck. "I'm not in the mood for lunch at the diner. I've seen enough of that place today. I thought maybe it was time for a change of venue. What do you think? Is there somewhere else you might like to eat?"

I quirked a brow at her and let my gaze roam the length of her body, saying nothing. I was being indecent, but she started it. Not the most mature argument, but still valid. Watching her face heat, I wondered if she was remembering the other night. Did she clench inside at the memory of my tongue stroking, tasting, and exploring her? Did images of that night flash through her mind at random times like they did mine?

Still blushing like hell, she offered a suggestion. "How about making something at the cabin? We can pick up some groceries, and I'll make us lunch."

I laughed at the way she fidgeted in the seat, clenching her thighs together. Looked like someone had taken a stroll down memory lane and ended up turned on. I knew the feeling well. "I thought you let Talia do all the cooking."

She smiled. "I do, but that doesn't mean I can't cook. I just let her do it because it's something she enjoys. She's happiest when she's flitting around the kitchen, and I'm happiest when she's happy. It's just how things are for us."

I knew from the beginning that they had a special bond, something stronger than the average friendship. After my discovery in Talia's room that morning, I understood part of the reason why. They had dealt with their grief together and forged a bond that was deeper than anything I'd ever experienced. Grief was a make-or-break kind of situation. Some people, like Ali and Talia, made it out stronger on the other side while others never recovered. I truly envied the former, those who fought their way through.

Particularly because I was one of the latter.

"I think that's a great idea." Taking her still-damp hand, I said, "We better get a move on before Talia finishes her shift and reclaims the kitchen." She nodded, and we drove toward the nearest grocery store, a flood of unwelcome memories washing through my mind.

ALI BANISHED ME
from the kitchen while she worked on lunch with instructions to prepare the patio table so we could dine Al Fresco. The rain still strummed a steady beat on the roof overhead but there was no wind, so we would remain dry as we ate. I cleared the table of everything except a small vase, empty since the day I'd arrived.

I made a quick trip down to the flowerbed and filled it with fresh lilies, getting drenched in the process. The yellow, orange, and peach colored blooms were fragrant and beautiful with raindrops still beading on the petals. I was running my fingers through my hair, shaking off the water when Ali stepped out behind me. I turned to her with an apologetic grin, knowing I'd gotten her with the spray. "Sorry about that. It's really pouring out there."

"How did you get so wet?" She looked around. "The porch is covered."

I stepped aside and indicated the fresh flowers on the table. When I looked from the vase back to Ali, her eyes welled with tears. I opened my mouth to speak but had no idea what to say, so I just stepped over and folded her into my arms. I'd been needing that all morning and apparently she needed it, too. She kept her head turned toward the vase, her tears silent. "Thank you. You're being incredible about all this." After a moment, she pulled away and mumbled something about checking on the food, head down as she retreated back into the house.

Not wanting to push her, I stayed there on the patio and stared out into the distance. The mountains were partially obscured from view, their peaks shrouded by the low clouds currently spilling their contents over the valley. Once the storm passed, they would be back, beautiful and magnificent as ever. I hoped the same could be said for Ali. I hoped she could come back from this. That whatever or whoever was trying to bring her down wouldn't succeed. She was so much stronger than that, stronger than me. She truly was awe-inspiring. I wouldn't let anyone or anything take that away. Not from her.

Ali pushed the sliding door behind me open a bit farther, squeezing through with an armload of plates. I reached out and took everything I could, careful not to make her drop anything. "You should have called me in to help you."

She just smiled. "I used to waitress, too. I can carry four plates and the glasses to match with no problem."

Frustrating ass woman. Has to do everything on her own. "Just because you
can
doesn't mean you have to. I don't mind helping." I placed the plates and bowls on the table.

She waved me off. "Fine. You can help with the rest. Stubborn."

Pot, meet Kettle.

WE'D BEEN EATING
for several minutes when Ali startled me by saying, "I'm not usually a crier. Just thought I should let you know that." She bit off a chunk of bread and chewed, a thoughtful look on her face. "Of course, you probably couldn't tell by the number of times you've seen me cry these last few weeks." The crinkle in her forehead was a clear indication that she was adding it up in her head.

"Don't do that."

She looked confused. "Don't do what? Cry?"

"No. Don't scour every moment we've spent together to do the math. Whether it was once or a hundred times, it makes no difference. Not to me."

She frowned and looked at her plate. "It matters to me."

"Why? Because you worry about what I think? It doesn't matter what I think. It doesn't matter what anyone thinks. You know who you are and that's what matters. Besides, you should know by now that I think you're fucking amazing. A few tears aren't going to change that." I reached out and ran my fingers across her hand. "Every moment with you, from that first day by the willow to this very second, has been perfect. Don't you dare regret any of it because I sure as hell don't."

She looked up, a slow smile spreading across her gorgeous lips. "Thank you for that. You're right. I regret nothing about our time together." Her fingers threaded through mine while the other hand raised her glass to her lips. She sipped her tea, finally relaxing a bit. I found myself relaxing, too.

When she lowered the glass, a small drop lingered on her lower lip, just a tiny bead that had escaped her notice. Acting totally on instinct — and clearly not thinking — I leaned across the table and pressed my lips to hers, whisking it away with my tongue. The sugary tea wasn't nearly as sweet as the lips I'd cleared it from.

Startled, she stiffened for a second before melting into the kiss, her mouth opening slightly to allow me access. With a soft groan, I placed a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her closer. Having the taste of her on my tongue again electrified every cell in my body. I'd been thinking of this, wanting it, craving it for the last two days. My hardening cock pressed painfully into the table as I stretched across it to reach her, but I wasn't about to pull back.

Her palm pressed to my chest directly over my heart before sliding up toward my neck, leaving searing heat in its wake. She dug her fingers into the back of my neck, massaging, kneading as she worked her way higher. An involuntary growl rippled through my chest when she reached back to tug the unruly strands at my nape. Encouraged by the sound, she tugged harder, pulling my whole head back as she nipped my lower lip.

Jesus. If I got any harder, I'd drill a hole in the damn table. No tools necessary.

Ali slid her hand to cup my jaw and pressed hard into me. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to be closer. It was all I could do to refrain from throwing the table and its contents into the damn yard. I managed to shift myself around it, though, without breaking contact with her lips. She twisted her chair to face me as I crouched at her side. I placed both hands at her hips, and she held my face in both of hers. The kiss went on for ages, each of us dominating for a while before relinquishing control to the other.

I nearly lost my balance when she leaned forward, sliding off the chair and onto my lap. Once we were situated there on the floor, I sat back on my heels and she straddled my lap, grinding herself onto me. The kisses became urgent, frenzied as she reached for the buttons on my shirt. I couldn't decide if I wanted fewer buttons so we could move forward faster, or more buttons so the kisses would go on longer.

No matter what, I knew I was about to cross a line I couldn't go back from. And I wanted it more than anything. I wanted her, wanted this, but would I feel that way afterward? Would I feel like an asshole for allowing it to go this far? I knew Ali wanted it. The way she was grinding herself into me left no question about her intentions. But what if this was just a band-aid for her? A way to feel good in the midst of a shitty situation? A way to take control of her life when so many things had happened that were beyond her control. Her work situation, Teach's illness, Keith, the break in, all of it must have been weighing on her.

Not that I minded being used under normal circumstances, but it was different with her. I didn't want her to look at me with regret in her eyes. I didn't want to ruin this, whatever it was, by taking it too far.

It wasn't about Spencer this time or keeping my promise to him, it wasn't even about the lawsuit. I didn't care about breaking contracts or losing the company. I didn't care about me. I only cared about her.