His to Cherish (6 page)

So I settled into my chair, reached for my margarita glass, and decided that whatever was going to happen in the future, I was no longer going to worry.

We'd either move forward at some point when the time was right, or we'd become friends. I couldn't continue worrying about Aidan and questioning every single one of our conversations.

“You ready?”

Aidan spun his key chain around his thumb and waited. It was a move he did almost every night before he left my house. Sometimes I wondered if he even realized he did it.

I watched as Camden turned the corner toward her home. She lived only a couple of blocks away, and Latham Hills was safe enough for her to be walking home alone, but I always hated seeing her disappear around the turn. Paige and Suzanne had climbed into a taxi seconds ago, and it was already out of sight.

As Camden flashed me one last wave, signaling the coast was clear, I turned back to Aidan. “Yeah, I am.”

He lifted his hands in a gesture I assumed was silent man speak for “after you,” so I began walking toward his truck. When his hand hit my lower back, I jumped, startled by the contact.

We didn't normally touch.

I fought back a grin. I liked the feel of his large hand on the small of my back, guiding me. I liked the kind of guy Aidan was. He was tall and strong and tough, but I also knew that, beneath his grief, he was kind.

He's probably an amazing dad.

Was.
I stumbled at the realization of what I'd just thought.

Aidan's arm moved from my back to my elbow, catching me before I tumbled off the curb.

“You okay?” His hand on my elbow tightened slightly and I looked at him over my shoulder.

“Yeah.” I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. “I'm okay.”

“You had a lot to drink tonight.”

He opened the door to his truck and I braced myself against it before I lifted myself in.

“It happens on girls' nights.” I smiled, but my lips felt numb and I sounded slightly slurred to my own ears.

By the look on Aidan's face, I figured I sounded like I was speaking around a mouthful of cotton balls.

He shook his head, cracked that hint of a smile I was beginning to like so much, and shut my door, rocking the truck with the movement. My eyes followed him as he walked around the front and then climbed in on his side.

When he started the truck, I leaned my head back on the headrest and inhaled. The cab smelled like sweat and some sort of cologne or aftershave. I didn't know what it was, but I liked it. Spicy. Manly.

Something I'd buy for the man because it fit him perfectly.

Country music blared through the speakers, and we didn't speak while he pulled out into the street and began driving toward home.

The silence was our usual thing, and with the tension from earlier seeming to evaporate, I convinced myself that I'd imagined it all. Perhaps it'd been too long since I'd been with a man and I created it—along with his desire for me—in my head simply because I needed to get laid.

And I did need it. It'd been over a year since I'd had sex. It hadn't been a problem until Aidan started spending evenings at my house, but now that he had been, it was all I could think about.

Wondering what his strong hands could do to me. What it would be like to have his body over me, thrusting inside me.

I shook visibly and watched Aidan turn a dial on the truck's console.

“You cold?”

Horny,
I thought. And it was the worst time to be feeling that way. Not with this man, not on this night, and not in these circumstances.

Wisely, I pressed my lips together. “No.”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye but said no more.

By the time we pulled into my drive, I was a live wire, sparking with the need for physical contact.

Yet there was nothing I could do about it, because the only man I wanted just lost his son a month ago.

There was no way he'd want me.

Even on a good day, I was so much plainer, simpler, than the “vultures” who were apparently, based on previous conversations, circling his house with goodies and store-bought food.

Aidan talked about them occasionally and it never bothered me.

Now, for some strange reason, it did.

Perhaps because I could catalog my inadequacies compared to those women.

Smaller chest. Short. Simple. Ordinary.

Something that felt like heartbreak settled in my chest, and my earlier resolve to stop worrying disappeared as the thoughts grew louder and stronger inside my mind.

Aidan opened his door and climbed out, but I didn't move. My body had become lethargic. The realization of my inadequacies weighed me down.

I jumped when he opened my door and held out his hand. “Need some help?”

Lots of it. Probably professional.

I took his hand and let him pull me out of the truck. He didn't let go when my feet hit the driveway. When I flexed my fingers to suggest he do so, his grip only tightened.

Okay. So that was weird, but whatever.

We walked to my front door, and once we reached it, he let go so I could dig out my keys.

“Thank you,” I muttered, unable to look at him. I didn't want him to see the pain that filled my eyes because I knew the rejection was going to happen. It had to. Everyone always left me anyway. I was used to it by now.

Or I should have been.

The sudden onslaught of sadness surprised even me. Aidan and I didn't have anything to lose.

With my key in the door, I opened it and tried to step inside, but he blocked my path.

“Chelsea.”

“Hmm?” I stared at the ground. He was in front of me. I could see his scuffed work boots and the frayed hem of his jeans.

I didn't look up. I couldn't.

This was stupid. I was acting like such a stupid, silly girl.

A quick, shocked breath filled the air when his hand touched my chin. I couldn't think as he lifted my chin until I was face to face with him.

His eyebrows were pulled in tight; stress lined his forehead and the edges of his eyes.

He was frowning. “You feel okay?”

I nodded slowly. “I'm good.”

“You don't look good.”

I flinched.

“Not what I meant.”

“I know,” I responded quickly. Too quickly. I tried to jerk out of his grasp but it didn't work.

“Talk to me.”

I opened my mouth to speak before snapping it closed. Anything I had to say would make me seem like an overemotional, crazy drunk woman. I wasn't prepared for that kind of humiliation. Thankfully I hadn't drunk enough to make my filter disappear.

“I'm just tired,” I said to satisfy him. By his scowl, I knew he didn't believe me.

His tongue slid along his bottom lip, and I inhaled a gasp of air. I needed it. Perhaps the alcohol caused my lungs to stop working correctly.

His eyes darted back and forth between mine. I frowned, wondering what he was looking for and what he saw.

Did he see the insecure girl who had to continually say goodbye to everyone she loved but tried like hell to hide the emptiness that brought?

“You're always there for me.”

My nose twitched. “It's not a problem.”

He nodded slowly, just once. I watched something happen in his eyes and then looked down as he fidgeted on his feet, shifting his weight. He seemed nervous, which made no sense.

His hand on my chin moved slowly to the back of my neck, cupping me and bringing me closer to him. He was a breath away from me, his face so close to mine, when he roughly whispered, “But I haven't thanked you.”

“It's not necessary—”

His lips hit mine. My eyes flew open and I gasped, opening my mouth. Instantly, his tongue pressed in, circling my tongue and tasting me.

Oh…my…gosh. It was like heaven and hell wrapped up in the prettiest package I could ever receive. Better than a blue box with a silver ribbon from Tiffany.

He tasted better than I thought he would—clean and crisp—and I leaned in, wanting more.

No, I didn't lean in. I
melted.

My tongue tangled with his and a moan escaped my throat.

It was that sound that made both of us snap back to reality.

He pulled away and my mouth was still open, my brain working too slowly to process what just happened, how absolutely incredible it felt…and the look of regret all over his face.

“Shit.” Aidan's fingers dropped from my neck and I stood on my front porch completely dumbfounded as both of his hands flew to his neck, clasping at the back. He looked up at the sky and gritted out, “Fuck.”

My brain was moving too slowly to process the sudden shift in him.

“Aidan,” I said, reaching out for him.

He dodged my touch and spun on his heels. “I gotta go.”

He walked away without looking back, jumped into his truck, and peeled out of my driveway, spinning his tires and leaving traction marks on the street as he raced the hell away from me.