Love Drunk, page 2
I don’t need to look down to know my damn nipples are hardened into peaks and reaching toward Wes. Despite the embarrassment that sends me scurrying to my bedroom to change, a wicked thought still wriggles in as I change. I bet Wes’ mouth would warm my nipples right up.
Calm down, Avery. You just want what you can’t have.
I use a t-shirt to dry myself off since every towel I own is currently on the kitchen floor mopping up water. In my ensuite bathroom, I catch the first glimpse of myself in the mirror since water exploded from the kitchen pipe and nearly scream. Makeup runs down my cheeks in streaks. My smeared eyeshadow makes me look like something out of the eighties.
Washing away the clown disaster on my face, I resist the urge to reapply my makeup. Reminding myself that the objective is not to draw Wes’s attention.
“You need some new coupling nuts. I didn’t realize yours were rusted through,” he says from beneath my sink when I step into the kitchen. His shirt rides up his stomach, revealing those very defined abs. Making my mouth water and my naughty imagination hum to life. “I’ll see if Mike has some at the hardware store.”
“So, I can’t use my sink?”
“I’m working on a temporary fix.” Wes pokes his head out from beneath the sink and locks his gaze with mine. “And I mean temporary. I need to come back Monday and fix this or it’ll be a lot worse.”
I slip into a chair at my tiny kitchen table and pretend I’m not freaking out inside. I don’t let people in my space. Not anymore. Not until I know I can trust them, and trust is in very short supply. Especially when it comes to trusting myself.
Yet, the one man I trust myself around the least needs to come back. Go figure. “Can’t we grab that hardware tonight?”
“Mike’s closed up for the weekend,” Wes says, his hips shimmying with whatever he’s doing beneath the sink.
“Oh.”
“Hey,” Wes says, again lifting his head from under the sink until our eyes meet. “I’m not that terrible to be around. Unless you ask my oldest brother. Then you might get conflicting information.” He returns his attention to the piping, leaving me more curious than ever about him. I’ve heard a few things, of course. Impossible to be in a small town and not hear about everyone in some capacity. But there’s a lot of gaps I’ve been filling in with only my imagination.
“Where did you learn to fix plumbing?” I ask, afraid that if I can’t keep the conversation going my overactive imagination just might get me in to trouble.
“When I lived in Portland. I was there for school, to learn the science behind brewing. But in between that and my drill weekends, I worked a lot of odd jobs. One of those was a summer helping a guy flip houses. He taught me a lot.” Wes slides out from under the sink, his t-shirt soaked. The light fabric sticks to his skin. But instead of him looking like a hosed-down cat, he looks like a fucking firefighter calendar model.
“Is there anything you don’t know how to do?” My pathetic attempt at flirting doesn’t completely backfire, but my words come out high-pitched and squeaky.
At least Wes has the decency to pretend not to notice. “Cook.”
“Cook?”
“I can’t cook to save my life.”
“You can brew beer, but you can’t cook?”
“Correct.” He wipes his hands against his jeans. “Remember what I said. You can use your sink if it’s for something quick, but don’t use it more than you have to. I need to come back tomorrow and fix it or you might flood the place.”
“Oh. Okay.” Hard to argue with that since I don’t have renter’s insurance or the money to pay for a catastrophe of that size.
“Now, what’s up with your car?”
My pulse doubles at his unexpected question. One that makes me feel as though my privacy were invaded. Or maybe it’s just my pride that’s being taken down a notch because he noticed I’ve been walking. “I never said anything about my car.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Nervously, I twist the bracelet on my wrist. I bought it the day I graduated college with my teaching certificate. Something to celebrate all that I’d overcome. “It’s just a dead battery. I’m getting it fixed.”
“I can take a look.” He steps closer to the kitchen table, making me feel tiny with his broad shoulders and tall frame. I should feel cornered, like trapped prey. But the only thing I feel is the tingling between my legs. “Maybe you just need a jump.”
I instantly conjure an image of me jumping Wes, except in that fantasy scenario, we’re missing all our clothes. I gulp a swallow and try to look anywhere other than those gentle yet intense eyes. They make me feel entirely too vulnerable. “I don’t want to bother you.”
“It’s no bother,” he says. “Might save you a few bucks.”
The sooner I get Wes on his way, the sooner I can let out the breath I’ve been holding all this time. I know it’s the worst idea to crush on my landlord, even if he’s hotter than sin. But it’d be a whole lot easier to convince myself of that truth if the man were gone. If only my bank account didn’t beg otherwise. “Keys are on the counter.”
CHAPTER 4
Wes
I can’t count the number of things wrong under the hood of Avery’s car. It’s a miracle it survived this long. I remember the day she first pulled into the driveway behind the wheel. Avery had driven from Fairbanks, and I was shocked she’d been able to make the trip without breaking down.
“So, about that jump?” Avery asks, appearing at the side of the car. The glow of sunlight illuminates her already gorgeous figure. I’m momentarily speechless at the sight of her. Her dark hair is twisted at the back of her head, but a couple of tendrils have escaped and are kissing her soft cheeks. What I wouldn’t give to pull the rest of it loose and let her hair fall over her shoulders. “Wes?”
My hand slips and my knuckle scrapes against a nut. Fuck. I wince, but keep myself from muttering aloud.
“You okay?”
“Mind getting me a shop rag out of my truck? There’s an open bag on the passenger seat.”
I’d be lying if I tried to pretend I wasn’t watching her ass shake as she hurries to my truck. It’s a nice, plump ass I’d love to get both my hands under. I’m so entranced that she nearly catches me staring.
“You want me to get out the jumper cables?” she asks, handing me a clean shop towel. “I’m not completely useless—”
“Avery,” I say gently, ducking out from under the hood to face her. Looking her in the eyes before I deliver the bad news. “A jump isn’t going to do anything, I’m afraid. Your car has some…issues.”
She presses her lips together, as if that single act is holding her together. Keeping her eyes from becoming any shinier with tears than they already are. I can tell she doesn’t want to cry in front of me. Though Avery Nichols has been one of the most elusive people in Caribou Creek, I’ve still watched her from a distance. She doesn’t like to accept help or display signs of weakness. She has something to prove, and I suspect she wears a thick coat of armor because of it.
“Half the spark plugs are bad.”
“Maybe they just need a time out. That works for most of my kindergartens. Unless they’re named Timmy. Then they’re a lost cause.” I can’t help but laugh at her rambling attempt at humor, if only to help ease the tension I sense she’s feeling.
“Timmy Carlson?” It’s not hard to guess that one. I’ve seen the kid throw some epic tantrums in the grocery store and behind the stands at the local ballpark when his brother’s playing baseball.
“How’d you know?” The shininess softens in her eyes, intrigue sharpening her gaze.
“Everybody knows everybody in Caribou Creek.” I dare to peer into those emerald eyes. They’re the deepest shade of green I’ve ever seen. They’re mesmerizing and dangerous. They wield the power to bring me to my knees. Those eyes alone are the reason I should run in the opposite direction. Yet, my strongest impulse, however irrational, is to surrender to them. To surrender to Avery. “Anyway, some of these spark plugs are exactly like Timmy. Time out’s not going to work, I’m afraid.”
“What else is wrong with it?” Avery asks in a tone that implies she wants the band-aid ripped right off.
“You’re out of oil.”
“Okay. Add more oil. That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“You’ve been out of oil for a while. It’s done some damage.”
She covers her face with both hands for several beats and finally lets out a heavy, groaning breath. “Let me guess? Timmy level damage?”
“Imagine if someone gave Timmy a Red Bull and a bucket of ice cream—”
The pitiful laugh that escapes her lips is filled with despair that twists my heart. I hardly know Avery Nichols, but I’ve been drawn to her since the first moment I laid eyes on her. It’s a pull I can’t explain. Unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, even with a woman I once thought I wanted to marry. It’s a pull that demands I do everything in my power to help her. “Hey, I have two trucks. Why don’t you borrow one until you get things sorted out with your car?”
“I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, unintentionally drawing my eyes to her bountiful breasts. Even beneath her sweatshirt, it’s impossible to notice the massive tits she’s hiding beneath it. What I wouldn’t give to take them in my hands and squeeze… It takes my best effort to look away before she catches me staring.
“Why would you do that?” Avery asks.
“Because I don’t need two trucks right now.”
“I don’t mind walking.”
“You might next week. There’s half a foot of snow in the forecast.” Sensing she’s going to fight me on this, I change tactics to give her time to adjust to accepting my offer. “Let me clean up what I can under the hood. There’s a couple minor things I can do to save you some money when you do get your car to the shop.”
“I’ve already taken up enough of your time, Wes.”
Something jolts inside me at hearing my name leave her lips. Like a shock to the system, but one I like. Way too much. “It’ll be quick. I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”
“Fine. But at least let me get you something to drink. I don’t have any beer. You have anything against lemonade?”
“Not at all.”
I dive back under the hood, searching for anything I can do to help save her a few bucks later.
Avery hurries inside and shuts the door so quickly it slams. The woman intrigues me. I’m good at reading people, but she’s proven to be a greater challenge than anyone I’ve met before. Though I might be able to pick up on small cues, the deeper stuff is out of my grasp. The desire to know everything about her is growing stronger with each minute I stay.
I hear tires crunch against gravel. An engine roars then dies.
I hardly have time to pull myself out from beneath the hood of her car before I see Avery on the front step. Holding a glass of lemonade and standing stark still. Fear flashes in her emerald eyes, quickly replaced by anger.
A car door slams, drawing my attention to the unsolicited visitor.
“Lucas, what the hell are you doing here?”
“You thought I wouldn’t find you. You were wrong.” A tall, lanky man who’s in desperate need of a shave marches forward. The whiff of alcohol is strong as he unknowingly passes by me. “Now stop playing—”
I don’t think. I spring into action. “Babe, you got my drink?” I step forward, posing as a barricade to Avery. “Can I help you?” I ask this Lucas, unable to keep my fists from balling at my sides. If he so much as lays a finger on her, I’m prepared to put my hand-to-hand combat training into action.
“Who the fuck are you?” Lucas spits at me, taking another step forward.
I move, standing in front of Avery. “I’m her boyfriend.”
“C’mon,” Lucas says, rolling his eyes so hard it seems to throw him off balance. He stumbles but catches his step. “You ain’t with her. Look at her. She’s—”
I’m in his face in half a second, daring him, with one hard look, to finish that sentence. I wouldn’t stand for this behavior from anyone, no matter who they were disrespecting. But that he’s targeting Avery makes me see red. “You need to leave.”
Lucas shoves me by the shoulder, but his pitiful attempt doesn’t move my firmly rooted footing an inch. The surprise in his eyes would be humorous if I didn’t want to murder the guy. I return the favor, shoving him in the same place. Only Lucas stumbles back several steps and damn near falls on his ass.
Avery comes up behind me, clutching the back of my arm like a lifeline.
“Leave,” I say again. “If you don’t want me to call the cops, you’ll get your ass out of town.”
Lucas stumbles to his car, practically ripping the door open. “This ain’t over, Avery. You know it ain’t. We’re meant to be together. Forever. You told me that.” He cranks the ignition and slams on the gas, nearly taking out a mailbox across the street before he speeds off.
I turn to Avery and pull her shaking body into my arms. She clings to me in a rare moment of vulnerability. Her brave front is hiding more than I suspected. I comb a hand over the back of her head, tucking her protectively against me. “You okay, sweetheart?” I ask in a gentle whisper.
“I’m…” She takes a deep inhale and lets it out slowly, wriggling free from my embrace. It pains me to let her go, but I don’t want to spook her. She’s obviously been through a lot with this asshole. “I’ll be okay.”
I pull out my phone and shoot a text to my buddy Garrett, letting the police chief know there’s a drunk driver in his town. “I want you to pack a bag.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not safe for you to stay here tonight.” If Garrett doesn’t catch Lucas, the asshole just might find a way to stick around. I’d never forgive myself if he showed up in the middle of the night and hurt Avery. “You’re staying at my place until we know he’s actually gone.”
“Your place?” Her widened eyes are cute as hell, but this isn’t the time for smiling. I need Avery to know I’m serious.
“I have an empty guest room.” Though I’d like nothing more than to have Avery nestled in my arms as we slept, and nestled in other places as our bodies tangled between the sheets, I’d never put that kind of pressure on her. “I want to keep you safe, Avery. Nothing more.”
I watch the fight dancing in her eyes, but it only takes a few moments for her to relent. To realize that she could be in real danger here all alone. “Okay.”
CHAPTER 5
Avery
Sleep is impossible.
The encounter with my ex is unsettling enough. I’m afraid to think about what might’ve happened if Wes hadn’t been there. The street was deserted. I have no idea where my entire neighborhood was, but I don’t know that a scream for help would’ve been heard in time. I left Lucas the night he punched a hole in the wall an inch from my head. Though he never hit me during the two years we were together, I knew it was coming if I stayed.
But it’s not that alone that has me awake.
It’s Wes Ashburn.
Knowing he’s sleeping just down the hall from me is almost more than I can take. I’ve been fighting my attraction to him since the day he handed me the keys to my rental. After the way he stood up for me and came instantly to my rescue without missing a beat by pretending to be my boyfriend, I’m finding it a lot harder to fight these unwanted feelings.
Especially after the way he cradled me in his arms and held me tight.
Never in my life has a man’s embrace felt so safe and reassuring—or any embrace, for that matter.
Nor has it turned me on quite so much.
I crawl onto the couch and toss a throw blanket over my lap. Wes lives a couple miles from town in a cabin on at least four or five acres. The windows in this room, which stretch all the way to the vaulted ceiling, offer a breathtaking view. Mountains peek behind a heavily wooded area and there’s a hint of a creek in the distance. This is the type of place I always dreamed of living someday.
“Meow!”
I startle at the unexpected sound, but quickly relax. A tabby cat the size of a small mountain lion pounces onto the couch and struts across the cushions to me. “So you’re the elusive Mr. Sprinkles, huh?” Wes mentioned a cat when we first arrived. One named by a girl in last year’s kindergarten class. But until now, I hadn’t met him.
The tabby crawls into my lap, pressing the back of his head and neck into my hand. His purring is louder than my clunker car’s engine. Well, when it’s actually running. Mr. Sprinkles kneads his front paws into my leg and finally settles.
“He likes you.” Wes’s voice causes me to start, but I refrain from whipping my head around. There’s no telling what the man sleeps in. What if he’s in a pair of boxers and nothing else? I need a minute to prepare myself. Just in case.
“He’s a good kitty, aren’t you?”
Mr. Sprinkles purrs louder.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Wes guesses.
There’s no point in lying to the man who seems to read me better than anyone else. “Not really.”
“I have a cure for that.”
My breathing is suddenly heavier, imagining all the ways Wes could lull me back to sleep. One delicious orgasm at a time. I dare to look over my shoulder, almost disappointed to see him standing behind the couch in a t-shirt and shorts. Not that I’d actually entertain the idea of having sex with my landlord. No matter how mind-blowingly hot it might be. “What’s that?”
“Banana pancakes.”
“It’s after midnight.”
“That’s the best time for ‘em.”
“I thought you couldn’t cook,” I rebuttal.
“I can’t.” He flashes me that warm, mischievous smile that has heat shooting to all the naughtiest places inside me. “That’s why you need to help me.”
I hug Mr. Sprinkles before dislodging him from my lap, which earns me a disgruntled moan. “I’ll cuddle you later,” I promise, winning him right back over by running a hand down the length of his spine.
