Complete With Her Read online

  Leaving the bottle of wine and cannoli I’d brought from the store on my passenger seat, I sprinted inside to throw on something less intimidating.

  Throughout the long week, Eve had conversed with me, but still remained a little shut off as though she didn’t believe my neighborly friendliness. Baggage and trust issues sucked ass for the poor fellow with honest intentions, I thought not for the first time while slipping my feet into my favorite Birkenstocks.

  I grabbed up my contributions to dinner on the way out and loped across the street. Although I’d seen Eve every day of the previous week, my insides quivered like Jell-O while the hand holding the wine bottle neck grew damp. Heat sped through me, threatening to break out in beads of sweat on my brow.

  Cool it, chicken shit.

  Eve pulled open the door as I climbed the front stairs, and her partial smile stole my breath. “Hey there, neighbor.”

  Clearing my throat, I tried to work some saliva back to my buds as my gaze traveled over her blue-flowered sundress to the bare legs and feet beneath. Pink polish on her toenails had me thinking nasty thoughts about sucking on each and every piggy. “Hey.”

  She eyed the white pastry box in my hand. “Bring cannoli for dessert?”

  “As ordered.” Our fingers brushed as I handed the goodies to her, and electrical currents raced up my arm and straight down to my cock as her lips parted and cheeks flushed.

  Down, boy.

  He didn’t listen, and I cursed myself for not snagging the extra few minutes to take care of the reoccurring hard-on I’d dealt with all afternoon.

  “Come on in.” Eve turned toward the kitchen, and thanking God she hadn’t glanced down at my suddenly tighter jeans, I followed along. “Glasses and corkscrew are on the island. Want to pour us some wine while I finish up dinner?”

  I hid my erection against the counter and poured, forcing myself to pay attention to the red liquid splashing into the goblets.

  “Hope you like lamb chops. I got some fresh ones from the farm today.”

  “Sounds and smells great.”

  Minutes later, we sat at her round kitchen table as Annie Lennox crooned softly from an overhead speaker. A white cloth lay beneath the plates and flat ware, and a single white candle in a silver holder gleamed between us.

  Although reservation lingered in her eyes, Eve smiled at me. Pink continued to flush her cheeks, and adrenaline spiked in my blood.

  I reached for my wineglass and lifted it toward her. “To my lovely neighbor and the evening ahead.”

  She bit at her lower lip, dragging my gaze downward as she grasped her glass and clinked it against mine.

  Eve

  He stared at my ugly lip, and the thought that plagued me all week—he only wanted one thing from me—slammed back to the forefront of my mind. I gulped down a few swallows of wine, but tension settled in my shoulders as I focused on chewing whatever sawdust-like bite of food I stuffed in my mouth.

  “How was your day?” Bastian asked.

  Without lifting my head, I shrugged. “All right, I guess.”

  “The lamb is cooked to perfection. Better than my grandma’s.”

  “Thanks.”

  “That’s a huge compliment, by the way.”

  My face heated, but I still didn’t look at him. We ate in silence for a time, and the knot in my gut pulled tighter with each minute, making swallowing difficult. The wine slid down with ease, giving me some false courage, and I glanced up to find his focus on my lips. Again.

  “How old were you when you had reconstructive surgery?” he asked.

  I forced my jaw open to answer. “Three.”

  Bastian’s eyes lifted to mine. “Did they fix your palate, too?”

  “Attempted.” I put down my knife and fork and fisted my hands. “They didn’t do a very good job with either.”

  “Did your parents’ insurance cover the procedure?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His lips pursed as he studied my face.

  “What’s with the morbid curiosity over my lip?” I asked.

  “Sorry.” He returned his attention to his plate and pushed at the last bite of lamb with his fork. “I’m just interested in everything about you. The good, and what some might see as the bad.”

  Flushed with heat from head to toe, my mind automatically focused on his prying. I’d always hated people’s stares and questions about my lip. Why it hadn’t been fixed right. Why I hadn’t used use my mother’s inheritance to get cosmetic surgery done rather than throw it away on poor kids I’d never meet.

  Helping other kids made me feel better about myself than perfect lips ever would, but that wasn't anyone’s damn business but my own. Tears welled, and I cleared my throat. “I need to get up really early tomorrow morning.” I stood and stacked the serving dishes.

  Bastian put down his fork and wiped his lips on the linen napkin I’d taken the time to iron earlier in the day. He stood without a word and followed me with his plate.

  I busied myself scraping the leftovers into the trash, my nerves frazzled and tingling. Bastian hesitated, and from the corner of my eye, I watched as he stretched out his fingers hanging beside his thighs.

  “Thanks for coming over,” I said, turning once more to the sink without making eye contact. “Mind locking the door behind you?”

  He continued to wait as though expecting an explanation—or apology. Jaw clenched, I turned on the faucet and squirted soap into the rising water.

  With a sigh, he started away, his footsteps fading. The lock unclicked, and front door shut softly.

  Hands clenching the sink edge, my shoulders and head slumped. Tears fell.

  Yet another failed attempt at making a friend. I swiped at the wetness coating my cheeks and gritted my molars. No more daydreams. No more heartaches.

  * * * *

  I hardly slept all night as my father’s voice tormented me. Like I needed confirmation no one would ever desire a disfigured woman.

  Wanting to get away, I left with the sunrise Saturday morning and headed for the state park, tent, sleeping bag, and a few provisions on the Subaru’s back seat. Maybe hiking and listening to nature would help clear my head.

  Two days. Alone.

  Although my body relaxed on the drive, my mind didn’t, and by the time I arrived, I knew I owed Bastian an apology. It would have to wait until I slapped more mortar on the cracks he’d created in the barricade I safely hid behind though.

  * * * *

  My weekend of solitude sped past, and too scared to face Bastian, I waited until full dark before driving home Sunday night.

  Monday morning, I took off for the farm before a light shone through the darkened windows across the street. I visited the local library to waste a few hours after work and decided to stop at the grocery store before returning home.

  Nervous as hell, I didn’t glance at Bastian’s house as I trotted inside the house with my two bags of groceries before he could catch me. I kept the blinds closed, the porch light off. He must have gotten the message, and thankful he hadn’t come knocking, I crawled into bed.

  After a fitful night, the anxiety over needing to apologize painted dark circles beneath my eyes.

  When Bastian arrived home from work, I gave him a half hour to settle in before I grabbed up the basket of tomatoes, peaches, and other goodies I’d picked and strode across the street.

  I rang the bell, swallowing against the jitters in my stomach.

  He opened the door, a shy smile tilting his lips upward.

  “From my garden,” I said, handing him the basket.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sorry about the other night.”

  His stepped back, opening the door. “Want to come in?”

  I curled my fingers tight around my thumbs. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thanks for the peace offering.”

  “You
’re welcome.” I spun and skipped down his stairs, and although longing to glance back over my shoulder gnawed, I stared straight ahead, listening as his door shut.

  * * * *

  When I got home Wednesday night, Bastian was mowing his front lawn. I returned his wave and smile before escaping into my house. Sure, I’d made things right with my neighbor, but I still felt like a royal ass.

  The next night, stars dotted the sky before I recognized the sound of Bastian’s Mercedes pulling into his driveway. Ten minutes later, a knock sounded.

  My heart leapt to my throat and beat double time as I put down the book I’d been reading. I pulled back the living room curtain. Bastian. In a suit. Tie loosened.

  Good God above. I inhaled until my lungs hurt and pulled open my front door, knowing I’d never escape without my voice a breathless whisper. “Hey.”

  He grinned. “Brought you some tiramisu from the store.”

  I eyed the white box he held outstretched and bit on the inside of my lip.

  “I wanted to apologize for my insensitivity.”

  “You weren’t insensitive. Just curious.” I took the box and lifted my gaze to meet his. Adorable sincerity oozed from his eyes. Why he hadn’t been snatched up and tied to a woman’s bedposts was beyond me. “I’m the one who reacted.”

  “Understandably so.”

  “But not necessary.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I opened my mouth to invite him in, but he continued. “Well, have a good night.”

  He turned and left me standing—wanting—in my doorway.

  “Bastian.”

  Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder.

  “Can I make you dinner again?”

  His slow grin lit flames between my thighs. “I’d love that.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  His smile faded, and a furrow indented between his eyebrows. “My brother is flying in for the weekend.”

  “Oh. Well, he’s welcome to come along.”

  Bastian grimaced and shook his head. “Not a good idea. I’m sure he’ll want to explore Charleston’s night life anyway.”

  My heart sank, but I kept a smile in place. “And you’ll chauffer him to all the hot spots.” Not that there were many.

  He nodded. “Rain check on that dinner?”

  “Next Friday good for you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Bastian

  I locked the front door behind me and slumped back against it to bang my head a few times. I had moped since Eve all but kicked me out of her house Friday night. Every fantasy had dissipated, and I’d bought a bottle of scotch to drown my guilt over hurting her feelings. I hadn’t known how to apologize, just stood there and stared as she started washing her dishes.

  I had drowned my emotions, all right. I ended up sick, worrying my stomach into knots over how to smooth things over.

  When Eve had shown up with her offering and apology, I longed to pull her inside my house, drop to my knees, and beg her forgiveness, but I didn’t get a chance.

  I’d decided earlier in the day some sweets would … well, sweeten my own apology. Hopefully create a crack in her wall’s foundation. While being invited in for coffee or tea and the dessert I’d dropped off would have been nice, I couldn’t rush things. Whatever it took to tear down those bricks blocking Eve from me, I would gladly do.

  And it was as perfect as it could’ve been, except for Zane’s suck-ass timed visit. No way in hell would I let him through Eve’s door. Bastard could woo any woman he came into contact with. I’d caught more than one man salivating at his feet, too, back in a day when we partied together in Boston.

  It’d been months since I experienced night life of any sort, and I had no wish to start back up, but I knew my brother. There’d be no talking him out of spending every hour of his visit in his usual pursuits.

  * * * *

  I picked up Zane Friday afternoon, and while I wasn’t thrilled about his four-day visit, it was good to see the bastard’s grin and swagger.

  “Welcome to the boon docks, Zane.” I grinned and slapped his back when he pulled me into a tight hug.

  “Good to see you too, kid.” Well over six feet tall like our older brother, Cole, he made me feel like a midget—exactly as his favorite nickname implied. At least he hadn’t knuckled my head.

  “Did you eat lunch?” I asked, releasing him.

  “No, and I’m fuckin’ starved and dying for a beer.” Zane slung a bag over his shoulder, gaze scanning the airport patrons around us. “Could use a woman, too.”

  I shook my head, but couldn’t contain a smile. “I can help with the first two.”

  Zane laughed and started toward the exit. “What? Decide you might like boys after all?”

  “I’m not like you. I’ll stick with the fairer sex, thank you very much.”

  His laughter accompanied me out the door.

  * * * *

  I’d only visited one bar before moving beyond Charleston’s limits, so that’s where we ended up. At least they served great burgers and had Sam Adams on tap.

  “So, you really like it down here?” Zane said around a mouthful of fries.

  “I do.”

  “Mom knew you would, but she wanted me to come check on you anyway.”

  I sat back. “Mom what?”

  Zane took a swig of beer. “You know her and her sixth sense. Said you’d find what you were looking for down here.” He peered at me, beer bottle half-raised to his lips. “Didn’t realize you were missing something.”

  “So Papa lied when he said Mom wanted me back where I belonged.”

  “Papa.” Zane snorted. “Master manipulator. Doesn’t surprise me one bit.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed his beer. “But back to what Mom said.”

  I wiped my mouth on a napkin and tossed it onto my plate. “What about it?”

  Zane angled to face me, more serious than I’d ever seen. “Honestly?”

  I nodded.

  “You’ve always seemed … I don’t know … shut off from the family, like you felt you didn’t fit in or something.”

  So my brother saw beyond his own nose and cock after all. I lifted my shoulder and let it fall as though I didn’t give a shit about his deduction. “Just wanted some space.”

  “Mom said you need to figure out where you belong.”

  I arched one eyebrow. “Meaning back home?”

  “Nope. That’s all Papa.”

  I studied Zane’s stern face, the anger in his eyes. “Papa loves us all the same, you know.” He snorted, but I held up my hand before he spouted off. “He’d give up everything he’s accomplished—his life—for all of us.”

  Zane grabbed up his burger. “Bullshit.”

  No point in arguing, I swigged from my half-empty bottle of beer.

  “Any good places to meet women around here?” Zane asked around his mouthful of food.

  “Papa said you’re here for work—to meet the locals.”

  “Yeah.” Zane’s eyes twinkled, and he tipped back his beer. “Local women. Any clubs in Charleston?”

  “I think there’s a place to go dancing a few blocks north of here.”

  “Not talking about that kind of club.”

  I grimaced and pushed my empty plate aside as Zane flagged down the bartender. “You know I’m not into that shit.”

  “My little vanilla baby bro.” Zane clasped my shoulder. “Don’t know what you’re missin’, kid.”

  “Giving pain or being on the receiving end isn’t my idea of fun.”

  “It’s not all whips and chains.”

  I shrugged, and his hand fell away. “I’m not interested in sharing, either.”

  Zane chuckled. “You need a shot.”

  “No thanks. I’m driving.”

  He ordered a lone beer and swallowed down half without pause. “Ought to give sharing a try some time. Can be a shitload of fun with the right people.”

  I glanced over at my brother to find his gaze stuck on a brunette at
the end of the bar. “I plan on finding contentment with just one woman for the rest of my life.”

  Zane’s suave smirk made an appearance as he lifted his beer toward the woman and her giggling girlfriends.

  “You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” I asked.

  “Sure I did.” Zane downed his beer and thunked the empty bottle on the bar. “Vanilla boy, we’re being summoned. I don’t suppose you’d care to join me in a little stroll?”

  “Not really.”

  “More for me.” He stood and pulled a few bills from his front pocket.

  “Want me to stick around in case you end up needing a ride?”

  “Head on down the road, chicken shit,” he said, tossing the money on the bar. “And don’t wait up for me.”

  Wasn’t the first time he’d ditched me for a couple of women, but I didn’t care. Guilt over my sudden relief of being freed up for the night kept me from grinning. “Got my address?”

  Zane tapped his temple. “Yeah.”

  I wanted to tell him to call me if he needed anything, but didn’t care to hear his smart-ass reply.

  Eve

  Two cups of coffee after the sun rose, I headed out the door for a day trip up to New River Gorge. Tires slowing nearby drew my gaze, and from the corner of my eye, I watched as a cab rolled to a stop in front of Bastian’s.

  I gave the sight my full attention as a tall, dark god emerged, all long legs, broad shoulders, and messed bedhead—perfectly rumpled like he’d spent the night rocking some woman’s world.

  He turned as the cab drove off, and I stopped shy of bolting as I recognized the slow grin forming beneath his Grecian nose.

  “A heavenly angel,” he called out as his gaze traveled my length and back up. “No wonder.”

  A few long strides brought him close enough to reveal the same blue eyes Bastian claimed to have inherited from his mom.

  “Zanebono Risso, but you can call me Zane.” He held out his hand, and although his blood-shot eyes glanced at my mouth for less than a heartbeat, I noted the flicker of disgust on his lips.