Ready For It (MacAteer Brothers Book 2) Page 12
He stood there a few minutes, catching his breath and letting his head stop spinning. He knew he played with fire and fully expected he would be the one to burn. Today gave him more insight into the woman he loved. Yes, loved. He knew she didn’t love him back and probably never would, but after seeing that shit today, he wanted even more to be there for her. The MacAteer family was far from perfect, and the brothers had had many arguments over the years. Even did some scrapping between them that left black eyes and bloody split lips, but that only lasted until one of them got into real trouble. Then it was all hands on deck. He’d stood by Garrett during their younger escapades and bailed out Patrick and Angus on more than one occasion. One thing anyone could say about the MacAteer brothers? When the chips were down, they bonded together, and nothing could come between them.
Melanie’s family? Nowhere near that kind of support. He still couldn’t fathom a brother calling his sister a slut and dragging her through a public humiliation. Drunk or not, you didn’t do that. Ever.
He flushed the toilet and washed his hands. One last deep breath, and he open the door to face whatever was coming.
“Why won’t you fuck me?” She sounded calm, but underneath Owen heard a note of uncertainty.
He knew many men would have taken her offer and not looked back. That would make him just another mark on a measuring line. He wanted her, but he couldn’t be that kind of man. “Not like this. Not when you’re vulnerable. Not when I can’t tell if you want me or just want to fuck.”
His words sounded wrong when they came out of his mouth, but like all words, once said, they couldn’t be unsaid.
She changed from turned-on wanton to angry wench in a flash. “You have a problem with wanting to fuck?”
He shook his head and tried to find the right way to say what he needed her to hear. “Today I can’t. I won’t. Rough day on both of us. Too easy to fall in bed to work out frustrations. I’ve done that with other women in the past. Not fair. Made me feel like shit. Not gonna use you to make me feel better. Not gonna let you use me for the same reason.”
She paused, and the snapping fire in her eyes faded. The fight went out of her, and she seemed unsure and scared. “So it was okay for you to make me come by other means? Just not your dick?”
Owen dropped his eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry if I took it t-too far.”
Her mood changed again, and Owen recognized it as a mask. She jumped down from the granite counter and smoothed over her skirt as if nothing happened. “No, you didn’t do anything bad. I wanted to come, and you made that happen. Frankly, I don’t think you went far enough, but I get what you’re saying. My parents are hard to deal with, and my brother is worse. He makes me crazy when I’m around him, and sometimes I need to blow off steam. I’m sorry if you think I used you for that.”
Her sudden indifference disturbed him, but he followed her lead. “Don’t worry about it. I’m good. He’s an asshole like-ke all the rest. All mouth. No bam dalls.” He took a breath and blew it out. “Damn balls.”
She smiled big and wandered over to a cabinet to pull down a water glass. “One thing is for sure. Everyone will remember that party. I’m sure there were phones out taking pics and videos of Magnus getting his ass covered by cucumber mush and paté. I hope he doesn’t decide to press assault charges. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
“If he d-does, I’ll deal. Not your fault.” His voice sounded harsh even to him. “Parents. Brother. Those are toxic people. You know it. I know it. Don’t need that shit. Don’t dwell on it.”
She filled the glass at the refrigerator dispenser, keeping her back to him. He swore he could see the wall she was building. “This is the second time I’ve put my hand around your dick and you didn’t try to take it further. You could have fucked me tonight, all night. Probably in the morning too. Why did you stop?”
“Taking advantage. Not right.”
“Don’t you want me?”
She kept facing away from him when she asked that question. Those four words sent a shard through his gut. It didn’t matter how dispassionate she tried to seem, or how blasé she tried to appear. She had cracks in her walls. Ones that exposed her tender heart, leaving it open and unprotected. Owen suspected other men might not notice or wouldn’t care and simply walk away. He couldn’t do it.
He moved behind her, letting her keep her guarded stance. His arms rose and surrounded her body, pulling her against him gently. He pressed his lips against her temple and felt her trembling. The ball was in his court, and it wouldn’t take much for him to shred her to pieces. He wondered if she knew she had that same power over him.
He tightened his arms, hoping his words conveyed the message he desperately wanted her to receive. “If the time comes when you invite me to your bed, I’ll be there not because you opened your legs to me. I’ll be there because you opened your heart to me.”
She made a noise in her throat while he held her. He noticed the white knuckles of her hand as she held the water glass in a death grip. When she relaxed that hard hold, he let her go.
“Always got your back, Mel.”
He left the condo, his emotions in turmoil and second-guessing himself. Should I have just had sex with her? Should I have said something different? Done something different? Should I have told her I love her?
Owen got in his truck and looked up in the direction of Melanie’s condo. She was a beautiful and broken woman. Her family be damned. If the police showed up to take him into custody for assaulting her asshole brother, so be it. He had bail money. He smiled. If given the chance to drive a fist into Magnus’s smirking mouth, he’d take it in a heartbeat.
I counted to ten after I heard the click of the door closing. Then I counted to ten again, forcing my breathing to be deep and even. It didn’t help. My heart continued to pound as if trying to burst through my chest. I expected the glass in my hand to have shattered by now with the fierceness of my grip. Water sloshed around inside it when I placed it on the counter. My shaking got worse as I moved to sit on my sofa. I raised my legs to curl my body into a tight little pod and covered myself with one of the folded throws I owned.
“You have a problem with wanting to fuck?”
“Today I can’t. I won’t. Rough day on both of us. Too easy to fall in bed to work out frustrations. I’ve done that with other women in the past. Not fair. Made me feel like shit. Not gonna use you to make me feel better. Not gonna let you use me for the same reason.”
His words played in my head. Was he right? Was I looking for any port in a storm, and would any man with a functioning dick work at this moment? I supposed I could stay angry at him for suggesting I was simply looking to get laid, but truthfully, I had done this before with other men. Used sex to make myself feel better. More often than not, any relief I got was temporary, and I spent days afterwards justifying or running away.
“You could have fucked me tonight, all night. Probably in the morning too. Why did you stop?”
“Taking advantage. Not right.”
I closed my eyes and let the tears fall down my cheeks unchecked. Twice I had thrown myself at Owen, practically begging him to fuck me, and twice he had refused. Perhaps he didn’t want me after all. He could be disgusted by my preferred lifestyle and only have helped me because of my friendship with Beverly.
Deep down, I knew that wasn’t true. If it were, he wouldn’t have gone to this party with me. He wouldn’t have taken on Magnus and demanded an apology from him. He wouldn’t have pointed a finger in my father’s face and said, “Shame on you.”
“Don’t you want me?”
“If the time comes when you invite me to your bed, I’ll be there not because you opened your legs to me. I’ll be there because you opened your heart to me.”
Oh. My. God. Please don’t let me fall in love with this man. I couldn’t bear it if it didn’t last.
Who the fuck am I kidding? I might already be there.
Chapter Fifteen
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North Carolina fall weather was a fickle bitch. One week, the temperature could be so hot, eggs would fry on the sidewalk, and the very following week, the weatherman would be announcing blizzard conditions.
My school uniform for the time being centered on staying cool in loose and blousy dresses with long boxy jackets. Not exactly fashionable, but I didn’t think I needed to advertise my condition any more than necessary. I probably should give my students more credit, as they didn’t blink an eye at my burgeoning belly. As predicted, a few disapproving looks came from some of the older, more conservative teachers, but other than that, no one made a big deal.
For several weeks, the school year took up all my free time. That, and the new class I had to teach. People had no idea how much work it took to be a teacher. Preparing an entire semester of lesson plans, finding materials, making tests appropriate to the state’s standards, setting up the bulletin boards in the classroom, calendaring all the events for sports, field trip absences so as not to disrupt routines any more than needed, figuring how best to teach students with IEP’s, helping prepare for the frickin’ SATs, and of course the never-ending task of grading papers. My classes held from twenty-seven to thirty students each, and there were seven of them now. It didn’t take a mathematician to figure out that meant every assignment could potentially put me at grading well over two hundred papers at a time. And then there were the emails. Holy fuck, the emails! Parents complaining about said grades, too much homework, could their kid get extra credit, and why did it take so long for me to answer?
Still, I loved my job. I loved when my students got the concepts. I loved the positive atmosphere in my classroom. I loved it when kids asked me about being on the math team. I loved the study groups that formed with some of my mathletes as tutors. Even during my brief planning time, all twenty minutes of it, kids would come and hang out with me between classes, ask questions, and sometimes just stop by to say hi.
I loved being a teacher.
I also loved Friday night football and went to every game, home or away. Bevvie and I sat together, and she always brought her brood with her. Abby had considered trying out for cheerleading last year. Apparently this had changed since her vegan phase started. Jacob would be at this school next year and had already gotten established in a group of science kids. He won the state science fair in his division last year, and his reputation had spread among the science geek squad as a potential player for the robotics team. Sarah stayed by me most of the time, treating me like the cool auntie I was, and Mattie acted like Mattie. I tag-teamed with Bevvie in watching him to make sure he didn’t climb the fence rails or the announcer’s booth.
A drop in temperature had me donning an extra layer. The weather prediction had rain coming, but not ’til way after the game. My favorite Dolce and Gabbana jacket wouldn’t fit right now, so I’d opted for my fluffy Gorski cashmere poncho. Both pieces were actually knock-offs. Yes, I had enough money to buy a two-thousand-dollar piece of clothing, however, I saw no need to spend that kind of green on a label no one ever saw. My mother would die of embarrassment if she knew I had Vera Wang and J. Lo on my back instead of Saint Laurent and Chanel.
The pale gray wool brushed softly against my neck as I unfolded my stadium chair and plopped down next to Bevvie.
“Hey, trouble,” my hoodie-clad BFF greeted. “Did you hear about the Collins boy? Confirmed case of mono. I’ve got an extra economy-sized bottle of hand sanitizer in my room if you need it.”
I nodded. “Yes, I heard. He dated Amelie Grace last year, and I think he’s with Tracie Edwards now. I don’t know if the girls have it yet, but I bet it’s coming. Knowing his reputation, I wouldn’t be surprised if a few more girls came down with it.”
Bev chuckled and pulled out her phone. “Connor has the kids over at the concession stand. You want something?”
“They have razzy-ritas yet?”
“Ha ha, very funny.” She assumed what I called her radio announcer voice. “You have the choice between the delightful sparkling taste of a variety of carbonated beverages, the creamy confection of hot chocolate with marshmallows, or the slightly bitter notes of dark, rich coffee. Decaf, of course, with thick cream and a touch of sugar.”
“So the usual. Coke, Sprite, Swiss Miss powder packs, or Costco-brand Keurig pods.”
“You’re messing up my presentation.”
“You’ll get over it. Hot chocolate sounds good. Decaf is a sin.”
“And one you have to indulge in right now.”
I sighed. “Yes. As soon as junior gets here, I’m moving into Starbucks for a month.”
Her thumbs tapped at the screen of her phone. I spotted Abby and did a double take. She wore jeans with perfectly symmetrical rips at the thighs, black boots, and an off the shoulder oversized pink sweater. Her hair was styled, and she had on full makeup.
“I take it the hippie phase is over?”
Bevvie rolled her eyes. “Yes, thank God. Samuel finally went too far out for her. I could handle the vegan part, but then he declared all vegetables should be eaten raw. Not because it’s healthier, but because it’s cruel to cook them. He told Abby that she should only eat apples that have fallen to the ground and not pick any from the tree. I got a lecture from him about how inhumane it was to grind wheat into flour. He claims he’s heard potatoes cry out in agony when someone chops them up or peels them and broccoli screams in pain when in the steamer. Don’t get me started on what he says about cooking rice. Not even for love is Abby going to subsist on only cucumbers and arugula.”
I pondered for a moment. “If plants had cognitive thinking brains and nervous systems, then would he consider harvesting murder? The act of chewing would also be a form of veggie mistreatment, right?”
Bevvie gave me a look of horror. “Don’t go there. There’s a big crock-pot of beef stew on my kitchen counter right now with the mangled bodies of all sort of veggies in it. You’re welcome to come by after the game.”
I smiled. “Carrot killer.”
“Yep. I’m the notorious squash strangler.”
“Lima bean basher.”
“Hash-slinging slasher.”
“Onion annihilator.”
“Tomato terror.”
“Pea... uh… picker? Okay, you win.” I laughed.
“Torturing more produce, love?” Connor came up with his hands full of steaming Styrofoam cups. Sarah walked sedately next to him carrying two more cups, while Mattie skipped and circled them. I wasn’t really surprised to see Owen behind them, his large hands wrapped round the delicate white foam. He silently handed me one of the cups. Dehydrated mini marshmallows slowly disintegrated on top. I took a cautious sip. Hot chocolate? How ’bout barely lukewarm.
“I’m sure the police have already issued an APB on me.” Bevvie grimaced at her own drink.
Owen sat next to me, his hand dwarfing the small white cup. He raised it to his lips and swallowed the entire contents in one go. His face scrunched up, probably at the barely there chocolate flavor. I met his eyes and gave him my best sympathetic look. We hadn’t talked much since last weekend when we almost ended up in bed together. I’d typed a dozen texts and deleted every one of them instead of sending. Sharing my feelings didn’t come easy to me, and even though texting was safer, I still chickened out. Owen must have sensed that, and he backed off. A lot.
The band marched onto the field to the roars of the crowd, and the tinny sound of the announcer crackled over the outdated loudspeaker. Ugh! Someday, I really wished the school would finally spend some money on new equipment. It would be nice to join the twenty-first century before it became the twenty-second century. Retro might be in as far as teenage fashion, but the teachers needed up-to-date computers, smartboards, and tablets. The clunky monitors from the early nineties just didn’t cut it.
“We need a fundraiser.”
Bevvie glanced up at my random statement. “We do fundraisers all the time. Every department, ’cause the budget is lopsided. Better mon
ey management would go further. You remember the shit with the band when Bradshaw said they had to pay to use the field for practice? He said it was because the band caused too much damage to the grass for the football team to play. Coach Vann said that was bull because the team practices on that same field every day. Bradshaw also told all the teams that they would have to fund their own transportation to off-campus events. School functions not supported by school money? Something’s fishy in the office.”
“Bradshaw’s cologne.”
Beverly snorted and choked. “Don’t do that when I’m enjoying my fancy gourmet chock-oh-lah!”
“Stick with singing, sweetheart. Your Italian is way off.”
“That was French.”
“I rest my case.”
“PITA.”
I made kissy noises at her. Connor grinned, and Owen grunted out a laugh. Junior decided to get in on the action and started turning flips. Visions of a tiny alien body using my liver and bladder for punching and kicking bags flashed through my mind. I had to pee. Again. “Excuse me for a minute. Anyone need something while I’m up?”
Owen stood. “A bigger cup.”
OMG, Owen made a joke!
I laughed. “I agree, but you don’t have to come with me. I can go to the bathroom all by myself now and get you another hot chocolate on the way back.”
Mattie hopped up and down the bleacher steps on one foot, bumping into several people in the process. “Sorry. Excuse me. Hey, Mom? Can Uncle Owen get me a hot dog? I’m hungry.”