Wherever You Go Page 12

  Everyone knew Mondays were impossible to put off. Ready or not, they arrived on schedule. And though she wasn’t ready, her Monday was coming tomorrow.

  Right at closing time, Asher returned, waving a white t-shirt in front of him.

  “This is my flag of surrender.”

  She couldn’t contain her surprised laughter.

  “I’m a dick. A sorry dick. A dick who is prone to overreacting. I know you were only trying to help, and I should have kept my dick behavior in check.”

  “That’s a good idea, actually. Someone should invent a condom that prevents emotional outbursts.”

  He nodded and looked pensive. “I’ll look into that. In the meantime, do you forgive me?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and enjoyed watching his anxiety build.

  “I suppose, considering you’ve always accepted my apologies.”

  “When you’re done here, you want to hang out for a bit? I told Izzy she could go to a movie with a friend. A female friend. And I verified it with the friend’s parents.”

  “That’s great, Asher. So you’ve made up?”

  “Eh. I don’t know if she’s too happy with me, but she stopped growling at me, at least.”

  “And you’re sure it was actually her parent you spoke with? I remember pretending to be a friend’s mom when we were sneaking around…”

  His terse look cut into her. Oops. She should have kept her mouth shut.

  “My bad. I’m sure she wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “Well now I’m going to be stressed about that all night. Maybe I’ll go sit outside the movie theater and wait to see…”

  “No. Don’t do that.” Paisley laughed and shook her head vehemently, her eyebrows rising on her forehead. “She will kill you.”

  “Well I guess you’d better keep me company so I don’t do something crazy.”

  His eyes held the most deliciously intricate invitation, tickling her with their intensity. His shoulders promised to carry her burden, or at least to help her forget for a little while.

  But she had to go to Boston in the morning, and it was a meeting she dreaded more than anything.

  No way would she be able to keep her head in the game.

  Then again, he had a way of making her act without thinking.

  “As wonderful as the idea is, I can’t. Sorry. But promise me you won’t do anything crazy.”

  “Can’t or don’t want to?” he asked, taunting her with a deepened tone as he stepped closer to her.

  “Stay there,” she warned, holding a hand out. “Kim ran to the store for me, but she’ll be back any second and I don’t need to scar her with the image of two old people doing naughty things.”

  “Who said anything about doing naughty things?” he teased. “And who are you calling ‘old’?”

  Her stomach pounded like a judge’s gavel at the idea of doing anything with him.

  “Seriously, Ash. I have an appointment in Boston in the morning.”

  “You go there an awful lot for someone who said she wants to settle in to relax in a small town.”

  Suspicion tinged his voice. She didn’t want to talk about her health issues. She already had her sisters tip-toeing around her all the time—she wanted him to treat her normally. And she wanted him to look at her and be turned on, not think of how they’d be hacking away at her breasts soon.

  She looked away, unable to lie to him while making eye contact. She’d wait until later to analyze why she was having a hard time lying when fabricating was an art she had perfected in law school.

  “The city doesn’t let go easily.”

  He paused long enough to make her want to cancel her appointment and lose herself in his arms.

  “Here’s the deal,” he began, drawing circles with his finger on the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe. “I’ll let the city win this round. But when I get you, I won’t let go easily, either.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  As she suspected, the news the doctor delivered was not good.

  Paisley had, indeed, tested BRCA positive.

  She had the gene that would more than likely lead to breast and uterine cancer. She already had the cancerous lump to deal with. Again.

  How much more could one woman take?

  She’d have to break the news to her sisters. Though she’d prefer to keep it all to herself, they had the right to know that since she had inherited the mutation, they each had a fifty percent chance of having inherited it, too.

  She prayed to whoever was listening that she could take the hit on this one. Please spare my sisters.

  She could handle dealing with the illness herself. She could not—could not—handle watching her sisters suffer.

  In no hurry to go home, Paisley walked in a trance-like state into the NICU at the hospital down the street. Her nurse friend, Miranda, took one look at her and led her directly, wordlessly, to the rocking chair near Pippin, the premature baby who had been born addicted to drugs.

  As Paisley settled into the chair, Miranda swaddled Pippin, careful to keep her wires from getting pinched.

  “Has she been making good progress?”

  Miranda smiled and filled Paisley in on the baby’s stats.

  “Has her mother shown up at all?” The nurse shook her head, sorrow lining her face. Though they saw a lot of tragedy in the NICU, her friend had confided that she was never able to harden her heart to make the blows easier.

  Paisley didn’t know how long she sat there. She fed the baby her bottle, hummed so long her vocal cords ached, and realized that one arm had gone numb and the other was threatening to revolt.

  Miranda must have picked up on Paisley’s distress. Though she didn’t want to give up holding the precious bundle of life, she didn’t argue when the nurse took her away.

  A whole world ahead of her. So much promise. And such a rough start.

  Paisley watched little Pippin sleep as Miranda placed the beanie caterpillar Paisley had given her next to her side.

  “She loves this thing. It seems to really comfort her.”

  “I’m glad.” And she was. If she could make even the slightest difference in this baby’s life, she was all for it. Heck, maybe tomorrow she’d place a bulk order of the toys and have one delivered to every baby in the hospital.

  “Listen, I want to tell you this because you had been asking, but I don’t want you to feel bad, ‘kay?”

  Ice poured through Paisley’s veins at the nurse’s precautionary tone.

  “What?”

  “The mother came back.”

  “When?” Paisley wrinkled her forehead, confused as all hell. She had just asked. Had her friend forgotten and remembered?

  “While you were holding Pippin,” she whispered, looking over Paisley’s shoulder. “Tara, the check-in nurse, pointed in our direction to show her where her baby was, and when she saw you cuddling her, she watched for a few, then turned around and rushed out like the devil was on her tail.”

  Paisley’s hands flew to her mouth. She had interfered with the reunification of this baby and her mother.

  Maybe the mom had been off at rehab. Maybe she had been getting her life back together. Maybe Paisley had inadvertently screwed that all up.

  “Can you call her? Oh my god. Tell her I’m just a volunteer!”

  “Her number hasn’t been in service for weeks. I told you not to feel bad.”

  “Yeah, because telling someone that always works.”

  “I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “Yes. You should have. And next time I come in, I’ll hold a different baby.”

  “No, Pais. This baby needs you. Her stats are most stable after you leave. Last time I even gave her your scrub shirt to cuddle up with because it smelled like you. Don’t desert her.”

  “I don’t want to get in the way of her relationship with her mother.”

  “As of right now, she doesn’t have one.”

  Paisley excused herself and left, unable to discuss a futur
e that made her sad.

  The long drive home was good for resetting her emotions. She had made up her mind about what her next step would be in the event of a positive test result, and though her team tried to convince her to try the less intrusive methods first, her mind was made up.

  Once Paisley’s mind was made up, she rarely—if ever—changed it.

  She entered Healing Springs, snickering at the irony of their trademarked sign. “Repairing Broken Spirits Since 1836.” If only they could repair broken bodies as easily.

  Paisley wished she had answered her boss’s request to stop by the office to mentor one of the new hires. She could have delayed returning to Healing Springs. Could have immersed herself in a job that had the power to take her life away from her in a way much different than the cancer.

  She drove three times around the common, unsure of what to do. She couldn’t go home. She wasn’t ready to face her sisters yet. They’d know something was wrong. They’d make her talk. They’d want to listen. She’d cry.

  Paisley wasn’t ready to cry.

  Instead, she drove to Asher’s.

  And then she drove away.

  What the hell was she thinking?

  She turned off her headlights when she entered the parking lot of her sister’s cottage motel. Thankful for a full moon and the solar lights Reed had installed along the small dirt road, she made her way down the wooded trail to her small cottage, the one she had insisted Reed allow her to move into.

  Her phone buzzed with the incoming text alert. Shit, she was caught. Reed would question why she was driving with her lights off, and she wouldn’t let it go until Paisley told her everything about the day.

  Paisley rested her head against the steering wheel before checking the text.

  Not Reed. Not Simplicity. Not her boss.

  An unfamiliar number with a New Hampshire area code.

  She clicked on the text, curiosity making her forget all of her other troubles.

  Asher had a new cell phone. He claimed (in full sentences, not an abbreviation in sight) that she was his very first text, and then said that since he gave her his text-virginity, she owed him big. He had mentioned (with a winky face. A winky face!) that his niece would be sleeping over her friend’s house that night since tomorrow was the last day of school, and he hoped she’d join him for the couple of hours of peace he could promise.

  Paisley smiled. So Izzy had truly made a friend. Good for her.

  And Asher wanted alone time. Good for her.

  Paisley couldn’t wipe the cheer off her face as she carried on a flirtextation with Asher, never quite saying that she’d swing by.

  She took a long, hot, restorative shower and picked her sexiest casual outfit to wear. She highlighted breasts that were trying to kill her, hoping Asher would find a way to make her feel alive.

  She had faith in him. She had faith in his abilities.

  And she wouldn’t give another thought to how her life was going to change until tomorrow. She’d deal with it tomorrow.

  Paisley checked her make-up one more time before getting out of her car and knocking on his door.

  Tomorrow would suck, but tonight she’d delight in the prospect of sucking.

  ***

  Asher hadn’t wanted to appear too eager, but when her headlights lit up his living room, he beat her to the front door.

  She accepted his offer for a drink, but he only had water to offer her.

  “You came over.” He knew his words were idiotic, but he was too focused on the swell of her breasts over the top of her tank top and the fire building in her eyes when he resumed eye contact.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?” She stepped closer. A tiny bit closer.

  “I hoped you would.” He gulped, unsure how to proceed and wishing he had alcohol. He had rid the house of anything that could get his brother into trouble, but he could really use a fucking beer.

  “You did?” She licked her lips, making them glisten.

  He wanted the honor of licking those lips, too.

  And every other part of her.

  He nodded, enjoying the way he could see her delicate throat pulsate.

  “Were you hoping we could watch tv together? Play a board game?”

  He hoped she was teasing. Knew that her body was screaming for him to touch her.

  They had been dancing around this for weeks. He had something to prove, and he was all too eager to prove it.

  “We can do that after. If you want.”

  “After what?” She widened her eyes and smirked.

  “You know.” He took the glass out of her hand and placed it on the counter.

  He stepped closer to her. He had the insane urge to breathe the same air she breathed, to feel her body heat emanating onto his skin.

  She didn’t step back.

  In fact, she called his bluff and stepped closer. So close that if he leaned in just a little, his chest would brush against hers.

  She did the leaning first.

  He didn’t know what happened next. Did she reach up to grab his head, or did he wrap his arms around her waist first?

  One way or another, their lips found each other’s in a passion so fierce, he wondered if someone had slipped something in his water.

  What was it about this woman that made his normally level head leap through an entire spectrum of emotions in a single bound? Not to mention what she did to his other head…

  With a moan deep in her throat, she reached down to his now-burgeoning zipper.

  He pulled her closer, locking her hand in place and demanding more. His hands slipped to the ass he had coveted every time he saw her. He wanted more—he wanted skin-to-skin contact. He needed to get their clothes off and to settle the score once and for all.

  As soon as the thought of his failed attempt entered his mind, he urged it away. He replaced that thought with images of her fantastic breasts filling his hands and mouth.

  She unzipped his pants. He frantically pawed at her buttons. She reached in and threaded her fingers through the flap of his boxers. He groaned and pushed into her soft hand. She squeezed and stroked, making him forget every blasted thing he should remember.

  Success—he breached the wall of her silky tank top and found the front clasp of her bra. He popped it open effortlessly, feeling more skilled than he actually was. Her touch made him braver and more self-assured than he had ever been.

  “You ready for this?” She bit his lip, then eased the pain with a lick and a suck.

  He didn’t have words.

  All he could do was communicate his desire by cupping her breasts and burying his head between them. With her free hand, she clutched him to her breast. Hard peaks invited him to taste, and he accepted the rosy invitation.

  Her nipple and his tongue made the best partners in the world. He could easily throw away any plans, hopes, or dreams in exchange for this sensation.

  He brushed her hand away from his erection. If she continued, he’d embarrass himself again in an entirely different way.

  She ran her hands over his shoulders and neck, acting as if she had fantasized about this as much as he had.

  He kissed his way to her neck, nibbling and suckling along the way. He stopped at a spot above her collarbone where he had left a mark during their last encounter. He licked around the last remnants of the faded bruise, and then gave it a twin right beside it. Pleased with his handiwork, he continued to her shoulder, where his teeth scraped the spot that made her shiver.

  When his mouth made it back to hers, they combusted once again.

  Together, they lowered their bodies to the cold tile of the kitchen floor, their bodies doing all the talking.

  She tugged his shirt over his head, growling when the shirt snagged around his ear. He ripped it over his head himself while she began running her hands over his chest as soon as it was bared. His laugh about her impatience turned to a sigh as she pinched his hardened nipples.

  “You like that, huh?”

  �
��I like everything you do to me.”

  She pulled him so he was on the floor beside her, and then rolled on top of him.

  She returned the licking/biting favor, making him bite the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming out in tortured pleasure.

  She kissed her way down his chest, pausing to tickle his abs with her thick, glorious hair. He grabbed the sides of her head to stop her. She moved her head to the side to capture his finger between her teeth. She sucked it into her mouth.

  “You’re a fucking goddess.”

  She stared at him through long eyelashes as her red lips rode up and down his index finger.

  His hips rose, forcing his hardness into her still-covered heat.

  In spite of her clothing, he could feel her desire. Knew she was as ready for him as he was for her.

  He found her button and lowered her zipper. She helped him remove her pants, then climbed back onto him for more torture. Her satiny red panties—almost the same color as his Ferrari—rubbed against his hardness, wringing moisture from his tip.

  He brought his finger to the outside of her panties, tracing the line of her nerve endings, hoping she’d fill with desire to match his own. He shouldn’t have worried—she threw her head back and her chest forward. From his vantage point, her breasts rose like beacons leading him home.

  Urged on by her moans, he maneuvered his finger through the side of her panties, making contact with her hot flesh.

  He slid into her easily, wishing he could skip ahead and fuck her good, but also wanting to savor every delectable moment.

  She purred and thrust against his finger, scraping her nails down his chest. The stinging sensation made him hotter.

  “Condom,” she panted. He reached into his pocket, thankful he had been carrying one around since their first encounter when he had been caught unprepared. He had given her a number of reasons to think him unmanly, but this time he’d leave no doubt in her mind about how manly he could be.