Can't Lose Me Read online

  He stopped just before stepping foot over the threshold.

  “Take my bed.”

  Fresh humiliation washed over her like a hot acid bath. She hadn’t been able to erase the memories of the last time she had been in his bed.

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  “At least take the extra bedroom, then. It’s practically empty.”

  Her chest tightened. Her breathing ceased. Her temples pounded.

  How could he even make the suggestion?

  How could she even step foot in that room?

  The nursery.

  “I’ve had everything cleared out of there. There are some boxes, but that’s it.”

  He had everything cleared out of there.

  Cleared out.

  Out.

  Everything.

  The carefully chosen crib with matching rocking chair and dresser. The starry night themed bedding they had taken hours to select. The changing table with the zoo animal mobile.

  All traces of the baby who was never meant to be.

  Gone.

  She didn’t know what she had expected. Why would he keep everything set up, museum style? Why wouldn’t he clear out all memories of the darkest times of their lives?

  “I have an air mattress,” he offered.

  Was he trying to be cruel? Or did he really not know that her gut throbbed from the sucker punch?

  She wanted to say something.

  To acknowledge his concern.

  To confront him for his disposal of their past.

  Her throat had sealed shut, though, and the words were pasted to the roof of her mouth.

  “Suit yourself.”

  She watched him walk away—into the room they had shared in happy times. The room where they had conceived their dreams. The room where they had lost those dreams in a flash. Two flashes. Three flashes. The room that had grown to represent emptiness in their lives. A giant hole in their relationship.

  The room that pushed her to leave her stable life with hopes that he would move on.

  The room that beckoned her to return all this time later, desperately in need of repairing what they had broken. What she had broken.

  Sick of being stuck in the past and suffering over things she couldn’t control, Mackenzie buried her head under her sweater and allowed sleep to elude her.

  When Gabe quietly stepped into the room and placed a blanket over her, she pretended not to notice the way he still, after everything, couldn’t stop himself from taking care of her.

  ***

  Mackenzie hooked her cell phone into the speakers she had purchased from Miss Molly’s shop downtown.

  Gabe may have been playing hard ass with her, pretending he couldn’t care less about her, but he couldn’t hide the kind and compassionate deeds.

  The first night, he had covered her with the blanket. The next morning, he made breakfast while she drooled on his sofa cushion. He left a plate of scrambled eggs and a few pieces of bacon on a plate for her. The next night, while she was having dinner with her mom, he shored up the sofa with a wooden board and some memory foam under the cushions, so her sleep came much more comfortably.

  He refused to speak to her. But he couldn’t keep himself from demonstrating some level of affection.

  True, Gabe was the type who would bust his butt for a stranger, but this was different. This was like the way he was when they were together.

  Mackenzie prepared a song list of all of the songs that would bring him back to the good old days. Songs they had listened to. Danced to. Made love to. Songs that would remind him of loving her.

  She had carefully shopped so she could make his favorite meal—pork chops with baked mac and cheese and steamed broccoli. This had been her go-to treat for him back in the day, and he had always rewarded her with the most amazing massage and lovemaking session afterward.

  Her stomach did flips at the thought of him touching her. Of his skin against hers.

  As soon as the food was prepared and set to warm and the table was set, she took a quick shower and slipped into her favorite t-shirt. His.

  She had planned to be more proper, but after shaving and slipping into the sexy panties, she decided to leave herself bare. The t-shirt would be statement enough.

  The second his car pulled into the driveway, she turned on the music. Shuffled to random, she smiled when the first song that played was the first song they had made love to.

  She couldn’t have planned it better.

  Chapter Five

  Gabe dropped his keys into their holding dish, when what he really wanted to do was run out and pretend he hadn’t stepped into a time warp.

  She had made his favorite meal. He had smelled it as soon as he stepped onto the front porch. His stomach betrayed him, growling loudly as he fought a completely different kind of hunger.

  He couldn’t stop staring.

  His wife—his estranged wife—slicing butter into a steaming dish of broccoli. Naked. Half naked, anyway.

  His attraction to her had nothing to do with her, of that he was certain. Holy fuck—he couldn’t catch his breath as her t-shirt rode up to reveal a nearly bare ass while she reached up to a higher cabinet. Any man who had been without sex as long as he had would be rock hard at walking into his home and finding a domestic fantasy with long legs and a bare ass preparing his favorite meal.

  Little did she know that his absolute favorite meal was her.

  Fuck.

  This wasn’t happening. He had managed to stay strong when he found her naked in his bed. He hadn’t woken her up and given her what they both wanted when he suffered with morning wood, made all the worse knowing that she was in his living room and would be willing. He had stayed strong when he had been tempted to come home mid-day, knowing she’d be sitting around waiting for him.

  No way would this newest tactic of hers work.

  He’d stay strong.

  He’d get his divorce.

  And then he’d move on.

  He promised himself—again—that as soon as the divorce judgment was granted, he’d get laid.

  He watched her hips move to the music. He imagined them moving against him.

  “Wait a second, wasn’t this the song…”

  She turned her head toward him, a devilish grin on her face as she tucked her chin into her shoulder. “Does it bring back memories?”

  He kicked off his shoes and pretended he didn’t know what she meant. Pretended he didn’t have an instant, painful recollection of their awkward and magical first time together.

  “Hungry?”

  He grunted.

  She carried a serving dish to the table, leaning over to place it in the middle and giving him a view that made his heart leap into his throat and his balls swell into globes.

  He closed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheeks until he tasted blood on his tongue.

  Self-inflicted pain proved to be no defense against that little slip of purple string riding up her well-formed and just-the-right-amount-of-jiggly ass cheeks.

  Fuck.

  Between the bulge pressing against his zipper and his blood pressure rising until he thought he might die if he didn’t bury himself inside her, he became glued to the spot.

  If he stepped forward, he couldn’t be responsible for his lack of restraint.

  He followed her every move as she brought two more serving dishes to the table, and each time, he had to bite a new part of his mouth. He thought he had ripped a chunk out of his lip, but as it began to swell, he realized it remained in place.

  “What are you doing, Kenzie?”

  She turned around, her face pink and innocent, reminding him of the time he had caught her practicing the way she would sign “Mrs. O’Brien” before they had even begun to date.

  “Can’t a wife make her husband dinner without raising suspicions?”

  Her voice sounded far more self-confident than he had ever heard her.

  “You’re not my wife, Kenz. Only technically. And not for l
ong.”

  She looked away, the façade of self-confidence shimmering away as quickly as it had come. Long lashes swept her upper cheeks. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from rushing over to reassure her. She didn’t need his reassurance. She needed to know there was no chance of a reunification.

  Teasing him with a great view and his favorite foods did not repair the damage she had wrought.

  He waited, knowing she would rush off into the other room, dissolve into tears, and give up.

  His heart burned at the thought, but giving up was the best thing they could do.

  Her eyes opened in a heartbeat, and he was startled by the fire in them.

  She hadn’t melted in the face of his rejection.

  “Dinner is ready.”

  She smiled and straightened her shoulders. Her nipples pressed against the shirt, luring him over. He stepped closer. Couldn’t help it. He was ravenous. Just one taste.

  Reason caught up before he stepped again. The twinkle in her eyes as she rested a hand on her hip alerted him to the fact that she was about to score a point in their war. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

  With a deep, ragged breath, he glared at her. And then he realized…

  “That’s my shirt.”

  She looked down as if noticing for the first time.

  “It’s my favorite.”

  “It was my favorite, too. I looked for that thing for months!”

  When had she stepped so close? If he reached out, he could touch her. His fingers begged to trace the line of her breasts as they beckoned him. If he reached out, he could grab her hip and pull her to him. His palms could run over her smooth skin. She could wrap her legs around his waist and…

  “I can’t believe you stole my shirt. You knew it was my favorite.”

  She shrugged, not looking apologetic at all. “Want it back?”

  Before he could stop her, she lifted it. Slowly. Seductively. Giving him a chance to stop her as she gave him an alluring glimpse of her satin skin, her flirty belly button, her slight rib cage.

  And then she whipped the damn thing over her head and handed it to him.

  He watched the skin around her nipples tighten and goosebumps erupt over her chest.

  Fuck this shit.

  In a blink, his lips crushed hers and his overheated body shared warmth with her bare skin. Her arms tightened around his neck, urging him on. His tongue forced its way past her lips, but was quickly welcomed into her moist heat. The music playing softly in the background, combined with a combination of scents—his favorite foods along with the familiar scent that was Kenzie all the way—transported him back in time to days when things were simple.

  When there was only Kenzie. And no broken hearts or betrayals.

  His hands went from cupping her face to slipping down her back. Her skin burned his palms as he ventured over her hip. His fingers slipped into the thin strap she wore—the only clothing that remained on her hot, hot body.

  Their tongues battled as her body curved into his. He could snap this little bit of material off in one second, and he could be deep inside her in two.

  Her fingers played with his hair and she made the cute little mewling sound that he had always found so endearing.

  But that was then.

  When she was trustworthy.

  With self-control worthy of a fucking medal, he jerked away, turning away from her so he could regain his composure.

  He had almost lost it. The battle. The willpower. Everything he had worked to overcome.

  He heard her gasp, but he refused to turn back to see her.

  He couldn’t trust himself to look at her and not finish what they had started. What he had once thought would never be finished.

  Noticing the t-shirt on the floor near his feet, he kicked it back toward her.

  “You can keep it.” And then he stormed out of his house, leaving the meal and the woman and all the comforts of home far behind.

  Chapter Six

  Mackenzie left the job interview feeling better than she had in a week. Or a lifetime.

  She had thought she could do this whole live-with-the-pissed-off-husband-and-make-things-work thing, but she was beginning to realize that the Gabe she had fallen in love with as a teenager was not the Gabe who could so heartlessly reject her.

  But hey, she had changed, too.

  The kind lady she had met with at the temp agency seemed to think she’d have no problem placing Mackenzie in a temporary position at the local nursing home. Mackenzie had explained that she’d be leaving in about two months. The lady laughed, saying most people didn’t last that long at the nursing home, anyway.

  Years ago, that comment would have scared Mackenzie off. Now, however, it made her eager to accept the challenge.

  Gabe didn’t want her. She couldn’t let that be the end of her world, no matter how quickly the blood flowed out of her heart.

  After a long afternoon visiting her kitties at her mom’s empty house, she dragged her butt back to Gabe’s house. She didn’t want to. She really didn’t want to. But she had entered an agreement, and she’d uphold her part of it. No matter how sadistic the agreement turned out to be.

  Mackenzie reheated some leftovers (enough for Gabe, too). She carried her plate to the living room and settled in with a magazine. When Gabe came home, she said a polite hello while he ignored her. There may have been a grunt, she wasn’t sure. She filled her belly and pretended his indifference didn’t hurt.

  He went to bed without a word. She didn’t even have any tears left to cry.

  She was too excited for the job she would begin the next day.

  Several minutes later, when she couldn’t stop smiling after receiving the text from the temp agency, Gabe flipped on the overhead light.

  “What are you so smiley about?”

  She shrugged. Really wasn’t his concern, and she had no interest in being deflated.

  “You think this is funny, don’t you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Did you check your email?”

  She shook her head, her fingers itching to check on her phone. Something had him riled up, and she was dying to know what it was.

  But she refused to beg for information.

  “Your damned mediator guy. Has he been asking you for updates?”

  Her cheeks reddened. “He’s not my mediator guy. He’s our mediator guy. And yes, he has. Hasn’t he been asking you?”

  “I’ve been ignoring his probing.”

  “The paper we signed clearly stated that we’d check in with weekly updates. I didn’t want to be in violation of the agreement.”

  “Yeah, yeah. He so kindly sent me a copy with that part highlighted.”

  “So what’s the problem? I told him the truth, but I told him we remained committed to the process.”

  Gabe gripped the doorframe, squeezing it tight enough that she imagined it shattering into a pile of splinters.

  “The problem, Mrs. O’Brien—”

  She hated how he stressed her married name. The way it sounded so sordid, so dirty, so despicable on his tongue.

  He continued, “Is that he is now insisting that we have a date night once a week. And we need to submit proof.”

  Blood drained from her face, while her heart began to thunder. Her nerves were lightning, coursing through her body and threatening to both electrify her with hope and kill her with the intensity.

  “What? Why?”

  “He claims it’s a new thing this imbecile judge is trying. All about preserving the family.”

  She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his face as it hardened and intensified. He was mad. Really, really mad.

  “He didn’t give a shit about the fact that we don’t have a family to preserve.”

  Pain threatened to cripple her, but it was old pain and she had worked her way through it. Or so she had thought.

  Hearing him throw those words in her face stripped away the scar tissue and made the ache
raw. He may as well have punched her in the face.

  He didn’t back off. “Was this your idea? Did you make the suggestion to him?”

  The words took a moment to worm their way through the fog of her brain.

  His accusation stung.

  And pissed her off.

  “Excuse me?”

  Gabe let go of his grip on the frame and, eyes drilling into hers, stalked toward her. He looked every inch the predator. And she knew if she didn’t act fast, she was about to be consumed.

  “Why would I make that suggestion? You think I’d want to be chained to you any more than I already am?”

  He stopped in his tracks, blinking as if she had caught him off-guard.

  “You’re safe from me, Gabriel. Whatever I had hoped to find back here is long gone. I’m not hunting for it anymore.”

  Unable to bear the intensity of his stare, she tossed her magazine to the side table, liberated herself from the tangle of the blanket, and stormed out of the house before she spent her last bit of mercy.

  ***

  Mackenzie fell into the sofa, thoroughly and delightfully exhausted after a crazy busy shift at the nursing home.

  The residents had earned their crochety reputations, but Mackenzie loved every second of assisting them, even if they spent a lot of time trying to drive her away.

  There was no sign of Gabe, other than his car in the driveway. She felt her shoulders relax—she wasn’t sure she had energy to fight with him.

  She tiptoed into the bathroom, prepared herself for bed, then started to drift off at the exact moment that Gabe decided to stumble into the living room, startling her awake and forcing her heart into a gallop.

  He was bathed in light from his room, but she couldn’t make out his facial expression in the shadows. His posture seemed different. Unsteady. Slouchy.

  And he stared at her. As if he were waiting for her to say something.

  She had nothing to say. He had made it all extremely clear.