HARDPRESSED (Ocean Falls Trilogy Book 1) Page 11

  He continued to stumble through his explanation, and once I pulled myself from my thoughts, I realized he was even more nervous than before. But why? I guessed that I had forced that memory aside as well. Despite his size, his demeanor, at the center of it all, Greyson was a very sensitive man. One that sometimes struggled with the intensity of his emotions.

  He sat on the opposite end of the couch, and though a teensy bit blurry, I couldn’t help but notice how he drummed his fingers on the armrest. It was something he’d always done in an effort to calm his anxiety, though I’d never seen it actually work. He must have realized what he was doing and quickly reached back for my ankle. Two hands were better than one.

  I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Only the very tips of my toes were visible as he cradled my foot with care. He was beautiful, beautiful in a way that he could never see, never believe. His words were muffled, his jawline as sharp as ever, and before I knew it, I launched myself into his lap.

  The rest was a bit of a blur. I remembered arguing whether Carrie and Big were meant to be and if heat versus ice was the better option for my ankle. But most importantly, I remembered the tingling sensation as his breath danced across my forehead before a goodnight kiss.

  Chapter 16

  Greyson

  It was my fault. I had lingered for too long. My intention was a brief peck to her forehead. Just a way of letting her know it was okay, she was safe and that she could rest, sleep it off. I wasn’t going anywhere. Not until she wanted me to, at least.

  Before I pulled away, I needed to breathe her in. She rose to meet me and curled her fingers into my hair. When I started to step back, a moan of sorts, slipped from her lips. One kiss. Just the one. Anything more would make me a complete asshole. Not to mention, if it were to happen, I needed her with me. The decision had to be hers, not the cocktails.

  For the first time in my life, I practiced restraint. I held still, my mouth partially open from having been caught off guard. My hands gripped the armrest, where she laid her head as she slipped her tongue into my mouth. When I went to pull away, she trapped my bottom lip between her teeth just like she’d done earlier. Nope. I wouldn’t be that guy. And so somehow, I managed to pull away. She groaned in protest but never opened her eyes. I needed to create some space between us, so I slipped away as carefully as I possibly could.

  The recliner in the far corner of the room would have to do. No way in hell was I going to lie down in her bed. Not again. I quietly made my way to her restroom, frustrated and completely on edge, and shot Dax a quick text to let him know he could save his bail money, that Weezy was locked up and secure, and I would see him later that morning. After another splash of water to my face, I twisted the doorknob as quietly as I possibly could. It didn’t matter, though, because the second I stepped into the hallway, I tripped over something that not only slid down the hallway and crashed against her closet door but also decided to play a little song once it got there.

  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  I froze in place as though it mattered in the slightest. The crash plus jingle would either wake her, or it wouldn’t. When I didn’t hear her so much as rollover, I exhaled but decided not to take any more risks. I scanned the floor the best I could without turning on any bright lights. I carefully made my way back into the bathroom, sat on the edge of her bathtub, and unlaced my shoes. I felt like a dumb ass tiptoeing my way down the hallway to begin with. As long as I could manage to not trip over my own two feet, I’d be good to go.

  I double-checked her locks and made sure to leave the light on above the stove in case she woke in the middle of the night. Granted, she was more graceful than me, obviously, but I didn’t want to risk her stumbling and further aggravating that ankle.

  I bundled her up tight and, in the process, forgot to keep a blanket for myself. I wasn’t about to go looking, but I spotted something purple and fuzzy laying in a basket she had sitting on the floor at the foot of her bookshelf. It must have belonged to her half pint because it covered me about as well as a cloth napkin but, oh well, it’d have to do.

  I must have been more tired than I thought. I could have sworn I saw a shadow near the corner of her window. Must have been a car driving by cause when I went to investigate, there was nothing there. Sleep. I needed sleep.

  Just as my eyes began to drift closed, Pres began to toss and turn. My first thought was that she was going to be sick to her stomach. Just as I began to rise and search for a bucket, she started to mumble.

  The recliner creaked underneath my weight but held strong. The room was dim, but I could still make out the lines of her delicate face. She rolled to her side as a small grin tugged at the corner of her mouth.

  “My favorite,” she whispered and rolled onto her back. It was at that moment that I wished I’d turned off all of the lights. She started to squirm a bit. Her long, lean legs snaked in and out from beneath her blankets, and when she stretched long, her muscles tightened. Her back arched, and the thin cotton t-shirt she was sporting left little to the imagination.

  She lay still for several minutes. The dream, or whatever it was, I assumed had come to an end. That was until her hand reached out, for just a second, and she muttered, “kay” and immediately rolled over, turning her back to me, and settled into a deep sleep.

  What the hell was that? Her favorite what? And who was Kay? Or did she mean okay? With so few pieces of her puzzle, it didn’t make any sense, at least not at first. It wasn’t until her faint humming hit the air that I came to my conclusion. Typical Presley, piss ass drunk but still had dancing on the brain. But with who? I wasn’t absolutely sure that was what the dream was about, but I figured it was as good a guess as any.

  My jaw ticked at the mere idea of her reliving her night with the happy feet cowboy. Maybe it wasn’t him at all. Baby Daddy, maybe? And just like that, my imagination took me from bad to worse. I was suddenly reminded that whatever this thing was brewing between the two of us, it could never really move forward. I mean, how could it? That one night really did change our lives forever.

  They were a family. Where, if anywhere, did that leave me? Where could I possibly fit into that ready-made equation? Nowhere. Carter, the fucker, apparently made for a good dad. I never knew mine. My gut churned at the thought of it all, but at the same time, I was glad Presley’s daughter had both of her parents in her life. Ya know, the kids are our future and shit.

  Their future didn’t include me. That little girl, I had to admit, was quite possibly the cutest kid I’d ever seen, and that’s saying a lot considering the word itself was in my most hated top 3. Only moist and ointment could rival it. And with that declaration, I realized my sleep-deprived brain was fucked and screaming for help. Fine, I’d sleep.

  I snuggled the fuzzy purple blanket the best I could and decided once again that when she woke, I would face her like a man. There would be no running away this time. I would say my goodbyes and leave her to lead her life, one that was much better than I could ever provide. My eyes stung as my lids slid shut.

  Presley

  You know that moment when you feel yourself waking, but your eyelids have yet to get the memo? Flashbacks from the night before began to show themselves, and through my brain fog, I tried to put it all together. There had been Belle’s confession, dancing with a cowboy, booze, lots and lots of booze and then…Greyson?

  “I’m here.”

  Oh, God, what had I done? I gripped the cushion tight as I eased myself, regretfully, into a seated position. The lights were off, thank God, leaving only what little natural light made it through the curtains to shine through. It was enough for me to see him, though.

  His eyes bore deep, and for a moment or two, he didn’t speak nor move. Maybe I wasn’t yet awake after all. Reading his face was impossible. It was void of any type of emotion, and it was a look I knew all too well. He was stuck in his own head, dwelling and
fixating, but over what?

  He rose slowly and caught Paisley’s throw blanket just before it hit the floor. He took a moment to fold it and place it back in her basket before heading to the kitchen. Though I wanted to know what he was doing, I used the alone time to rein in my hair. I was certain I looked like a troll doll. I’d just finished a single braid over my shoulder when he returned with a huge glass of water.

  “Here. Start with this, but go slow. Where’s your medicine cabinet?”

  Here we go. My mom left when I was young, and most of my memories are faded bits and pieces. One thing I would never forget, though, was her stash. She had pills of all shapes, colors, and sizes. Some made her hyper, some sleepy, and some, downright mean. Once Paisley was born, I sought alternative options due to a deep-rooted, very real fear of turning into my mother. Addiction destroys families from the inside out.

  “I don’t have one,” I replied and waited for his judgment. Only it didn’t come. Instead, he nodded once, asked what I do for pain, and offered to get it for me as long as I didn’t mind him rummaging through my stuff. I didn’t mind.

  I directed him back to the kitchen, more specifically, to the top of the refrigerator. There he would find a small basket filled with several glass roller bottles. I felt like my head was about to split open, so I needed the blue one. When he returned, instead of simply handing it to me, he unscrewed the cap and lowered to his knees beside me.

  “Now what?”

  I offered to do it myself, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

  “Umm, a little swipe at my temples, across my forehead, and maybe down the back of my neck for good measure.”

  I could feel my face heat at his touch, and chill bumps trickle down the center of my spine. I held my breath, thinking maybe, just maybe, this was something a little more than just him tending to my hungover ass.

  It was a tantalizing thought for a few seconds, at least. The reality of the situation was like a cold bucket of ice water dumped over my head. Which would likely have been an improvement over the disastrous bird’s nest I had going on up there. I’d passed clean out, wearing more clothes than I was used to, and apparently, he had covered me up, tucked me in. Oh God, had I been sweating in my sleep? Did I reek? Was the booze seeping through my pores?

  Once he worked his way behind me to apply some peppermint oil on my neck, I took the opportunity to assess the situation. There was nothing worse than the smell of stale alcohol the morning after. It appeared that I had been spared, but just to be sure, I hunched over just a bit and dropped my chin to my chest. Even though the only scent I caught was that of my body wash, my stomach still protested against the movement.

  I righted myself but before I realized what was happening, let alone could attempt to stop it, a belch resonated from the deepest part of my gut and came out with such force, it sent me rearing back against his chest. To make matters worse, it was followed by an odd bullfrog sounding, hiccup type thing? Maybe? I mean, what the fuck was that?

  Oh, my God.

  Oh. My. God.

  I was mortified. If there ever was a time for the floor to open up and swallow me whole, that would have been it. I had grown used to my body betraying me in Greyson’s presence but never like that. Just kill me, kill me now.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping, praying that someway, somehow, he hadn’t heard it. And then the chuckles began. Actually, chuckles was an understatement. I felt his weight lift from the armrest behind me, and I scrambled away to the opposite side of the couch. He continued to laugh, hard. I was completely humiliated until he spoke.

  “Goddamn woman!” he exclaimed.

  At the sound of the snort that followed, I couldn’t help but open my eyes and take him in. He was never more beautiful than when he laughed. He was so animated. His Adam’s apple bounced, on full display with his head thrown back, and I no longer cared that it was at my expense.

  I could have yelled, screamed, and thrown him out, but seeing him like that, seeing the Greyson I once knew, was well worth the embarrassment. His howling simmered down, and he pinned me with his gaze. He didn’t utter a single word. Instead, he stood tall and reached his hand out to me. I didn’t hesitate to take it.

  The second I placed my hand inside of his, he urged me to my feet. He gave me a moment to find my bearings and then smiled his signature smile, the smile I always liked to think was reserved just for me. Greyson pulled me close and tipped my chin to bring my eyes in line with his.

  “I watched you dream last night, and…I mean, I could be wrong, but it seemed like you wanted to dance.”

  His eyes drifted over my head, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was choosing his words carefully.

  “I can’t do the fancy stuff. I mean, as you know, I barely know the basics. Only what you taught me. I haven’t danced since you. Will you do me the honor? Here? Now?”

  “Kay.”

  And so right there in the middle of my living room, in complete silence, we danced.

  Chapter 17

  Greyson

  My intentions had been good, truly, but of my many weaknesses, Presley had always been by far the biggest. I told myself it would be a noble gesture, that it was the least I could do and would be wrong to leave because clearly, she needed me to nurse her back to health. Who was I kidding? That girl never needed me a day in her life, and if I were to get technical about the whole thing, a raging hangover wouldn’t exactly classify as an illness that needed nursing, but whatever.

  I sat completely still, my eyes glazed over from having had very little sleep. My back was killing me. I had been slacking on my training, and in turn, my recovery perks as well. A nice soak, a deep tissue massage, yeah, I needed all of it, and soon. First, I needed to take care of her.

  Presley, as I recalled, had never been much of a morning person. Back in school, I always had practice at an ungodly hour, and even though she insisted I call to tell her good morning, my gesture was usually met with a grunt and a loud crashing sound straight to my eardrum. Well, it looked like some things never change.

  Presley grumbled, tossed, and turned as though she was fighting the notion of waking up and rejoining the living. She’d rolled around so much that her hair was a sight in itself. It stuck out every which way but down. When she finally focused her eyes on me, I didn’t quite know what to say. Words tended to come out wrong any time they fell out of my mouth, so yeah, less was usually better.

  She finally broke the awkwardness by speaking my name. It came out as a question, and her tone revealed she didn’t remember me coming over. I figured it best if I treaded lightly. The heavy shit could wait.

  After yet another trip to her kitchen, I found myself rubbing peppermint all over her. I’d had many thoughts and dreams like this but the oil was never peppermint, nor was she sporting a huge headache and neck cramp. I was a dick. Why hadn’t I carried her to her bed? Was I really that weak? Yeah, I was. And now, because my dick had gotten in the way and I had about as much willpower as a fifteen-year-old boy, she was in pain.

  Her recommendation sounded weird, but what the hell did I know? It was her voodoo shit; I was just there for the ride. I held my breath when I swept her hair aside. She pulled the lone braid over her shoulder, but some stray strands fell down the back of her neck. I gently pushed them aside. I shouldn’t have, I know, but I couldn’t help but brush the backs of my fingers against her bare skin in the process.

  A bit of a dick move, but the second I felt her skin pebble beneath my touch, any and all possible regrets went out the window. Even though I savored that moment more than she’d ever know, I had to break the spell. Once again, I told myself to do the right fucking thing. And I would. But I needed just one more memory, something I could take with me when I left.

  The thought of leaving her again brought with it the familiar pinch in the center of my chest. Just one dance. Our time in her gar
age had been so fucking hot. The need had to be sated, and I could still taste her on the tip of my tongue. This dance was meant to be savored, as it would be our last. I didn’t belong in her world, and even though I couldn’t help but wonder what if, the truth of the matter was, she had a child. A kid who was lucky enough to have two parents.

  Not having a dad around had fucked me up. I was man enough to admit it. She’d agreed to dance with me, claiming her ankle was far better than expected. She lied. I could feel her favoring her opposite foot. So fucking stubborn. I gently stepped back to break our hold, but my hands never left her hips.

  “It’s fine, really.”

  Her sleepy eyes drifted to mine, and what I found in them was familiar, achingly so. I was a disappointment. I’d failed the girl and now the woman. Bad ideas; I was known for them. What’s one more?

  “Trust me?” I asked, knowing full well the weight that it carried.

  I took her slight nod as a go-ahead. She tensed when my fingers spread wide along her waist and lifted her off her feet. Her soft chuckle filled the room. Once her legs wound tight around me, all thoughts of goodbye drifted away, and I pressed my forehead to hers.

  Her hands slid from the back of my neck, her features softened, eyes sparkled with curiosity and awe. It was as though she was learning me all over again. She first dragged her thumb across my forehead and along my hairline, then traced down, towards the scar just above my eyebrow.

  I’d always wished to have some hardcore background story to it, but the truth was, as a kid I’d been a clumsy little fuck, and so when I was ten years old, I tumbled headfirst down the stairs of mine and mama’s apartment building while trying to catch the ice cream truck. The memory brought with it a fond grin, one that Presley swallowed whole.