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“Don’t.”
Her tone was sharp, leaving no room for negotiation.
Slowly, she unlocked her ankles and slid down my body. It was the most painfully divine torture I’d experienced in a very, very long time. She wobbled when her feet touched the ground, so I tightened my hold on her hips, steadying her.
Clearing her throat, she lifted her chin, pulled her shoulders back, and smoothed out her dress.
With both hands lifted in surrender, I backed up so she could squeeze past me. She huffed a breath and shook her head. She was classy. She was not the kind of woman who should be pushed up against a bathroom stall and ravaged.
Marigold strode out quickly, her heels clicking loudly on the tile.
Once the door closed, I groaned, pressing the heels of my hands into my eye sockets.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Was I insane?
Seriously, was I losing my ever-loving mind? What had possessed me to even consider leaning in to kiss Liam?
I was dehydrated. That was all. Dehydrated, deficient in vitamins that counteract weird cravings. Cravings such as Liam’s mouth.
That was the only explanation for why my brain had bowed out and let my body take control. Because if I had been in my right mind, then I would have never, and I mean never, willingly chosen to be pushed against a very tiny bathroom stall with my legs wrapped around Liam’s waist. Enveloped in his large, veiny forearms. Held steady by those strong, very capable hands and the callused fingers that rubbed so lightly against my ankle while he effortlessly held me up. His touch so delicate despite the strength behind those hands, his whiskey and mint aroma filling my nose. His full lips just so…so close…
Honk.
I jerked forward, my seat belt cutting into me, and glanced in the rearview mirror. The driver behind me was waving and giving me a choice finger.
The light was green.
Shoot.
I stepped on the gas, grateful I was close to home.
But seriously, what was that? Was I that starved for physical touch? No. That wasn’t it. I’d had opportunities to satisfy that deep craving over the last few years, and yet I’d always said no. No matter how lonely I got, I’d always known it wouldn’t fulfill me. It wasn’t just this carnal urge to jump the man.
Then what was it?
I could hardly focus on anything Hank said for the rest of the night. Poor guy knew it the second I shuffled back to the table too. When I dropped into my seat, I believe I said something along the lines of “So, how’s the fire business doing?”
Thankfully, he didn’t call me on my crap. He was a perfectly nice, polite, albeit slightly boring, date. We ate dinner in comfortable silence, and when we were done, he picked up the check. Then he gave me an awkward side hug, walked me to my car, and said good night. No let’s do this again or I’ll call you. I was grateful for that, at least. No need to set unreal expectations on either side.
Especially when my brain and my body were suddenly so befuddled about the status of my relationship with my ex-husband. Which was not cool of them.
Nothing good would have come from kissing Liam. Certainly nothing serious. And a woman can’t just casually hook up with the man she shares children with. It’s an unspoken rule. It goes right along with don’t drink soda out of a mug and never buy a hoagie at Subway.
Terrible date and impossible distractions aside, at least I was coming home to an empty house. I could soak in a scalding hot bath until my fingers turned into prunes and listen to the new romance audiobook that Calla had convinced me to buy without having to take care of anyone but myself.
All hopes for a peaceful night were quickly pulverized, though, when I pulled into my driveway. Because there, in my usual spot, was a familiar black Audi.
No. No, no, no. Absolutely not.
Yes, I almost kissed the man, but that did not provide him the right to come here and expect anything other than a quick slam of a door in his face.
As I unbuckled my seat belt and collected my purse, I mentally prepared my speech. I’d definitely throw in a Who do you think you are? and maybe a How dare you? As if I was a fair maiden being tempted with a handshake.
I strode to the front porch with purpose, fully intending to tell Liam where he could stick it. But when I got close enough to really take him in, I froze.
He was propped up against the front door, face pale and his eyelids drooping. His tie had been loosened, and his sleeves had been rolled up. Sitting beside him was a small toolbox. I tilted my head, at a loss as to why he’d bring tools to my house, but then I remembered.
