Page 10 of Tangled Desires

“You aren’t late,” I finally breathe out. I’m still locked in on her, focused on how the dress she’s wearing does nothing to hide the shape of her body or how with each movement, I can see the bounce in her tits and the sway of her ass.

“Um, well, I guess that’s the good news. Should we go take a look?” I would have thought she didn’t recognize me, except I saw in full color how she became well aware. I’ll let her make this play. Figure she can bring it up, or we’ll address it at a later time.

“Lead the way.” I hold my arm out, allowing her to precede me. I’ve already got my tablet in the opposite hand, having grabbed it when I moved away from my truck. I’ll take pictures of the space, work out the specs, make notes, ask questions about what she’s envisioning, and depending on what Lyric wants, I may need to call in Crew.

“I don’t know how much you’ve seen or heard about what happened, but it’s really bad,” she tosses over her shoulder, hair flinging with the wind and lips tipped upward in a half smile. I move my eyes off her ass and give her my full attention. Getting caught staring at the bombshell is the last thing she needs. Shit, it’s the last thing I need, too. I’m still pissed as hell with her, and while I’m fully fucking aware we were both teenagers when things went down, it still ticks me off.

“Yeah, I know about it.” I don’t tell her that Trent was the lead investigator or that Matthew helped get her divorce pushed through as well as getting full custody of the kids. Then we all rallied, kept our mouths tightly shut, and moved the family states away. Matthew hears from her now and then, an email here or call there. Mainly to make sure that she and her kids are still safe from the ex.

“I kind of figured as much.” She bends down to place the cup of coffee on the ground, and with me only being a step behind her, I’m taking a quick step back, so she doesn’t press into my hard-as-fuck cock. Still, I’m gritting my teeth when I get a better view of her heart-shaped ass. I watch as she struggles a minute to get the door to unlatch while turning the key. Clearly, that will be the first thing fixed on the list.

“Small town. People talk,” I say a bit more abrasivelythan necessary. I clear my throat, realization hitting that I’m coming off like an arrogant little prick. “I didn’t get a chance to see what shape it’s in. I know the neighbors did what they could with the resources they had. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see it’s getting worked on.”

“It’s in some kind of shape, alright.” Lyric overlooks me being an asshole, and I know it. I clear my throat, trying to calm the need to ask more questions than I need answered.

“That’s true. Okay, here it is. Welcome to my humble abode.” The door opens, and she steps inside. I watch as she loses her footing on a piece of ripped-up carpet, and my arm reaches around her waist to steady her.

“Easy now,” I mutter. Her body meets my front, and I can smell her. The same scent she wore when we were teenagers. Honeysuckle with a touch of raspberry.

“Thank you.” She starts wiggling, and I release her from my hold.

“Not a problem.” My cock is none too happy with me, but what’s new? Shit has run dry for weeks on end, and I refuse to get myself off thinking about Lyric. After this morning, I might not have a choice. There’s only so much a man can take until he’s about to break. It’s either I use my hand or Lyric. I shake my head, clearing the thoughts of having her naked and spread out on my bed. This isn’t the time or the place.

“Well, still.” She turns around, head tipping up, looking at me while her hands slide into her pockets.

“Don’t mention it. How about you tell me what all you’d like done.” She goes back out the front door, does a squat this time, holding the skirt of her dress down, and while Ishould have started looking through the house, I don’t, too busy getting my fill of her.

“Okay, I don’t want anything fancy. No ripping walls out and making it an open concept. I’d like to restore it to mimic how it looked when I used to live here. I’m sure you’ve heard from your mom about what happened to my folks, and I understand if you don’t want to take this project on. With, well, our past. I just want a sense of home, and this place has always felt that way.” She’s no longer looking at me. She’s giving me her back and hugging herself. Fuck me. I hang back for a minute, allowing her to collect herself before wading in, but when I see that’s not happening, I move, cussing myself up and down. There’s a reason shit hit me so hard as a seventeen-year-old young man. I’d had her beneath me in every sense of the way. When she ghosted me, the pact she made me promise her, and the future we planned, well, it all went up in smoke.

“Come ‘ere, Lyric.” I drop my tablet on a leftover side table. Damn thing is missing two legs, and I’m lucky it’s still standing instead of sitting in a pile of rubble. It, along with a lot of other shit in Lyric’s house, will end up in the roll-off dumpster when everything is said and done. I’ve seen the aftermath from what happened. How the Mott family survived with that abusive piece of shit, I have no idea, and how Lyric had no idea what happened makes me scratch my head further.

“I’m sorry. I thought my tears were all dried up. Apparently, they aren’t.” I cup the back of her head, turn her into my chest, and hold on while she cries or does whatever it is she needs. Her arms wrap around my waist, foreheadpressed against my sternum, and the cup of coffee she has in her hand is more than likely dangling from the tips of her fingers. I wish I’d had the forethought to grab it and set it on the table with my tablet. “God, I’m so sorry about everything. Maybe coming back here was a mistake. When your mom gave me the company name, never in my life did I think you’d be the owner. When I talked to Joss, she mentioned Randy would be meeting me, and when you called this morning, I didn’t even remember to ask your name because I’d finally fallen asleep at four this morning, and I’ve been an absolute mess. Jesus, I need to go. I’m sorry for wasting your time.” She tries to pull out of my arms, still not showing me her face, and judging by the wetness seeping through my white cotton shirt, she’s got a lot to work through.

“Hey, hey, hey,” I say in a soothing tone that I’d use for Briar or Sebastian when they’re having a moment, whether it’s because they didn’t get their way or one of them skinned their knee while riding their bikes. “Mom called me last night and told me she gave you my company’s name. Figured we’d get this squared away so you don’t have to live in a bed and breakfast for months on end. We might be able to swing it to where we get the bedroom and bathroom done first, so you can at least stay here while we finish the rest. As for the tears, you take what you need. I’ve got time.” I’m tempted to ship her off to my parents’ house, let her sleep for the rest of the day, and wait on her to wake up before we finish the tour of the house. Except Mom would badger me to death on why Lyric’s crying, and she’d no doubt blame me.

“No, no. I’m good, promise.” I feel one hand sneak away from my side. She slithers it between us, and I’m assumingshe’s wiping away her tears. Christ, the last time she’s been in my arms with tears streaming down her cheeks was the day she left Whispering Oaks. I’d had to reluctantly push her away from me and help her in the car. It’d broken a piece of me, knowing that the kind of love and friendship we had is what others dream about. Call me a pussy, call me an idiot, you can call me any damn thing in the book, but as long as I’d had Lyric, I didn’t give one single fuck. “I guess we need to talk, too.”

“We’ll deal with that another time. Let’s work on the house and go from there.” That whole once-bitten-twice-shy deal is ringing in my ears.

“Right, then can we start with the bedroom and bathroom? On second thought, let me go grab my notebook. Your mom and I made notes on what all would need to be done, plus I have pictures to kind of keep the same appeal it once had. Minus the exterior. I don’t think anything needs to be done besides the yard work, a good pressure washing, and a new coat of paint. All of that I can manage on my own,” Lyric says. At least now she’s not hiding her eyes from me. While they may be bloodshot and red-tinged, at least the tears have stopped.

“Go grab your notebook. I’ll take pictures and measurements to get everything specced out. And since you’re not talking about opening up any rooms, you won’t need an engineer, at least as long as nothing structural is going on.” The dropping of her shoulders makes me realize that I could have kept that out of the equation.

“Is that a big possibility?” She steps away from me and looks from my face to the wide-open door.

“I’ll take a look around, but I’m not seeing any cracks in the walls or ceilings.” I keep my mouth shut about foundation issues this time.

“Oh, right. Okay, I’ll be right back.” My lips tip in a smile as I watch her scurry out of the house, being careful not trip on the bunched-up carpet again. It’s not until she’s out of my line of sight that I get started on work. Lyric hinted at bringing up the past, and while I’d love a lot of my questions answered, it’s clear now isn’t the time. It damn sure isn’t the place, either. I give my mom another thirty minutes tops until she’ll be over here getting in the thick of what Lyric wants her home to be.

8

LYRIC

Imade a mad dash to my vehicle, placed my cup in the holder, and scarfed down the last bite of my muffin. I needed sustenance after seeing Jagger in the flesh after all these years. The fact that we played it off only made my anxiety heighten. I’d have much rather hashed it all out and got to the root of the cause, except I chickened out because I’m a big ole ninny.

When I came back inside, I watched Jagger work, measuring rooms, taking pictures, checking every nook and cranny. He’d make comments here or there, scribble on his tablet with a pen. It was all very methodical, and it had me wondering about what else he can do with his strong capable hands.

I look at Jagger, really look at him. Somewhere along the way, he’s managed to become taller than I remember and packed on a shit ton of muscle. He’s solid, rock solid. When he brought me into the comfort of his arms and chest, I feltevery damn inch of his toned body. My emotions getting the better of me didn’t help any. I seemed to be leaking like a faucet. I only hope the tears have finally calmed down because I’m tired of them.

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