Page 12 of Sip
Probably the stupid fucker in the photo. I’m sure he wanted to see her wet. I will find him, and I will kill him with a slow, torturous death.
“Our theme wasSpirit, the cartoon on Netflix. My nephew loves it and even though they couldn’t come watch us, I still sent my sister the video and pictures to show them.”
I nod, pretending I’m interested even though I don’t really give a shit. Only a real bastard would put a damper on her excitement.
“Between the race and the food booths and the face painting and the fall photo sessions, we raised almost twelve thousand dollars.”
Pride beams on her face, and I don’t have the heart to tell her I’ve probably got three times that much just laying around the house. “So did you spend the money on beer?”
She swats at my forearm from my teasing. “Of course not. We gave it to the nature center at Shelby’s Park. The original building was built in nineteen eighty-four and needed some serious updates.”
The realization hits me like a semi. Another reason she’s so perfect— too modest to admit her immense force in a miniscule package. “You know all of this because you were in charge of it, weren’t you?”
A gorgeous blush heats her cheeks. “Well…kind of…it was a team effort. I just coordinated everyone. Gave them a plan to execute.”
Bullshit. If it weren’t for her, none of the event would’ve happened. “So what are you working on now?”
The rest of our fifty-minute trek goes by in a blur with her explaining how they refinish and decorate old furniture they find at garage sales and junk stores and donate to people in need.Fun and beneficialshe describes the process.Unbelievable as always. We slow to a walk when the lake comes back into view.
“Tons of people love to buy repurposed dressers and tables because they’re unique and one of a kind.”
“Just like you.”
My words— intended as a compliment— seem to surprise her and her pace stalls. She looks up trying to grasp my intentions, which I don’t grasp myself. In the morning breeze, wild hairs fly around her pink face, flushed from the earlier exertion. I catch a few wavy strands and tuck them behind her ear. When she sucks in a shuddering breath, I know I’ve affected her too.
‘Killian?”
Confusion tinges her voice. She understands even less than I do what’s happening between us. Except that she knows the attraction is wrong and forces us to stop, stepping backward out of the dangerous space I’ve forced us into.
Trembling fingers trace the skin I just caressed before she catches herself and drops her hand. Shaking her head as if to clear the ambiguity, she lifts her face to mine and smiles.
“If you change your mind and want to go tomorrow, text me. The weather’s supposed to be perfect to be on the water and we can share a canoe together.”
I lie since I already know after today that’s the last place I should be. “Sure. We’ll see.”
Her grin falters. Well aware thatmaybe means nojust as much as I do. “Okay, then I guess I better get home.”
Silence neither of us are comfortable with accompanies us back to her house. Somehow, she’s run out of things to say. At least to me. I’ve stolen her words along with her spirit.
Forgetting herself once again, she hops out as soon as I park in her driveway instead of waiting for me to assist her out of the vehicle. Making me want to punish her in ways she’ll hate to love.
She bends down, her stunning face framed in the window, and gives me a small wave and sad smile. “Thanks for the run and the ride. I’ll talk to you later.”
Not until the wedding. I have no choice. No other option, except to leave her alone. Including now since I have to get back and face my brother. I have to tell Shane— frame the situation just right— before she does and prevent any blowback from my fuck up. I watch for the last time as she jogs up the steps until she’s safe from me behind the front door.
Lost in his own thoughts, Shane doesn’t acknowledge me when I pat him on the shoulder after he slides on his suit jacket. Most grooms would be excited, maybe a little edgy. Not my brother. Embroiled in painful memories of the woman he really loves, he ignores my attempt at support.
That’s fine. It’s not as if his rejection of my encouragement hurts my feelings since I don’t have any. If he wants to stew alone, let him. I’ll be at the bar.
I stride to the dining room, where just a few weeks ago the deal was sealed as they say and grab my grandfather’s whiskey. Meant for special occasions, we emptied the first bottle celebrating Shane’s original bride. This one is reserved for my wedding. Since that’s never fucking happening, I might as well enjoy the expensive liquor now.
Toasting the woman who I haven’t spoken to since I drove her home from the park, I raise my full glass in the air. Only so much virtuousness a man like me can stand so it’s a good thing she’s marrying him and not me. I shake my head and salute old-fashioned manners, unrealistic aspirations, and broken dreams. Hers of course not mine. I’m fine. Fucking fine and god damn dandy.
Especially with the rich scotch warming my gut and seeping out into my veins. The taut muscles relax although the chaos in my head doesn’t stop. I don’t mind drinking by myself— hell I love the solitude. Yet I can’t stand sitting here, alone with my own irrational thoughts spinning in an endless loop.
With my booze in hand, I stride down the hallway. To where, I don’t know. A few more steps and then a choice— right or left.
Right or wrong.
