“Looks like your plans have changed,” he said with a smile so smug that she almost reneged right then and there.
“Us spending Christmas together entails family time.”
“Great.” Grunting, he shoved his hands in his pocket. “About that shower?”
He’d fallen asleep sitting up on the sofa, head back with his mouth slightly open and his eyes closed tight, dark stubble on his jaw and cheeks. Unbidden, sympathy flooded her heart.
“Joaquin,” she whispered, gently patting on his arm. His lids opened and closed, drowsy eyes staring up at her. “Let’s get you comfy, okay?” Snagging an afghan from a basket by the sofa, she shook it out and held it up.
A thick sigh left him as he stretched out on her sofa. She covered him up, resisting the urge to brush back his hair or kiss his forehead.
“Thank you,” he rumbled, then yawned.
She smiled, pushing her glasses back in place. “You’re welcome.” Turning away, she moved to the kitchen to fix herself a pot of hot chocolate. In some ways he looked exactly as she remembered, while in others, she didn’t quite recognize him at all.
Joaquin hadn’t been a bad guy. She wouldn’t have fallen in love with him if he had been. They’d been young, stupid and head-over-heels in love, hiding their relationship from almost everyone for months.
The Morales cousins had loved to race her Caswell cousins as often as possible for pink slips. Somehow, they would all avoid getting arrested or ticketed by the sheriff, but that hadn’t stopped most of the town from viewing them as rival gangs.
Apparently, this had amused the Moraleses to no end and they had perpetuated the stereotype by cruising through town in flashy cars with tinted windows while blasting rap music. Not to be outdone, the Caswells had driven jack-up trucks and serenaded Broad Street with Hank Williams, Jr and Lynyrd Skynyrd.
The summer before her senior year of high school, she’d started sitting in the back of flashy cars instead of her cousins’ trucks—first with Mandy and a couple of other girls as sort of a dare. It had been fun and exciting to be with the Moraleses, their laughter and camaraderie contagious.
Every time she saw or talked to one Morales in particular, she couldn’t stop the sweet thrill that had run through her body. They’d been friends since middle school, deciding that their respective parents’ problem with each other was just that—their problem, not Sage and Joaquin’s.
The more Sage was around Joaquin, the more she liked him, until like had turned into a full blown crush. Not that she thought anything would’ve come of it. He was a year older and dated lots of girls, never settling for just one. She dated boys her parents approved of—safe, boring and most importantly, not a Morales.
She’d never forget the way Joaquin had swaggered over to her, confidence gleaming in his smile when he asked her to go for a ride. She had said no for three weekends straight, until one night he’d ditched his cousins and asked her out on a real date, one that had ended with them steaming up the non-tinted windows of his truck.
Sage frowned as she poured the hot chocolate into her mug and added tiny marshmallows to the top.
The second date, however, hadn’t ended so well. Her cousins, Fred and Lloyd, had found them parking in the woods and called their daddy, the Sheriff. Uncle Neil had threatened to arrest Joaquin for trespassing, and her for breaking curfew.
From then on, they’d sneaked around and headed out to Palm Beach to have their alone time. A month later and she’d given her virginity to him. College hadn’t stopped them from dating. There they could be a couple out in the open and Sage came home every weekend to see her parents, making them none the wiser.
One month after Joaquin had graduated from college, he’d asked her to marry him and for one wild moment she’d said yes, despite having one more year to go. They’d driven all night, across several state lines to get married, then spent their honeymoon in a rundown, seaside motel with no hot water and only one working light.
It had been magical.
Turning from the counter with her cup of hot chocolate, she moved to the living room and stared at the man sleeping. Yeah, they’d been young and dumb, but in love.
And now she was older and wiser. Joaquin didn’t have a chance.
Liar, her heart whispered
Chapter Five
A gentle shake of his arm had Joaquin blinking and yawning awake. He rubbed his eyes and cracked the side of his neck.
“Sorry to wake you, but you need a driver,” Sage slurred in his ear. “I mean we need a driver.”
“We need a transfusion,” another woman giggled.
“Is that your professional opinion, Mandy Doctor, er, Doctor Mandy?”
“Mandy Intern is the correct ansher.”
He blinked and sat up. Sage and her best friend since first grade stood beside the sofa, watching him. They both listed to one side at the exact same time. Dear God, he’d bet his truck that they been watching a marathon of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. “Which season?”
“British bras and slangs straps,” Sage said, her brow wrinkling. “Wait, switch that.”
“Aren’t you two a little old for drinking games?”
“We did it during the Presidential debates,” Mandy said, her chin-length black hair glossy in the light. “There was this thing on Twitter.”
“Good to know Twitter has its usefulness.” Pushing the afghan to one side, he rose to his feet and stretched, then walked to the bathroom. When he returned, he found Sage wrapping a yellow scarf around Mandy’s head.
“Doctor’s orders are to take me home,” Mandy said, her eyes narrowing on him. “And you’d better be good to my girl this time or I’ll scalpel you.”
“Message received. First, let me get my coat and warm up the truck.” He glanced behind him and paused. “I was going to say that you two get your coats, but…” Mandy shoved a knit hat over Sage’s head, covering her eyes, until Sage flipped up the edge. “Looks like y’all got it covered.”
Five minutes later, they were on the road and heading into town. He glanced in the rearview mirror and shook his head. Mandy leaned against Sage, her mouth wide open.
“At least she doesn’t snore,” Sage said, her words remarkably not drunk sounding.
“I’ve always liked her,” he said, his eyes back on the road. Spattering of rain and sleet hit his windshield. “Do you usually pretend to be drunk?”
“No. I wasn’t in the mood, but Mandy was determined to cheer me up and I didn’t have the heart to tell her no. Mine were virgin.”
Silence reigned as they entered the town limits of Holland Springs.
“Which street?” he asked as the highway turned into Broad Street. Everything in Holland Springs was accessible from Broad.
“Left on Oak, then right on Poplar. There’s a new apartment complex called Poplar View.”
“They went all out with the name, didn’t they?” He made a left at the light, then sped up. “What’d the two of you talk about?”
Sage snorted. “What do you think?”
“Whether Spike or Angelus is the biggest badass.”
“Among other things.”
“She give you any advice about us?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“The advice wasn’t for you,” Sage said, her voice firm.
A smile kicked up the corners of his mouth. If Mandy’s advice had been to kick him to the curb, Sage would have relished telling him. Hell, he wouldn’t have had to ask what they talked about. He glanced up at the rearview, catching Sage’s eye. The reflection from the lights in the dashboard made her face glow.
“I think you should follow Mandy’s advice to the letter.”
Sage rolled her eyes, but she didn’t say a word.
“Me, too,” Mandy said suddenly, coming to. “Especially the part—”
Sage slammed her hand over her best friend’s mouth.
“Yeah, especially that part,” he said, laughing. Then he parked his truck and helped Sage get Mandy into her apartment.
Joaquin drove back to Sage’s house in silence, but at least his wife had deigned to sit up front with him.
He glanced over at Sage. Her posture was rigid and she had a death grip on the seatbelt. “Trying to delay the inevitable?” he asked.
She didn’t answer him. Instead she stared straight ahead.
A couple minutes later, he pulled the truck in the driveway, cut off the engine and opened the driver’s side door. Light illuminated the interior. “It’ll be alright,” he said softly. “No expectations, remember?”
Her hands visibly shook as she searched her purse. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“Why not?” Sure, he’d almost exploded when she let out that little moan while he was working the ring off of her finger. Hell, he’d almost scooped her up and taken her to bed when a look of pure lust covered her face, but he’d been truthful. He had no expectations of what would happen between them while he was here.
However, it didn’t mean that something couldn’t happen.
Auburn lashes free of mascara slowly lifted, revealing luminous eyes ringed in black and infused with distrust. “I’m not sure if I can trust myself around you.”
A part of him wanted to pump his fist in the air, but the look in her pretty eyes made his gut clench, and he tempered his response considerably. “Then trust me to not hurt you this time.”
She gave him a brittle smile. “You’re asking too much of me.” Then she opened her door and slid out.
Grabbing his bag from the back, he caught up to her on the porch and took the keys from her noticeably shaky fingers, unlocking the door.
“I should’ve worn my gloves,” she said as he handed her the keys and their fingers brushed.
Her fingers had been toasty warm. “I’ll remind you next time.” Opening the door, he said, “Ladies first.”
She slid past him and he followed, closing the door behind him with an easy back kick. “So where should I put my stuff?”
Stopping in the middle of the living room, she pointed to a door on the right. “That room is mine.” There was a noticeable emphasis on the word ‘mine’. Walking another couple of feet, she flipped on the light switch in the hallway. “Your room and bathroom are down there, got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted her with two fingers and the hint of a smile played on her lips. Encouraged, he tried to make her comfortable. “Look, it’s eight o’clock and I’m starving. Any place around here deliver?”
“Blue Moon delivers pizza.”
“Sounds good.” He dug his wallet out of his back pocket and held it out to her. “My treat. There should be enough cash to pay for the pizza and give the guy a tip.”
Her brows raised, but she gave him a nod, walking so close to him that he could have touched her when she took his wallet. “You trust me not to spend all your money? Maybe go online and clean out your bank account.”
“What’s mine is yours…and you’re mine.” Deliberately, he let his gaze drop to her lips. Her pink tongue darted out and licked the bottom. He went rock hard.
“That’s not how the saying goes,” she said breathlessly. Her chin tipped up fractionally, but it was enough to make him step closer, so close that only a small distance separated them and he bent his head.
Her hand pressed against his chest and he trembled, imagining how it would feel against his bare skin. How soft her skin would be. How sweet her touch. It was everything he needed, softness and comfort. He dreamt of it, of her, night after night. The tangible and intangible—the rarest of commodities while fighting a war. “That’s how it goes for us.”
Clasping her hand tighter to him, he watched as her lashes drifted down and her pink lips parted on a sigh. God, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to devour her, mark her and claim her for his own. He knew that if he kissed Sage, he wouldn’t stop until he was inside of her and she was crying out his name.
“Do it already,” Sage said. “It’s why you’re here.”
He jerked away from her. A bucket of ice dumped down the front of his pants wouldn’t have been more effective than her words on his libido. There was no way in hell he’d touch Sage now, not with her thinking herself a martyr, or that she was just a convenient piece of ass for him. “No.”
Her eyes snapped open. “No?”
“No, because when we make love—”He ignored her snort.—“it’ll be for all the right reasons. It will be because you love me as much as I love you and want to stay married. I won’t accept any less.” He stalked past her, then paused beside the kitchen counter and tossed over his shoulder, “Thing is, Sage, I didn’t drive for twenty-six hours just to fuck you. That I could’ve gotten in Texas, without all the bullshit.”
Sage made an inarticulate noise as he walked down the hall to her guestroom.
His wallet smacked the wall near his head, but he didn’t take the bait. If Sage had wanted to hit him, she could have—without trying. When they were in high school, she had been captain of the varsity girls’ volleyball team and her deadly accurate serve had won many a game.
He calmly shut the door and locked it behind him. Time for Plan D.
Sage sat in the living room, pulling out the last of the Christmas decorations with jerky movements that sent a helpless elf flying across the room to land on top her fireplace mantle. She retrieved the elf, tossed in on the sofa and sat down in one of the large chairs by the bay windows.
