Page 73 of Caught in the Axe
And if my past was any indication, I’d never want anyone else.
This weekend had changed things. It wasn’t just the sex, although that part had been incredible. It was how I felt when we were together. How even though we’d spent just about every waking moment in one another’s company, I still couldn’t get enough. How easy it was to be with her, having fun, working hard, enjoying one another. We’d shared meals and cracked jokes and sifted through endlessspreadsheets. We’d danced, and I’d finally been able to hold her close.
It was so damn perfect I had to pinch myself in order to make sure it had really happened.
Once we’d given in to our mutual attraction, it was almost impossible to stop. For a few hours, we managed to get dressed and act appropriately at the baseball game Beckett had summoned us to. But the moment the game ended, we ran back here and tore each other’s clothes off.
Last night, we’d sat on this balcony, eating gluten-free pizza at one a.m. and swapping stories about growing up in Lovewell. Intimacy—something I’d always struggled with—was so easy with her. We were honest and vulnerable. We laughed and fooled around and watched movies. She teased me and wore my shirts, and already my condo felt less empty.
But now we had to go back to Lovewell. And reality.
“Owen?”
My heart stuttered at the sound of her voice. I shifted in my chair and found her standing in the doorway, wearing one of my DiLuca Construction hoodies and nothing else. Her hair was messy and there were sleep lines on her face. God, I was so fucking lucky.
I tilted my head, inviting her to join me on the balcony.
She sat and pulled her legs up under the hoodie. “Wow. This is beautiful,” she said softly as a large cargo plane flew overhead on its way to Logan Airport.
“You’re beautiful,” I countered, unembarrassed by my cheesiness. “Come here.” I patted my thigh.
Instead of getting up to snuggle with me, she sighed and gave me a pained look.
Oh shit.That simple look was enough to make dread curdle in my stomach.
I sat up straight and set my coffee on the small table between our chairs. “You okay?” I’d been so distracted by my thoughts and a night spent with Lila that I’d missed something.
She sighed. “I just think we should talk.”
I held my breath and waited for the axe to drop. Whatever was wrong, I doubted my proposed solution of staying here, in my condo, forever, would be well received.
She brought her knees up closer, my sweatshirt creating a cocoon around her body.
My heart sank. Her defensive posture told me everything I needed to know.
“I’ve had so much fun.”
“But?” I whispered as an ache formed behind my ribs.
“But I think we need to make sure we’re on the same page before we head back to Maine.”
“And which page would that be?” The words were harsher than I meant them, but I couldn’t help myself. I was sleep-deprived, and my brain was still flooded with oxytocin after spending a dream weekend with my dream girl.
She pinned me with a chiding look, and damn if my cock didn’t thicken at the reprimand. I considered picking her up, carrying her back to bed, and eating her delicious pussy until she saw sense. Instead, I laced my fingers over my abdomen and waited.
“I care about you so much,” she said, resting her chin on her knees so her hair fell around her face like a curtain. She sniffled and wiped at what might have been a tear with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “This weekend was amazing. Morethan amazing. Being here with you, seeing the city and being part of your life for a couple of days, has meant everything to me.”
I swallowed as a lead ball sank in my gut. God, I’d been given the most incredible chance with the most incredible woman, and I’d managed to fuck it up. “Tell me what you want, Lila.”
“It’s not about what I want,” she said, giving me a sad smile. “It’s about what I need. I need to preserve the amazing memory of this weekend. I need to hold on to the connection we’ve shared.”
Hold on to our connection? That was exactly what I wanted, yet her resignation said that she and I had different definitions of that phrase. “But it can’t continue?”
She shook her head. “The last thing I need is to face the firing squad in town when it gets out that I’ve hooked up with my ex’s older brother.”
Hooked up?The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Here I was, mooning over her, feeling like I’d foundthe one, and, to her, I was nothing more than a casual hookup.
“My brother got you for eight years,” I spat, the anger inside me bubbling up. “And I only get a weekend?”
