Page 43 of Meant to Be
“Uh, I don’t know.”
“Then why do you have them? I didn’t think they were in use anymore, at least with our generation.”
“My mema says real gentlemen carry them, so she gives me several every year for Christmas.” He had enough handkerchiefs to open a store. Losing a few to Sydney wouldn’t come close to putting a dent in his stockpile. Sometimes he donated the unopened boxes to the thrift store. He wondered if any of them sold.
“How come I’m not good enough for you?”
“What?” Mitch jerked his attention back to her.
“You’re a ladies’ man. Rumor is you’re not too particular. So, why not me?”
Christ.
“Am I not pretty enough? Is it because you hate me?”
He leaned over, picked up the cookies, and handed them to her. “Eat something.” He reached for the bottle of moonshine, but she wrapped her arms around it like it was her greatest possession. He sat back and sighed. “I am particular, you’re beautiful, and I don’t hate you.”
“You didn’t like the kiss?”
He closed his eyes, willing this conversation to be a dream. But he reopened his eyes to find her waiting for his answer. “Yes. I liked it.” A lot. Too much.
“Then what?”
“Do you want me to seduce you, Syd?” Despite the anger, there were moments when he’d give anything to have her in his arms again, to touch and taste, and re-discover every inch of her luscious body. But not now. Not like this.
She sat, staring at him, looking sad. Forlorn. Lost. Shaking his head, he went to sit by her on the couch and reached for her moonshine. “I want some.”
He took a long swig, giving a small grunt at the burn, and then put the bottle on the coffee table. He sat back, put his arm around her, and pulled her close.
Surprise shone in her eyes initially, but then she acquiesced and let herself be held. She needed a friend. He could be that for her.
She rested her head on his chest. Her sweet floral scent swirled around him, making him drunker than the moonshine would. He’d truly thought she was out of his system, but sitting here, with her in his arms, the longing welled.
“I wasn’t very good. I’m still not.”
He tilted his head down. “What?”
She looked at him with glassy eyes. “In bed. I wasn’t very good.”
“You were fine.” Her lips were soft, plump and damp from her licking them. Jesus, he wanted to kiss her.
She shook her head, nestling back against his chest. “I don’t blame you. I’m certain I’d fall short.”
He swore. “Things are different now, Syd.”
“You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”
She was looking at him again.
A mixture of annoyance and desperation swept through him. “Is that why you’re here? You want forgiveness. You want to become a notch on my bedpost, because that’s all I’ve got to give these days.”
She flinched, as if he’d slapped her. He hated seeing it and yet, maybe it would make her stop.
“You didn’t used to be so… mean.”
“Neither did you.” He pushed her away, picking up the bottle of moonshine as he stood. He took a long gulp, now not caring what it did to him.
“What do you mean?” She looked stunned and vulnerable.
