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Lauren wished she could take it all back. Everything. Even that first touch of his skin. Even that first kiss. Her heart was going to break a little, after all.
“What?” he finally breathed.
“I’m nothing like her, Jake. I’m not selfless or sweet.”
“You’re sweet—” he started, but she shook her head.
“No. I’m sure I seem nice enough. Ha! A middle-aged mom. A quiet, small-town librarian. But I’m not sweet. I’m not good. I was happy to get divorced. I was relieved. Do you know that? I was so tired of all the arguing and compromises. I never want to get married again. And I love my son so much, but I’ll tell you a secret... Everybody else is sad when their kids go to college. You were sad, right? I’m not sad. I’m not sad, Jake! I’m thrilled to have the house to myself! I can do anything I want! I can walk around in black silk. I can have you over. I can drink straight from a bottle of wine in the kitchen!”
He only looked more dumbstruck. He probably couldn’t process it. A divorcée empty nester who didn’t regret her solitude? She was a goddamn unicorn of selfishness.
“You...” She pointed at him, letting one fingertip touch that chest she wanted so desperately to caress. “You are a good guy. You need a nice woman. And we can’t just hook up. It’s too much. I like you. It won’t work for me. I’m sorry.”
He stared at her. His eyes were dark with something she couldn’t decipher. Also, the wine was really taking hold, and his chest was starting to distract her. Granted, he was wearing a shirt this time, which was helpful. But somehow her one-fingered gesture had accidentally lingered, and now she was trailing her fingertips over his muscles.
“Why does everyone think I need a nice woman?” Jake finally asked, his low words rumbling up through her hand.
“What?”
His fingers closed over hers to stop her petting. “Everyone wants to set me up with a nice woman. This whole damn town wants to set me up with a nice woman. Why?”
She shot him a wry look. “You know why.”
“No, I don’t. I don’t get it.”
She smiled at her greedy hand, caught by his fingers, but still pressed to his chest in an attempt to cop a feel. “They want to protect you from women like me. You don’t know what we’re like.”
“I think I can take care of myself.”
“How can you be sure? You probably think all women are kind and sweet and perfect. You—”
“Ruth wasn’t perfect. She was sweet, yes. She was wonderful—”
She pushed off his chest. “Jake, she was a goddamn first-grade teacher! The kind of first-grade teacher every kid wants! Pretty and sweet and patient and generous. Do you know how much time I can spend with a dozen six-year-olds? Fifty-five minutes. I’ve timed it. Fifty-five minutes, and then I have to lock myself in the office and fantasize about the Scotch I’m going to down three minutes after I leave the library. I’m not like her!”
“What the hell does that matter? Yes, she was wonderful. And I loved her. I loved her. Not some caricature of who she was. Not some type.”
“You don’t understand. I don’t bake cookies. I don’t want to take care of a man. I’m bitchy. I’m demanding. I want my own space and free time, and when I’m in a bad mood, I’ll tell you and I’ll use bad language while I do it. Speaking of, I like to fuck.” She poked his chest again. “I. Am. Not. Sweet.”
He caught her hand again. “Jesus, Lauren,” he said, laughing.
His chuckle irritated her, and she tried to snatch her hand back, but he held tight. “Fine. You’re not sweet and patient and selfless. You’re stubborn. And bold. And irritable. And you’re mean enough that you’re the only one who ever dares to come over and yell at me about my firefighters. They’re heroes, you know. You’re supposed to be generous to them.”
“They’re also loud and obnoxious,” she grumbled.
His half smile blossomed into a grin. “They are loud. They also stink like you wouldn’t believe, and they’re rowdy and immature. They’re like first graders, sometimes. And you’re the only one who ever points it out.”
“See?” she muttered, but she
spread her fingers out again, wanting to feel him one last time.
“Lauren.” He tugged her closer. Closer. Until his arm wrapped around her waist and her chest was pressed to his. She wanted to sigh. She did. She sighed as his mouth brushed her temple and brought sudden tears to her eyes.
“You’re amazing,” he whispered. “You’re fiery and strong and intimidating. And you turn me on like crazy.”
“Jake...” She didn’t know what to say, and her throat was so tight. She could be his dangerous fling. The wild woman he dated before he settled down again. She could get what she wanted, and she wanted it so much. But to watch him fall for some sweet young thing afterward? God, that would be too hard.
“Lauren, I don’t need someone to bake for me or take care of me or replace my wife. And Annabelle doesn’t need a mom.” He kissed her ear. “I was twenty-one when I got married, and I loved my wife like crazy. But she’s gone, and I’m a grown man, not some kid in college. I’m old enough to know what’s worth trying. To know what turns me on. I’m old enough to know what I like, and I like you. Not some type. Not someone who needs me, but someone who wants me. You, Lauren.”
