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“I don’t believe you.” Pike’s hand fell to her hip, his fingers curling into the fabric of her jeans, sending a tremor of awareness shivering through her. “You want to do more than talk to me. You want the same thing I do. You want to remember what it was like between us.”
“Don’t,” Tulsi whispered, but her voice was breathy and unconvincing, even to her own ears.
Pike moved in closer, pinning her between his strong body and the driver’s side of the truck, making her breath speed as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You want me, Tulsi. I see it in your eyes every time you look at me. And I want you.”
Tulsi’s teeth bit into her bottom lip hard enough to send pain flashing through her jaw as she fought the urge to lean into Pike. She couldn’t touch him again, or she was going to lose the last of her self-control and put everything that mattered at risk.
“I want to taste you so bad it’s killing me,” he continued in a husky voice that made her nipples pull tight and her thighs ache. “I want to see if you still taste like springtime.”
Tulsi’s breath rushed out with a pained, hungry sound. “We can’t. It would be a mistake.”
“I know,” he whispered, “but I don’t care, baby. One more night with you would be worth it.”
Baby.The endearment cut through her like a knife.
She wasn’t his baby anymore; she was the girl he’d left behind and she needed a one-night stand with Pike like she needed a case of identity theft to empty out the last few hundred dollars in her bank account. This would be more than a mistake. One night with Pike would devastate her, wreck her, and leave her unfit to be the kind of mother Clem deserved. She couldn’t afford to give heartache an engraved invitation, no matter how much she wanted Pike.
“Leave me alone,” Tulsi said in a stronger voice, pressing her body into the heat-warmed door of the truck, putting as much space between them as possible. “I won’t do this with you. Not now, not ever.”
Pike pulled back, staring down at her with that piercing look of his. When they were younger, that look had always broken through her defenses, but not now. Now, she was strong. Now she knew what it was like to go through the hell of losing him and come out the other side and there was no way she was letting him drag her back to that miserable place again.
“I’ll pretend to be your friend for Mia’s benefit, but that’s all it is—pretend.” She lifted her chin, willing herself to stay strong as pain flicked across Pike’s features. “I don’t know who you are anymore and I don’t care to learn. What we had died a long time ago. Best if it stays in the ground.”
Pike’s throat worked as he swallowed. He was clearly hurt, but Tulsi refused to feel bad. She was doing what she had to do for her daughter, and Pike no doubt had a supermodel or two waiting in St. Louis to make him feel better. By this time next week, he’d be kissing someone else and have forgotten he ever knew a girl who tasted like springtime.
“Fine,” he said roughly. “I won’t bother you again.” And then he turned and walked away.
Tulsi watched him go, trying to convince herself that the wrenching feeling in her chest wasn’t her heart breaking. But it was getting harder to lie to herself. She was so confused. She wasn’t sure what the truth was anymore, she only knew that she wanted to go after Pike so badly it was physically painful.
But she didn’t take a step down that road. She got into her truck, started up the engine, and drove back to her too quiet house. There, she curled up in the middle of her lonely bed and cried harder than she’d cried since the first time she ended it with the only man she would ever love.
CHAPTERSIX
Pike
Jim Sherman wasthe last person Pike wanted to see after the afternoon he’d had. But backing out would only make things worse, when he finally did get around to going home, and hurt his mother and Mia in the process. He’d already upset one woman today; he didn’t intend to add to the tally.
So, come six o’clock, Pike was dressed in a white button-up rolled at the sleeves and waiting downstairs for his sister. Sawyer was working late in preparation for taking time off for the wedding and honeymoon, so it was just Pike and Mia in the truck for the ride over. Mia chattered on about her day and the plans for the float trip while she drove, but Pike couldn’t bring himself to make polite conversation. All he could think about was Tulsi and the way her eyes had begged him to take her while her lips told him everything they’d had was dead and gone.
But she was wrong. Dead feelings didn’t make the air crackle with electricity. Dead feelings didn’t make a woman’s eyes fill with tears or a man’s heart feel like it was splitting right up the middle.
He’d experienced more conflicting emotions this afternoon than in all of the past year, and he was in no state to face his father with a cool head. He knew he was in for a rough night, even before he stepped up onto the porch where his father was waiting in his favorite wicker glider and Jim greeted him with the usual “warmth.”
“Torn ACL. Is that what’s wrong this time?” he asked, not giving Pike time to answer before offering his five cents on his son’s injury. “That wouldn’t have happened if you’d stepped up your cross-training before the season started like we did when you were in school. You’re getting older, son. That means you have to work harder, not cut corners so you can spend more time getting your face in magazines. The game is what matters.”
“Hi, Dad,” Pike said, grimacing in his father’s direction. “Good to see you, too.”
“Don’t start, you two,” Mia warned, casting a pleading look over her shoulder at Pike, before leaning down to peck her father on the cheek. “How’s Mom feeling, Dad?”
Their father grunted. “Better. She thinks it was something she ate. She’s been fine since this morning, and she’s making lasagna for dinner.”
“Good, I’ll go see if she needs any help,” Mia said, moving toward the front door. “Y’all play nice, you hear? No one is allowed to fight during my wedding week.”
Pike settled into the chair next to his father, already feeling the familiar tension creep into his shoulders. He’d spent most of his adolescence butting heads with his dad, and, no matter how much older or wiser he became, it never got any easier to look into his father’s eyes and see nothing but statistics reflected back. Jim Sherman was capable of seeing his daughter as a person with thoughts and feelings, a soul worthy of affection whether or not her business succeeded or if she was ever named Lonesome Point “Entrepreneur of the Year.” But when it came to his son, there was only pro ball and what kind of legacy Pike Sherman, pitcher for the St. Louis Cardinals, was going to leave behind.
When Jim said the game was what mattered, he meant the game wasallthat mattered, and every time Pike came home that painful truth only became more obvious.
“How much longer are you going to be out?” Jim asked after Mia disappeared into the house.
