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“You know the difference?” she asked him, her eyebrow cocked.
“I’m sorry.” He nodded. He did know the difference. Although he’d never felt it, he had seen it, but because he thought he would never experience that spectacular all’s-right-with-the-world clicking into place, he’d been willing to settle for good.
She sighed. “It’s okay. I know the difference, too. I knew better, but I wanted it to be you. I think you’re the epitome of what a man should be,” she waved a dismissive hand towards him, “aside from all the window dressing.”
“Thanks?”
“Yes,” she laughed, “it’s definitely thanks-worthy.”
He smiled and began to relax; his rumbly voice extended an olive branch. “We’ll part as friends.”
She shook her head, her eyes sad. “No, it’s too late for that, but we don’t part as enemies. I’ll remember you as the one who healed what was broken and showed me how high to raise the bar.”
With that she got up and placed her hands on either side of his severe face, pressed her mouth against his in a brief, passionless goodbye, then dropped her hands and stepped away.
“Good luck, Barrett. I sincerely hope you get what you deserve,” she murmured.
He thought for a moment, trying to decipher what she’d just said, and she burst out laughing. “Don’t think too hard, I’ll rephrase. I hope you feel it in your gut and that she feels the same. I wish you every happiness.” She paused. “Better?”
“Thank you.” He gave her a rare grin. “You deserve nothing less. I hope you don’t settle next time.”
Her smile softened. “I have no regrets. You were exactly what I needed.”
He realized he didn’t know what she was talking about and that should have been his first clue that he was not invested.
She left him at the picnic table, where he stayed for a while, sitting with his thoughts, slowly, methodically, putting together a plan. He spent the rest of the day anticipating the time he would pick Willa up and see her again.
Willa
If I weren’t so wiped out from the craft fair, I’d have been nervous to get back into the car with that bear of a man.
I did not typically get nervous around men. I usually called the shots, and I wasn’t all that interested in calling any shots with any guy, truth be told, but I’d never met anyone like him in my life.
I wasn’t completely ignorant about my looks, I knew I appealed to some men, and his interest was evident in the tension between us. I was not immune to him either.
Tall and muscular, he made me feel tiny, and at five foot seven, with my curves? That was not easily done. He was not what I would call classically handsome, or even cute. His face was rather severe, in fact. I had not yet seen his eyes without his shades, but he had those horizontal grooves across his forehead, the kind that would give a woman a heart attack if she had them but were a visual orgasm on a man like him. Thick brown eyebrows, a straight nose, high cheekbones, and firm lips surrounded by a truly wild beard, made up a truly arresting face. His arms were cut, but huge, and he had tattoos that breached the edges of his t-shirt sleeves. There was not one hint of softness about him.
Yet, he felt kind. Certainly, he had been kind to me that morning, and he was back again to help cart us, and all our paraphernalia, home. Rebecca was exhausted. Rhys was taking her straight home, and Barrett had kindly offered to deliver me, and all my boxes, to my house.
“I really appreciate you driving me and carting all of my stuff,” I said.
I took the opportunity to take him in while he drove.
There was a lot.
Long, muscular thighs ended in big feet encased in Vans. His strong hands wrapped around the steering wheel could just as easily span my waist and I wasn’t tiny. I skittered over his lean hips quickly, not wanting to dwell anywhere that would make me blush, although I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder. His belly was flat and the over washed t-shirt he wore did little to disguise what looked like an admirable pack of ridges.
I wondered how it would feel if I had the right to touch him. I imagined sweeping my hands up over his pecs and leaning against that wide chest. He looked like he could handle anything this life threw at him.
I wondered what he looked like under that beard. I couldn’t decide if I really wanted to know, as that would mean shaving it off.
His hair was swept to the left side, exposing the shaved side to me. He really did look like a Viking, made me think being conquered and plundered wouldn’t be such a hardship in his case.
I shook off the thought, relieved that he was not in the zone of available men. We practically worked together.
He glanced at me while he drove. “It’s not a big deal. My place is a two-minute drive from yours. It’s no trouble.”
His voice was deep and rough, but he spoke quietly. I hadn’t seen his eyes yet, but I was aware of how badly I wanted to. Even in profile, the arms of his shades hid them from my view.
