Alex (15 page)

Before I can even process his words, Alex releases his hold on me and steps back. I turn quickly to face him, almost reaching out with my hands to grab hold and draw him back. He’s staring at me with heated eyes but a soft smile.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says, taking one step down off my porch while keeping his eyes pinned to mine. “Now get inside and lock the door behind you.”

“But…I don’t…” I falter for the right words, because I’m so completely stunned that he’s leaving after practically giving me an orgasm with just his hand on my belly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Alex’s body actually jerks and his eyebrows shoot up quickly. With a soft smile, he steps back onto the porch and walks up to me, taking my face in his hands. Focusing on my gaze, he stares hard at me, making sure I’m looking at him and listening to what he’s getting ready to say.

“You are doing everything right, baby,” he tells me and plants a soft kiss on my forehead.

“But why are you leaving…I thought you wanted…I mean, I just assumed you felt the same…” My words stutter and falter, and I have never been so confused or tongue-tied in my life.

Bending down and holding my face firmly, Alex pulls my face to his and he gives me a swift kiss with an open mouth, pushing his tongue roughly against mine. He kisses me deeply, darkly, and my muscles clench across my entire body. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark, appearing almost black in the shadows. “I want to fuck you so bad I physically ache, Sutton. It actually hurts. But I’ve always given in to my base desires, and slaked my lust without a care in the world as to who I was with or how fast and hard I’d give it to her. I don’t want that with you. I want something more.”

“And what’s that?” I murmur.

“I want a connection,” he tells me, and his voice holds such longing, I know that when I look back on this moment later in life, it will be a defining moment because it’s when I decided that my heart had already become deeply involved with Alex Crossman.

“We have a connection already,” I point out, still wanting him to come inside my house with me so we can make love. And the hard and fast thing he mentioned before also sounds quite good to me. I’m sure we have time for both.

Pressing a kiss to my forehead one more time, Alex releases me and trots down my porch steps. When he gets to the bottom, he shoots me a grin. “Yes, we do have a connection. And after tonight…it got even deeper.”

A feeling close to euphoria flutters through me over his proclamation and I can’t help but return his smile. “It did, didn’t it?”

“Yup. Call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

I just stand there staring at him, and he returns my gaze. Then he points at my door. “Inside. Now. Lock the doors.”

Rolling my eyes, I turn away from him and unlock my door. I give him a brief glance before shutting my door, but not before I see him give me a wink.

Then he’s gone.

Twelve…thirteen…fourteen…fifteen.

I mentally count my reps, pushing out a harsh breath every time I complete one. I increased my weight today for the bench press and I strain mightily to get the last one finished.

Garrett’s face leans over into my field of vision and he gives me a toothy grin. “Nice job,” he says as he helps to guide the weighted bar up the last few inches and back onto the cradle.

Sitting up to straddle the bench, I reach down to the side and grab my towel and water bottle. “Thanks. That last one about killed me. Good thing you were standing there or I probably would have strangled myself.”

“Plenty of people would pay to see that,” he jokes, and I can’t help but snicker. Garrett’s new mission in life is to bust my chops over my bad attitude, telling me once that he just didn’t understand it. He found me to be as warm and fuzzy as a baby bunny.

Standing from the bench, I take a large swig of water and wipe my face. Today’s workout was brutally long, and what made it even worse was that all I could think about was the fact I was taking Sutton out to lunch today and I’d be seeing her in about two hours. A grown man, especially one as cynical as me, shouldn’t feel this giddy over a woman, but there you have it. I’m turning into a pussy.

Garrett follows me back to the locker room. “What are your plans the rest of the day? Want to go grab a few beers and pick up some women?”

Arching an eyebrow at him, I say, “Don’t you ever do anything but party and chase women? It’s freaking only ten in the morning.”

“I’m a simple man,” Garrett says with a shrug of his shoulders. “It doesn’t take much to amuse me.”

I laugh, because he’s not joking. He is simple in his tastes and pursuits, and sometimes I envy the ease with which he confronts life. “Well, I have to pass. I’ve got lunch plans.”

“With?” he asks in a long-drawn-out sort of way.

I don’t answer but open my locker and pull out my shower gear.

“Man…you’re going out with Sutton again. Didn’t you just see her yesterday after the game?”

“Yup. Getting ready to see her again for lunch. Got a problem with it?”

Garrett knows about Sutton. He started pumping me for information after that practice session she came to, because he all too clearly noticed me noticing her. Much to my surprise, I’ve told him a little bit about her. He’s teased me about it relentlessly, mainly because he doesn’t understand the concept of developing a bond with someone.

Neither do I for that matter, and while I have no misconceptions that Garrett is going to provide me with sound advice—because let’s face it, he knows dick about relationships—it’s nice to at least give a voice to my feelings.

“No problem, dude,” Garrett says with a laugh as he pulls his own shower gear out of his locker. “She’s smokin’ hot. I’d try to tap that too. You
are
trying to tap that, right?”

“Fuck off,” I growl at him, which is basically admitting that yeah, I am so trying to tap that. Why in the hell I walked away from her last night is beyond me, and my perpetual case of blue balls has me questioning my sanity. And while I wanted nothing more than to take her up against the door last night, there was something about having her shiver in my arms just from grazing my lips along her jaw that had me backing off. It made me want to prolong the way this seduction is playing out.

It’s not just me seducing her, though. She’s completely seducing me, and she has no fucking clue she’s even doing it. Since this is the first time in my life I’ve ever experienced something like this, I want to savor the feeling. I want to commit it to memory, because I’m bound and determined to fuck it up somehow. This is all probably too good to be a long-term reality for someone like me.

Taking my iPhone out, I turn it on to do a quick check of my messages. I immediately see a text from Sutton and my heart sinks a little.

Have to cancel lunch. Emergency with one of my kids. OD. Have to go to hospital.

I stare at the message, contemplating how to respond. A terrible feeling of worry for Sutton rolls through me and I feel lost. I have no clue what to do, what to say. The way I’ve come to know Sutton over the last few weeks, I know that she is probably overwhelmed with concern for this kid and probably scared shitless.

And there’s probably not a damn thing I can do about it.

“Something wrong?” Garrett asks.

Turning to look at him, I say, “Sutton had to cancel. Looks like one of her kids overdosed so she has to go to the hospital.”

“Damn. That sucks. She has a tough job,” he commiserates over his shoulder as he heads into the nearest shower stall.

I absently nod and send her back a text.

What hospital? I can come there.

I wait a few moments for a response but nothing comes through. I see her original text was sent not long ago so she’s probably driving. Putting my iPhone back, I decide not to worry about it for the moment and head into a shower.

Checking my watch for what may be the hundredth time in the past hour, I peer down Sutton’s street, looking for some sign of her car. I’ve been sitting on her front porch step for about an hour, hoping she’ll come home at some point.

She and I were texting back and forth for a few hours, but now I haven’t heard from her in several hours. It’s getting dark and I’m getting worried.

Darkness I can handle. The worried part is a feeling I can definitely say I do not like. I have no clue why Sutton hasn’t texted me back. I learned that the kid who overdosed was stable and that Sutton would be staying awhile so she could talk to her. She hoped to be home around dinnertime, but that was the last message I got from her. After a few texts to her to ask if I could see her tonight—because again worried about her and want to make sure she’s okay—I gave up after she didn’t respond to the fourth one and just decided to stalk her house instead.

A car engine purrs in the distance and I can see headlights approaching. Standing up from the bottom porch step, I walk down to her sidewalk to get a better look. When a white Audi sports car comes into my field of vision, my heart slumps because I know that is definitely not Sutton’s bucket of bolts.

Rather than pass on by, the white car pulls into Sutton’s driveway, but with the headlights on and dusk waning into night, I can’t tell who’s in the car.

I don’t have to wait long because the driver’s door opens and a guy gets out. He has short brown hair and he’s neatly pressed in khaki pants and a pink button-down shirt. Rounding the front of the car, he walks toward me on the sidewalk.

“Can I help you?” I ask, intent on asserting my position on Sutton’s doorstep.

“Is Sutton here? I need to talk to her,” the man says casually as he approaches me. Once he steps into the yellow glow of the porch light, he can finally see me clearly and he says, “Holy shit—you’re Alex Crossman.”

“Last I heard,” I respond dryly. “And you are?”

The guy gives me a huge grin and leans forward, sticking his hand out to me. “I’m Brandon James. Sutton’s boyfriend.”

My teeth clench even as I take his hand to shake, and before I can even address the fact that he has asserted himself as Sutton’s boyfriend, he rambles on. “Well, actually ex-boyfriend, but we’ve reconnected and I’m hoping to make something click again. I just…I can’t believe I’m standing here talking to Alex Crossman. Sutton told me she was working on some type of project with you, right?”

I start to tell him I’m here on personal business but he doesn’t give me an opening. Moving at lightning speed and before I can protect myself, the douche jumps toward me, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. “Hey…I got to get a picture of me with you.”

Before I can protest, he slings an arm onto my shoulder and attempts to pull me down toward him, holding his arm outstretched with phone in hand.

“Selfie!” he yells just as the flash goes off, and I want to strangle the dude. I would, if I could in fact see, but the damn flash has me temporarily blinded.

Blinking a few times, I stare at Brandon as he admires the photo. His mouth turns downward and he practically whines, “Shit. Top of your head got cut off. You’re tall man, really tall. Next one, if you can lean down a little…”

Brandon moves toward me, intent on roping me into another selfie. I stick my hand out in self-defense and if he doesn’t stop, I’m going to hip check him into the concrete.

Luckily for him, I hear Sutton’s car coming down the street, chugging and sputtering along. Because Brandon’s car is in the driveway, she pulls along the curb and cuts the engine. It wheezes and whines, sputters and even coughs once before it goes silent.

Then she’s out of the car and stalking across the grass toward both of us. She looks pissed and I don’t know who it’s directed at.

“Hey, baby,” Brandon says genially, pointing at me. “Look who’s here…Alex Crossman. Can you believe it? We were just getting ready to do another selfie.”

Sutton slides a glance my way and the tension inside of me eases a bit because in just that brief glance, I actually see apology in her eyes.

Turning back to Brandon, Sutton is calm when she asks, “What are you doing here, Brandon?”

Sauntering up to her, completely forgetting his selfie with me, for which I’m grateful, he says in a placating tone, “I thought we could hang out…maybe you could even make your tuna casserole. I love that stuff. Then we can talk.”

Sighing with fatigue, Sutton places her hands on her hips. “I told you on the phone that I had a rough day today and tonight wasn’t a good time.”

Interesting. They talked on the phone today?

“Yeah…but I figured we could just chill…that would be a great way to relax after a hard day,” he says, giving me a sideways glance.

I’m not sure exactly what sets Sutton off, but I’m betting it might be the fact he asked her to cook dinner for him when she was clearly exhausted. Her face turns red as she walks up to him and pokes him in the chest with her finger, causing him to take a step backward as his eyes flare with surprise.

“You can’t be that moronic,” she seethes. “I’ve been in a hospital all day hoping one of my kids doesn’t die because she took a lethal dose of meth, and I come home to find you waiting for me after I explicitly told you I was not in the mood to see you, and on top of that, you want
me
to cook
you
dinner, which does not sound in the slightest bit relaxing to me. It’s utter ridiculousness. Now…I’m tired, I’m hungry and I’m going in my house…without you.”

Brandon’s jaw drops and his lips purse inward and out again, not quite sure if he should say anything. But Sutton doesn’t see that because she spins away from him and starts stalking up to her house. She doesn’t even spare me a glance but calls out over her shoulder, “Are you coming, Alex? We can order some Chinese. I’m starving.”

Staring after her just a moment, I admire the strength still evident in her step, even though she looks like a feather could knock her over. I’m completely turned on by the steel rod that is her spine and the way she just stood up to Brandon. I resist the urge to do a football dance of victory around Brandon because I just got invited inside while he got sent packing.

“He can come in but I can’t?” Brandon calls out to her pathetically.

Sutton doesn’t even respond but opens her door and walks in, leaving it open for me to follow.

Turning to Brandon, I try to look sympathetic. “Sorry, dude. But word of advice: Next time a woman tells you she’s tired and had a rough day, I’d try to refrain from asking her to cook for you.”

Staring at me blankly, his lips purse in and out again, not quite able to formulate a response. Shrugging my shoulders, I turn away and trot up the porch steps and walk through her door, shutting it quietly behind me. I don’t see her and assume she may be in her bedroom getting changed, but I hear the satisfying sound of Brandon’s Audi starting up and backing out of her driveway.

“Make yourself at home,” Sutton calls out from the back of the small house. “I’m going to grab a quick shower.”

“Okay,” I call back to her. Spying her car keys on a small table near the door, I add on, “I’m going to move your car into the driveway.”

“Be gentle with her. She’s an old soul,” she warns me.

Snickering, I head out the door and move her bucket of rust off the street and into the safety of her driveway. I lock her doors, although I’m quite confident no one would steal it, and head back inside her house. I can hear the shower running, so I busy myself by looking around her small living room.

Sutton’s house is a contradiction. It’s small and in a shabby neighborhood not too far from downtown Raleigh. It needs some work, especially on the outside, but once you walk in, you can see she has put some real effort into fixing it up.

Her living room has hardwood floors that have some scratches and dents, but they are clean and gleaming under the soft lamplight. Her couch is soft and cozy-looking, in a large flower print of butter yellow and pale blue. Definitely girly and so not my taste, but for some reason it fits Sutton. A large, shaggy area rug sits in the middle and plain but sturdy oak tables finish the decor.

What really catches my attention, though, is her mantel. It sits over a fireplace that doesn’t look like it’s been used for years, but it’s crammed full of family pictures. Walking up to it, I study each picture one by one. They are of Sutton and her family. Some with Sutton and Glenn together, or just Sutton and her mom. There’s one of Sutton and Jim where it looks like Sutton is dressed for the prom or something. And there are several with all of them together, including a few of Sutton with some friends that look like they could have been taken in college. The photographs all come together to tell the story of a woman who has a very happy and healthy family life, which is amazing given that she is the child of an addict and an abuser. She has strength and resilience that cause me to marvel at her, and it’s one of the reasons that she has me captivated.

“Admiring the craziness of the Murdock family?” Sutton’s voice carries softly from behind.

I turn toward her, intent on letting her know her family’s brand of craziness is actually pretty fucking awesome. But the words get stuck in my throat.