Live Without Regret (A Touch of Fate) (8 page)

A warm hand lands on my back and begins rubbing big, slow circles. Connor uses his other hand to hold my ponytail out of the way. He doesn’t move or say a word, but he doesn’t have to. His actions today speak so much louder than words. Tears burn my eyes at his kind gesture, making me grateful that I have the throwing up to mask my sudden emotional response.

My stomach finally settles. Straightening my back, I offer Connor a sad smile. He searches my face for a second before draping the strap of my purse over his shoulder. He pulls the foam finger from under his arm, hands it to me, and then scoops me up. “I don’t like seeing you sick,” he mumbles, taking off toward the car.

“I can walk,” I say meekly. Dropping my head to his shoulder, I silently pray that he doesn’t put me down.

“I know you can.” Connor tightens his hold on me. I may not feel the best, but I’m still able to appreciate his big, strong arms wrapped around me. It’s nice being taken care of for a change.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel safe and content in the arms of a man. It’s as if I saw him in the tattoo parlor and my heart said,
‘oh, there you are.’
That’s a scary thought considering this is our first official date, so I try not to dwell on it and just enjoy the simplicity of the moment.

“Come on, pretty girl,” Connor says, gently retrieving me from the front seat of his car. My eyes fly open as he cradles me against his chest.

“Did I fall asleep?” I ask, stifling a yawn.

“Yep, and just so you know, you snore.” Connor kisses the side of my head. I squirm to get down, but he doesn’t relent. “It’s okay, I found it kind of cute.”

“I don’t snore,” I scoff, wiggling again. “Do you have a thing for holding women or what?”

“Not women,” he says, walking toward my door. “Just you. It turns out I have a thing for holding
you
. Don’t ask me,” he says, shrugging. “I can’t figure it out either.”

Damn he’s good.

So,
so
good.

The front door flies open as soon as we hit the welcome mat. Casey shakes her head, making a
tsking
sound. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You have?” Connor asks, sounding confused.

“Yep,” she says, popping the
P
. “She does this
every single
time. The woman doesn’t know when to stop. Actually,” she says, motioning for Connor to walk inside, “I’m thinking of finding some sort of ballpark food addiction group she can join.”

Connor sets me on my feet but keeps a hand settled on my lower back. “Ha, ha. Very funny.” Plopping down on the couch, I glare at Casey. “Now, quit making fun of the sick girl. It isn’t nice.”

Casey purses her lips, failing miserably at trying to hide her smile. “You aren’t sick, you just ate too much. Big difference.”

I roll my eyes and Connor laughs. “You did eat a ton.” Sticking my bottom lip out, I give him my best pouty look. He bends down and kisses my forehead. “Want me to stay for a while?” he whispers, his eyes flitting to Casey and then back to me.

“No.” I groan. Grabbing the afghan off the back of the couch, I drape it over myself. “She’s right, this happens all the time. I’ll be miserable for a few hours, but I’ll be okay. No sense in you hanging around. Plus, it’s getting late.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind,” he says, tucking the edges of the blanket around my shoulders.

The gesture is so damn sweet it makes my teeth ache. Fisting my hand in the front of his shirt, I pull him toward me. “If I didn’t have vomit breath, I’d kiss the hell out of you right now.”

Connor flashes me his pearly whites. “Oh yeah? Can I get a rain check?”

“I’ll give you something better than a rain check.”

“Oh, good Lord.” Casey huffs and walks out of the room. “Now
I’m
going to vomit.”

Connor and I both laugh, keeping our gazes locked on each other. “Thank you for today,” I tell him sincerely. “It was the best first date in the history of first dates.”

“I’m glad you had fun. Next time I’ll know to limit your consumption of food though.” Connor bends down a little bit lower. Instinctively, I pull back because I really do have rank breath. “And just so you’re prepared, the next time I’m leaning over you on a couch, it’ll be for completely different reasons.”

If I had been standing, I would’ve fallen, because Connor’s mention of ‘next time’ made my knees go weak. And now I
really
want to know what those ‘different reasons’ will be. “Are you busy tomorrow night?”

“No.” Connor grins. “But even if I was, I’d break my plans.” He kisses my forehead once more before heading out the door.

“Where’s he going?” Casey asks, walking back into the room.

“Home.” Rolling over, I curl in a ball, doing my best to calm the tornado swirling around inside my stomach.

Casey stops in front of me and holds out her hand. “I thought some Tums might make you feel better.”

“Thanks.” I take the two pink tablets from my sister and chew them up.

Casey sits in the recliner next to the couch. “So, other than you eating way too much food and making yourself sick, how was your date?”

“It was really great.”

“Wow,” she says, pulling one of her legs to her chest. “Not just great, but
really great
.” I swallow hard and Casey quickly sits up. “Are you going to get sick?”

“No.” Closing my eyes, I shake my head. “I already did that. In front of Connor. Not my finest moment, let me tell ya.”

“Oh shit,” she says, laughing. Opening my eyes, I pin her with a glare. “What? It was your own fault. You’ve been doing it for years. You should know when to stop by now.”

“I know,” I grumble. The insane amount of fullness I felt in my stomach earlier finally starts to subside, and I feel like I can actually breathe again. “I’ll try not to screw things up next time.”

“Will there be a next time?”

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly. “Yes.” Casey’s eyes widen. Even I’m surprised at how easily that word fell from my lips. The past two years haven’t been easy for me, and actually going out on a date—let alone agreeing to a second one—is huge.

“Good.” The smile on Casey’s face is genuine. “I’m happy for you. If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you. Just promise me something.”

“What?” I ask skeptically.

“Promise me that you’ll be honest. Whatever your feelings, good or bad, just be honest. Don’t run away from them.”

It’s really quite scary how well she knows me.

I blink several times, pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth. Casey cocks her head to the side, waiting for me to consent. “I promise.”

“Good.” She pushes up from the chair. “Do you need anything? Because I think I’m going to hit the sack.”

“No, I’m good. I’m just going to lie here until my stomach feels better, and then I’m going to go to bed too.”

“Good night.” Casey turns toward the hall, but I stop her before she can get too far.

“Hey, Case?”

She spins around, covering a yawn with her hand. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For tipping him off about my love for the Cardinals. I still can’t believe he got us front row seats.”

Casey puffs out her chest. “Well, I can’t take credit for the front row seats, but I’ll definitely take credit for clueing him in. You can pay me back by naming your firstborn child after me.”

“Yeah, right. One of you in my life is enough.”

“Whatever.” Twisting around, she flings her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “I’m fabulous and you know it.”

Casey disappears around the corner and I close my eyes, deciding that maybe some sleep is the best thing for me right now. Only when I close my eyes, sleep doesn’t come. Instead, all I see is Connor and his big chiseled body covering my own.

Screw it, who needs sleep anyway.

T
he clock dings—
again
—and I silently berate my mother for giving me the damn thing. Don’t get me wrong, I love the antique clock. It was passed down from my grandmother to my mother, and then to me. But right now it’s pissing me the hell off. According to my family heirloom, it’s now two o’clock in the morning and I’ve spent the last four hours thinking. And for me, thinking isn’t good, because I tend to overthink, which is exactly what I’ve done tonight. Connor’s laugh, his smile, his touch—he’s consuming me. I’m finding myself obsessing over what it would be like to become attached to all of those things, only to have them ripped away. Honestly, I’m not sure I could handle going through something like that again. Then again, he wouldn’t do that to me…but he could.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Flinging my legs over the edge of the couch, I rub absently at my heavy lids. Connor’s told me that he doesn’t do meaningless sex, but he never said he does long-term relationships either.

Shit
.

My own thoughts cause my breath to hitch in my throat. What if I’m ready to give up my rogue ways at the chance for something more but Connor changed his mind? What if he saw my brand of crazy tonight and decided to cut his losses and run?

Adrenaline pumps through veins, my body vibrating with uncertainty. The need to see him—to talk to him—is overwhelming, and before I know what’s happening, I’m heading toward the door. Thank God he lives close.

Scurrying across the yard, I hop up the steps. His lights are off. Biting nervously at my lip, I try to decide whether or not I should just turn around.

This is crazy.

Running a hand through my hair, I spin around to head back home. I make it two steps and then Casey’s words slam into me like a freight train.
Promise me that you’ll be honest. Whatever your feelings, good or bad, just be honest. Don’t run away from them.

Damn it. She’s right. I hate it when she’s right.

If I go home now, I’ll most likely talk myself out of whatever this is with Connor. And I really,
really
don’t want to do that.

Twirling back around, I take two measured steps, along with a deep breath. I tap the door lightly and then step back. My stomach is twisting in knots, and this time it has nothing to do with my overindulgence of ballpark food and everything to do with Connor.

A couple of seconds pass with no answer. I knock again, a little bit louder this time, and turn around to double-check that his car is still in the driveway. Just then the door flings open, and the sight in front of me causes my heart to go from a steady trot to a full-on gallop.

Connor rubs lazily at his sleep-ridden eyes. His shirt is gone, leaving me with the ridiculously sexy view of his defined stomach, that perfect little V I had so much fun with the other night, and lines upon lines of a tattoo that I want to examine more closely. Shorts hang low on his hips and my eyes are drawn to his erection straining against the gauzy material.

Interesting.
I thought men got morning wood. I guess, technically, it is the morning.

Connor clears his throat. “Are you okay?” he asks.

My lady bits tingle at the sound of his scratchy voice and I glance up, meeting his gaze. He looks so rumpled, and a tiny piece of me feels bad for waking him up.

I shake my head. “No.” Connor’s droopy eyelids open wide and he yanks me into his house. He pushes the door shut behind me and then large, warm hands roam over my body. It takes me a second to realize what he’s doing. Chuckling, I pull back. “Yes. I mean, yes. Physically, I’m okay.”