Tell Me You Love Me Page 6

  Of course...why volunteer when I can just sit around here all day waiting to take your pants to the tailor to fix a fucking button because, apparently, I’m incompetent?

  To think I was just feeling guilty for lying to him about Ryan. The blood boils throughout my body, causing me to sweat in anger. I flick off my light blanket and get out of bed. No point in trying to get back to sleep. My mind will just race and I’ll end up considering ways I might strangle my husband.

  “You’re a waste of time,” I say aloud, knowing damn well he can’t hear me. He’s gone, on his way to the office, where I’m sure he does every thing right and it’s not a waste of time. The dude thinks he shits rainbows that smell like fucking sunflowers.

  God, he infuriates me. How in the hell did we get here?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ryan

  Like every day since I first met Lizzy, I woke up thinking about her, my dick hard and my mind racing with thoughts fit for a porno. I’ve never been one to bring massage oils into the bedroom, but there is something about her curves that make me want to touch every inch of her body, rubbing it up and down with warm slick oil.

  My hand finds its way under the sheets, taking hold of my cock, stroking slowly up and down as I picture the redhead that has taken up permanent residence in my thoughts. The sway of her soft hips as she climbs the trail ahead of me. Mmm... My dick pulses in my grip. The taste of her cherry lip gloss left behind on her water bottle and the gentle sweep of her tongue over her lips. My pace quickens and so does my breath as my fist closes tighter around my shaft. God, I haven’t even touched her and she has me shaking in my bed. That mischievous smile she looks up at me with, testing me, teasing me, making me want to swallow her whole, starting at the base of her neck and trailing on to the plump cleavage that peeks out of her sport’s bra. Fuck. Uhh. Yeah. Mmm...

  Grasping at my comforter with my free hand, I moan again and again in the silence of my room as I make myself come. She makes me come. Just imagining her sweet face and her sexy ass has me erupting in my hand and all over my sheets.

  Fuck me, it’s worth the extra load of laundry.

  I look up at the ceiling, still trying to steady my breath and knowing I need to see her again.

  Dammit. I couldn’t stay away if I tried.

  * * *

  When Lizzy told me about volunteering at the library, her eyes lit up like she was talking about a fairy tale. I could picture her sitting on the floor reading books to little kids, with a snotty-nosed child curled up in her lap. She has often struck me as a kind-hearted woman, with one hell of a mouth. Sassy and sexy. But, I doubt she uses her vast and creative vocabulary much with preschoolers.

  It was nice to see her off the trail yesterday and I’m dying to see her in her element. She’s seen me in mine, kinda. She’s never seen me fight a fire, but she has seen me with the guys in a full uniform, carrying hoses and air packs, getting our physical training done. Here, that’s mostly the job. Our calls are few and far between so staying in shape is important. It would be easy to sit at the house all day playing cards and letting our bodies go, but that’s just not our style. Even that little shit Thompson treats his body like a temple.

  He’s toned down the bullshit and we’ve actually worked out together a few times. I was surprised when he could keep up with me. Some of the guys have teased him about having a girlfriend, but I doubt it. He’s too new and seems to live and breathe the job. I know how it goes. I was once him. Without the attitude, though. If he hadn’t made such a bad first impression on me, I might have recommended him for hotshots, since I’m sure he could pass the demand of the physical fitness test. He definitely has the ego for it.

  The thought has me chuckling inside for a minute before my mind comes right back to Lizzy.

  I bet, when she shyly invited me to her story hour this morning, she didn’t think I would actually come. Yet, here I am.

  The last time I came to the library was in high school. With the invention of the Internet and Kindle, I don’t need to. It’s sad to say, considering when I was a kid, I looked forward to going to the library every other day with my mom and sister. My mother was a single parent, raising two kids on one income. The library was a cheap form of entertainment we all enjoyed. My sister loved the many crafts she got to make after reading picture books, and I loved reading from one end of the stacks to the other in the mystery section.

  It was also a place for me to be alone. At home, my sister was loud and just...girlie. Sitting on the floor against a wall with my legs kicked out, I always enjoyed reading a good book in silence.

  Stepping through the doors of the library brings those fond memories rushing back to me like an unstoppable flood. The smell of the books. The pages. The dust. The scent takes me back to my childhood in an instant. Quickly, I turn around and head back through the entrance. I take out my cell and sit on a bench.

  “Hey, baby,” Mom says when she answers. “Nice to hear from you.”

  “Hi, Mom.” She makes me smile, just hearing her peppy voice. “You’ll never guess where I am.”

  “So then tell me.” She never has been one to beat around the bush.

  “I’m at the library.” I smile again. “It just made me think of you, so I called.”

  “What the hell are you doing at the library?” The laughter in her voice makes me chuckle.

  Shit. I didn’t plan on telling her more about Lizzy. “I came to see a friend.”

  “A friend, huh?” I can already see her eyes narrowing at me, and her fingers tapping on the kitchen table. So trademark Mom. Before the conversation is over, she’ll probably have me married off and naming my kids.

  “Yes, a friend. She volunteers in the children’s corner. I brought some firefighter stickers so she can pass them out to the kids.”

  “Someone is in love,” she sings into the phone.

  Groaning, I try to cut her off before she really gets started. “I’m not in love. I’m in...like, I guess you could say. I’ve known her for months and I haven’t even kissed the woman yet.”

  My mother squeals into the phone. Fucking squeals. “Those are the best kind. Listen, I gotta run. Your sister is calling in on the other line.”

  “Wait a minute,” I try to stop her from hanging up on me, “don’t you go spreading rumors.”

  “Say hi to Lizzy for me. That was her name, right?” She doesn’t let me answer before she says, “’Bye now.”

  Great. Not only does my mother think I’m some lovesick puppy, my sister is going to give me shit now, too. I turn my phone on silent and stuff it in my back pocket before heading back inside to find Lizzy. My mother and my sister are nuts, but maybe that’s just what Lizzy needs. I know my mom would love her. Adore her.

  There’s no doubt they would bond over books. The women in my life are addicted to romance novels and the inevitable happily ever afters. They live for that shit. My mom is so easy to talk to that I could see Lizzy opening up to her, just like she talked to me—telling me about her past. Mom would waste little time showing her the loving affection and compassion her own mother didn’t. I have to shake my head clear of the thought. We’re not there yet. Not even close. But if I’m being honest with myself, I want us to be. The more time we spend together, the more I learn about her, the more I like Lizzy.

  As I make my way to the Children’s Corner, I can hear the animated voice of a woman reading aloud. The closer I get, the more I can’t stop smiling. It’s Lizzy. She’s sitting adorably in the beanbag in the corner of the room. The sun shining through the window behind her makes her look like an angel; her skin glows and her hair is like silk. She looks absolutely gorgeous.

  Leaning my shoulder against a wall, I stand there with my arms crossed in front of me and listen. A grin forms on my face when I catch on that she’s reading a book about some “little critter” and fire safety. It’s a cute book, with accurate information. Completely fitting seeing as how I’m a firefighter and I brought by some stickers for the ki
ddos.

  I know exactly when she notices me. She stutters a bit, fumbling on her words. I make her nervous, which totally makes me feel bad and good at the same time. Then, she goes and smiles at me, even giving me a wink. Damn that smile has fucking magical powers or something. Makes me think of this morning and how I was forced to take matters into my own hands just thinking of her.

  As I recall the images that brought me to my own orgasm earlier, Lizzy finishes the story and the children clap with excitement. She leans forward in the beanbag, sitting up straight, and waves me over.

  “Boys and girls, I have a surprise for you today.”

  Their eyes go wide as she raises her hand to gesture to me. Not wanting to disappointment her or the kids, I start walking toward her and then kneel next to her in front of the group.

  “This is my friend, Ryan. He is a real-life firefighter, and he works at the local station. Maybe he’s willing to answer a few of your questions?” She looks at me with that silly grin on her face. Cute. “If we ask nicely.”

  Shaking my head, I nod.

  “Let’s welcome Ryan to our group.”

  “Hi, Ryan,” the kids all shout in unison.

  “Well, hello.” I wave at them, looking to Lizzy for support. “Thank you for having me.”

  One by one, the kids ask questions about the “jaws of life”, how hot it must be to run into burning buildings, and if I’m ever scared. The look on their faces when I admit that yes, I am afraid sometimes, is complete shock. I remind them that it’s okay to be scared sometimes, and you just have to power through it.

  A little boy with spiked hair waves his hand in the air. I give a nod in his direction.

  “Miss Liz said we get to take a picture with a fireman’s hat today. Can we take a picture with you, too?” He wears an endearing smile, and the other kids nod their heads and wait for my response.

  The idea that these kids would want to take a picture with me, like I’m some sort of celebrity, is funny. When I steal a glance at Lizzy, she clasps her hands together and mouths, Please.

  “Sure, why not?” I tell them. The kids scramble to their feet and crowd in close to me.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Lizzy says softly, but with a tone that makes the kids listen. “Let’s get lined up.” The kids ranging from ages three to five, I’d guess, do as they’re told with the help of their parents.

  “Nice choice in books,” I tell Lizzy, tugging on her ponytail. I’ve been dying to touch her since I got here and that seemed like a safe zone.

  The smirk on her face cracks me up. “Well, a certain firefighter has made quite an impression on me.”

  Is she flirting with me? Before I can say anything, she gets to her feet, walks away, and comes back with a stool that sits about two feet off the floor.

  “Here, you can sit on this, so you don’t tower over the little ones.” She pats the seat and like the kids, I do as I’m told. “It’s a good thing you wore your department shirt today.”

  “I have a million of these. It’s a safe bet I’ll be wearing one at any given time.”

  Lizzy lets out a short chuckle and then reaches down into a large duffle bag to pull out an official helmet from the station.

  I take it from her and turn it around in my hands, inspecting it.

  “Justin,” she says. “Every now and then I ask him for help with these things.”

  “Feel free to ask me any time, too,” I say, looking up at her and taking her hand in mine. She squeezes it for a brief second, but then the soft touch of her palm against mine is gone just as quickly as it came.

  The rest of my time at the library is spent posing for pictures with little kids, and some moms. It’s funny to see Lizzy arch her brows at a few of the mothers who perk out their chests in my direction and ask to take a pic, too. She doesn’t look too happy. Just earlier I thought she was flirting and now, she’s sprouting the green horns of jealousy. I can’t say I don’t like it, because I absolutely do.

  After all the mini people and their moms are gone, I finally have a quiet moment with Lizzy.

  “This is kind of impressive,” I tell her, watching everyone shuffle their kids out the doors. “Do you always get a turn out like this?”

  As she nods, her smile brightens her face. “Yeah. Pretty much. We have a good time. Sometimes we do crafts if the book lends itself to that, other times I do a read aloud and we do some sort of exploration activity. Either way, we have fun. The kids love it. The moms get a break.”

  “You don’t have to sell me on it, I spent a good chunk of my childhood here. Going to the library was family fun time for my sister and me. She would have loved you when she was younger.” Her sweet expression makes me change my previous statement. “She’d love you now.”

  That bright smile dims a bit and Lizzy’s expression seems to become one of concern or confusion.

  “Hey,” she says. “I have to run. Thanks for coming by. Thanks for bringing the stickers. The kids loved them. I’ll see you soon.” She reaches out, placing her hand on my bicep. “Thanks, Ryan.”

  Before I can stop her to say goodbye—to say anything at all—she’s gone. And I’m left alone wondering what the hell just happened. Where in the hell did she go? Things were going great, and now... Poof... She’s gone. Did I scare her away? Spook her with talk about my mom? Frighten her with my use of the word love? Hell, if anyone should be panicked, it’s me. I can’t remember the last time I associated the L-word with a woman—not that I’m necessarily doing that now. Oh, fuck me. I don’t even know what I’m doing. All I know is that Lizzy’s sweet scent lingers in the air, only adding to my annoying confusion.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lizzy

  I swear I need to stop reading. Spending time with Ryan has me envisioning us in every book I read. Take You Belong With Me by M.R. Joseph, for instance. When Carter and Casey walked along the beach, I thought to myself, “that is so Ryan and I.” Why in the world would I think that? We’ve never been to the beach. We hike this damn mountain.

  The man is off-limits, even if he is hotter than summers in Death Valley. Even if my own husband feels disgusted when he looks at me and makes my skin crawl with anger. Just because Jace doesn’t give me what I need and has no desire to, doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to have feelings for another man. No matter how small they are.

  Or big.

  Oh my God. I’m going to hell.

  “I can’t believe you canceled book club this week,” I tell Molly as we walk down the streets of our local outdoor mall. “I’m not used to going more than two weeks without seeing my girls.” And guys. She’s ripping me off from my quality firefighter time. I mean, she’s ripping us off.

  “Too bad. It’s hotter than Carter singing at Beach Bums,” she says, referencing this month’s book selection. “I didn’t want to sit in the sun with sweaty tits and a glistening upper lip.”

  “Hotter than a bunch of sweaty fireman?” I tease. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but we’re still outside.” I raise my hands gesturing to our surroundings. “And I’m pretty sure I have sweat dripping down my back...among other things.” I lift one of my arms to her. “Want to feel my pits?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll pass.” She pushes me away with a disgusted look on her face. Then, we both start laughing until we fall into step and quiet down.

  “Maybe we can shop for some sexy lingerie for your late night caller. Did I see him drive up last night?” An amused smile plays across my face. I love getting into this with her. She always has a good time torturing the rest of us; it’s always fun to dish some of it right back.

  She flashes me a little smirk. “Are you stalking me?”

  I arch a questioning brow at her.

  “We’re not here to talk about me.”

  She’s always good at deflecting this topic, so I let her off the hook...as usual.

  “It’s never too hot to shop, Liz. Plus, you need a dress. If that jackass of a husband of yours is going to make you go to some
stinkin’ fancy dinner, we may as well have fun spending his money.”

  She has a point.

  It’s just like her to talk shit about Jace, not that he doesn’t deserve it. I’d say something about her secret booty call, but I think better of it. She’s right. Jace is a jackass. On the other hand, her guy might very well be a mystery, but I’ve never seen her around with tear-induced swollen eyes or creases between her brows because he made her angry. From what we hear of him, the man is perfect even if he is nonexistent to us. Maybe Jace should just pop in at night for a few hours here and there. Maybe then, we’d get along.

  Who am I kidding? The man can’t even stand the sight of me. As if I’d want him to come and go as he pleases for booty calls. The sex has never been that great.

  “So where do you want to go first?” she asks.

  Home, the thought pops up almost instantly in my head. I hate shopping. “How about Lane Bryant?”

  She stops and places a hand on her hip. “Liz, you didn’t lose weight so you could go buy a baggy dress that’s way too big for you. How about Express? They have some young, sassy, and flirty dresses there.”

  This time, I put my hand on my hip. “Molls, I may have lost a few pounds, but not enough to wear anything in that Barbie-sized store.”

  She shakes her head and starts walking off ahead of me. We end up in Macy’s, which is fine by me. I’m not someone to spend a fortune on a designer cocktail dress. I just need one that fits, that’s comfortable, and doesn’t make me feel like a Goodyear Blimp. After trying on too many dresses to count, we make our way to the White House Black Market. I don’t expect to find anything here, but Molly happens to think this place is made for me, and my new and improved figure.

  I watch as she scans displays, and drags hangers across racks until she has five items draped across her forearm. “Here,” she says, passing the black dresses off to me, “go try these on.”

  Not wanting to argue with her sense of style, I do what I’m told. Surprisingly, they fit. I take turns trying each of them on and stepping outside the dressing room to model them for Molly. The salesperson hands me a pair of black heels to complete one of my favorite looks, and then Molly grabs some accessories. Yup. That’ll do it. I spend a little more time in this one, twirling around for my friend, pretending I’m Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, although I’m not a hooker. For Richard Gere, I’d consider it though.