at his retreating back.
Chapter 4
One foot in front of the other. Play it cool. Don’t look back.
Or he’d mash that lying piece-of-shit Madden’s nose into pulp. And then drag Liv off to a cave. He narrowly missed walking into a telephone pole. His mind was blank, hands shaking, stomach wonky.
Madden’s sticky, possessive vibe made him want to cave that arrogant prick’s head in with a rock. The shit-eating insect didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as Liv Endicott. Not that he himself did, either, but whatever. Fuck Blair Madden anyhow.
Wow. He thought he’d let that old anger go. After all, Blair’s amateur attempts to mess with him back in the old days had paled in significance compared to the real problems Sean had faced. That was the thing about the hammer blow of tragedy. It put the small stuff into perspective. And Madden was small. Like, scuttling cockroach small.
Keep it together. Impulse control. Actions have consequences.
The endless stern lectures from his father and brothers had clubbed into his head looped in his brain in a chaotic babble of mental noise.
Hey, he was trying. He’d controlled his impulses. Except for the impulse to come on to Liv. There were limits to a guy’s self-control. One lofty look from those big gray eyes turned him into a grunting caveman.
Maybe it was the sexpot cavewoman look that did it to him; the wild hair, the soot-smudged face, the notable absence of underwear.
The effect could only be improved by ripping the clothes off, pinning her down on a fur rug, and having at her like a wild beast.
God, she was fine. What a woman. Girl was too frivolous a word. The world was full of girls. His address book was full of their phone numbers. Girl was a category, a concept. A consumable.
The word woman had a different feel to it. It filled his mouth. Round, soft, mysterious. Unique, singular. Liv, grown up, filled out.
He had lots of photos, but Liv tended to wear big sweaters and long skirts in the winter and loose, baggy sundresses in the summer. A body like that had to be seen to be believed. She’d developed full, swaying tits. And that ass, those hourglass curves from waist to hip, Jesus. He’d thought she was perfect fifteen years ago, but nature had decided to go all out. Fudge sauce, whipped cream, nuts and sprinkles.
Those scanty clothes showed every tremor and sway. No wonder half the town was lined up to watch. He was an equal opportunity ravening wolf-pig when it came to female yumminess. He appreciated all colors, sizes and shapes, though he particularly went for lush curves.
But Liv was a different category of female beauty altogether.
It wasn’t just the way she looked, though she was drop dead beautiful. It was something intrinsic to her. Something so regal and proud. Dignified. Elegant to her bones. She took no shit off anyone. He felt like a dog on the furniture, unworthy to lick those tiny, arched feet, but slavering for it all the same. Bouncing like a puppy, tongue hanging out. He’d do anything to make her smile. Or better yet, get one of those smothered, giggling snorts. Scoring one of those was like winning the lottery. He’d gotten a few today. He was still jittery with triumph.
So his sweet talk still made her cheeks blush pink and her brights go on, ping. Raspberries, crowning those jouncing ta-tas. What a rush, to get the princess all hot and flustered using nothing but words.
That knife cut both ways, though. No coat, box or bag to camouflage his raging boner. He’d had the same problem the first time he saw her. He’d been working construction, and the crew had stopped dead when the boss’s daughter walked by. Gauzy skirt, tits bouncing under her prim blouse, cloud of dark curly hair, downcast eyes. Luminous, rose-tinted skin. No makeup. No need for it.
The whole package screamed “virgin.” Delicious, innocent, succulent virgin. Unaware of her power over men. She hadn’t even noticed the crew wiping the strings of drool off their chins. She just wafted along. On another plane. La la la.
He’d been naked to the waist, wearing boots, ragged jeans and a hard hat. Dripping with sweat, rank as a goat. No way in hell to hide his woody, not that it mattered. She didn’t notice him.
Her sandals had made tiny, dainty prints in the cement dust.
It had started out as a game, just getting that floating uptown angel to notice his raggedy-ass self. It swelled quickly into something hotter, wilder. He wanted to make her want him. He wanted to spirit her off into the woods. Lay her down on a bed of pine needles and rock lilies, peel off her panties and lash away at her delicious, candy-sweet girl body with his tongue until she was begging him to deflower her.
And he would oblige. Oh, yeah. He’d been dying for it.
That plan had backfired when he fell madly in love with her.
Kev had been pissed with him for going after a girl like Liv. She’s not the fuckbuddy type, he’d lectured. She’s gonna get hurt.
She won’t, he’d assured his worried twin. Hurting Liv was the last thing he’d ever do. He worshipped her. He was saving up for a diamond.
Thinking about Kev made this morning’s dream flash through his mind again. You’ve got to do something about Liv’s car, Kev had said.
Strange. He didn’t even know what kind of car she drove.
What a jolt, when she’d asked about Kev. For a split second, it was like Kev had never died at all. None of the bad stuff had happened.
Kev had gotten his doctorate, become a famous scientist, published papers, won prizes, patented amazing inventions, fallen in love, gotten married, had kids. The whole sequence of Kev’s hypothetical life played through his head in a blinding flash, whoosh.
And man, it hurt when reality came crashing back to displace it.
The sinkhole in his gut widened into a crater. He had to haul ass. Bursting into tears in downtown Endicott Falls was his idea of hell.
He’d always sucked at hiding his feelings. Macho stoicism was Davy’s specialty. Kev’s, too, in a lighter way. Davy’s stoicism had a steely weight to it, like Dad’s. Kev’s had been more like a zen monk’s calm. Like a reflecting lake. So mellow.
Christ, he missed Kev so bad. His throat felt like a burning coal.
He clenched his jaw, loping toward where his truck was parked. He was history. Miles was a grown-up. He could fend for himself.
You’ve got to do something about Liv’s car.
He wished he hadn’t interrupted Kev in the dream before he’d finished that sentence. Something was eluding him. Tickling his mind.
Our union will be explosive.
He wished he could look at T-Rex’s letter. The e-mails, too.
Stay away. The cops were all over it. Her folks had mountains of money. If anybody ever had her ass covered, it was Princess Liv.
The something’s-not-right feeling was swelling, bigger and badder. Fire ants in his head. Itching and twitching. What had T-Rex said? Burning in the fire of his passion? Our union
