Wounded Page 10

  I wait for Liam to ask what I’m talking about, not sure yet if I’m ready to explain when he does. He looks at me long and hard, and I watch him try to decide how to respond to my statement. Is this where I tell him about my curse? Right here in my dad’s truck, in the parking lot of a bar? As I steel myself to explain my past, he finally smiles, gives my hand another squeeze and changes the subject.

  “I liked hanging out with you guys tonight. Right up until I hit a man in the face and outed myself as Liam McGuire.” He clears his throat and swallows hard. “You mind if I roll down the windows? It’s hot in here.”

  “Go right ahead.” As he works on the passenger window, I roll down the driver’s window and the wind whips my hair into a frenzy around my face. “And be honest,” I say, holding my hair out of my eyes. “You just liked getting out of the house. There’s no way that hanging out with me and my friends at a bar like Smitty’s came even remotely close to the kind of nights you’re used to.” I reach for one of the hair ties I keep wrapped around the gearshift and wrangle my hair into a ponytail.

  “It’s different, that’s for sure. But in a good way. It’s … I don’t know. Simple.” Liam runs a hand through his hair and stares out at the road in front of us. “And I like Michael. You’re right, he’s rough around the edges, but he’s a good man.”

  I bob my head and smile, at once pleased at the compliment and saddened at the thought of what kind of man he could have been if I’d done a better job when he was younger. “I liked Michelle,” I say around the thick swell of regret tightening my throat. “She seems sweet.”

  “Yep. And Lexi’s pretty awesome, too. Now that she’s not looking at me like a piece of meat.”

  “You haven’t even scratched the surface of all the reasons that woman’s awesome yet. She’s been there for me through thick and thin.”

  “See, that’s what I’m talking about. You guys are all so…” Liam rubs his hand across his mouth and then turns to me, his eyes searching my face. “Real,” he finishes and laughs a little. “That’s the only word I’ve got. It’s not right, but it works. I like it. You’ve known each other for years and treat each other like people, accept each other’s flaws…”

  “Hey!” I point a finger at him. “I don’t have any flaws. I am quite perfect, thank you very much.”

  Liam laughs in earnest, a big sound. Strong enough to fight the wind. “You’re right. Totally flawless.” He settles back in his seat and looks at me strangely. “And utterly perfect.”

  I blink, turning my focus back to the road, uncertain how to handle the intensity hiding behind his words. Time to change the subject again.

  “So,” I say after a few seconds of watching the long series of white lines on the road strobe through the headlights. “What kind of problems can we expect after tonight? Is this a big deal or a little deal?”

  Liam crosses his arms and runs a hand over his mouth again. “It’s a pretty big fucking deal.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I need to call Brent and get his advice. See about getting the PR team on it. Maybe come up with a good excuse for why I’m here and an even better explanation for why I had to move on.”

  Ignoring the little burst of nerves exploding in my stomach at the thought of Liam moving on, I study his face in the low light. “You don’t think your little speech in there had any effect? Seems to me they all might just keep your secret for you.”

  Liam laughs bitterly. “Hell no. They might sit on it for a few days, but in the end, what’s the use of having a secret if you can’t share it with anyone?”

  My stomach sinks. “And small towns love gossip…”

  God knows I’ve learned that first hand.

  Liam nods his agreement. “Which means I need to call Brent. I refuse to let me being here affect your life more than it already has. If word gets out and the paparazzi end up at your front door…” Liam pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not putting you through that.”

  I pull into my driveway, the familiar warmth of the porch light welcoming me home as it has for years. What would it look like to the paparazzi? To Liam’s legions of devoted fans? This tiny little house nestled up against the woods, with its peeling paint and broken gutters?

  “I don’t want you to call Brent.”

  “You and me both, hot lips.”

  “What if you did something special? Give them a reason to want to keep your secret?” I turn off the engine and spin in my seat to face him. The call of the crickets makes its way through the open windows.

  “Like what?”

  I wrack my brain for an idea, settling on the first one that comes into my head. “Like what if you performed some of the songs you’ve been writing that they won’t let you record? At Smitty’s?” I can tell by Liam’s face that he’s about to tear the suggestion to shreds.

  “That won’t work for so many reasons…”

  “Like what?”

  Liam flares his hands. “Well for one, do you really think people would keep something like that secret?” He shakes his head. “Word would spread like wildfire and we’d be worse off than we are now.”

  Even though I’m not sure it’s the best idea, the mere fact that he’s opposing me makes me dig my heels in and fight for it. “You could make it one of the stipulations of the concert. The moment anyone mentions it anywhere, the whole deal’s off.”

  Liam laughs derisively. “No one wants to hear the songs I write. The only thing anyone’s interested in is the Liam McGuire who sings the songs you can’t stand.”

  “I’m someone. And I want to hear them.”

  Liam smiles. “You got me there. You are very much someone.”

  “It might be a terrible idea.” I roll up the window and open the door. “Or it might be a way to get the town on your side and keep Brent from getting involved. We could even tell them that these are songs you’re not allowed to play…”

  “That’s a no go,” Liam says as we climb out of the truck and head to the house, the gravel crunching under our feet. “I don’t want anyone’s pity.”

  “And that’s not at all what I’m suggesting. But,” I say, sliding the key into the lock. “I think if people knew the truth about what you go through, they might be more inclined to keep your secret. Join Team Liam or something. Plus, who doesn’t love exclusive content?”

  “You have no idea what it’s like to have fans.” His tone is light, but that’s because he’s forcing it to be. “They don’t give two shits about who I am. All that matters is that I put out the right kind of music and look sexy while I sing it.” He closes the door behind us. “You hungry? I think I’m hungry.”

  As much as I want to keep pushing for the concert—because while I started out thinking it was a dumb idea, I’ve totally talked myself into thinking it’s a brilliant idea—I drop the issue. For now, anyway. Liam needs some time to mull it over. If I push too hard, too fast, he’ll dig his heels in just as hard as I have and we’ll get nowhere.

  “I could go for some food,” I say. “You cooking?”

  Liam grabs my wrist and pulls me into him, presses his lips to mine. Snakes his hands under my shirt, his palms warm against my lower back. I press into him. Breathe him in. The kiss lasts only a moment before Liam pulls back, resting his forehead against mine.

  “I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he says.

  Me too, I think but don’t say.

  Instead, I laugh and lead him towards the kitchen. “You can wrap it all up in pretty words, but I’m no idiot. You just wanted to distract me so I’d end up being the one cooking.”

  “You think so?” Liam grabs my waist and spins me around, pulling me close.

  “I know so.” I keep walking backwards, Liam’s hands on my waist, his steps matching mine, until I bump up against the counter.

  “You think you know so much.” Liam leans forward, his gaze flickering from my mouth to my eyes.

  “I—”

  Liam silences me with a kiss, and where before he was tender, now
he’s insistent. Protective and possessive. With little preamble, he lifts my shirt over my head and then worships me with his mouth, trailing kisses down my neck and breasts, nipping at my nipples through the lace of my bra.

  “I thought you were hungry,” I say as I crane my head back to give him more room to work his magic.

  “I am.” He kisses my throat. My jaw. The corner of my mouth.

  “For what?” I struggle out of his grasp and reach for a cabinet. “I think I’ve got some chips up here…”

  “For you, Bailey. I’m hungry for you.”

  Liam takes off his shirt and drops it on the floor. Tugs at the button of my shorts and lets them fall to my feet. In a matter of seconds, we’re undressed, lips and tongues and teeth traveling over each other’s bodies. With two firm hands on my waist, he spins me around. Bends me over the counter. Presses himself against my opening.

  I wait for him to sheathe himself in me. Need him to fill me up. Even push back a little when he refuses to move, but he keeps me firmly in place with two strong hands on my hips.

  Confused, I turn to look at him over my shoulder. He meets my eyes with a smile and then slowly, so fucking slowly I might just scream from the deliberateness of it all, he slides into me, holding eye contact the entire time. When his hips meet mine, I gasp, my lips parting.

  “Do you like that?” he asks, rolling his hips, thrusting into me.

  “You feel so good.” I don’t recognize my own voice, taut with desire, made molten by his heat. “Please don’t stop.”

  Liam pulls out almost as slowly as he pushed into me and I moan. My eyes roll closed and I melt into the counter as he thrusts forward. His name falls from my lips, a whispered admission of something I don’t want to name, something I hope he doesn’t hear. He gains speed, moving faster and faster, his fingers digging into the flesh at my hips.

  Yes.

  My hands scuttle out along the counter, knocking against the jars of flour and utensils.

  Don’t stop.

  Liam lets loose a low growl. “Fuck. Bailey.” His voice is low and primal.

  Like that.

  I come undone, clenching around him as I cry out, his voice joining with mine as he finishes with me. My knees go weak and I sag into the counter, his hands holding me up as he leans over to kiss my neck and shoulders.

  “I needed that,” he says, kissing that spot just behind my ear that makes me shiver every damn time.

  I want to tell him I needed it, too, but that seems too private, too personal. An admission of something deeper and more meaningful than a quick fuck in the kitchen. Instead, I straighten and lean back against the counter, smiling up at him. “Oh yeah? Is your appetite sated?”

  Liam rakes his eyes across my body. “Fuck, no. Not even close. But it’s a start.” He bends to gather my clothes, stepping into his boxer briefs while I go clean up in the bathroom.

  When I come back into the kitchen, I find a still shirtless Liam setting a multitude of snack items on plates. “That looks delicious,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.

  “Yeah?” He steps back and surveys his handiwork, looking pleased.

  “I wasn’t talking about the food.” When he meets my gaze, I give him a little lift of the eyebrows and purposefully ogle his bare chest.

  Liam puts his hands on his hips and lifts his chin before striking a series of ever more seductive poses. “This is my underwear model look.” He lets his eyes burn into mine. “You like?”

  Laughing, I nod my head. “I want to make some kind of witty remark, but I just can’t. Not with you looking like that. You’re really hot, you know that?”

  Liam pulls out a chair for me. “Oh, I know.”

  “And modest.”

  Liam nods sagely and sits across from me. “Indubitably.”

  “And you’ve got one hell of a vocabulary.” I reach for a plate of cheese and grapes.

  “Now you’re just flattering me.”

  When we’re done snacking, we share the bathroom as we brush our teeth, laughing as we try to make out what the other is saying around a mouthful of toothpaste. He slaps my ass as I wash my face and I throw water at him as revenge. And then comes the awkward part as we get to the end of the hall and I pause in front of my bedroom door. As much as I want to invite him inside, to bring him into my bed and sleep curled up against him, I can’t.

  I’m already more invested in this man than I need to be and nothing about him is definite. Any day now, for any number of reasons, he could pack up his things and head back to LA, leaving me here to pick up the pieces of my life and try to put them back together in a way that makes sense. The last thing I need is to let him all the way in, to get used to having his warmth and strength next to me in bed. It’s going to be hard enough, getting used to being cold again once he leaves. Getting used to everything feeling smaller, less meaningful. I need to keep at least one part of my life separate from him.

  “Good night, Liam,” I say as I push through the door.

  “Good night, Bay,” he says as I close it behind me.

  LIAM

  “Fucking hell, it’s hot out here.” I grab my shirt off the back of the lawn chair beside me and wipe it across my forehead.

  Michael grabs his beer and takes a long swig, bobbing his head in agreement. “And just think, it’s not even noon yet.”

  “Isn’t it supposed to be fall soon? Isn’t September all about things cooling down out here in Nowhere, USA?”

  Michael flips me the bird. “Just wait. That’ll come before you know it. One day it’ll be ninety degrees, the next day it’ll be fifty, and the day after that, you’ll be sick.” Michael takes another drink of his beer and sits it down next to his empties on the step leading into Bailey’s house. “The magic of fall out here in the middle of nowhere.” He exaggerates a thick country accent.

  “Great.” I crouch and slide a paver into place, the sound of stone grating against stone startling a tree full of birds. “Looking forward to it.” I say as they take flight.

  “Sure. I bet.” Michael crouches beside me, level in hand, ready to tell me everything I did wrong setting this piece of the patio in place. “Not bad,” he says as he runs the tool across the stone. “Just a little high in this corner.”

  “I had another conversation with Brent last night,” I say as I stand.

  Michael squints up at me. “How’d that go.”

  “About as well as it can go when you’re dealing with an asshole like that.” I wipe my hands on my jeans. “Actually, I’m really surprised. He wants to wait and see if anything else happens before we make any serious moves.”

  “What do you mean, anything else? Has stuff already been happening?”

  “Yeah.” I run a hand across my mouth. “There was an article on a local website that talked about me being seen at Smitty’s. Brent managed to get that pulled and has been scouring the Internet for other stuff to pop up. Plus, I think someone’s been going through the trash here.”

  “Oh, shit.” Michael widens his eyes. “Does Bailey know?”

  I shake my head. “Not yet.”

  “You sure that’s smart?” Michael stands and wipes his forehead with the hem of his shirt. “I mean, you do know we’re talking about my sister here, right? She’s not a big fan of being kept in the dark about stuff.”

  “She definitely likes to be in control of a situation,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t know, man.” I shrug and then let a long breath out through my mouth. “Brent swears he’s got it under control and who knows? Maybe he actually does. I just don’t want to freak Bailey out if there’s not a good reason.”

  Michael runs a hand through his hair. “Whatever you say. You’re the one who has to deal with her. Not me.” He crouches again, picking up the level. “You just let me know when you’re ready to stop being a lazy ass so we can get back to work.”

  I shake my head. “Whatever, man.”

  It’s been hard work, turning the pile of stone and sand Michael and
I bought into a patio. Harder than I anticipated. Especially since we only get to make progress on Saturday and Sunday when Michael’s off work. But the longer we’re out here and the more the hole we dug in Bailey’s backyard looks like a patio, the better I feel about it. We finish each day with my hands rubbed raw from sliding the rough stones into place, my back aching from all the lifting and squatting, my body drenched in sweat, but I feel magnificent. Better than I ever have stepping off any stage in any country.

  In fact, while the high of performing is pretty fucking amazing, there’s always a low that follows it. Always. I can have the best show of my life, only to end up sitting alone in my apartment later that night, downing whiskey and feeling damn near worthless. Building this patio has been the exact opposite of that. Not only am I learning new things along the way—Michael really knows what he’s doing and while he’s kind of an ass about it, he’s a great teacher—but at the end of the day, we have something real and permanent to show for our hard work. The roar of the audience, that goes away as soon as the lights go down. But the satisfaction I feel building this patio? All I need to do is step outside and see what I’ve accomplished to feel it again.

  “Bailey wants me to do a show at Smitty’s,” I say, careful to avoid Michael’s eyes.

  “What?” He sits back on his heels and waits for me to look at him.

  I explain her idea and wait for him to give me all the reasons it’s bound to fail.

  “Huh.” He pulls the corners of his lips down and tilts his head to the side before giving a little nod. “That might actually work.”

  “You’re full of shit.” I sit down, my knees already screaming at me from all the crouching.

  “I mean, it might backfire in a very real way, but this town loves its secrets and you know who loves feeling special? Everyone. That’s who. And what better way to feel special than by getting a secret concert from a man who’s been mostly naked on billboards all across the country?” He shrugs. “It’s something to consider, anyway. Especially if you do it in your tighty-whities.”