Love Is Louder Page 3

  A couple of minutes pass, and I miraculously recover and return to find him kneeling in front of the machine. He wears Calvin Klein boxers. I bite my lip and immediately imagine him in the Calvin Klein spread and what his body must look like with him wearing only his snug black Calvin’s. I will have to say my current view is much better than any magazine. I deduce I can’t be in the same room with this guy for more than a minute without turning into a mess.

  I cough and say, “Here you go.”

  Turning, he straightens and removes his worn cap and runs his hand through his hair that settles into a perfectly tousled “just-fucked” style. His gaze comes to me as he takes the bottle of water from my unsteady hand. I flash him a sheepish smile, jealous the damn washing machine is getting worked on and not me.

  “Thank you.” He twists the cap and takes a gulp. My eyes flicker to his muscular neck as he pushes the cool water down his throat. How something so mundane can spur these sensations from my body confounds me. I gulp, letting my eyes float to the broken washing machine since there’s nowhere else to draw my attention in this tiny space we’re occupying.

  “I’ll figure out what the problem is and let you know if I can fix it,” he advises after he swallows.

  “Sometimes with these machines you may need to replace a part. If that’s the case, my brother will need to come back and install it. Hopefully, it won’t come down to that, and I’ll be out of your hair in no time,” he says, smiling slowly. A light shines in his eyes, making me wonder if he knows the effect he has on me.

  “That’s fine. Take your time.”

  “I will and before I forget...” While fishing in his back pocket, he causes every defined muscle and tendon in his arm to flex and bulge, tempting me further. Tempting me to want things I can’t have as a married woman. “Here is my business card. It has my cell and website information. If anything else breaks or falls apart in the future, give me…or us a call.”

  “I hope nothing else falls apart around here, but if anything does, I promise to call and ask for your services.” I smile, taking the card from him. If I have to purposely break the washer again or throw rocks into the garbage disposal to get him back here so I can admire him all over again, then so be it.

  A little eye candy never hurt anyone, right?

  I breathe in deeply, trying to calm my raging hormones. I don’t remember the last time I let my mind run away like this. I’ve only thought of my husband in this way. Only and everything with James. Shaking my head, I break my gaze from his hypnotic one, hoping that James, my eye candy for the past six years, comes home soon.

  It’s a little after nine when footsteps echo in the hallway and the jingle of keys announces James’ arrival. I mark my spot in my book with a pencil and set it onto the coffee table and lift my eyes to look at him as he enters the living room. My husband is a handsome man. Three years older than me, he’s tall with hard muscles and broad shoulders. He looks successful and authoritative in his dark navy suit, perfectly starched white shirt, and striped blue tie. His hair is parted to the side, and his intelligent blue eyes framed by thick lashes offset his stubbled jaw. A dimple appears when he smiles, but unfortunately, I don’t see that or his smile that can light up an entire room.

  “Hi, babe.” I rise from the couch, adjusting my black shorts and tank top. The skimpy outfit was chosen for James’ benefit, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he places his briefcase onto the floor and shucks off his suit jacket before tossing it onto the couch. This was never the case before; he couldn’t wait to peel off my clothes and have his way with me.

  “Hi,” he grumbles with a slight smile, giving me a cursory kiss on the cheek, like we’re meeting for the first time. This is all the affection I get these days, and then sometimes we have sex, but it’s not as often as I would like. When we were in college, even just a few short months ago, we had sex two to three times a day and on every flat surface. He had me before he had dinner, and now he doesn’t want either. I want the old James back, the one I married.

  I manage to crack a smile while tucking my hair behind my ears. He stands in front of me, not too close, his hands loose on his hips. I focus on his smooth, large hands, wishing he would use them to wrap his arms around my waist and pull me closer.

  “I made dinner. It’s in the kitchen,” I mention as he yanks at his tie and throws it on top of his jacket. I feel him pause, and he refuses to meet my eyes as he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt.

  “I already got a bite.” He rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, revealing his corded forearms.

  I cringe, but say nothing and listen to the low hum of the air conditioner in the background.

  Where did he eat? What did he eat? And with whom?

  I don’t know why I bother cooking for two anymore. I should just be concerned with myself since more times than not he is supposedly working late due to his increased caseload at the office.

  “How was work?” I ask as I sort the pile of mail on the coffee table, needing something to do with my hands.

  “Busy.” He makes a jagged intake of air. “I have a ton of new cases to handle.”

  I stare at him, wanting to trace the strong lines of his jaw, smooth my hand over his neck, and kiss his lips to ease away all the tension that is attacking his shoulders.

  “James, is everything okay?”

  He seems suddenly agitated. Silence fills the space between us as he drags his hands over his face and through his hair. I look at his mouth and miss his aggressive passionate kisses, miss how his lips settled seamlessly against mine. My eyes flicker into the hallway to the wedding picture decorating our wall as I fight the ache that threatens to overtake my heart.

  A crease forms between his eyebrows. “Brie, it’s nothing.” He stares past me into the kitchen for what seems like forever but is not even a minute. “Actually, life, work, so much shit.” His voice is tense.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” My throat constricts, and my heart pounds while waiting for his response.

  He frowns, as if he’s trying to figure out whether or not he should talk. I avoid looking into his eyes, tracing my gaze over his shoulders and arms. James moves close enough so that I can smell his delicious scent of his clean skin swirled with cologne that smells of sandalwood. He skims his warm fingers across my cheek, and I force my eyes up. I press my palm on his chest and feel his steady heartbeat. He wraps his hand around my wrist; his hold is firm and warm.

  “No. I’m tired. Tired of spending my life trying to prove myself to other people. To surpass my mother’s…everyone’s expectations and try to fix things. Everything,” he mutters, shaking his head. “There’s no fucking room for mistakes.”

  Part of me understands his urge to fix things to prove himself a success, even at the expense of his own happiness, but in turn, it’s affecting mine.

  Anxiety clenches my stomach at the obvious pressure he’s under. Something is off, and I don’t know what it is. I have to ask him since he doesn’t volunteer anything anymore. I thought I knew everything about my husband, but in the past few months, I’ve been left in the dark. James knows everything about me, even the bleak parts. He never has to ask. He’s the first person I go to.

  “It will get better.” I place my hand on his cheek.

  “I don’t feel like talking about this,” he says as he releases my hand. I’d feel a lot better if he pulls me against the hard planes of his body, tears off my clothes, clutches my hips, lifts me, and fills me with one deep thrust as he presses me against the wall. Our bodies’ slick with sweat, both of us panting for breath. I want him so desperately, but instead, I stand, feeling alone minus his touch.

  For another minute, we just stare at each other. I can tell he wants to say something, but I don’t know what. Whatever is happening between us, I wish it would stop. “Anyway, I’m going to swim a couple of laps, take a shower, and catch up on some work in the office.”

  Rather than try to speak, I nod and watch him head upstairs. I
want him to be the one to reach out to me. Pressing my hands to my eyes stinging with unshed tears, I withdraw to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine.

  How do I get him to come back to me?

  I’m unable to sleep well and wake up to the reddish glow of the clock and a faint breeze caressing my skin from the open window. It’s three o’clock in the morning, and James’ side of the bed hasn’t been touched for the third time this week. I roll over and stare at the ceiling. Even though we have not done anything in the last few days, having him lying next to me gives me security. He’s the balm to my damaged fragile heart.

  My vision blurs, and my old emotions swamp me. Fear, sadness, and loneliness. All the emotions I felt before I met James, when I was rebuilding myself brick by brick. I don’t know if I have the ability to battle them all at once, again. Pushing aside the silk sheets, I head downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water.

  The living room curtains are partly open, and the window allows for a sliver of moonlight to illuminate James stretched out on the cream sofa. Clutching the glass, I tiptoe closer, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest.

  He looks younger in his sleep, the lines of his face ease. I can almost see him, as he might have been as an energetic little boy. My eyes move down his hands that I’ve missed holding me and teasing my skin. His T-shirt has ridden up to expose the taut ridges of his abs and the beginning of his V.

  A jolt of desire ignites for him, consuming my body. I want to press my face against his neck. I want to feel the length of his strong body pressed against my back and his breath steady with mine.

  I can’t help hoping that James will wake up and come back to bed with me. I want his mouth on mine, and I want to run my hands through his hair while he fills me. Pressure squeezes around my heart thinking of the distance that has been growing between us. We’ve always been able to talk through stuff. We’ve gotten through things together, but now there is uncertainty brought on by my husband’s remoteness.

  I reach out and gently stroke my fingertip over his jaw and across his lips. I want a kiss. A simple kiss.

  I slowly inch closer and press my lips against his.

  Sweet. Soft. I sink into it, his lips cool against mine. Hunger rolls through me as I slowly pull away once he starts to stir. I leave the room before he wakes and return to my empty bed.

  This won’t last forever.

  A whisper in my mind, faint like a fading echo.

  He never comes to bed, and I never open my mouth to tell him how I feel, because some small part of me believes he doesn’t care, or perhaps it’s just my fears that I’m not enough anymore.

  I usually don’t wish anyone ill, but thank God Micah woke feeling under the weather. I should reconsider making service calls and do them more often. I need to market the company a bit more, and having the man behind the business in the field can only increase business. I need to be more hands-on.

  Hands-on that woman.

  God knows I was fighting the urge to do just that in there. Brie? I like that name. French, maybe? She’s beautiful beyond belief. I noticed every detail about her. Long brown hair, beautiful body, nice rack, mole on her left shoulder, mesmerizing brown eyes, perfect lips, but it was her ass and the fact she does yoga that did me in. I noticed the yoga mat sitting on the counter.

  Yeah, she caught me ogling her ass. I bet she is very flexible and can twist like a pretzel. Shit, I’m getting hard just thinking about her doing something like that. I’m not up on the yoga lingo, but damn, I would be her student.

  The kicker in all of this? She’s married. I noticed the enormous rock on her finger and the fancy wedding picture of her with James Effin Fleming. Of all the assholes to end up married, it’s him. I haven’t seen him since we graduated from high school, but then again, I haven’t been looking for him, so I didn’t realize it was his residence. I wonder how long he’s been back in town. His wife can’t be from around here. I would have noticed her a while ago. She’s the type that turns heads on the street. James probably met her in college, charmed her, and then married her.

  I could tell I was making her nervous, and it was fun to watch. I couldn’t help myself. It was all innocent, though. That’s all it can be with her. I’ve never been one to get involved with a married woman when there are plenty of eager women out there.

  I glance over my shoulder at the mansion I just left. I bet that place is about ten thousand square feet. Damn James Fleming, District Attorney. I’m not jealous of him. Not one bit. He’s been a privileged egotistical bastard since high school, but we’re adults now, and when I see him around town, I guess I have to polite. I hope for his wife’s sake he’s changed and is faithful to her and not the player he was back in high school.

  I remember the hype around him when he got accepted into Harvard Law. We all have our strengths. Mine is using my hands, and I’ve done well for myself. I’m an entrepreneur with three thriving businesses. Other than the service business, I own the bar, Bull and Bear, and the florist shop, which was my gift to Meadow so she could pursue her passion for flowers. She loved flowers since she was a little girl. After she died, I handed it over to my mom and my cousin Cindy to run and manage. The business is flourishing just like Meadow envisioned it. She had a talent for business. I wish she could see what Cindy and Mom have done with the place. She would be so proud.

  We changed the name of the place when she died from Lily of the Valley to Lily of the Meadow in order to keep her memory alive. Lilies were her favorite flowers. Even though she never got to be a mom, she would have been a wonderful one. I know it with every cell in my body. Just in the way she played with the kids that came into the florist shop and how she was so compassionate with people.

  I hop into the truck, throw my tool belt onto the passenger seat, grab my iPad, and check off that this service call has been completed. Looks like I won’t be coming back here as I peer back up at the house at the end of the winding driveway. Nothing was needed. There was just something stuck in the drain. Something James could have fixed if he took his head out of his ass. He’s always been the kind of guy that didn’t have to get his hands dirty and had someone else do the dirty work for him.

  When I told Brie the washer was all set, I swear I saw disappointment in her eyes. I hope James is making her happy, because we all deserve a relationship where both people are committed to each other, willing to take a bullet for them and make the ultimate sacrifice. I haven’t found it, but I haven’t been looking either. My businesses keep me busy, but I would not change my life for anything. I love where I am right now, but I do have my moments where I wish I had someone special in my life to share it with.

  My cell rings, breaking my thoughts as I glance at the dash to check the time. It’s a little past two.

  I answer the call and throw my head back onto the seat, relaxing for a minute to catch my bearings. Brie really threw me for a minute. I have to complete the rest of my service calls, but this call right here takes precedence over all things right now.

  “Hi, honey.”

  “Hi, Mom. How are things?”

  “Oh, Mason, I’m running a little late at the florist shop. We’ve been really busy with all these weddings and graduations. Do you mind picking up Lily today?”

  “You know my answer to that. I’ll be there.”

  “It’ll be such a surprise. She’s going to be so happy to see you.”

  “Not as happy as me. I’ll bring her over right after. I have to make service calls today. Micah is laid up in bed suffering from exhaustion.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I need to take him some chicken soup.”

  “Mom, he’s twenty-eight, a grown man. He needs to cut back on the late nights.” I chuckle.

  “It doesn’t matter. You’ll always be my babies. I’d do the same for you.”

  “I know that, Mom.”

  “Okay. Well, I don’t want you to be late. You know how she gets. She’s too smart for her age,” she says with adoration.
“Just like her mom.”

  We say our goodbyes, and I hang up, tossing my phone onto the seat. My heart warms, thinking about my next engagement. I can’t wait to see her. She’s the one person in this world that makes me smile no matter what. Seeing her is like a pure adrenaline rush. She’s everything innocent and good in the world—a ray of sunshine, a big bowl of M&M’s, so sweet and colorful. I could go on and on about how she makes me feel. She is the reason why I have a smile on my face every morning.

  I pull up in front of the preschool, park, and watch as parents pick up their children. I smile thinking about Meadow and what could have been as I take large enthusiastic strides up the walkway, anxious to hear her voice and hold her in my arms. As I come upon the classroom door, I immediately see her clutching her pink backpack. Her brown curls bounce as she skips toward me, and her headband decorated with a huge red vibrant rose falls over her eyes as she leaps into my arms.

  “Uncle Mason!”

  “You miss me, Lily?” I laugh, nuzzling my nose in her hair, breathing her in. She squeezes her little arms around my neck, pulls back, and kisses me on the cheek.

  “Yes, and you need to shave.” She giggles as she pats my cheek with her tiny hands.

  “Will do, princess.” Smiling, she slides down and takes my hand as we walk to the truck.

  “Evan was being nice today.”

  I quirk a brow and say, “Oh, yeah? How so?”

  “I fell down, and he came over to see if I was okay. Isn’t that nice?” she says with a distinct sense of awe, her eyes twinkling like diamonds.

  “Yes, it really is, sweetheart.”

  Evan is a classmate of Lily’s whom I believe has a crush on her. Who can blame him? I chuckle to myself. It’s already starting at four years old. Did I have my first crush at four? Knowing myself…probably.