When You Were Mine (Stone Lake 2)

It does.

And maybe that’s why I’m really mad at myself.

“Sorry, Mayor Marshall. I hated to bother you, but checkout time is in thirty minutes, and he’s in no shape to drive.”

“I still don’t know why he told you to call me,” I mutter, taking off my sunglasses as she opens the door to the room.

“Yours was the only name I could get out of him. He was drunk last night, but he hasn’t exactly sobered this morning. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have given him another bottle to bring with us here. It just seemed he needed to get lost, and I’ve been there. I guess we all have at some point.”

The room smells like alcohol. The bed has a shirtless Gavin, his hair mussed and sticking up in different directions, eyes closed because he’s snoring, makes my stomach tighten and not in a good way. The king size bed has rumpled sheets all around him, pillows strewn and tossed in different directions—even the floor. It’s clear what went on here. I knew of course, or at least figured when Elaine called and said she was with Gavin at the motel. Knowing it and seeing it are apparently two completely different things, because suddenly this is too painful to deal with.

Which is stupid.

It’s been thirteen years since I had any kind of claim on Gavin.

Thirteen years.

I need to get a grip.

“Why couldn’t you have taken him back to his hotel?” I ask, thinking if I had talked to Ben before coming here, he would have thrown a fit and told me I was being a fool.

And he’d be right.

“He refused to leave. He said he didn’t want to go back to his hotel that he needed to talk to Luna—which I later found out was you. He was determined to drive to see you, and I knew that wasn’t a good idea. When I told him I’d call you, he gave me your full name and then passed back out. I’m hoping you can get him out of here, if not it’s up to him to pay for the room another night. I got to head out. I should have already been at the bar getting ready to open.”

“Great,” I mumble with a sigh. “Let’s see if I can get him out of here. If not, I’ll call Ben to come and arrest him and throw him in the drunk tank.”

“You’re a lucky woman, one day you’re going to have to tell me your secret,” Elaine says, grabbing her jacket and putting it on, her back to me.

“What do you mean?” I ask her.

“Girl, please. You’ve managed to get our hunky sheriff and this fine piece of flesh both hot for you? You’re my new hero.”

“Trust me, Gavin doesn’t have the hots for me.”

“I spent the night with him in a motel room and all he did was drink and talk about you. Trust me, he has the hots for you.”

“He was drunk, he probably would have the hots for Betty White,” I reply, dismissing her comment—and biting my tongue to keep from asking her if she and Gavin had sex while he was drinking and talking about me. I shouldn’t want to know…but I do.

“Well, for her age, Betty White is kind of hot,” she says, and if I wasn’t so stressed out, maybe I’d laugh. “But, regardless, I don’t think I’m a dog and he barely looked at me all night.”

I ignore the small spurt of happiness her comment causes. It sounds like they didn’t have sex, and I shouldn’t find joy in that, but I do.

“Thanks for calling me, Elaine. I’ll make sure he’s safe.”

“Good, I don’t know him, but he seems like a good guy that got fucked over by someone he trusted.”

I frown, but don’t ask questions. Once the door closes and I’m alone with Gavin, I stare at him wondering what on earth I’m going to do with him.

And I’m not just talking about getting him out of this motel room…

Gavin

“Gavin, wake up. You have to get out of here. They want the room.”

“Luna?”

My voice sounds wrong. My throat is scratchy. It’s hard to talk and it feels like my head is drifting in a fog. When I hear Luna’s voice, I do my best to pull away from it, my eyes opening slowly. I blink as she begins to come into focus. She’s leaning over me, her hair spilling down around her face, her lips glossy and red, her hazel eyes dark with the green shining through the sea of brown just enough to entrance me.

“Get up, Gavin,” she urges, trying to pull back.

My hand snakes around the side of her neck, tugging her back down. I’ve had this dream a million times over the years and I’m tired of it always fading away. My lips crash into hers, and when I find my opening, I slide my tongue inside her mouth. I groan as the taste of her hits me. It’s been so long, but I swear to fucking God I remember everything about her. The sweetness, the innocence, the earthy forbidden flavor that even till this day is what I think of when I think of sex, it’s all right there.