Drawn Deep (Afternoon Delight 2)

And even if he did believe that, in Casey’s case he wouldn’t have been right.

Kim pushed her hands through her hair, scattering pins. Goodbye classy upsweep. Hello shrewdo. “You should be with someone your own age. That’s not ridiculous, that’s reality. We’re worlds apart. Fourteen years is more than half of your life.” She swiveled toward him, the stark pain in his eyes pulling her up short. “Face facts. In fifteen years, I’m going to be getting free senior breakfasts and you’ll be barely cruising toward middle age. Do you really want to be the guy stuck with grandma for the rest of your life? Didn’t you play that role once already?”

When he didn’t respond, she went over to him and reached up to cup his cheeks. “You might not believe this now but I’m doing this for you. Walking in here when I did showed me that with sterling clarity.” She let out a shaky exhale. “You need to experience more than I can give you. All you’ve ever known is shackles. I don’t want to put more on you before you understand what you’re giving up.” She swallowed hard, realizing it was the truth. Running neck-and-neck with her jealousy was the desire to protect him—to make sure he got what he needed. And damn straight, it hurt that it might not be her. It hurt like a bitch.

But if she had to be the one to do the right thing, she would. For him she’d do it.

“Your freedom is the kindest gift I can give you,” she whispered.

“What if I don’t want it?” he demanded harshly. “What then?”

She stared at him for a long moment, her feet rooted to the floor. Leaving was the last thing she wanted. This was her house and she was the host of her brother’s wedding and reception. A reception that technically still wasn’t over, though it was definitely waning. Sara’s mom could be counted on to hold down the fort but that wasn’t the point. Asking him to leave wasn’t fair and she couldn’t do it. In a short time she’d begun to associate Michael with her home. His presence there felt as vital as oxygen. Somehow he belonged there as much as she did.

But if she didn’t walk out the door, literally and figuratively, he’d never believe her words would stick. She barely believed it herself. Her want for him burned in her belly, furious and unrelenting. Even fighting with him had only increased her need.

Only one thing could make her move—the memory of the hesitant smile he’d worn for that split second before she’d glimpsed him holding Casey’s wrists. That boyish smile deserved a chance at more. Maybe more than she could give him, even if she tried. She might rage at him for daring to wish for it, but she’d never deny him. She wasn’t Rochelle. She would never try to put him under glass for her amusement.

Never allow him to stay there to indulge his.

“Let me go,” she murmured. “For your sake if not mine.”

He gripped her hands on his face, held them tightly enough to bruise. His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them, slashes of pure black. Fury and so much more roiled in their depths. He’d never been truly angry around her before. And he was hurt. She could taste his bitterness as sharply as the wine she hadn’t poured.

Shutting his eyes, he dropped his hands. “So go.”

She pressed her lips together and walked away, weaving through the handful of people that still milled through her house. She managed to hold it together until she reached the front porch. Then she saw the swing and remembered sitting there with him in the stillness, feeling a peace she’d so rarely known. She hadn’t been lonely in his arms.

But she was now.

She headed to her car, her only intention to drive until her heart numbed. She put on her usual soundtrack of “I hate men” music and sang along, determined to soldier through the same way she always did. There was no reason to cry. No excuse for mourning something she’d never really had.

With no destination in mind, she pressed the accelerator.

The night landscape whizzed by her window. Houses gave way to trees and land until she cruised past a home she never would’ve aimed for consciously. But there she was, idling outside Michael’s place, her gaze lingering on the lighted windows before dropping to the sign near the road.

For Sale by owner.

Her breath caught and she pressed her fist over her mouth to stifle a cry. He’d done it. His bravery in taking a step he clearly hadn’t been sure about made her eyes swim. And where was she? Running again.

Always running.

She glanced in the rearview and caught a glimpse of her bleak eyes. She hadn’t seen that look on her own face since…ever. Not even when she ended things with her ex-husband. She’d been past the pain by the time she’d signed on those dotted lines. This was all too fresh. And it wouldn’t be getting better anytime soon. Every time she pictured the pain etched on Michael’s face before she walked out of the kitchen, she had to fight back tears. The For Sale sign she couldn’t stop staring at didn’t help.

Doing him a favor was one thing, screwing up supposedly for his benefit quite another. She wasn’t exactly the best at staying the course. Fleeing had long been her default reaction. Like tonight. The only difference was she’d never questioned her actions so swiftly before. She’d been arguing with herself even before she’d arrived at his house but now she couldn’t silence the shriek in her head that warned her to turn around.

God, had she made a colossal mistake?

So what did it matter that she wasn’t a nubile young thang? She had plenty of life left to live. She’d never try to hold him down. No matter what. She wasn’t like that—and she also wasn’t the sort of woman who searched for her own deficiencies. Since when did she compare herself to other women? She had enough self-esteem to know that she had a hell of a lot to bring to the table. And the bed and the floor…

Blowing out a breath, she changed songs. Enough of the moaning and chest-pounding girl anthems. They weren’t what she needed tonight. Especially since he hadn’t messed up. She had. He’d been right about her looking for an out. She wished it wasn’t true. But it was.

She hadn’t felt this emotional and out-of-sorts in too long to remember. He made her want to risk more than anyone had in years. The scene in the kitchen aside, she didn’t really think he couldn’t be trusted. Even the fact he hadn’t told her about selling the house didn’t concern her because she already knew the explanation. He wouldn’t have wanted her to freak out about what selling his home meant for them. Because she would have.

Michael got her. Right down to the ground.

She could put her faith in him. She knew if she turned the car around and went back to the party, he’d still be there holding it all together because that was the kind of guy he was. Solid gold all the way through. Sure, he had baggage. Who didn’t? He also handled his life—and the people in it—with more maturity and grace than people twice his age.

Her on the other hand…