As Tears Go By (10 page)

“I’ve
been in love. The fall nearly killed me. I can’t suffer that again.”

“Love
isn’t supposed to hurt.”

“Yet it
has the ability to beat us down more than any other emotion.”

Braydon
swallowed. She was really sharing quite a bit. He’d hoped she would, but
pairing her confession with the look of longing and defeated hope in her eyes,
was a lot to take in. “Hunter sounds like an amazing kid.”

“He
is.” Her smile was sweet, telling of engrained affection. “Hunter can do things
we can’t. He can tell you any part of a train, play the piano, not the greatest
concertos, but The Rolling Stones without instruction.” Her eyes glazed with
moisture and her lips trembled as the next words seemed to require some effort.
“But he can’t hug his mother.”

His
chest constricted with blighted happiness. Placing his fingers over hers,
sensing she could use the physical contact, he squeezed. This incredible woman
had gone through life with a son incapable of showing her physical affection
and a husband who neglected to provide almost all contact.

His
family was so affectionate it was stifling. He had six siblings and every
single one of them hugged him every time he returned home. He couldn’t imagine
not having that easy physical affection he’d always taken for granted. His skin
would starve to death.

“I
can’t imagine what it’s like for you, Becca.”

She
nodded. “That’s my life. I’ve adapted to it. I don’t expect others to be so
accommodating. They don’t have to be. I know he’s different, but he isn’t my
burden. He’s my gift. I love him with every ounce of my being. Which is why I
won’t let just anyone into our life.”

“Life’s
a long time, Becca. Do you plan on going at it alone? That’s a lot for one
woman.”

“Well,
I may be one woman, but I’ve done a hell of a better job than the man intended
to be my match.”

“Sometimes
we choose wrong for ourselves.”
A familiar concept to him.
“I don’t need to meet your ex-husband to know he didn’t appreciate the good
thing he lost.”

Her
lashes lowered. “No. He didn’t appreciate us.” She sighed and sat back. “But
the thing is, he got the real me. He didn’t get me on my way to a meeting or
out for drinks with friends. He got the everyday me. She’s not fancy. She’s not
tidy. And she’s not interested in stroking some grown man’s ego, because she’s
too busy trying to raise a man, against most odds. And anyone who isn’t with
her, is only in her way.”

There
was such quiet strength to this woman it boggled his mind. “
I
want to be
with her.”

Glancing
away, she shook her head slowly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Explain
it to me then.”

Her
fingers brushed over his cuff link and his chest swelled at the slight contact.
Her eyes combed over his tailored suit. “You’re a very well dressed man,
Braydon. I’ve seen your home. It’s impeccably kept. You even have tiny glass
jars for each one of your spices all stacked in a row. My life’s messy. My
house is hardly ever clean. That’s my reality. Glass breaks.”

“It’s
only glass. I’m sturdier than that.”

“When
Hunter has a meltdown, I take the brunt and it rips me apart. I don’t get to
lose it at home, though sometimes I want to. He needs Mom to be Mom under all
circumstances, come rain or come shine.”

“It’s
understandable that you need an outlet, Becca. And yes, my apartment’s
immaculate. It’s just me and I’m hardly there. I’m an architect, not a neat
freak. I grew up in a house of nine.
Nine,
Becca, and not a single one
of them is normal. Our home was complete chaos most of the time. Nothing was
ever where it belonged, people were always coming and going, and there was
never a single peaceful room in the house.”

She
smiled as if this bit of information amused her. He’d made the mistake of
judging her before really knowing the real her and he didn’t want her to make
the same mistake. The professional he was in the city was very different from
the guy he was at home.

“And
you know what? I miss the pandemonium. It’s lonely as hell here. That’s
probably why I never hang out at my place. I need the noise. I crave the chaos.
You think a messy house and some shouting’s going to scare me off? Not a
chance. I was bred from a clan of Irish psychos—well, not psychos, but they’re
all a bit nuts—in a harmless way, of course.”

She
shifted and her lips firmed like they did whenever she was silently debating
with herself. “It’s more than shouting.”

“I
watched videos online. I saw how difficult it can be. I promise not to run
scared. Let me in, Becca. Show me how it works. Teach me. And for once, accept
the help being offered to you.”

Her
face tightened and she drew in a deep breath. “Why are you doing this?” she
whispered. “There’re so many other women out there. Easier women with easier
lives.”

“I want
you
.”

A tear
slid past her lashes and fell to disappear somewhere on her lap. “I’m nothing
special.”

Those
quiet words ripped at his heart. “You’re everything special. At first, yes, it
was all superficial, but now…after everything I’ve learned about you…I think
you’re extraordinary. I want it all, Becca. The sexy woman, the tireless mother
devoted to her child beyond all else. I want
you,
just as you are,
jagged edges and all.”

“I
think you’re running toward false illusions.”

“I’m an
architect. My job’s to envision ideals and build them. Let’s build something
great together. We have a connection, Becca.”

A
shallow laugh slipped past her lips. “I can’t devote my life to ideals. I exist
amongst tangible realities.”

“You
have to dare to dream.”

“I’ve
learned to dread dreaming. I’m better off being content with the simpler gifts
in life. Wishing only gets me hurt.” Someone needed to shatter the oppressive
emptiness filling her.

His
hand closed over hers and he gave a small squeeze. “Then let me show you some
of the simpler gifts. Don’t be afraid to let yourself feel what we share.”

She
reached in her purse and he thought she was pulling out a tissue. Disappointment
and the extreme sense of failure flooded him when she placed a ten on the
table. Slipping her hand from his, she stood and he did the same, panicked she
was leaving and not ready to let her go. “Becca—”

“My
car’s out front. You can either drive with me back to my house or follow me
there.”

“What?”

“If you
really
mean it, Braydon, everything you just said, then you’re welcome
to come home with me. Hunter won’t be back until Monday evening.”

His
pulse doubled. She was letting him in?

“There’s
one condition though,” she quickly added.

“What?”

She
swallowed then faced him, her eyes serious. “If it becomes too much and you
can’t take it, you tell me. Right away. I don’t have time for games. And
neither does Hunter.”

He
stepped close, catching his hands on her hips. His lips pressed to hers—a small
gasp of surprise slipping past—and he whispered, “I can take it, but I also
promise, I’ll always be upfront with you about my feelings.”

She
twisted out of his hold. “And one more thing.”

“You
said one condition,” he teased.

“I
changed my mind. That happens a lot. Get used to it.”

He
loved when she got fresh with him. “What’s the other condition?”

Her
face flushed and she seemed to struggle forming the words. “I’m not trying to
sound presumptuous or scare you, but…”

Now he
was intrigued. “Tell me.”

She met
his gaze. “No
I love you’s.
I can’t take it and I have no interest in
hearing anything you don’t mean. Those words are big and they mean something to
me. They mean commitment, longevity, and unconditional acceptance. They aren’t
to be thrown around.”

Braydon
had never said he loved another woman aside from those in his family. It
shouldn’t be a problem. “Agreed.”

Her
smile was cautious, but eventually it formed. “Shall we?”

He took
her hand. “Yes.”

Chapter Five

Becca
turned the key in the lock of her front door as Braydon’s luxury sedan pulled
in behind her van. Her heart beat erratically in her chest, her disbelieving
mind still reeling at the fact that she was brazen enough to invite him. A big
part of her assumed he’d get cold feet and bolt.

He’d
clearly done his homework. Never expecting to date after her divorce, Braydon
was ahead of the game. Somewhere deep in a hidden corner of her mind she’d
categorized the difficult steps of dating as a single mom and found it so
improbable she never thought on the subject again. Yet, the unformed plan was
there. It would start slow, maybe a few dates to see if there was a connection.
From there, she’d explain that her child was autistic and watch for any telltale
signs of discomfort that meant the man couldn’t handle that.

If said
man didn’t run for the hills, she’d give him the book that got her through the
first five years of Hunter’s life. If he didn’t read it, he didn’t have what it
would take. If he did, they’d discuss his theories and concerns. She’d share
her strategies and theories and once they’d deliberated enough and she felt the
man had a grasp of what to expect and an understanding of how she might parent
in a pinch, she’d let him meet her son. If that went well, they’d breach the
more intimate areas of dating.

Problem
was, that was all a fantasy, and a draining one at that. Nothing about her plan
was remotely sexy like new relationships probably should be.

She
assumed it would never happen so she must have tucked that plan away with the
ones labeled,
plan to tour Europe, plan to bring roses to your child’s
recital, or plan for rambunctious sleepovers with a rowdy houseful of your
son’s friends.
She had lots of plans that would likely never come to
fruition. So she was utterly unprepared for this one to take shape. Adding to
her unpreparedness was the fact that they’d already slept together, which
landed them in uncharted territory.

Braydon
followed her inside the house. Self-consciously, she scanned the mess. Balls
were everywhere. The sink was full of dishes from breakfast. Hunter’s shoes
spilled out of a basket in the hall. The wall had chipped plaster from where
there had been an episode last year. Labels and PECS—a common picture exchange
communication system—were everywhere.

Her
breathing picked up as she worried this was a mistake. “I’m sorry for the
mess.”

Braydon
removed his jacket and hung it on the hooks on the wall. Approaching slowly, he
took hers from her shoulders, surprising her and sending shivers down her arms.
Kevin never did things like that.

He
grinned. “Don’t apologize. Does the mess bother you?”

She
laughed nervously. “I’m used to it.”

“Would
you feel better if I helped you tidy up?”

What?
Who was this man?
“That’s
okay.” How mortifying. The condition of her house was a result of her busy
schedule. She wasn’t a typically sloppy person. Maybe it bothered him. “Unless
it bothers you.”

“It
doesn’t, but you seem self-conscious. I promise I don’t mind either way. If
you’d like me to help you put away a few things so you can relax, I will. If
you just want to ignore it, that’s fine too.”

Oh,
my God.
His
acceptance managed to expose her in some intangible way. It was comforting that
he genuinely didn’t seem to care, but on the other hand it embarrassed her. She
couldn’t leave the house like this.

“Why
don’t you watch some TV for a bit? I need to change out of my work clothes
anyway. Give me a second to do that and at least put a few things together,
then we can talk about ordering dinner or something and I’ll be less
distracted.”

He
studied her for a moment. “Okay.”

She led
him to the living room and quickly fixed the pillows tossed all over the floor.
Grabbing the remote from the basket on the mantle, she turned and handed it to
him. “You sit. Twenty minutes tops. The code for the premium channels is 0626.”

“No
worries, angel. Go do what you need to do.”

“Right.”

She
rushed up the steps and quickly stripped. When she pulled open her drawer of
house clothes she frowned. Nothing she owned was cute.
Darn it!

Settling
on a pair of black yoga pants and a fitted plain white T-shirt, she changed and
headed to the bathroom. She smelled fine, but threw on some extra deodorant
anyway. After she brushed her teeth, she pulled up her hair and scowled at her
reflection. Crap. Not good.

Reaching
into her shirt, she hoisted up her breasts and tightened the straps of her bra.
That was better. Adding a dab of perfume to her pulse points she looked at her
watch. Crap.

Running
through the second floor, she scooped up dirty clothes, shoes, toys, and
anything else in her path. Stuffing the clothes in the bathroom hamper, she
shoved them down and shut the lid. Whisking the shower curtain closed, she
grabbed a wipe from the cabinet and quickly scrubbed away all the toothpaste
marks in the sink.

She was
sweating and grateful she’d added extra deodorant by the time she headed
downstairs. Music was playing. It was
Stand
by
R.E.M. and it was loud. Her steps slowed as she reached the landing.

All the
balls were back in their baskets. The shoes were tidied. She whipped around the
corner and looked at the empty couch. Where was Braydon?

R.E.M.’s
bouncy sound pumped from the television as she hastily searched for him. When
she reached the kitchen she skidded to a stop, her jaw nearly hitting the
floor.

Braydon
stacked dishes on a towel draped over the counter as he bopped his head to the
beat. The counters sparkled and miscellaneous things had been piled on the
table.

The
song stopped and he shut off the water, dishes done. When he turned and saw her
he stilled, a guilty smirk on his face. “I swear it wasn’t because it was
bothering me. I just wanted you to myself and figured I could have you there
sooner if everything was done.”

Her
chest lifted as she breathed. She’d never wanted to run at a person so much in
her life. She wanted to throw herself at him, tackle him to the floor, and maul
him with kisses, until they were rolling through the kitchen, naked…and other
stuff.

“Are
you mad?” he asked.

The
music coming from the television started up again. She immediately recognized
the song as
No Rain,
by Blind Melon and had visions of a little girl
dressed as a bumblebee dancing around. It was one of those strange, upbeat, one
hit wonders she’d loved from her youth, but forgotten about. It made her smile.
No, he made her smile.

Braydon
slowly stepped closer and took her hand. Holding her by the fingers, he tugged
until her chest bumped his. “You have a lovely smile, Becca.”

Blinking
up at him, she searched for words. He sucked in his lower lip and smirked, his
shoulders dipped slowly from side to side and he started to dance. The hand at
her hip nudged her to move with him.

She
laughed, unnerved by his nearness. She hadn’t danced with anyone in ages. As
the guitar beat picked up his teeth flashed in a brilliant grin. Lifting her
fingers high over her head, he pushed her hip, twirling her across the floor.
As she spun, she giggled—then of course snorted. He pulled her close and cupped
his palm with hers and they danced, right there in the kitchen, like it was the
most ordinary thing in the world.

When
the song ended Braydon didn’t let her go. Their steps slowed as the raspy
vocals of 4 Non Blonds sang
What’s Up?
Braydon’s cheek pressed to her
ear as he hummed with the chorus.

Her
eyes focused on the slowly revolving objects of her kitchen and she had a
moment of certainty. He was really there. Why did she fear letting the
happiness sink in? His presence slowly penetrated the guard she’d tried so hard
to build around her heart.

The
lyrics of the song filled her mind. She connected with them, all of them,
crying in bed to get out all the things in her head, wanting to scream from the
top of her lungs, continuously trying to get up that great big hill of hope… It
was all her and—maybe, just maybe—he understood.

Stepping
back, he met her eyes. His fingers trailed from her ear to her lips and his
lashes lowered. As he pulled close she caught her breath, but nothing prepared
her for the way his lips pressed gently against hers.

The
chorus kicked up as the lead singer bellowed. Becca’s arms wreathed around his
neck and she was scooped off her feet. He carried her up the steps, never
taking his lips from hers.

She had
no idea how he managed, but he found her room and lowered her to the bed, his
body blanketing hers. The kiss deepened and she ran her fingers through his
wavy gold curls, arching into him. She denied wanting him for so long, but now
the truth was upon them and she surrendered to all the feelings this man
provoked inside of her—as scary as that was.

He
didn’t rush things. He kissed her for days. It was the most enjoyable kiss
she’d ever been given. Lost in every draw of breath, every swipe of his
talented tongue, her body became so relaxed she couldn’t conjure a single
thought beyond wanting him.

Her
fingers plucked at the buttons of his shirt, her hands tugging at his tie.
Braydon sat up and loosened the knot, yanking it over his head and tossing it
away so he could kiss her some more.

The
touch of his warm palm to her belly startled her, but as he slowly dragged his
hand upward her body came alive. Arching into his touch, his palm curled around
her breast, his thumb dragging over the tight tip pressing into the lace.

She
reached down and hauled up her shirt, breaking the kiss for only a second as
she tossed the shirt away. Braydon yanked down the cups of her bra and when his
mouth fastened to her needy flesh she cried out.

His
tongue curled around her nipple as his lips held her flesh in place. Becca’s
ponytail had come loose, strands of hair stroking her shoulders, as she moaned
and writhed over the covers. Her hands yanked at the last button of his shirt,
and once she had it spread wide she became a woman on a mission.

Her
legs twisted around his hips, flipping him onto his back and straddling him. He
laughed and she grinned, recalling his penchant for letting women take control.
Although the idea didn’t originally appeal, it was fun to try.

Slowly
lowering her mouth to his beautiful chest, she licked his nipple. There had
been so much she fantasized about over the passing weeks, no matter how much
she tried not to. Never had she imagined actually getting the chance to make
those fantasies a reality.

Her
hands mapped his body, traced every bulge of muscle, as her hips slowly rocked.
Braydon rested his hands at her thighs, flexing his body beneath hers. She
reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, sliding it from her arms and
throwing it across the room.

Perhaps
the greatest turn on was the empathetic earnestness he’d surprised her with
tonight. His sweetness and consideration softened her inhibitions in ways she
never expected.

His
head lifted and he captured her nipple in his mouth. She trembled and moaned as
he suckled her flesh, her fingers sliding through his wavy hair. His hand
glided to the apex of her thighs and he massaged through her pants. Oh God. She
was drenched and going to come at any second.
Shades of their
first night together.

He
groaned as he pulled her other nipple into his mouth, those devious fingers
rubbing in exactly the right spot. Her knees tightened around him. “Oh God!”

“That’s
it, angel. Let me give you what you need. Let me make you feel good.”

His
thumb concentrated on a sensitive nerve and her body splintered into a million
pieces. He sucked her nipple hard as she came right in her panties. When her
eyes opened he was watching her, hooded eyes, dark with lust, intent on her
every reaction.

Her
desire turned wild. “I want you.”

“Tell
me how you want it,” he whispered, voice gravelly and deep.

“How do
you—”

“No. I
want to know what you like. Tell me. Let me please you, sweet Becca.”

Yes,
this must be what it was like for him and Miranda. It was amazing to see a man
as commanding as Braydon McCullough
flip
a switch like
that. And all the more fascinating, was that his desire to please
didn’t
diminish his appeal in the least.

She bit
her lip. No one ever asked what she wanted. She and Kevin had survived the
dullest sex life of all time. She didn’t know any fancy moves or neat tricks,
but she surely wasn’t wasting such an opportunity.

She
slid off of him. She could try being the boss, though she wasn’t sure she’d
want the position long-term. Deep down, she knew the greater appeal was to have
a kind and assertive man, something Braydon definitely was. “Take off your
pants.”