Handcuffed in Housewares: Tulle and Tulips, Book 3 (10 page)

She giggled the way she often did when he talked directly about sex. She’d admitted after a few drinks one night it wasn’t embarrassment that made her giggle. Her claim was he made her feel like a teenager and that made her giggle. Of course her telling him that had him finding ways each day to make her giggle. It was almost as cute as when she sneezed.

“I have sweet rolls in the oven. I don’t want them to burn.”

“You cooked?” She excelled at take out while he was the one who did most of the cooking, when they cooked.

“Even I can open a tube of rolls and put them in the oven.” She kissed him sharply and pulled back. “Now get showered and dressed so we’re not late.”

Arguments sprang to mind. He’d discovered which buttons to push when he wanted to coax her into bed. He’d also discovered if he made her late for work or something with her friends she withdrew and he had to work twice as hard to coax her out of her embarrassment.

In a humoring mood, he let her go deal with breakfast while he followed her orders. He stepped into the kitchen to see a sight he’d never have expected.

Leigh stood in front of the refrigerator with the door open. In her hand was a jug of dark chocolate milk, and she was drinking directly from it. She was the kind who frowned on double dipping. Her eyes would shout her disappointment if he moved a chip toward the salsa bowl for a second scoop. Yet, there she was with the jug cap in one hand while she drank freely from the jug.

Grinning, he watched her for a minute. “I thought you were more refined than that.”

She jumped and looked ashamed as she turned to him. He closed the distance and took the jug from her. With a wink he took a long pull of the milk too. “Some things are better when they’re shared.”

“I do like the way you share things.” She was laughing as she pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Go sit down while I ice the rolls and get your coffee.”

It was all very comfortable and domestic, when he didn’t know how to do that outside of his family home. “You don’t have to wait on me.”

“I know.” She moved to the island and began spreading the thick white glaze on the rolls. When she slipped a finger between her lips to suck off the icing his resolve to resist her crumbled.

Nothing guaranteed she wouldn’t leave him one day, that she wouldn’t find someone better or with deeper pockets. He could hold on to the fear like a pro, or he could take a chance and see what happened if he took the next step.

The debate was still raging in his head when Leigh turned with a large plate of rolls and a smile that warmed her eyes and made his stomach turn to mush. “Hungry?”

“Starved.” And not just for cinnamon rolls.

She poured him a cup of coffee and handed him the bowl of sugar. She dished out several cinnamon rolls on a plate and served him. She took care of him, seemingly happy with the domesticity.

After she’d joined him with her own cup and plate he turned and studied her. The woman had swept away the grime of Paula, leaving a clean slate for herself, and she’d done it without him noticing. She’d also held a part of herself back.

“Leigh?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened? With whoever burned you.”

She chewed the bite she’d just taken. Chewed it more thoroughly than was necessary. After swallowing, she took a long drink of her coffee, and then another. Whatever her story was she didn’t want to talk about it. The longer she delayed the more certain he became that she wouldn’t tell him.

Then, without taking her gaze from her plate, she spoke. “I had just gotten to college. I was a sheltered girl who’d spent years wanting to make a break from the constraints of system expectations and discover who I was.”

“College is a good time for that.”

“I met a guy. Derek. My first, and last, bad boy.” She picked at the roll, tearing it into gooey strips. “He was everything I always thought I wanted. Dark and edgy danger. He excited me in ways none of the nice guys growing up ever could.

“I was so naive. He convinced me sex was more fun if there was a danger of getting caught.” She shrugged. “Who was I to argue? He made it sound so fun.”

“Until it wasn’t fun anymore?”

“Yeah. He wouldn’t even kiss me if there wasn’t the chance someone would see us. Every time we’d have sex he’d find someplace a little more daring and public than the last. The danger of getting caught became an obsession. He wanted to see what other boundaries he could push.”

Wherever she was going with her story, Burton was already shocked she hadn’t turned away from him in Hearth and Home. She’d probably taken one look at him and decided he was like her ex, yet she’d helped him.

“He became careless and then mean. He had me dressing the way he wanted instead of how I liked. Even jeans and tank tops pissed him off because they weren’t
easy access
. Before I knew it, he started getting off on trying to hurt me.”

“Oh, Leigh.” Pity slurred his voice while rage fisted his hand.

“We were at a club and he wanted to have sex on the dance floor.” She didn’t look up or respond to him or stop shredding her roll. “I’d known I needed to end things with him, but I was afraid and too stupid to ask for help. When I refused him he got rough. The more I fought, the hotter he got. And the meaner.

“He was about to rip my top off when I really started fighting back. That just turned him on more and enraged him to the point of hitting.” She stared, unblinking, at the plate as she shook her head. “He hit me. I fought back. Another guy tried stepping in. I became the rope in their tug of war. Several bruises and a busted lip and a black eye later there were four guys standing between us.

“They took me to the emergency room, encouraged me to talk to the cops, and then they stood by while I told the cops everything. After that… Well, I failed to see the appeal of public sex, or anything that could tempt a man.”

“So you began dressing ultra conservatively and putting your hair in a bun.”

“It was either a bun or cut it off. Long, flowing hair is easier to grab and use as a weapon.”

Burton turned on his stool so he faced Leigh. Reaching over, he put his hands on her knees and turned her so she faced him with her legs between his. Like he had the night on his bed when she’d suggested opening the blinds, he placed a finger under her chin and encouraged her to look at him.

The raw pain of her memories shot from her gaze and lasered into him. He wanted to travel back in time and find her ex. He wanted to be one of the men who’d stood up for her and helped her break the pattern. He wanted to erase the agony from her past so she only knew happiness.

“You know I’ll never hurt you, right?”

“I do.” She smiled a tiny smile he wasn’t sure she felt. “You’re a sweet guy.”

“I meant it when I said I was just as happy to have you behind the privacy of closed doors and blinds.” Knowing her story made him happier to have kept the blinds closed.

“I think I’m beginning to get that.” Her smile was a little bigger this time. “But thank you for saying it again.”

She’d stepped so far out of her comfort zone the night she’d allowed her friends to talk her into coming to him. With as fast as her brain was always working she’d no doubt considered every possibility and weighed the risks. And then she’d decided he was worth it. He would make sure she never regretted a moment with him.

Leaning forward, he kissed her. He started easy and gentle before slowly easing her deeper and deeper into passion. She opened for him, hummed deep in her throat like she did when she got really turned on. With each exhale she released more of the weight of her past until the woman before him felt light and happy when he pulled her off her barstool and hugged her close.

She’d be malleable to the idea of sex if he asked. The moment better suited tenderness and companionship. “Thank you for trusting me, Leigh.”

She settled her head on his chest with a sigh. “Thanks for being worth it.”

They’d shared a lot of intimacies in the last several weeks, but nothing had affected him as starkly as this moment. His mother had raised him to value women, to cherish them. He’d never met a woman he cherished more or who’d given him a better gift than what Leigh had just handed him.

“Burton’s a god with a hammer and paint,” Misty stated as she pulled knickknacks from boxes and sat them around her home office. A giant bay window with floor-to-ceiling glass graced the west wall. The angled wall panels opened and would allow the ocean breeze to carry in the scent of Misty’s garden when she got it planted and her flowers bloomed.

Deep purple Roman shades could let the light flow or be lowered to block it. The walls were painted the palest cream on top. Below a glossy white chair rail pale purple stripes, alternately glossy and flat, made the boldness of the shades pop. The color suited Misty perfectly and was accented in the knickknacks she was unpacking. It was stunning perfection.

“I’d thank him with a kiss for this office if I thought Jace wouldn’t kick his ass after.”

“He’s nothing like what I’d have expected.” Leigh smiled as she thought about the man she was growing to care for more and more. He’d made opening up safe and proven the he didn’t need risks for sex to be an adventure. “And I think he’d be an even match for Jace.”

“You love him.”

“No.”
Yes.
Her instinct for privacy made the denial instant. Her inner voice, though, refused to lie. Somewhere between bowling balls and cinnamon rolls she’d started falling in love.

Misty turned, hugging a potted plant to her stomach. “You can’t sit there with a silly grin on your face and your eyes all soft and moony and expect me to believe you don’t love him.”

“He’s a great guy. I’m having a good time with him.”

Misty narrowed her eyes and sat the plant on the desk. “You told him. Everything.”

Leigh ducked her head, trying to hide. She hated thinking about the past and Derek. She especially hated talking about them. To do it twice in one day…

“Look at me.” Misty knelt in front of her to make sure she had Leigh’s gaze. She’d always been hard to avoid when she set her mind to something.

Leigh really wanted to hide. Burton had allowed it, but Misty wouldn’t.

“I’m not asking you to talk about Derek.” She took Leigh’s hands in hers. “I'm asking you to admit your feelings for Burton.”

“I like him. A lot.”

“You trust him. You know he won’t ask you to be someone you aren’t.”

“So?”

“Trust me, that’s a big deal. And it proves he’s nothing like Derek.” The only reason Misty knew about her past was because she’d been in the club that night. She’d been the kind of outrageous girl people would have expected to be with someone like Derek. Instead she had sent the guys to the hospital with Leigh.

“So, you don’t date or stay overnight with men you barely know. You would never have given in to us that night and gone to Burton’s unless something had already happened.” Misty shifted so their eyes met. “Unless he’d already done something to show you could trust him.”

“Fine.” A shrug was the best response she could muster, but even as she lifted her shoulder she knew it was a useless attempt at denying Misty. “You know how Jace says you gave him his family back?”

Misty smiled. “Yeah.”

“I guess I feel like Burton could be mine. How do you tell a man that and have him not run away, though? Especially a man who’s had one marriage combust.”

“If he’s the right man, you don’t have to worry about it.” Misty patted Leigh’s knee. “If you’d have ended up with someone like Jace I think you’d have a right to worry. He’s too damaged for someone sweet like you.”

“But Burton isn’t?”

“Hell no.” Misty laughed. “For you and me, the only man that could ever be good enough is our opposite. You needed a nice guy. I needed a bad boy.”

“Jace isn’t as bad as he wants people to believe.”

“He’s got just the right amount of edge.” Misty chuckled as she went back to placing her knickknacks. “Though he still suggests long skirts and flowy shirts every chance he gets, he’s learned to accept that I’m not going to change what I wear to suit him. It helps that he knows I’m coming home to him every night.”

“Do you ever worry he’ll get bored with you?”

“No, and Burton won’t get tired of you.”

“How do you know? How do you know he won’t change his mind about me?”

“I’ve watched how he looks at you. Maybe he hasn’t said it yet, but that man loves you.”

Leigh wanted to believe Misty. She yearned to believe Burton would always be happy with her. She ached with the need to know with certainty she was enough to
keep
him satisfied.

As great as he was, and as great as they were together, she lacked the confidence to accept Misty might be right.

Chapter Eleven

Hearth and Home was buzzing when Leigh walked through the front doors with her clients. They’d spent the day shopping, having a blast with the barcode readers as they picked out things they needed for their new home as well as little things that would add the final touches.

Kelly, the bride, came from a giant Greek family with a lot of money. The only daughter in a family with five sons, she was the princess used to getting her way. She had a gentle heart, but she wanted for nothing.