Bespoken: An Opposites-Attract Standalone Romance (Carmel Cove Book 2) Page 17

  “Good,” he murmured gruffly.

  I licked my lips. “Thank you again for Friday night.”

  “Don’t thank me, Jules.” His expression tensed and he folded his arms over his broad chest. “It’s been eatin’ me up inside that you saw me like that.”

  I rocked back on my heels. “Like what?”

  He made a motion with his hand, trying to find the right word. “Like a brute.”

  “You mean like the man who was saving me?”

  His head shook. “We both know I was doin’ more to that man than just savin’ you, though he deserved every hit. Hell, he deserved to be—” Mick broke off, adorably catching himself from diving back down that rabbit hole.

  I smiled a little, and he returned it with an apologetic one that contained just a hint of those dimples.

  “Thank you,” I repeated.

  He nodded, and I knew that was the most acceptance I was going to get.

  “She runnin’ late?”

  His head cocked toward Gwen’s door even though his eyes never left mine.

  I nodded, shifting my weight. “It looks like it. I think she was supposed to be done half an hour ago.”

  “That woman’s shift never ends.” He chuckled. “Here, let me grab my key, and I’ll let you in.”

  Mick disappeared into his apartment for a couple of seconds, returning to unlock Gwen’s door, holding it open for me to walk in ahead of him and be the first to be greeted by Oscar’s excitement.

  The door clicked shut behind us, and I turned to face him.

  Maybe this was good. Maybe this was my moment to confront him—to ask him what the real reason was he kept pulling away.

  “Mick, I—” Just as I began, my phone vibrated in my purse.

  With a grimace, I held up a finger, asking him to wait while I answered Gwen’s call.

  “I’m so, so sorry Jules!” Her tremulous voice skipped over the pleasantries. “I’m seriously the worst friend to cancel on you like this, and tonight of all nights.”

  “Hey, it’s okay,” I assured her, caught off-guard by the off-kilter emotion in her tone. “Is everything okay? You don’t sound okay. Do they need you to stay?”

  “Well—” she broke off, and I heard her stifle a sob.

  “Oh no, Gwen, what’s wrong?” I walked over to the couch, ignoring Mick’s concerned stare, and Oscar’s plea for attention.

  “Yes.” She sniffed. “Sorry. Yes. It’s just… it’s been a helluva afternoon.”

  “What happened?”

  “There was an accident out on Coastal,” she choked out.

  “Oh, no.”

  That wasn’t surprising in and of itself. Coastal Highway ran along Big Sur; narrow and fraught with twists and turns, it contained just enough breathtaking views to make it incredibly dangerous, especially when it was rainy like it had been earlier.

  “Newlyweds heading up to San Francisco.” Her pause told me it only got worse.

  “Oh Gwen…” I whispered, tears pooling at the corners of my eyes.

  This was what I was signing up for. Right here. This moment where my friend had held herself together all afternoon, doing anything and everything that was required and beyond to help save a life. And she did it all knowing she’d only get these few minutes on the phone to let all that emotion—all that sadness—that had been held back, go.

  “She’s in critical condition, but we don’t have the equipment here or the doctors, frankly, to work the kind of miracle that she needs.” Her voice wavered but she pressed on. “They’re going to medevac her to the city, so I gave her husband my car.”

  “Wait. What? You what?” I started.

  “T-Their car was totaled in the accident and there’s not enough room for him in the helicopter with the medical personnel. She shouldn’t be alone when she lands, Jules. Her husband should be there.” I heard her tears even if she didn’t. “So, I handed him my keys and told him to take it and to bring it back when he can.”

  “You gave a stranger the keys to your car?” It was taking me a solid moment to process what she was saying.

  “Yeah. How else was he going to get there in time?” She hiccupped. “Don’t tell Mick. He’ll be concerned. And then he’ll want to come get me, and it’s really not necessary.”

  I looked up and saw he’d caught his name mentioned.

  “And… you’re sure you don’t want that?”

  My question was met with a beat of silence.

  “If I come home now, I’ll be a mess,” she confessed with a side of her I’d never heard before, a side that sounded so lonely. “I won’t be able to stop thinking about it and… it’s just better if I stay. If I stay and work, it will keep my mind off of it—off of him. At least here, I can put my emotions to use.”

  I took a steadying breath, in awe of this woman’s strength and commitment.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t apologize,” I cut her off, shaking my head like she could see it. “Don’t apologize for showing me the kind of nurse… the kind of person… I want to be.”

  “Thank you,” she replied thickly.

  I couldn’t say anything else or I’d risk falling apart and, from the sounds of it, she felt the same, so without a goodbye, we both hung up.

  Shoving my phone back into my purse, I reached down and gave Oscar a head rub, looking for an excuse to keep my eyes away from Mick for one more moment to compose myself.

  “Jules…” he prompted softly.

  “Gwen is stuck at work,” I explained, clearing my throat and rising to meet his questioning gaze.

  There was too much warmth and concern in them, the kind that made me want to walk over and disappear into his arms.

  “Is she alright? Does she need—”

  I shook my head. “She’s fine. Just a rough case in the emergency room that made her upset, but she said she needs to stay.”

  His lips thinned into a line and he turned to grip the edge of the new counter he’d installed on her island. I had a feeling he reached for it so he didn’t reach for me.

  “Jules, I—”

  “I’m just going to head home,” I broke in. The application wasn’t happening tonight and, suddenly, the day seemed to catch up to me. I wasn’t sure I had enough left to hear Mick regret how he’d kissed and touched me last night. “Thank you for letting me in, though.”

  Mick rocked back on his heels, putting him partially in my path to exit. “What did you come over here to do?”

  My head ducked. “Nothing really. Nothing that can’t wait.”

  I returned to his gaze and forced a brave smile to my face.

  “Jules…” I shivered, the low timbre of his voice and the heat it stoked deep inside me.

  He shifted and completely blocked the door, refusing to let me go without the truth.

  “We were just going to submit my application,” I blurted out, rubbing my temples. “And I was really looking forward to it.” Of all people, I didn’t need to enumerate to Mick why that was. “I’m sorry. It’s really not a big deal. I’ve waited this long to do it, it can certainly wait a few more days.” I laughed weakly and adjusted my purse on my shoulder. “What am I saying? I can certainly do it on my own.”

  Goodness, he probably thought I was a child, unable to push a silly ‘submit’ button on my own…

  “I’ll help you.”

  My head jerked up, thinking I was imagining it.

  “I won’t get offended if you’d rather it be Gwen, but if you want to do it tonight, and you want someone with you. I’d be happy… I’d be honored to,” he repeated, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  How was he always here?

  How was he always right there when I needed someone?

  Or was it just that I needed him?

  My heart thumped loudly in my chest, and I worried that if I didn’t answer soon, he might start to hear it.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt your night.”

  He shook his head and gr
inned. “I didn’t have plans aside from baking some cookies, so you aren’t interruptin’ anythin’. Plus, might be better for me if you do come over. At least then, there’ll be less chance I’ll eat all the damn things.”

  I heard everything he said but I was stuck on the very first part as my head swayed to the side, letting the confession soak through each crevice of my brain.

  “You… bake cookies?”

  It wasn’t that I didn’t think him capable. But to hear this man, the one who was three-hundred pounds of solid cowboy muscle, say he was spending his Friday night baking cookies with a lopsided grin on his face?

  It was more than my mind… and other, lower parts of me could handle.

  “Best damn snickerdoodles north of the Rio Grande.” He winked at me and moisture rushed between my thighs. “C’mon. I just put the butter out to warm it up before I heard you knockin’ over here.”

  He left me wide-eyed in the middle of Gwen’s kitchen with Oscar staring up at me, probably wondering if I’d turned to stone.

  “Alright, boy,” I muttered down to the pup. “Sorry for interrupting your nap. Mommy will be home later.”

  Closing Gwen’s door behind me, I took a deep breath. I couldn’t tell if I was more excited about completing the task I’d been anxiously awaiting or simply spending more time with the man who insisted he shouldn’t occupy any space in my life, let alone my heart.

  His apartment was a mirror image of Gwen’s, minus the small construction zone in her kitchen. Newer appliances sat within the same confines of the laminate countertops and pine cabinets. There was the same beige carpet in the living room and the same gas fireplace that was lit and closed within the wall.

  “That is a very orange couch,” I remarked as Mick emerged from the bedroom with his laptop in hand.

  He looked over his shoulder and laughed. The sound low and rich, emanating from between those delicious dimples and day-old scruff.

  “It does make a statement.” He set the computer down on the couch and flipped the screen open. “It’s a little slow, but it should get the job done.”

  “How did you end up with an orange couch?” I asked, baffled and amused, as I slipped off my shoes and padded over to the computer. With a couch like this, there had to be a good story to go along with it.

  “Well, my sister came out to visit right after I’d moved into this place. After stocking my fridge with that damn sparklin’ water she got me hooked on, we ended up in town at that vintage furniture store, and sure enough, that couch was in the window.” His smile grew. “She told me I had to get it—because it was like the couch from Central Perk, if you watch the TV show Friends.”

  I shook my head; I’d never been able to watch popular shows like that. In fact, I was sure my room was the only one in the resort that wasn’t hooked up to cable.

  “So, that’s why you bought it?”

  I put my hand on the cushion before sinking down into it and pulling Mick’s computer onto my lap. Pulling up a browser, I logged on to the school’s website and brought up my partially completed application.

  “I’m not too fussy.” He shrugged with a smile. “I needed a couch and it was goin’ to make Jessa happy. I’d do anything for my sister… my family. Miles, too, but don’t tell him that because he’ll want somethin’ ridiculous.”

  “I won’t,” I laughed even as my heart squeezed.

  I was jealous of the intensity in his eyes when he said he’d do anything for his family to make them happy. The funny thing was I’d do anything to make my family happy, too. The difference being I’d bet anything his family would never ask him to do something that hurt him.

  “It grows on you, though,” he reassured me. “Plus, if you knew my sister, you’d know that no one questions Jessa Lynn once she’s set her mind to somethin’.”

  It was hard to imagine anyone being able to make this man do anything. But, if there was one thing that did seem even bigger than he was, it was the love he had for his family and his friends. A love that I would’ve given anything for just a sliver of.

  His laughed dwindled into a sigh. “She went through a bit of a rough patch after she finished school. It’s all good now, but she worried about us movin’ so far from Texas. Well, she worries about everyone, but I think that comes with the territory of workin’ in the medical field.”

  I nodded silently, unable to find the words to tell him how right he was, especially after my conversation with Laurel earlier.

  “What does she do?”

  “Physical Therapist over in Aspen.” He turned back to the kitchen counter and reached over to check the butter. “That’s why I’m bakin’ cookies. We’re headin’ up to her and her fiancé’s place for Christmas and, accordin’ to her, it won’t be Christmas without my cookies.” He winked at me and my fingers fumbled over the keyboard as electricity shot right through my stomach. “So, I’m makin’ sure I haven’t lost my touch.”

  As I listened to his story, what I found infinitely more fascinating than the vibrant couch was the way his face brightened in varying, shimmering degrees as he spoke about his sister. Like sunlight reflecting off the ocean, I saw so many sides of the love that this man possessed and I found myself wanting to drown in them all.

  “She’s lucky to have a brother like you,” I confessed, keeping my eyes focused on the computer screen as I filled in the final page of information and uploaded the personal statement that I’d written.

  “My parents wouldn’t even let me pick out what went in my own room, let alone ever purchasing something just because I liked it. And cookies?” I laughed now, too, but in a sad way.

  “I always wanted to make Christmas cookies. For a few years, when I was younger, I got to decorate some with Laurel and my grandparents, but that was rare. My mother always said that was what we had cooks for, and they would do a far better job.” My hands slid away from the computer, having entered the rest of the information. “She was probably right. I guess I never did a good enough job explaining that it was never about how good they came out…”

  I hazarded a glance up to his face and my breath rushed from my lips at what I saw. He wore the same expression I’d memorized when he talked about making his family happy—the one that made me feel like he’d do the same for me when I couldn’t fathom how I deserved it.

  “You ready?” he asked with a voice that was low and heavy with emotion.

  I looked back to the screen where the submit button sat waiting.

  “Yeah.” I nodded, wondering if I’d said too much, revealed too much. No one wants to hear sob stories from the little rich girl who has everything. When you have so much, you don’t get to complain about how little it all really means.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. I’ll just send this and then get out of your hair.”

  He stepped toward me, looming over where I saw before he slowly dropped down onto the ottoman and held my gaze captive in his. “Darlin’, you’re going to submit that application and I’m goin’ to hold your hand while you do it.”

  My mouth went completely dry, the solid heat of his statements making my heart thud with spectacular force inside my chest.

  “And afterward, we’re goin’ to walk back into my kitchen, and I’m goin’ to teach you how to make the best damn snickerdoodles you’ve ever had, sound good?”

  My lips parted as I tried to pull air into lungs that no longer wanted to function in favor of holding on to this moment for just a little while longer.

  Resting his elbow on his knee, he held out his hand and waited.

  Slowly, but with a steadiness that betrayed the quaking going on inside my cells, my fingers drifted out and linked with his warm ones. The sense of confidence and support the emanated from a single touch almost as unfathomable as the love it made me feel.

  I squeezed gently, beyond grateful for the feeling of having someone by my side for this, even if I didn’t need him there.

  The click of the mouse sounded like a misnomer—a soft
, inconsequential noise that represented such a huge, resounding step toward a new future.

  Though my chest inflated with determination and pride, I realized through comparison that what my finger felt wasn’t quite as profound as the way my body responded to his hand holding mine.

  Meeting his gaze, I realized I needed him to know it didn’t matter what he thought I deserved; I would no longer be spoken for—not even out of compassion.

  Tonight, Mick would know that what I deserved was what I wanted—and what I wanted was him.

  Mick

  I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t for Jules to practically jump off the couch in her enthusiasm to bake cookies, the curve of her ass moving within an inch of my mouth as she scooted by me on the ottoman and headed for the kitchen.

  I let myself stare at her for a second, marveling at the way she continued to shine no matter what came against her.

  Most took one look at Jules Vandelsen, saw how she sparkled like a precious jewel, and wrote her off as bein’ just for show. No one bothered to recognize the kind of pressure she’d endured to become who she was.

  They all saw a spoiled princess. No one bothered to see the little girl who’d missed out on bakin’ fuckin’ cookies and the choice to go to college and pursue her dreams.

  “Where’s your recipe?” she asked, washing her hands in the sink.

  I grinned and tapped my temple.

  “Y-You don’t have a recipe?” Her face fell. “How am I going to help? How will I know what to do?”

  I chuckled as I stood, trying to mask the groan that wanted to escape as my dick rose to full attention in my jeans.

  “I’ll show you,” I promised, rounding the counter to pull out the rest of the ingredients from various cupboards.

  “Are you sure? What if I mess them up?” she pressed.

  One of the first things I admired about her was that in spite of how she was raised, it didn’t stop her from being completely open with others. She didn’t try to hide her insecurities, her fears.