Chapter 23
Peter’s shiny, jet-black hair stuck in a gelled wave to his head as the guy stood beside his equally shiny black sports car. John wondered if the bozo special ordered the hunk of metal to match his hair. Getting a second glance at the man, he wouldn’t put it past him to do such a thing. He seemed like that kind of guy. Peter’s gait as he glided to the porch shouted arrogance, and the way he turned up his nose at the property chapped John’s hide.
Lesley stood by the window, chewing on her lip as she met John’s gaze. Her eyebrows drooped and her eyes focused on him, but her stare remained blank, like she looked straight through him instead of at him.
His Lesley, who had just moments before flirted with a wink and a smile, had disappeared. He’d seen this expression before, in his truck, when they talked about money. Peter’s presence worried her, and that sure as hell worried him.
Frasier’s words echoed in his mind. “She’s one to love with all her heart.”
John laid his tools down on the workbench and crossed the construction zone. He smoothed her lip with his hand, not caring if anyone saw. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just…” She pointed to the man on the lawn who held his head high as he strolled across the grass. “That’s Peter.”
“Your dad told me. What’s he doing here?”
“I have an idea.” She crossed the entryway and shot onto the porch, meeting Peter in the lawn.
John followed. If this guy were here to cause problems, he would stop it.
“Lesley.” They guy took off his sunglasses. A pair of calculated, dark green eyes stared back at them.
His whole demeanor screamed ladies’ man, and John understood Frasier’s reservations about his daughter marrying this guy. His head screamed, Get cheater out of here. Quick.
“Peter?” Her cheeks flushed.
This man still had a pull on her.
“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
“I did some searching. I figured you were at your father’s. When I called your dad’s neighbor to see if you were living with him, she said she thought you’d moved in with an aunt. I knew you only had one, so I guessed, and it looks like I guessed right.” Peter took a step closer, and grinned down at her. “I miss you, baby.”
Baby?
Oh no. Oh, hell no.
This was not happening. Not as everything began to make sense with their relationship.
Take control.
“Peter, please.” Lesley took a step back. “Not this again. Go back home.”
Again? What the hell?
She had some explaining to do. Right after this guy left.
“You heard the woman.” John crossed his arms and stood next to Lesley. “Leave.”
The man bristled at his tone, and his ladies’ man stare turned to irritation. “Babe, who is this?” Peter hiked a thumb at him.
Temptation to take the prick’s thumb and bend it back into his wrist ate at John’s nerves.
“Why are you here, Peter?” Her mouth fell into a straight line as she tapped her foot against the ground.
“For you.” He rubbed her shoulder, and she pulled back.
Good girl.
Her action caught the bozo off guard. He dropped his hand and dared to narrow his gaze, acting as if he was confused by her actions.
Was the guy confused? Had Lesley been leading them both on?
“I think I’ve made it pretty clear I want you back,” Peter continued.
Pretty clear? Definitely some explaining to do. Still, leading him on or not, John loved her, damn it, and he would figure out what the hell was really going on. He gently grabbed her by the arm. “Lesley, just walk away.”
She shook off his grasp. “We’re divorced, Peter. You can’t just come strolling up here like you own the place.” The blush had started to creep up to her ears.
The man-whore grabbed her hands in his and kissed the tops. “I love you. I never stopped. Please, let’s work this out.”
John heard the breath hitch in Lesley’s throat at her ex’s touch. Uncertainty began to cloud her eyes.
No.
No. No. No. No. No. No.
Hell no.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” he grumbled. “Lesley, you can’t believe this. It’s crap. He’s feeding you bullshit. City slickers, remember? They say whatever you want to hear.” He had to try. He had to get his Lesley back. The confused and uncertain woman before him now, that wasn’t her. Five minutes with this goon, and the sure woman he knew and loved had completely changed.
The sound of someone shuffling their feet came from the direction of the porch, causing John to swivel his head. Their scene had gathered a crowd. Damn it. He turned back around to see Big Money staring at him.
“Who are you, and why are you here bothering my wife?”
The man’s possessive tone grated John’s ears like drilling through porcelain. His chest tightened, and his fists urged to give the guy a black eye to match his car. “Ex-wife, buddy, and I suggest you get your hands off her.”
“That’s not for you to decide.” Peter did drop her hands, but only so he could step closer.
“Back off,” he bit out.
Lesley placed a hand to each of their chests and pushed. “Both of you just stop.”
“Who the hell is this, Lesley?” Anger seeped through the jerk’s expensive suit.
“John, go back inside, please. I have this under control,” she said, her voice low, trying not to cause any more attention to their scene.
“Like hell.” He stared at her and crossed his arms, cocking his head to the asshole. “He needs to leave.” No way was this situation continuing without him being there.
“Babe, who is he?” Peter asked again.
If the guy didn’t stop calling her babe John would make sure it was the last word he said.
“He’s my contractor, all right? Now, will you two just please back off.” She pushed on their chests again before she closed her eyes tight and rubbed her temples.
Her contractor?
The word pounded his gut, harder than any hit Peter could have given him. The past few weeks he’d been by her side, almost every waking minute of the day and hours into the night. He’d helped her make decisions on the construction, the furniture, the hauling, the loading, and the sorting. He’d gone above and beyond his duties as her contractor because he loved her. And at night, he’d given her all he had over and over.
Still, at the end of the day, all he was to her was her contractor?
Nothing more than a small-town fling.
A glorified handyman with benefits.
A rebound.
He stared down at her, bile stirring in his stomach. “Your contractor?”
She barely opened her eyes, her forehead scrunched as she met his gaze. “John, that’s not—”
“Then why do you care, pal? Go do your job,” Peter demanded. “We’re not paying you to stand around all day.”
“We?” Lesley shot back, not bothering to finish her previous sentence. “What do you mean we? You are not paying a dime.”
“We can work out the logistics later. You know from our phone call I regret what I did, and I know you received my flowers. All that matters right now is that I love you, and I want you back. Everything else is…secondary.” He flipped his hand in the air.
“What phone call? What flowers?” This must have been the “pretty clear” part this slime had talked about.
John’s head spun as he took in all the details of everything he’d heard. He’d been courting a woman who was being courted by her ex-husband, and she didn’t bother to tell him.
“What the hell’s going on, Lesley? Why didn’t you tell me?” He knew the answer—he was nothing more than someone to pass the time—but he had to hear her say it, only because his damn, miserable heart screamed to his head to hold on.
“I’m sorry, John. It’s…it’s all so…complicated,” she said, her tone heavy and exasperated before she stared at him with hooded eyes. Eyes that let him know whatever they had minutes ago had changed exponentially since this dipshit arrived.
His heart tumbled.
Crash and burn.
“Not really. You still love me, don’t you?” Peter placed his hands to her cheeks and pulled her in to kiss her.
Really kissed her.
And she didn’t pull back.
John spun and charged to his truck as the wave of acid churning in his stomach threatened to come up. He’d made a mistake giving his heart to Lesley DeLoach. One giant mistake.
Because her heart had never been up for the taking.
City slickers. Always in it for themselves.
****
What the hell is happening?
Peter nearly strangled her with his tongue. After so many years together, something as simple yet as personal as a kiss should come naturally to the two of them. Her neck ached from the odd angle which Peter forced her mouth to his, his chest pressed softer against hers than the muscled one of John’s. The ease with which her and Peter had once moved was now as foreign as snow to a desert. They used to be in tune with each other, their bodies melting and molding into the other one.
Not anymore.
She liked the way John held her, caressed her…and kissed her.
Her head spun with uncertainty, the pounding in her temples worsened by Peter’s cologne. The same scent that once washed over her, making her weak with need now made her weak with nausea.
She pulled her head back and raised her leg, her knee making direct contact with his groin. “Peter, you ass.”
“Ow.” Hands affixed to his crotch, Peter doubled over, his face turning red, his eyes scrunched tight in agony.
Good.
The squealing of tires down the drive caused her to turn her head. John. He left? Because of Peter. Because of her.
Her five minutes of uncertainty had messed up the best thing that had ever happened to her.
Shit.
“Now look what you’ve done,” she hollered at her ex, who practically rolled on the ground, his hands still placed on the part of his body he used to think with. Bastard.
Heck, look what I’ve done.
She ran her hands through her hair, the pounding in her temples daring to pop her blood vessels.
How in the hell am I going to fix this?
The sound of suppressed giggles came from behind her, and she turned. A larger crowd had gathered on the porch, and everyone stared. She met her father’s gaze and silently begged him to get rid of their witnesses.
“Okay, everybody.” He held out his hands, turning some of the onlookers around. “Show’s over. I need help finishing that drywall.”
She mouthed a silent thanks to her father. Emma stood on the porch a moment longer and offered her a sad smile before she retreated inside.
How did everything go from so good to so wrong so fast?
She racked her gaze over Peter, who had managed to get back on his feet, and began to wipe the dust from his pants. He had tall, dark, and handsome going for him, but then again, so did John. While John was pure brawn, Peter was…well, he had tons of money. But no amount of money would ever be worth what he had done to her—making her feel unloved and replaceable. Two things John had never done; he made her feel cherished, loved, respected. And even though they hadn’t known each other long, she knew he would never make her feel so small, or cheat on her, and he would never do to her what she just did to him.
Bile rose in her throat, and she forced it back down, the acid burning her stomach. She had to make things right with him. Soon. But first…
“What the hell, Peter? You can’t just show up at my home and kiss me like that.”
He regained his composure, straightened his suit jacket, and shuffled closer. “You always liked when I kissed you. Didn’t you like it?”
She stepped back and stalked down the driveway. “If the knee to the groin wasn’t answer enough for you, then I’ll make myself even clearer.” She turned back and yelled, “No! I did not like it.”
“Where are you going?” He limp-jogged after her.
She charged to her bike leaning against a tree, positioned it toward town, and mounted the seat. “Away from you. I’ve got to get John back.”
“John? Why John? He’s your contractor. You can find another one.” He grabbed the handlebars and straddled the front tire, locking her in place.
She scrunched her features in irritation and squeezed the grips tighter. “He’s not just my contractor. We’re together.”
“Together?” His tone rose, along with an equally dark eyebrow like the thought of her finding someone new was foreign to him.
Ass.
“Yes. Together. Or at least we were until you showed up and messed everything up. Now. Move.” She placed one foot on a pedal ready to push off.
“Please,” he begged and widened his stance. “Please don’t move your tire.”
“Then I suggest you get out of my way. We are divorced. That happened the moment you brought your bimbo to our house.”
“Give me the week.”
“What?” She placed both feet flat on the ground. The week for what? For her to repeat the word no a thousand times over?
“Lesley.” He hung his head and his shoulders. “I love you. Cheating on you was the worst thing I ever could have done. There isn’t a day that goes by I don’t regret what I did. The phone call, the flowers, me coming here, can’t you see I’m trying? Let me prove to you that I still love you.”
Her heart pounded, matching the tempo in her head at hearing those words. Those three little words they had said to each other at least a million times over the years. She did still love him. Love, care, hate, rage, they all swam together in a hell-like harmony. But the intimate, warm, fuzzy, soft feeling she used to have for Peter…that was gone, filled by the stronger ones she now felt for John.
She sighed. “Why didn’t you express these feelings before we got divorced?” Would it have made a difference?
“You wouldn’t let me. I tried to talk to you, but you avoided my phone calls, shunned all my messages…I figured, I deserved the divorce.”
She bristled. “You did.”
“I know. But, Lesley, I realized cheating on you and signing those papers were the biggest mistakes of my life. I should have fought harder for you. I love you. I do. Please, give me another chance.”
Fought harder…should she have fought harder, too?
Staring into Peter’s pitiful green eyes pained her. She’d never seen him so deflated. Her heart swelled with hurt while her mind swam with doubt. Their relationship had lasted ten years through dating and marriage. Ten years. A long time to throw away.
“We were happy once,” he continued, as if sensing her doubt. “Remember our honeymoon? I’ve never smiled so much in my life as I did that week spent alone with you. I love you. I always have. I made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.”
Memories of the two of them wine tasting in Paris floated through her mind. Thoughts she had made herself store away.
“We could be happy again,” he whispered. “I promise to give it my best shot.”
Her shoulders sagged under the weight of her emotions. They had been happy once, and while he wasn’t perfect, he was routine. She knew what life with Peter was like.
Life with John, and as a stepmom, that was uncertain, scary even.
“Please,” he begged again, his eyes pleading. “Let’s talk this over before you make your decision. I need…”
“You need what?”
“Closure. Proper closure.”
Proper closure? Wasn’t that what divorce papers were for?
“If you truly don’t want to rekindle us, I need to lay it all out there first. To talk, and communicate with you like I didn’t get a chance to before we divorced.”
A man wanting to communicate. How bizarre.
“Please. Let me stay. Just for the night.”
She gripped her handlebars tighter, the pool of confusion in her mind turning into an ocean. The night. One night for everyone to sleep on their feelings. Perhaps John left because he needed some space, too.
John.
God, her heart broke anew for him.
“Fine.” She dismounted her bike. “If us talking will help you leave faster then we’ll talk, but understand, you are not sleeping here. There’s a hotel outside of town.”
A sparkle of hope shimmered in his dark eyes. “Thank you, Lesley.”
He reached for her cheek, and she slapped his hand away. “But, if you kiss me like that again, I’m slugging you. I have a baseball bat, and I know how to use it. Understand?”
He pulled his hand back to his side. “You won’t regret this.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She dismissed him and marched up the steps. When she entered the house, everyone remained eerily quiet as they continued with their work. A few slid her a slight glance, their dedication to the project obviously wavering. Her dad looked at her and nodded his head toward John’s tools. They sat on the workbench, his work left unfinished.
God, what have I done?