Goodbye to You Read online

  Makes me want to kick my friends out so I can rip Shay’s clothes off.

  I take a deep breath to soothe my overwrought libido.

  “Hi.” His smile is almost as shy as the first night we met. Funny since we’ve seen each other naked from a number of different angles, and he looked fantastic from all of them.

  My face heats up at my thoughts, and from his attention.

  If we don’t get out soon, his clothes will still look good.

  In a pile on my bedroom floor.

  “Shall we?” I usher Leesh and Miguel out the door. Shay and I follow, and I lock the door behind us.

  I spot his hybrid in the drive, and he opens the door for me. Chivalry is not dead.

  The radio’s tuned to a classic rock station, but he offers control to me. That song starts playing again.

  I got this, Mama. I hope she gets the hint. I change the station.

  I can handle my dates on my own. Especially this one. I handled him quite well in Key West.

  Except for the ending part. I’m no good at endings.

  I think I shouldn’t try to end this. This could be the chance for a new beginning.

  Which would mean being honest with him about everything.

  Not tonight, though. Tomorrow, or Sunday.

  Honesty could result in loss, and I’m not prepared to lose him just yet.

  I don’t think anyone is ready for loss.

  He puts the car in gear and flashes his beautiful grin.

  I like the view from upfront too much to watch him walk away.

  ***

  Shay

  She’s so beautiful she makes my heart hurt. I never thought I’d feel this way about anyone. After high school, I’d kind of sworn off serious stuff, spurred by my growing knowledge about the genetic links in mood disorders. Would I develop depression someday, as severe as Rose’s? Would I pass the disposition to my children?

  I don’t want to hurt anyone to the same degree. Rose had broken everyone’s hearts, but especially Da’s, and I never wanted to give anyone the ability to hurt me like that. Or hurt anyone like that myself.

  It must’ve sucked for him to discover the woman he’d given his heart to was such a monster.

  Not a monster, I remind myself. Sick.

  She’s the reason I decided to get into medicine.

  That, and the time when Mac “forgot” how to swim and almost drowned. He was ten at the time, but we’d all noticed the depression creeping up on him. Some of his autistic behaviors masked the mood disorder, and it was life-changing when Mac finally got a correct diagnosis.

  Becoming a doctor, a neuropsychiatrist to be precise, would allow me to search for new, better, and earlier treatments for mood disorders like the ones haunting my family, and maybe even help with autism treatments, too.

  I glance at Thea across the table and think I couldn’t ask for anyone better to stand by my side if I win the Nobel Peace Prize for medicine in twenty years, after my fantastic discoveries.

  I‘m jumping way ahead of myself, but Da always said, “Ye’ll know when ye know.” And now I know.

  Thea dips another chip in the spicy salsa, and takes a sip of her enormous frozen margarita. A drop of sauce sticks to her lip, and I reach across to swipe it just as she licks at it. Her tongue makes contact with my finger, scalding my skin.

  I jerk my hand back as the fire trails from my fingertip straight to my crotch, which jumps in response. I’m relieved I’m sitting down with the table hiding the evidence of my excitement.

  Thea startles at the contact, but smiles as she dabs at her lip with the bright white cloth napkin.

  “Did I get it?”

  I lean in for a closer examination, just wanting to be near her.

  Her clear blue eyes gaze into mine, and I hope to find one message there: “Let’s get out of here so we can be alone.”

  Her expression is vague, though, and I wonder what she’s thinking when the waiter brings our entrées out.

  The waiter hasn’t even set my sizzling plate of fajitas down before Thea’s digging into her cheese enchilada. She discovers me watching her, and her eyes widen.

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry! How rude of me. I’m just so hungry since I didn’t have lunch.”

  “I thought you were meeting Leesh at the hospital.”

  “I did. I just didn’t eat much.”

  Which is unusual for her. She confessed over one of our meals in Florida that she loves food and is not ashamed to eat, and eat a lot, on occasion.

  She’d worried her love of food was catching up with her, and that her “freshman fifteen” still lingered years later. What I see is a healthy, glowing woman with a beautiful body.

  She should be proud.

  Because I’m proud to be by her side.

  From the way some other guys stared at her when we walked in, any of them would be willing to take my place.

  Not a chance.

  I talk and talk. A sense of calm blankets me, and all the tension from the past few weeks melts away in her soothing presence. I’m like a conversational superhero, making her smile and laugh at my stories about my road trip up I-95 with Fred.

  His obsession with cleanliness and germs will make him a terrific surgeon, but it makes for a painfully long drive on a highway littered with truck stops and less-than-sanitary gas station bathrooms.

  The mariachi band is playing an upbeat tune as I pay the check, and we head out the door. I rest my palm on the small of her back as we walk to the door, and she relaxes into my hand.

  I’m thrilled she still enjoys my touch.

  “I’d love to go dancing,” she says out of the blue. Her eyes shine, and she gently bites her lip. “Do you dance?”

  I rub the back of my neck and shake my head. “Oh no. My brother, Liam, is the one with the moves. I’ll just break your toes.”

  Her face falls, and I suck in my gut, her disappointment kicking me hard.

  “I can slow dance, though.” Sort of. My slow dance skills are limited to holding on and swaying, and usually not stepping on toes.

  “That sounds nice.” Her crooked smile sneaks to her lips and my stomach flops. “Shay, I’m sorry I never called you back and lied about what I was doing earlier today. Since I left Key West, I’ve been so…out of sorts. I never expected—"

  “No apologies needed. I’m not sure what I expected would happen, with you home and me away at med school. We didn’t know they were one and the same. Now everything is perfect.”

  Her smile fades. I want to put the smile back on her face. I start up the car and the engine hums as I pull out into the street. I spotted something on our way to dinner that might be fun.

  “Where now?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Oh, another Seamus Kelly surprise?”

  “Or something.”

  “Do I need to change? Most of your surprises have involved a change of clothes, or should have.”

  We’re stopped at a light, so I assess her from head to toe. She looks amazing to me.

  She’d look splendid naked, but we should take it slow, as much as it’s gonna kill me.

  “Nah, you’re fine,” I assure her, but think she might be ticked at me later when she’s bowling in a dress.

  ***

  Thea

  “Bowling? You expect me to bowl in a dress.” I should have gone with my gut on the wardrobe change idea. “I don’t have any socks either. I am not putting my bare feet in those shoes!”

  “Ta da!” He pulls something off a rack on the counter. An unopened pair of socks.

  My protests fall on deaf ears. My skirt is below knee-length, which will cover everything even when I bend over, and now I have socks.

  Bowling it is.

  He rubs his hands together, tosses the socks at me, and grabs our shoes from the glass top counter.

  “Let’s rock ‘n bowl!” Shay jokes, riffing on the alley’s theme night we’ve stumbled into. Big-screen televisions line the wall over the lanes, an
d videos play as music blasts from the speakers overhead, clashing with the reverberation of balls shattering pins.

  “Lane twenty, lane twenty,” he mutters as we walk down the blue and red carpeted lobby. “And here we are.”

  I set my purse down on the floor underneath the scoring table, and type his name in. He leans over my shoulder, the scent of shaving cream and soap distracting me. “Oh no, ladies first.”

  “No way. Your idea, you go first.”

  He quirks his mouth like he’s considering his options, but gives in. “Fine, but next round, you’re first.”

  I think he’s not going to want a round two after I kick his ass in this one.

  Two balls and eight pins later, he puffs out his chest and flashes his bright white smile.

  Not for long.

  I check the ball return, biting my lip and picking over the balls, trying to give him the impression I’m clueless. I find the hot-pink seven pounder. I approach the line, take a couple steps, close my eyes, and release.

  I open my eyes when the ball clatters against the pins, and I smile as Shay whoops behind me. “What the…a strike? Lucky.”

  “No luck, Seamus.” I grin mischievously when he flinches at the sound of his full name from my lips. “This girl’s got mad ball skills.”

  His eyes darken as he lowers his head closer. “I know you do.”

  I slap his hard chest and push away. “I mean bowling balls, sicko.”

  “I love getting a rise out of you,” he chides.

  I move back closer, taking his words almost as a dare. In the darkened bowling alley at nine o’clock at night, no one is paying attention to us. I wrap my arms around his slim waist, pressing my belly into his crotch and wiggling a bit.

  “I love getting a rise out of you, too.” I slap his toned ass a little harder than intended, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

  Until he picks up his ball from the return and walks stiffly to the line, his arms shielding the front of his pants.

  Ha. Gotcha.

  He stumbles and knocks down four pins on the first throw. A gutter ball on the second.

  He’s still trying to hide his crotch as he slides into the seat next to me.

  “You play dirty, McBride,” he leans in and whispers.

  I feign indignation, a gasp of shock escaping my rounded lips. “I would never…”

  His wet tongue caresses the sensitive shell of my ear. I gasp when a jolt of electricity stabs me in the crotch.

  “Me either.” His voice rumbles in my ear.

  Although the impact his actions have on me are less obvious, my thoughts are scattered, my aim off. I still knock down seven pins, though, and I’m confident I’ll win.

  He steps to the line for his next turn, takes a deep breath, pulls his impressive shoulders back, and throws the ball.

  Nine down.

  I whistle, but he ignores me.

  He throws again. Then throws his arms in the air.

  “Spare, baby!” Now he turns around, pointing his fingers at me. “How ya like that?”

  I laugh and hold my hand up to his face. “Please. I got this.”

  And I do. I roll another strike and feel a little bad as the corners of his full lips fall.

  I rub his shoulder to provide a little comfort. “I like you just fine, baby, but I’m still gonna beat you.”

  Chapter 10

  Shay

  I hold the door open for Thea as we exit the bowling alley, leaving behind the scent of stale feet and buttery popcorn as we walk into the fresh night air.

  I hang my head in defeat, pride in my pocket.

  My heart in her hands.

  She’s everything I want.

  Funny.

  She shoots me a sideways glance that says, “Told ya so.”

  Dang, she can make me laugh.

  Competitive. She likes a challenge.

  But not quite a good sport, considering the way she rubbed my face in her “mad ball skills.”

  Gorgeous. Her hair and those eyes and her high, round breasts.

  I can’t stop thinking about putting my hands all over her.

  She’s honest, too.

  Aside from the white lie about her job interview today, I don’t think she’s said an untruthful word to me.

  Which makes me smile even bigger, thinking about what she almost said to me when we parted ways in Florida.

  I think I ...

  Love you.

  The first day together outside of vacation-land confirmed I’m head-over-flippin’-heels for this girl. I’m confident she reciprocates.

  I won’t tell her yet, just in case she’s still not all-in. You can bet I’m going to do everything in my power to convince her, or die trying.

  Which might happen given everything else I’ve got going on.

  Losing sleep may be the price I pay, but I don’t care.

  She’s worth losing any amount of sleep over.

  I open the door for her, holding her hand to help her in. She doesn’t need assistance to get into the compact hybrid, but I’ll use any excuse to touch her.

  I close the door and can still smell her. Her raspberry and baby powder scent is clinging to my clothes from our contact on the lane and in the seats.

  The bulge in my pants reappears.

  Patience, man.

  Time to take her home, and leave.

  Despite the growing want, no, need, to hold her in my arms and not let her go.

  Our time together in Key West was like a countdown timer. Every minute meant one less to spend together, and we had to make the most of those precious moments.

  Since we’re both here in the same place, time is unlimited. Now we can savor each moment to its fullest.

  I reach over and touch her leg as I drive, my fingers slipping through the opening in the skirt to caress the tender skin at her knee.

  She sighs, her breath whooshing out in a sweet invitation for me to do more.

  I grit my teeth, hungry for all of her, but I also want to prove I’m not out for a fling, or a “friends with benefits” situation.

  I want to be so much more than friends.

  She whimpers a little when I put my hand back on the wheel and drive to her apartment, a guest house attached to the back of one of the gingerbread Victorian homes lining Douglas Street.

  The gravel on the drive crackles under my tires. I put the car in park and cut the engine.

  We walk to her door hand-in-hand, the current between us running the length of my arm.

  She bites her lip and stares up at me from under her long eyelashes.

  I gulp.

  “Wanna come in?” She taps on the door with her knuckles, so I understand what she means.

  I clear my throat. “I want to. You have no idea how much. But I think we should slow down.”

  Her shoulders slump and her smile fades.

  I explain, “I don’t want just—”

  I lean into her and grip her hips in my hands.

  “—this. I want this.” I slide one hand up over her side, grazing the side of her breast with my fingertips before finally cradling her head, the once-neat style unraveling in between my fingers.

  “I need this.” I lay my other hand flat on her chest, her heartbeat strong and erratic under my palm.

  I shift my arm and pull her in tight.

  Her soft curves mold to me, like she was made for me.

  My own heartbeat accelerates.

  I ache to taste her, so I give in.

  The faint hint of bitter bowling alley beer does nothing to taint the sweetness of her kiss. Her tongue, hot and wet, strokes over my lip, making promises of what’s in store should I come in, now or later.

  Soon.

  I press her back into the door, bracing my arms on both sides of her shoulder as I plunder her mouth, exploring the dark recesses with my own tongue. My head says, “slow down,” but my hands, mouth, and heavy erection scream “faster.”

  I’m close to giving in, picking her up and k
icking in her door and taking her on her living room floor.

  She rubs against me, whimpering and tapping her fists against my back, like she wouldn’t object to this plan.

  I’m about to execute said plan when the door opens and Thea topples inside, pulling me down with her.

  I look up, squinting in the dark, and a high-pitched voice exclaims, “Holy shit, Thea, it’s your vacation fuck buddy!”

  Bennie, Thea’s friend from Key West, is standing over us gaping.

  Mood. Killed.

  ***

  Thea

  Shay rolls off of me and offers an arm to help me up. I accept, and whisper loudly, “Bennie, first, be quiet. Mrs. Kemp is hard of hearing, but your voice could wake the dead.”

  I straighten my dress, which had been pushed askew by either Shay’s hands or our fall through the door. Maybe both. “Second, what the hell are you doing here? I thought you were headed to the beach with Enrique this weekend.”

  Both she and Leesh have spare keys to be used in emergencies. Only emergencies. She must have parked her fire engine red sports car up the street.

  I flip the switch to the overhead light, and we all blink, adjusting from the darkness.

  “Yes, until I grabbed his laptop to pull up our reservations while he was in the shower and found this…” She pulls her phone out, unlocks the screen, and holds the evidence under my nose. On the display is an e-mail she forwarded from Enrique’s account to her own, a message from another woman propositioning Bennie’s boyfriend. Not good.

  I shake my head, hand the phone back to her, and turn to Shay, mortified. He tucks his shirt back into his pants. Did I pull it out earlier? I mouth “Sorry” at him.

  “Shay, you remember Bennie.”

  He cordially extends his hand and nods sharply.

  “Hey.” Bennie casts her gaze to the floor. “Sorry. I heard something at the door…”

  Yes, us rubbing against it.

  “I thought you couldn’t find your key. I never would have opened the door if I’d known. Honest. I’m sorry.”

  Shay hitches his thumb at the door. “I’m gonna go.”

  I put my hand on his chest, hoping to hold him at bay while I figure out what to do with Bennie.