When Lightning Strikes (Whiskey Creek #1)(77)
Author: Brenda Novak

“I did. I wanted us to be able to stay here tonight.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Any particular reason?”

His grin said it all.

Gail was done fighting what she felt. She had him for two years. Although she couldn’t help hoping for more, she knew the chances of her marriage lasting longer than that were slim. She figured she might as well enjoy being with him while she could and if—when—she lost him, she’d let him go gracefully. That way, he’d maintain some respect for her afterward, maybe even remember her fondly. There was no way they could continue to work together—not after being married—but they’d have memories. She preferred that those memories be positive. “I thought you were beat.”

“Not that beat.” He slipped a hand under her blouse but only to caress the skin at her waist. “Getting you naked’s been on my mind all day.”

She untied the T-shirt on his head and smoothed his unruly hair. “Funny, I could say the same thing about you.”

“Then what took you so long to get here? I almost called you a dozen times.”

Oh, boy…she was falling deeper. There was no help for her. “Weren’t you busy?”

“I will be as soon as I get you in the house. But first, a shower.” He started to climb to his feet, but she pushed him back and straddled him right there on the porch.

“Actually, I like you just the way you are.”

“Dirty?” he teased.

“A little dirt never hurt anybody.” She leaned over to whisper in his ear. “I’ve always wanted to get nailed by a contractor.”

He laughed. “I hope Riley doesn’t know that, or I might have some competition.”

She ground her hips against him. “I’m not interested in his hammer.”

His teeth flashed in another smile. “I’m more than happy to show you what I can do with mine.”

In one fluid movement, he sat up, then carried her inside.

“What about the food?” she asked as he kicked the door shut.

He was already nuzzling her neck, telling her she smelled good and tasted good and just the thought of her had been driving him crazy. “Later,” he murmured against her skin. “Right now all I want is you.”

* * *

It was well after they’d showered and eaten and rearranged their bedding so they could sleep that Simon’s phone awakened him. He had a new text message. At this hour, it had to be from Bella. She was the only one who ever bothered him so late. He would’ve ignored it. He didn’t want to leave the warmth and comfort of being tangled up with Gail. Despite her lack of experience, his new wife really knew how to make love. And this time she’d put everything she had into it. God, it was good.

But he was worried about Ty. It’d been so long since he’d talked to his son. Could something terrible have happened to him? Or maybe something not so terrible? Did he have a cold? A stubbed toe? A loose tooth?

Simon ached for the comfort of all the things he’d once taken for granted—Ty crawling into his bed early in the morning and patting his cheeks, whispering, “Daddy, wake up. I want some cereal.” Ty running to him after he’d hurt himself. Ty throwing both arms around his neck and saying, “I love you, Daddy.” Simon had never hurt so much over anything or anyone. The hunger to hold his son made him angry with the woman who was standing in his way, but he knew allowing that anger to overpower him would defeat everything he was doing to get Ty back. He couldn’t act on it.

But thinking about Ty and Bella made it difficult to sleep.

Careful not to wake Gail, he slipped off the air mattress, pulled on his jeans and scooped up his phone, which was lying among the remains of their dinner, before going outside.

The sky was clear, the temperature cool. The stars seemed bigger than he ever remembered seeing them in L.A. He was tempted to blame it on the smog, but knew it was probably him. He hadn’t been paying attention to such details. There was a lot he’d ignored in recent years. Only now was he beginning to realize that he’d filled his life with so many possessions and so much angst and clamor, so much shallowness, that he’d missed the quiet, still things that brought him peace. When had he lost sight of who he really was? Of what he wanted his life to be? He was a critically acclaimed actor, but who was he on a personal level? Had he ever really known?

As he sat on the step and gazed down at his ex-wife’s latest message, he frowned. Why won’t you answer me? she’d written.

She had a restraining order against him, and she had to ask?

He scrolled up to read all the other messages he’d seen and hadn’t responded to, but he stopped short of viewing the video she’d sent the night he cut his hand. He knew if he saw that right now he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from driving to L.A. and busting into her house to get Ty.

Really? You’re going to ignore me?

Maybe I should tell Ty his daddy doesn’t give a shit about him anymore.

Your father’s looking for you. Where the hell are you?

You said you’d never marry again. What, were you too drunk to realize you were saying “I do”? Or were you thinking with your c**k again?

Who is the bitch? Your publicist? Were you screwing her all along?

It was hateful, spiteful garbage. He wanted to text back, to vent his anger and frustration as she felt free to do, but what would he say? That he was bitterly disappointed? That they’d created a great kid, the best, and he couldn’t understand why they hadn’t been able to get along?

Simon felt like such a failure—and everything he’d done to escape the self-loathing just made it worse.

Leaning back, he closed his eyes and let the autumn air calm him. He could think more clearly now than he had in months, could see that he was at a turning point. It was time to cut the past away. Sure, he and Bella had messed up their marriage. Sure, he had his regrets. But it was too late to change any of that now. So how long was he going to hang on to the wreckage?

Not anymore, he decided. He was letting go, and he wanted Bella to do the same. From here on out, they needed to handle all communication, at least any communication that didn’t directly concern Ty, through their lawyers, as they’d been advised to do.

But he doubted she would. He knew why she kept jabbing him. She loved him almost as much as she hated him. As twisted as that was, he understood. He’d been struggling with the same love-hate compulsion, which was another reason he’d gotten himself into so much trouble.