Page 33 of Man Candy (After We Fall 1)
I plugged my phone into the charger and got ready for bed, figuring if I didn’t hear a snowplow in the morning, I’d get up and do it for her. I didn’t have a garage door opener, but there was a key to the service door on the ring Alex had given me.
Fuck, it was cold. I’d have to get used to Michigan winters again. I never slept in clothes, but before I got into bed I put on some pajama pants (part of a set my mother gave me our last Christmas together) and a T-shirt. I got under the covers and stretched out on my back, hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling above me.
I could still smell her, and it made my cock start to stiffen.
She’s up there right now. Was she asleep? Was she warm enough? On nights like this, with the snow coming down and icy wind whistling at the windows, was she ever tempted to break her rule and sleep with someone? Was she ever lonely? She was so different from any woman I’d ever been with. So many contradictions.
During sex, or when she wanted it, she was so fucking hot—the way she moved and talked and responded drove me crazy…she was liquid and molten one moment, fiery and explosive the next. But when it was over, that was it. She cooled off quicker than anyone I’d ever known. Let me be clear, I’d never had a woman tell me she wouldn’t spend the night after I’d asked her to—ever—let alone make it sound like going out with me was akin to torture, somewhere between a full body wax and a root canal.
I wasn’t sure which side of her made me want her more, the fire or the ice. The fire made our physical connection sizzle, but that ice made her more of a challenge, and it made me more anxious to get closer to her…not to break her, exactly, but maybe melt her a little. Get her to open up.
If it were anyone else, I might think she was just playing hard to get with her “rules,” but I didn’t think that of her. I mean, I thought the rules were bullshit and the whole Love Doesn’t Exist thing was just a defense mechanism as well as a pre-emptive strike, but somehow I felt she guarded herself that closely, kept herself that distant, for a reason. She said it wasn’t her family history, but then what? Had she had her heart broken in college? Or more recently? There’s no way it could be the thing with me, right?
I wanted to talk to her some more about it, but dammit, I’d promised her we didn’t have to talk about feelings.
What the fuck was the world coming to when a guy finally wanted to talk about feelings with a woman and she said no?
And why on earth had I bet her I could make her believe in love? What the hell was I going to do or say or show her to convince her it was real? I wasn’t even sure I could recognize it in myself, let alone other people.
I lay there for what felt like hours, imagining her right above me, wishing she were curled up beside me, and wondering where the crack in her armor would be.
Her heart was in there somewhere—she’d given me little tastes of its sweetness in between all the teasing and rule-stating—like the chewy, gooey center in a hard candy lollipop.
I grinned.
Maybe I just had to lick my way to it.
Twelve
JAIME
My alarm went off at six-thirty, and I groaned as I shut it off. Burying myself again beneath the covers, I whimpered about going outside in the frigid dark to shovel the driveway. Came up with a dozen reasons to just say fuck work and go back to sleep. Told myself that no reasonable person was getting to her office on time this morning.
But in the end, I dragged myself out of bed. When something needed to get done, I wasn’t one to put it off.
Unless it was writing a toast to give at my brother’s wedding. Then I was an expert at it. Just thinking about standing in front of two hundred people and talking about love and commitment made my eyelid twitch.
Relax. You still have a couple months.
Moving slowly, I pulled on thick socks, jeans and a sweater. Tugged on my ski pants, heaviest coat, a hat, scarf, and mittens. Finally, I stepped into my winter boots, laced them up a little tighter, and clomped down the stairs and out the side door to face the music. I hadn’t even looked out the window yet because I didn’t want to get too discouraged.
So I was shocked when I opened the door and saw that the job was nearly done. Done! As in someone had shoveled almost the entire driveway already! Perking up immediately, I heard a shovel scrape the cement and looked toward the street, where a figure in a puffy dark coat, wool hat, and gloves was banking snow on the berm.
Was it Quinn? It had to be, unless it was Alex, but I couldn’t see Alex getting up at five just to come out here and dig out his sister who should have called the snow removal guys last night but was too busy fucking his friend.
I pulled the door shut behind me and walked down the driveway. The air was so cold it froze the insides of my nostrils as soon as I inhaled. Snow flurries fell softly, dusting the freshly cleared driveway.
“Hey,” I called, my breath creating a silvery puff in the dark, icy air.
He turned around, and I saw the blue eyes right away. His smile hit me in the gut—so hard I nearly stumbled.
I didn’t like it.
What the hell was he doing? He wasn’t even parked in the garage, so he had to be shoveling for me. I appreciated the gesture, but this smelled like a boyfriend move. Was he fucking with me?
“Hey,” he said back.
“What are you doing?”
