Melting into You Read online

  Then, as she was eating a breakfast of cold leftover pizza, the realization hit her like a case of food poisoning, and she’d gagged. They hadn’t used a condom, and she wasn’t on the Pill. She could be pregnant.

  She’d grabbed her keys and headed straight to the store to buy an emergency contraceptive pill. Becoming a single mom was not on her to-do list after fixing porch rot. She tucked hair that had escaped her messy ponytail behind an ear, wishing she’d stopped for five minutes to change out of her rumpled, cut-off sweatpants and gray T-shirt. Some makeup wouldn’t have hurt either. A handful of acquaintances had already stopped her to say hello in a “Honey, are you sure you’re feeling okay, because you look like crap warmed over?” kind of tone.

  Three feet away, she glanced up and down the thankfully deserted aisle. She shuffled in front of the display, scanning the items. Condoms. Too late for that. K-Y Jelly. Hadn’t been needed. Massage oil. Wouldn’t ever be necessary based on their parting. Pregnancy Test. Pizza threatened to make a reappearance on the grungy linoleum. She picked up the test with trembling fingers.

  “Hello there, Lilliana.”

  Lilliana startled like a wild animal, lunging to the side and grabbing the nearest box as cover. Miss Constance stood behind her, a shopping basket in one hand, her cane in the other.

  “Miss Constance, fancy seeing you here.” The inane greeting tripped out of her mouth as she took two shuffling steps away from the condoms.

  The woman’s bright black eyes examined her head to foot, lingering on the items pressed against her chest. “Yes, fancy that.”

  Lilliana looked down. Covering the pregnancy test was a package of Depends. Better everyone thought her incontinent than pregnant. “How’re things at the library?”

  “Busy. Darcy has done a fabulous job on the ancestry research area. You should come down sometime. We’ve dug up all kinds of interesting things about your forefathers.” Miss Constance’s gaze fell to Lilliana’s arms once more. The inspection had Lilliana tightening her arms and bobbling the items. Miss Constance lay a soft, wrinkled hand on her arm. “Is something wrong, dearie?”

  Lilliana swallowed down the impulse to drop everything, hug the old lady, and spill her troubles in the middle of aisle seven. “I-I’m fine. Really.”

  One side of her mouth pulled back, but she only patted Lilliana’s arm before walking away. “We got a batch of bestsellers in. You come on down to the library tomorrow.”

  “Sure thing, Miss Constance. See you soon.” Lilliana waited until the tapping of the cane faded, put the Depends and pregnancy test back, and scanned the shelves again. Nothing. It was time to put on her big-girl panties and ask the pharmacist.

  A handful of people mingled around the counter waiting for prescriptions to be filled. Putting her shoulders back and her chin up, she strode to the consultation window. Brandy Wiltshire, a second cousin, and sometimes childhood playmate, walked over with a toothpaste commercial–worthy smile.

  “Hi there, Lilliana. Have you got the flu? You don’t look too good.” Brandy squirted hand-sanitizer and rubbed her hands together.

  “I’m not sick.” The strong scent of sanitizer added a nauseating seasoning to the tomato sauce and pepperoni already stewing in her stomach. She looked over her shoulder, but no one was paying them any attention. Did pharmacists take a vow like priests not to discuss confessions?

  Brandy seemed to sense her mood, dropping the overly bright smile, folding her arms over the consultation counter, and leaning closer.

  “I’m in need of a certain something,” Lilliana whispered.

  Brandy glanced to either side of them. “I can’t give you drugs without a prescription. It’s against the law.”

  Lilliana jerked her head back. “I’m not— Geez, I’m not that big of a black sheep. No, I was a little careless, and I’m looking for the pill, the one you can take after a . . . slip-up.” She widened her eyes and stared at Brandy, trying to employ ESP.

  Confusion flashed over Brandy’s face before it cleared, her gaze skating down Lilliana’s rumpled clothes. Brandy put on an apologetic grimace. “You mean Plan B. We’re out. There’s always a run on it Monday mornings. You have to get here early. We’ll get our resupply in a couple of days. How long has it been?”

  “Like three years. So long I didn’t even think about asking him to use something.” Lilliana propped her elbows on the counter and ran a hand over her hair. The pull on her scalp barely registered.

  “Oh, my. That was quite the dry spell. But, I meant how long since you had”—Brandy’s voice dropped to a whisper—“unprotected intercourse.”

  Would the humiliations never end? Lilliana covered her mouth and closed her eyes, her words muffled. “A couple of days.”

  Brandy tutted. “You’re already on the late side of taking it, but if you only hooked up once, the odds are you aren’t pregnant anyway. I wouldn’t worry too much.” Brandy’s overly toothy smile was back, but Lilliana sensed the pity in her eyes. “We have plenty of pregnancy kits available.”

  Lilliana kept a fake smile in place until she turned down a deserted aisle. Tears blurred her vision. Brandy was probably right. The girls who got pregnant after a one-night stand were usually part of a Lifetime special or a romance novel. But life did occasionally imitate art. Hopefully the compulsion to curl into a ball and sob on the grungy floor next to the economy bottles of vitamin C was due to lack of sleep and not raging hormones.

  A hand caught her arm. She needed a brave face until she could get to her SUV. Tensing, she forced a smile and cocked her head over her shoulder, hoping her tears weren’t too obvious. Alec Grayson.

  Her smile faltered, and she surrendered any attempt of bravery or politeness. His touch sizzled through her nerve endings in remembered pleasure, but just as quickly, dread followed.

  “What do you want?” She shrugged his hand off and barked the question. Her current predicament was half his fault, even if he didn’t realize it. He probably wouldn’t care anyway. Just like college.

  He clenched his hand into a fist at his side. His entire body seemed to take on a similar defensive aggression, yet his face remained bland and unemotional. The man was a freaking robot—except in bed. Then, his hazel eyes had sparked with emotion, and he’d made her feel beautiful.

  He was dressed in crisp khakis and another button-down, this one red-and-blue checked, his hair brushed and tamed. Her eau de stale pizza and chocolate milk did not mingle favorably with his combination of soap and male body spray. She pulled at her shirt, wishing there was a display of something she could hide behind.

  “I see you’re taking my advice on the surge protector.”

  He spoke as he hadn’t seen her nearly naked, hadn’t been inside of her, hadn’t made her climax so hard she’d forgotten all her worries for a few amazing moments. It was all too close to what she’d experienced with him in college, but worse. At least then, she could blame teenage hormones and beer. How had she gotten dumber since college?

  “Oh my God, you are such an asshole.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. She shoved his beloved surge protector at his chest and took off in a run-walk. Once through the automatic doors, she ran for her SUV.

  For no reason as it turned out. He hadn’t bothered to chase after her. And why would he? Who wanted to be with a mess of a woman like her? Her SUV was a decade old, her house was two centuries old, and she might be knocked-up. Not to mention, Alec was under the impression she had used sex to get a pass on a freaking electrical inspection. Could things get worse?

  Her phone rang. Her mother. Dear Lord, the universe had it in for her today. She ignored the call, not up to handling her mother’s subtle jabs and not-so-subtle guilt trips. She had taken Lilliana’s move to Falcon as a betrayal. As if the bond to Lilliana’s unreliable, mostly absent father was stronger than to the woman who raised her.

  Her mother would never understand the draw to Falcon had little to do with
her father, and everything to do with the bosomy hugs and coddling she received from Aunt Esmerelda and the rest of the librarians. And between Darcy and Logan and her cousins, she’d always had someone to play with. Her summers in Falcon had been starkly different than her life as a latchkey kid in an apartment building full of adults.

  As a single parent, her mother had been responsible and no-nonsense. Her response to the Alec situation would involve disappointed head shaking and a directive to buck up and deal with it head-on.

  Falcon was full of family and friends. No matter what happened, she didn’t have to face the fallout alone. That’s why she’d returned after her father left her Hancock House and why she stayed.

  She dialed her best friend, hoping she was in town and not overseeing one of her new projects. Jessica Wilde answered with a chipper, “Hello, sweetie. I was just thinking about you.”

  The tears Lilliana had managed to stave off in Walmart burst out in hiccupping waves.

  “Where are you? Have you been in an accident?” Jessica’s voice was frantic.

  She pulled in a shuddery breath. “No, nothing like that. Are you home?”

  “At Adaline’s, but I can meet you at the house in ten. You okay to drive?”

  She shuddered in a deep breath and wiped the tears off her cheeks even as more welled out of her eyes. “Yep. I’ll meet you there.”

  She hung up and started her old Bronco, pumping the gas a few times while the engine sputtered. In her rearview mirror, a tall brown-haired man grew larger. Throwing the Bronco in reverse, she whipped out of the space too fast and drove off, leaving Alec standing in the parking lot.

  * * *

  The next day, Alec wandered through the weight room of the practice pavilion in a distracted, dark mood. The words Lilliana had launched at him still echoed in his head. Had he been an asshole?

  After he’d stalked out of her house in righteous indignation, he’d alternately cursed her and his gullibility. He’d felt used and stupid. But, seeing her standing there looking a panicked mess with a tear slipping down her face, he wondered if his high horse hadn’t gone lame.

  That was the thing with Lilliana. She had no poker face. When she laughed, her entire being lit with joy. When she was angry, her eyes flashed with murderous intent. When she was sad, her face reflected an aching melancholy. Yesterday, she hadn’t been able to hide her hurt. The blame was aimed squarely at him. Had he misjudged the situation? Had he misjudged her? Acid churned in his stomach.

  The surge protector he’d bought for her was still in its bag on his desk. He hadn’t had the chance—or courage—to drop it off. He plopped into his chair and pulled a bottle of Tums from one of the drawers.

  Logan Wilde sauntered in, whistling a tune, happy and untroubled. Alec wanted to punch him. Logan shot him a look before sitting down. Their desks were set up catty-corner, which made it difficult for Alec to ignore him. Logan was a nice guy, as were the other coaches, but Alec tried to keep things as impersonal as possible.

  “Dude, you look terrible,” Logan said with his typical good humor.

  Alec sighed and toyed with the plastic bag. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  Logan chuckled with an air of commiseration. “I see ‘woman trouble’ flashing in neon red. Who is she?”

  Alec tapped his finger on the desk, debating how much to tell, if anything. His fall from NFL fame to obscurity after blowing his knee out had taught him how few true fiends he’d had. Once the money train stopped, everyone had cleared out, leaving him to pick up the pieces alone. The betrayal soured his life. But in the three years he’d worked with Logan, Alec had come to trust the man—a little.

  “Lilliana Hancock,” Alec said grimly.

  Logan’s eyes flared before they squeezed tight. He shook his head. “Aw hell . . .”

  “What?”

  Logan sat forward in his chair, both elbows on his desk and looked over his shoulder. The kids were due any minute. “Lilliana called Jessie in a panic yesterday. Did you maybe forget something? Starts with a C? And, I’m not talking C for cookie.” Logan waggled his eyebrows.

  “A condom?” Not only had a condom not crossed his mind, but he hadn’t even considered pulling out. In fact, given the option he’d have stayed inside of her the rest of the afternoon.

  “Bingo.”

  “I didn’t go over there expecting . . . It happened so fast—”

  Logan laughed. “Not exactly a ringing endorsement of your skills in the sack, dude. Maybe that’s why she was so upset.”

  “Ha-ha. Very funny. I assumed she was on something or else why would she—” The door opened and boys poured through, their energy crackling the air. “I’m an idiot.”

  “You said it, not me.” Logan got up and grabbed a clipboard, but stopped to jab a finger into Alec’s shoulder, his demeanor suddenly serious and slightly intimidating. “Lilliana has been a good friend to me and Jessie. Don’t be a dick.”

  Alec could hear an unspoken threat hanging in the air. Logan got the team warmed up, then doled out the strength-training exercises. Alec should have been preparing the workout for his quarterbacks. Instead, he stared out the window. Leaves danced on the branches of the tree, a few making the jump to the ground where they would wither into brown husks.

  Lilliana was the last woman he should have been messing around with. Yes, she was funny and gorgeous, but he’d sworn off wild women after Philly. She was the prodigal daughter returned from New York City. A bohemian artist. Yet, that was too simplistic.

  Even though she had the name to rule the highest social circles of Falcon, she skirted the edges. She wasn’t one of the bleacher babes who giggled in the stands during practice. She didn’t hang out at any of the local bars or date around from what he’d heard.

  Her portrait of the old woman had startled him. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, something new age and abstract, something he didn’t understand. The woman she’d drawn was a stranger, yet he recognized her. The longer he’d stared, the tighter his insides had twisted.

  He’d been so caught up in her touch, reality had ceased to exist. His need had been intense, and she’d seemed as desperate. His groin tightened at the memory. His extreme horniness had led to a stupid, teenagelike mistake.

  “’Sup, dude.” Hunter Galloway, the Falcon’s star quarterback, strutted toward him. His pants sagged halfway down his butt, but his blue Falcon golf shirt and closely cropped afro were more preppy than street.

  “I’m not your ‘dude,’ I’m your coach. And you’re about to lose your pants.”

  Hunter laughed, a shadow of boyhood innocence still there, as he hiked his pants up and tightened his belt. “It’s the style, Coach.”

  “Do girls actually go for that look? Go dress out and get ready to work.”

  Hunter jogged toward the locker room. The boy had grown a good five inches since the previous season and added thirty pounds of muscle. At six-three, he was still too skinny, but that would change soon enough if he kept lifting.

  He was good. Really good. More top schools came sniffing around with each game they’d won. He already had two offers from lesser-tier schools, but Alec urged him to wait. The big fish circled, and one would bite. Especially, if they made it to the state playoffs.

  Alec tried to put Lilliana out of his head, but his gaze swept over the bleachers, on the hunt for a long dark ponytail on his jog toward the practice field. Nothing. He pushed the illogical disappointment away.

  His two backup quarterbacks threw the ball back and forth, ribbing each other. The underclassmen weren’t ready to lead the program, but Alec’s job was to get them ready. Every coach and quarterback feared the kind of injury Alec incurred. A backup might warm the bench one play and be called to action the next.

  He spent time with the youngsters, drilling curl routes, tosses, and handoffs. Then, he dismissed them to work with the wide receivers while he concentrated on Hunter. Alec drew a couple of new plays on a whiteboard, which Hunter picked up qui
ckly.

  “Did you watch the film?” Alec asked. “Did you notice their blitzing strategy?”

  “Didn’t have the time.”

  “Did you have a test to study for or a project due?”

  Coach Dalton had high expectations for the kids’ grades, and Alec respected that. But he also expected Hunter to study film on his off time, when he wasn’t studying calculus. The extra work served a two-fold purpose, keeping Hunter busy and out of trouble and making him a better quarterback and leader.

  “Nah, not really.” Hunter looked off toward the parking lot for the umpteenth time.

  The frustration and anger brewing about the situation with Lilliana oozed into his voice. “You got somewhere more important to be?”

  Hunter’s focus shot back toward Alec. “No sir.”

  For the rest of practice, Alec rode Hunter hard, getting in his face when he forgot the route or overthrew his receivers, yanking him aside when he bobbled and fumbled a good snap. When Robbie Dalton blew the whistle, Hunter was the first one into the practice pavilion to hit the showers.

  Logan joined Alec on the walk back. “Kind of tough on Hunter today.”

  “He blew off the videos and was distracted all practice.”

  Logan nodded. “Maybe so, but I have the feeling your personal issues made their way onto the field. You don’t know what he’s got going on at home. Cut him some slack.”

  Alec stopped and grabbed Logan’s arm before they entered the pavilion. “You know something I don’t?”

  “I heard-tell things are heating up in Mill Town. Cops might let small amounts of pot and alcohol slide, but not meth. Will Galloway’s name is on lots of people’s lips. Hunter’s a good kid, but he’ll protect his brother. Think about that.” Logan jogged ahead, leaving Alec outside.

  Alec sighed and leaned against the gray cement wall. His job was to condition Hunter’s body and mind for games. That’s it. He’d done his best to ignore the rumors about Hunter’s twin brother, but apparently, they were getting louder and more ominous. Still, Alec only held sway on the football field. It wasn’t his place to get involved, yet guilt niggled at his conscience.