Page 14 of It’s Only Love (Citrus Pines #1)

Taylor drove Christy and Justine back to the bar. Together they went inside and started putting out the food the caterer had delivered.

“Christy, you don’t need to help,” Taylor said over her shoulder.

Christy shrugged. “I know, but I need to do something. I feel all…itchy. I need to keep myself occupied.”

Taylor nodded towards the bar. “In that case, you can occupy yourself with getting me a drink.”

“Oh, me too, please!” Justine called after her.

Christy laughed to herself as she grabbed three beers from the fridge. She twisted the tops off and slid them across the bar to Justine and Taylor. Just as Christy raised the bottle to her lips, Taylor cleared her throat.

“To Thomas,” she said quietly, raising her bottle slightly in the air.

Justine lifted hers too and repeated the sentiment.

Christy felt a lump rise in her throat, she raised her bottle and then swiftly brought it to her lips and took a large gulp, the liquid burning as she forced it past the lump that had formed.

They finished putting the food out, both women scolding her and swatting at her as she tried to help. Then everyone started to arrive, and some gentle music began playing in the background.

Christy glanced towards the door every time it opened and each time it wasn’t Dean who entered, she felt a flare of disappointment.

Seriously? It’s your father’s funeral and you’re man hunting?

That’s gotta be a new kind of low . But she couldn’t help it.

Ever since Dean had comforted her, she was beginning to, how could she put it, dislike him less?

Twice now, he had been there for her during emotional moments.

She found herself confused as to why, after all their history.

He had changed, there was no doubt about it.

She was starting to see signs that he was someone who could be counted on, and she was beginning to trust him, something she found very difficult.

But she wouldn’t let her guard down. She had been burned before, badly, and was still stamping out the charred remains of that experience.

She scowled and shook her head, clearing her thoughts.

She needed a distraction, so she began mingling with those that she vaguely recognized.

As she spoke to each person, and they all said variations of the same thing, she became more and more emotional.

“What a wonderful person your father was.”

“He missed you so much, how come you never visited? ”

“He loved you so much, it’s a shame you didn’t come back and see him more.”

Christy wanted to cry and scream, “I’m not the villain here!”

She’d had to leave. He couldn’t love her, and her breaking heart couldn’t take it anymore. All these protests rose up in her throat, choking her and begging to be let free. But looking around at the crowd and seeing the love they had for her father, she knew they would never understand.

She swallowed her pride and decided there was only one way to get through this: alcohol. She went to the bar and ordered a double whiskey from Kayleigh, downed the drink immediately and asked for another, then followed that with a shot of tequila.

*

Dean entered the bar and his gaze immediately sought out Christy.

He spotted her talking to an elderly couple and instantly felt at ease.

Ever since he left the crematorium, he had been worrying about her.

He had to swing by the garage as he had been working on the car of some fancy politician Beau knew and the guy wanted to collect it now, now, now!

The asshole had been late and then given Dean shit about how much he charged so he’d been longer than planned.

When he saw she was doing fine, he went to the bar to get a drink.

“Hey Kayleigh, how ya doing?” he asked. The timid girl looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Fine thanks, you?”

He nodded in lieu of a reply and looked around for Taylor but couldn’t see her. “Taylor in back?” he asked.

Kayleigh nodded and then scurried off to find her. Dean looked over at Christy again and as he watched her, he noticed her cheeks were flushed, her eyes appeared a little glassy and she had a wan smile on her face. Was she swaying?

“I’ve been trying to call you,” Taylor huffed when she appeared, looking flustered.

“Well hello to you too, sis,” he joked, and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Listen I need you to take Christy home, like, right this second.”

“What, why?”

“Because this one here doesn’t know when to cut someone off yet!” she said, hiking her thumb at Kayleigh who hung her head in shame. Taylor grabbed his arm and pulled him to the end of the bar for some privacy.

“Christy is trashed and needs to go home pronto. I’ve got to stay here with Kayleigh, and Justine has been drinking too.”

“Nothing wrong with a little alcohol, puts the fun into funeral ,” he teased.

“No, you don’t understand. Christy is dangerously close to losing it and we need to get her away from these people, okay?”

“What are you talking about, what’s the big deal?”

Taylor sighed. “Just trust me, if we don’t get her out of here then all these nice people are going to find out what Thomas was really like.”

Dean felt his blood run cold. His stomach twisted, a thousand thoughts zooming through his mind, each one worse than the previous.

“What did he do to her? Why did she run away?” he gritted out, his tone deadly.

Taylor frowned at him, surprised. “We can talk about this later, just get her out of here and take her home, please?”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, and went over to Christy, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Hey Christy, you ready to go home now?” he asked gently.

She slowly slid her glassy eyes to his, the color reminding him of a frozen lake.

“Dean, you made it.” Her words were slightly slurred, but she sounded relieved to see him and didn’t that just butter his cracker.

As she held his eyes, the pale blue pools melted and drowned him in sorrow as they filled with tears.

“They all love him so much,” she whispered, her voice cracking and his heart ached for her.

Dean turned her away from the elderly couple who looked very concerned. “I know, darlin’, let’s get you home and put you to bed.” He tried to maneuver her towards the door, but for such a small woman, she sure was strong.

“No!” she shouted. “Everyone needs to know, I’m not the bad guy here!” she slurred loudly, glaring at him.

He looked over her head, back towards the bar where Taylor was watching them. Taylor gestured to the door then held up a knife, motioning violently at him. Message received, get her out now.

“Hold on, darlin’,” he said and put his shoulder into her stomach and upended her.

She squealed, then groaned as if in pain. “I don’t feel too good.”

“Yeah, I bet. It’s all that nasty alcohol. Excuse us, folks.”

He moved towards the door with her bouncing on his shoulder, his hand wrapped around her firm thigh for support, he was trying not to notice how lush and warm it felt under his grip.

He managed to get them out of the bar and over to his truck.

As he stopped to rummage for his keys, he felt her hand brush over his back, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

“You okay back there?” he asked through clenched teeth. He could not deal with her getting handsy right now, because he would let her.

“So strong,” she murmured before hiccupping.

Dean felt himself puff up with pride at her comment and he resisted the urge to pound his chest like a neanderthal.

He snagged his keys and unlocked the truck.

Bending down, he placed her on the passenger seat as gently as possible.

He leaned across her to buckle her seatbelt and inhaled her scent.

Fuck, she smelled delicious, like berries and cotton candy, and his mouth watered.

Did she taste like it? The thought had heat rushing to his groin and a moan nearly slipped out from his lips but he clamped them shut.

He could feel her watching him but refused to make eye contact, not trusting himself.

He pulled away, shut the door, went around to the driver’s side.

He started the engine and headed towards her father’s house.

After a moment’s silence, she leaned across the seat and rested her head on his shoulder.

He stiffened, not daring to move and jolt her.

Glancing down he saw her eyelids flutter closed, more of that tantalizing scent invaded his nostrils, making his mouth water for a taste.

His cock started to harden in his pants.

He gritted his teeth as they went over a bump in the road which tightened the material against his arousal, creating a delicious friction.

It also pressed her lush breasts into his arm, and he tried to ignore the heat of them scalding him through his shirt.

Although it wasn’t far to the house it felt like the longest journey of his life. She didn’t stir the whole time until he tried to get out of the truck without moving her which didn’t work and resulted in her waking.

“Where am I?” she asked, voice thick with sleep and alcohol.

“You’re home, darlin’,” he replied.

“In New York?” she asked, her voice filled with hope.

“Nope, Citrus Pines.” He came around and helped her out of his truck. “Let’s get you inside.”

“I can walk, you know!” she huffed and shoved away from him, stumbling immediately and he smothered a laugh.

“Sure you can.”

“I just require ass…assis… help from time to time,” she slurred.

Dean put his arm around her and this time she didn’t try to remove it.

He walked them towards the front door then helped her find the keys in her purse.

He unlocked the door and let them in. She stumbled inside and felt along the wall for the light switch, flicked it on and he saw they were in the living room.

She dropped her purse on the couch and turned to him.

“Are we going to bed now?” she asked, peering up at him with those innocent eyes and that damn sexy mouth of hers.

His erection kicked in his pants because, yep, it was still there. He swallowed thickly. “I’m going to help you to bed and then I’ll leave ,” he said.

She looked upset and flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around him. “No! Please don’t go! Please stay with me, I don’t want to be here on my own,” she begged.

Having her body pressed against him, her soft curves fitting him perfectly, only ratcheted up his desire.

She was soft to his hard, molding to him until they became one.

She ran her hands up his chest and he tensed as her lower body rubbed over his erection, a flare of heat flashed in her eyes.

He knew it wasn’t real though, just the effects of the alcohol.

“I can’t stay,” he choked out as she rubbed against him again.

“Please, Dean?” She buried her face in the hollow of his throat, her hot tongue licking up his neck.

His hands found their way into her hair, and he tangled them, fisting the soft strands.

Christy tilted her head back and looked up at him.

She pulled his head down to meet her, her eyelashes fluttering closed.

She wanted to kiss him, his heart pounded.

Excitement rushed through his veins. No!

his brain screamed. Stop this before you regret it, you’re taking advantage of her!

He stopped her when she was a heartbeat away from his mouth.

Hot tension passed between them. He wanted her, desperately.

But not like this, he couldn’t take advantage of her when she was drunk and grieving, what sort of man did that?

He reluctantly pulled back, and her eyes popped open, hurt and betrayal clouding them before she masked the emotions, and her features grew cold.

“Thank you for bringing me home, you can leave now.”

“Christy, I can stay down here if you don’t want to be alone?” he offered.

“No, I’m fine. You can go now. Thanks,” she said, and turned away, dismissing him. She staggered over to the staircase and went upstairs, not turning back. She muttered to herself, stumbled a few times, and then she was gone.

He sighed and tunneled a hand through his hair.

Shit . That didn’t go well, but he was certain it was the right call.

He hunted for some painkillers in a kitchen drawer and grabbed a glass from the side, filling it with water and went in search of her upstairs.

He stood on the landing, unsure of which room was hers so he started opening doors.

The first door on the left looked like it had been her father’s room.

She wasn’t in there. He moved to the door on the right.

He turned on the light and saw it was a teenage girl’s room, it must have been Christy’s when she was younger.

Nothing appeared to have been changed, the room preserved, but empty.

The next room was the bathroom, so he opened the last door on the left.

As he went inside, he immediately saw her form splayed on the bed in the center of the room.

Her heavy breathing suggested she was already asleep.

He looked around. It seemed like the guest bedroom.

Why would she stay here and not in her old room?

He saw her suitcases lined up along the wall, clothes trying to escape the confines, makeup and shoes littering the floor.

He walked over to the nightstand and put the glass of water and painkillers down; she was going to need those tomorrow.

He turned and looked down at her, face turned to one side, a blond curl twisted across her cheek.

Her pink lips parted slightly. He stroked her cheek gently, brushing the silky curl to one side.

He smiled softly as even in her sleep, she frowned at his touch.

Dean took off her shoes, and she didn’t stir once.

He looked down at her again, struck by how tiny she was, especially in comparison to him and remembered how perfectly she fit against him.

He had an overwhelming urge to protect this dainty firecracker from whatever came her way.

“Goodnight, darlin’,” he whispered and left the room.

Back downstairs he switched off the lights, grabbed the door keys she dumped, and he left the house.

He locked the door and pushed the keys back through the letterbox, happy she was safe.

On the drive home, he replayed over and over in his mind what would have happened if he let her kiss him and vowed to himself if he ever got the chance again, he was going to go for it.