“You seem happy in that painting,” I said, holding back a burst of tears for some stupid reason.
Memories of my childhood flooded my brain. I swallowed the sob that was lodged in my throat as I thought of the day my mom had pushed me on a swing at the park.
“Higher,” I’d said.
“Baby girl, I don’t want you to fall.”
“Please, Mom,” I cried. “Higher.”
When she did, I felt like a bird with wings, flying through the air toward the bright-blue sky. I swore that day that I would touch the sky or at least try. I never did, but Mom and I had had a great time and many more in the park after that day.
I shook my head hard, trying to rid myself of the past and the anger I had in the pit of my stomach at my father, and to a certain extent at the world, for taking my mom away from me.
“High school was a great time.” Ryker’s voice was soothing and tickled spots inside me. “Want to make some memories of our own?”
I quivered and smiled. “Lead the way.”
He closed his hand over mine, and whatever memory he wanted to make, I wouldn’t protest.
25
Ryker
Haven was a zombie from the high school to my parents’ house. I’d asked her once on the way if she was okay, and she’d nodded and stared out the window the whole time. I suspected that the interaction between her and Beverly was what had Haven in a shell.
I found it odd that everywhere I turned, Beverly was lurking somewhere nearby or in my face—parties, my bedroom, the charity event, and now the art festival. But my brain wasn’t interested in deciphering the reasons why.
What I wanted at the moment was to sit my ass on the couch, drink a beer, and maybe get naked with the redhead who was nuzzling her way into my heart—the same woman who had a way of easing my pain.
Stale air choked me as I walked deeper into the house and over to the sliding glass door. The house had been vacant since Aunt Kari returned to England.
Haven kicked off her sandals before sinking her feet into the carpet in the family room.
After opening the slider, I grabbed two beers out of the fridge. Then I wound my way around the kitchen island and a recliner in the family room until I was handing her a beer.
Grabbing the bottle, she pointed to a picture of my brother and me. We were holding up a fish he’d caught at one of our fishing expeditions. “Nice catch.”
Randal had been so excited that day when he’d caught his first bass.
I tapped my bottle against hers. “Cheers.”
She chugged the amber liquid down like she was in some sort of contest.
I watched in awe at the way her throat worked and her beautiful features relaxed. I knew that feeling of how booze could seep into the veins and punch the shit out of the cloying feelings that poisoned me.
“Whoa,” I said. “Slow down.”
She drained the entire bottle then licked her lips. “I needed that.”
I took a long pull of my beer. “Care to tell me what’s bothering you?”
She plucked my bottle from my hand then set both down on the coffee table. “No talking.” She proceeded to unbutton my shirt, sucking in her bottom lip.
My cock jerked. Hell, I had a permanent hard-on when I was around this woman.
When my shirt was open, showing off my abs and that happy trail that women went gaga over, she dragged a long nail down my stomach to the waist of my jeans.
The vision of her mouth around my dick flashed like a neon sign in the frontal lobe of my brain. Blood rushed down in a frenzy to grip my balls. I swore, if she breathed on my dick, I would lose my load in one second flat.
