Home > You Can Have Manhattan(44)

You Can Have Manhattan(44)
Author: P. Dangelico

Scott: I’m outside. Open the door.

 

 

He was here. He’d come for me. A strong dose of pure joy shot through my veins, making my head spin like I was tripping.

No one had ever come for me. But Scott had––a man I’d once thought to be the most selfish creature on the planet. I’d been wrong about him just as much as he’d been wrong about me. He wasn’t selfish. On the contrary, he was an unexpected hero, a reluctant good guy in disguise. Too bad I was already married to him. If things had been different, we might have had a fighting chance. The knowledge sat heavy on my chest.

A reckoning was coming as clearly as the part in every horror movie where one of the dumbass characters says, “let’s get back to the cabin,” instead of getting in their car and driving away at the first sign of danger. Any day now, Frank’s secret was going to be revealed, and when that happened, I would inevitably lose Scott’s trust. And there was nothing I could do about it other than stand by and let it happen.

Jumping out of bed, I hurried to the cramped bathroom, splashed water on my face, and glanced in the mirror. After gathering all the letters, I’d driven back to the motel and holed up for the rest of the day reading and crying and chugging Mountain Dew (the only soda left in the hallway vending machine) like it was nectar of the gods. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shed a single tear. Frank’s news had pushed me to the brink many times, but never over the edge. And now I couldn’t stop them from falling.

“Yikes.”

I looked like Don King. My hair was a tangled, combed-back mess. My eyes were nearly swollen shut, the left more than the right, and the skin around them raw. Under the florescent overhead light, I looked like I’d mopped the floors with my face and there was nothing to be done for it. Not now that he was at the door.

As I reached for the doorknob, I remembered that I was wearing a stained threadbare t-shirt and baggy sweatpants and debated changing for all of a minute. I was tired of hiding, tired of pretending that I was so much more put together than I really was.

At work, I was a rock star. Everywhere else in my life I was rock bottom. This was it. All I was. Full of holes, emotions worn out, nerves shot to hell from keeping everything bottled up. It was either going to send him running back to Jackson Hole or he’d stick.

I wanted him to stick, though. I really really wanted him to stick. Scott was turning out to be the most wonderful surprise of my life. I’d been an outlier since birth, searching for somewhere or someone to belong to, and with Scott, I’d found it. Even if it was only for a little while.

The motel was built in a horseshoe shape, my room on the ground floor. So when I opened the door to an empty sidewalk I was a little surprised. It was March and yet no one had told Pennsylvania. The cold hit me all at once, the damp kind that gets into your mended bones and makes them hurt. As the stitch on the left side of my rib cage liked to remind me.

A clap of thunder boomed overhead, a storm imminent. Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself and took a small step out, looked left and right, found not a soul in sight. Then I spotted him, a tall lone figure exiting a parked SUV and my heart sighed. He marched toward me wearing an inscrutable expression. Blank but stern? That’s the best way to describe it. His mouth set in a straight, uncompromising line. His eyes hawkish, sharp. I didn’t know what to make of it, but I didn’t have long to wonder.

The minute he reached me he opened his jacket and wrapped me in it, his heat wiping out the chill in my bones, his scent soothing my shattered nerves. I’d never been so happy to see someone. Walking forward, he carried me inside while I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on for dear life. I tipped up my face and he dropped kisses on the corner of my mouth, the sensitive skin on the side of my throat, my temple.

“How did you––”

He snatched the rest of the words from my lips with a kiss. And he didn’t stop. Not when he placed me back on my feet and kicked the door shut behind him. Not when he slipped his jacket off and draped it around my shoulders to warm me up. I hadn’t even noticed how violently I was shaking until he began to rub my back and whisper sweet reassurances in my ear.

“…I’m here…It’s okay…I’ve got you…I’ve got you, Sunshine…” His body heat clung to the jacket. His scent too. And safety, and comfort, and the rest of the good stuff. I had never felt more cared for in my entire life.

The tears started all over again. Stinging tears. So thick and viscous I could barely see through them. Scott’s face became a handsome blob.

Taking my hand, he dragged us over to the foot of the queen-sized bed, sank down on it, and placed me on his lap. His arms wrapped around my waist, mine around his neck. We sat in silence that way for a while, anchored to one another. Like he knew what I needed to gain back my composure.

“How’d you find me? I don’t mean to imply you’re a scary stalker, but you are exhibiting stalker-like tendencies.” I knew he was resourceful. This, however, was next level.

He snorted and nuzzled the side of my neck, planted a few quick kisses there before speaking. “My father knew where your grandparents lived. This is the only…” Frowning, he glanced around. “…hotel in town.”

“I’m impressed,” I told him in all honesty, my gaze drawn to that soft sensual mouth of his like a millennial to Twitter.

My favorite mouth in the world curled up. “Because I found you?”

“Because you came…” I tunneled my fingers in his hair and he sighed. “…and because it feels like I’m sitting on a speed bump.”

He grinned wide and bright. “That happens by rote whenever it’s near you…I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He breathed deeply and his expression sobered as if he were preparing himself for something unpleasant. His arms tightened around me. “Tell me what happened.”

I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to think about Josh, or my grandparents, or the horrible memories this place evoked. My brain felt crowded and I needed to clear my browser history. I wanted to feel good and Scott knew how to do that better than anyone.

Wrapping my hands around his prickly face, I kissed him hard. “I don’t want to talk,” I whispered against his lips. “Not now…not yet. Just make me feel good. Can you do that?”

For a beat, he searched my face. Then he nodded. The jacket was gently pushed off my shoulders, sliding silently to the ground. Slowly, the ratty t-shirt I was wearing was lifted over my head and tossed to the carpeted floor. With supreme concentration, his calloused fingertips traced the lines of my collarbone so gently a shiver wracked my entire body. I couldn’t wait any longer.

While our mouths melded, he stripped me bare, laid me down on the crappy motel bed, and undressed himself slowly as I watched him with undisguised glee in my eyes. It was better than any Christmas present I’d ever unwrapped. Gray sweater? Boom, gone. Designer Italian boots? Atta here, kicked off. Jeans? Bye-bye.

“No underwear?”

His brow folded in worry. “I was in a hurry to get to you.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re perfect?”

“No. But you have called me a royal pain in the ass.” He smiled broadly.

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