Sweetest Mistake (Nolan Brothers #2) (34 page)

She didn’t need him, though an aching hollowness opened up in the center of her chest and stayed with her throughout the day.

Late that night, she woke from a dreamless sleep when he moved over her. The warmth from his skin soothed her weary bones and the press of his erection between her legs aroused her longing for him.

He eased himself inside her and she bit down on her bottom lip to stifle her needy moans. Buried to the hilt, he peered into her face. His eyes blazed.

Then he started to pump his hips. Long, languid strokes turned urgent and fierce. He drove into her, again and again, while his green gaze bored into her.

She swallowed back a sob as sensation tore through her. He gripped her hips and plunged deeper, wresting all the fear and sorrow from her. A tear leaked out and she squeezed her eyes shut. She whispered his name and when she found the courage to look at him, she watched as something in his eyes shifted, from desperate to pleading.

Her orgasm shattered over her, but no joy came with her release.

He dropped his head to her shoulder. With one last series of pounding thrusts and a guttural growl, he emptied himself inside her.

She toyed with the hair at his nape while their breathing slowed. He lifted his head, but her weak smile fell on his back as he rolled off her and stood.

“Wh-where are you going?”

“I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on.” He pulled a pair of running pants over his lean hips.

“Right now? But you just got home.”

He was already at the bedroom door. “Don’t worry about me. Get some sleep.”

The door eased shut behind him.

On Friday, two days before Christmas, Max finally wrapped filming and the crew began to leave the inn.

Will was the first to go, and Emily inhaled a deep breath of cologne-free air once he’d gone. Jared and Ian left shortly thereafter, confiscating the box of doughnuts on their way out. Around lunchtime, Drew picked up Honey, and Max, having decided to stay at the inn another week, was closeted away in his room upstairs working on film edits.

The estate didn’t remain quiet for long.

Luke and Emily celebrated Christmas with Noah and Mina, and Shea and Isobel. While Shea and Isobel’s teenage son, Finn, hid behind a hoodie and an electronic device, the uncontainable excitement of Maisie and Connor delivered a smile to Emily’s lips. Though it was quickly squashed by the obvious frustration and exhaustion of their parents.

Throughout the day, Luke was kind and charming, and that night, he seemed determined to give her as many orgasms as a girl could possibly withstand. Emily opened for him eagerly, hoping that he might taste her love for him and it would turn his heart toward her.

Afterwards, he slipped from her bed, mumbling something about work and the library.

The weight of her loneliness pressed down on her. When she’d agreed to marry him, she’d expected the loneliness would end. Instead, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt more alone in all her life.

A week later, on New Year’s Eve, Noah and Mina had gone out, and Luke was on duty. So two weeks after her wedding day and two months pregnant, Emily sat home alone.

The Christmas tree she’d dragged home remained propped up before the front window in her living room. She wandered over to it and fingered a few of the ornaments she’d brought with her from the house in Tucson.

Her favorite, a red bulb with a small photograph of her and her mom, hung on a branch at the front of the tree. She peered at the photo. She’d probably been in first or second grade when the picture was taken, and her mom, newly divorced.

She recalled feeling such joy. Harrison had left and Christmas grew near. The anticipation and presents were great, but for Emily, the elation of staying home from school for two weeks was intoxicating. No speech therapy, no teasing schoolmates, no terrorizing dread.

Her thumb brushed over a small button on the ornament and the long-ago recording of Emily and Audrey singing a Christmas carol filled the quiet room.

The singing stopped and Emily’s second- or third-grade voice carried through the crappy speaker.

“I love you, Mama.”

“I love you, baby girl.”

It was the only recording she had of her mom’s voice.

Tears falling, Emily pushed the button again.

Turned out, there was a reason Luke only drank whiskey at home. Alone.

He was a mean drunk.

The knot between his shoulder blades ached and he rolled his head, trying to chase it away. He should be happy. After all the delays and rounds of second and third interviews, he was perfectly positioned for the job he’d spent the last ten years working toward.

Not only that, but in the two weeks since he and Emily married, he’d managed to put a little distance between them. A fact that should calm him. But the more space he wedged between them, the more lost and empty he became.

An uneasy churning in his gut lingered, and he attempted to drown it, once and for all, with alcohol. More alcohol. As much as it took.

A group of men Luke knew to be fishermen from the wharf played pool at one of the tables in the back. Justin Sloane was among them.

“You like that, Jimmy?” Sloane’s voice rose above the pub noise to reach Luke. “Wish you had my skills, don’t ya? Watch this—hey, hey, Tommy, watch this one.”

Luke sipped his whiskey and tried to ignore the little prick.

God, he missed Anthony. Big-hearted and teller of outrageous stories Anthony.

Sloane kept it up, and soon guys started slinking away from the pool table to avoid the blowhard. Good, hardworking guys didn’t deserve Justin ruining one of their rare nights out to relax.

Drink in hand, Luke slid off his barstool and approached the pool table. He chatted with Tommy and JJ until Sloane barked at them.

“Hey, JJ, you done stroking your stick over there? It’s your shot, man.”

With a grimace, JJ stepped up to the table. He sunk two balls before missing.

A sleazy grin split Sloane’s face. “Another one bites the dust. Who’s next? How about you, Gary? You ready for your ass whooping?”

Gary held up his hand. “I’m going to sit this one out.”

Sloane nagged Gary for a bit, coming around the pool table to stand in the man’s personal space.

“Hey, Sloane,” Luke jumped in. “I overheard Big Mike taking bets on the game this weekend.”

“And?” Sloane rubbed chalk on the tip of his pool stick.

“And I thought you might want to get in on it, that’s all.” Even though Sloane stood a short distance from him, Luke had trouble focusing on his bullish features.

“First, I’m gonna finish taking JJ’s fifty bucks,” Sloane said. “Then I’m gonna take Gary’s fifty bucks, and then Tommy’s fifty bucks.”

Luke’s hand balled into a fist. “I think they’ll probably hand over the money just to get rid of you.”

The men howled with laughter.

Color rose on Sloane’s cheeks. “You think so?”

“I do.” Luke sipped his whiskey.

“What the hell are you doing here anyway, Nolan? Lost interest in your little wife already?”

Luke set his tumbler on the ledge. “Don’t talk about my wife.”

One of Sloane’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t get mad at me. You’re the one that knocked her up and had to marry her.”

Luke’s fist crashed into his weak jaw. The men scattered when Sloane stumbled back.

He maintained his feet and lunged, his fist connecting with Luke’s lip.

Luke laughed, the stinging pain a welcome relief to the blinding panic and excruciating numbness. He planted his shoulder in Justin’s chest and swept his legs out from under him. The prick hit the floor and Luke went for his throat.

But hands grasped him from behind and pulled him away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Shea bellowed in his ear.

Disappointment slashed through Luke. “Just having some fun.”

Sloane staggered to his feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Luke shook the ache from his hand. “C’mon, admit it, that felt good, didn’t it?”

“Fuck you.” Sloane touched the red welt on his cheek.

“You’ve been wanting to do that as long as I have.”

Sloane’s dark eyes burned bright. “You’re gonna regret this, Nolan.”

“Not half as much as I enjoyed it.”

Firm hands clamped down on his shoulders. The room tipped on its axis and Luke twisted his body, trying to gain steady ground.

Cool night air smacked into him when Shea shoved him through the pub door and sent him hurtling into the parking lot. He slid on the loose gravel and his stomach pitched.

“He doesn’t look too good,” Noah said.

Luke tried to stand but rocked back. He fell against the brick wall.

Shea planted his hands on his hips. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“I’m in love.” Luke spit a splotch of blood onto the ground. “With my wife.”

“H
ow unfortunate for you.”

While Shea chuckled, Luke glared at Noah’s smug face. “It’s not funny.”

Noah’s expression turned serious. “No, you’re right, it’s not funny. I share the same misfortune, and I’m not gonna lie to you, it’s a terrible fate.”

Behind him, Shea stared at the pavement, shaking his head. “Nothing can prepare a man for that kind of misery.”

Luke’s head dropped back against the hard brick of the building. “You guys are a big help.”

“Can I make a suggestion?”

Luke waved Noah on.

“Give up.”

Luke groaned.

“No, I mean it. It’s a losing battle that you stand no chance of winning. Why fight it?”

Shea’s boots shuffled over the asphalt as he shifted his weight. “Well, there’s always the possibility for makeup sex.”

“Fair point,” Noah conceded.

A rush of anger and terror flooded Luke.

Just then, the pub door opened and noise from inside spilled out with the bartender, Tony. “Hey, Shea, that new tap’s jammed again. Can you come take a look?”

“You got this?” Shea said.

Noah inclined his head and Shea disappeared behind the pub door.

Darkness churned inside Luke, causing the world to tilt to one side. His back against the wall, he sank to the ground. He slung an arm across his knees and dropped his head.

Into the silence, Noah asked, “Would it be so bad if you just love her?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t think of a worse fate.

“Why?”

Luke lifted his heavy head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me anyway.”

The words rushed to the surface and propelled into the night air. “Because I’ll ruin her. Or she’ll ruin me. Shit, she already has.”

The bastard laughed, and Luke considered planting a fist into his jaw as well.

“Yeah, you two are a couple of real toxic personalities,” Noah said. “You know, now that you mention it, I can already see your corrupting influence on her. She’s becoming a tyrant. The other day, she even made us eat off plates.”