Miss Matchmaker: A Small Town Romance Page 8

  He kisses me all over, worshiping every inch of my bare skin. I feel his warm tongue slide along my slit, lapping at me like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. He works his tongue against me until I’m shaking so violently with building pleasure I can barely keep myself from falling off his shoulders.

  I dig my heels into his strong back, watching the way his muscles cord and relax with every motion of his hands and neck. “You feel so good,” I gasp.

  He pauses to grin up at me. “I’m just getting started, darlin’. You’ll be--”

  “Lucas!” shouts a voice from the direction of his house. “Get your ass out here!”

  It’s Cynthia, and she sounds about as pissed off as she is drunk.

  “Fuck,” Lucas growls. He looks at me for a moment, obviously trying to decide if he can ignore Cynthia and finish with me or not. “Wait here. I’m not letting her spoil this. I’ll make sure she stays gone.”

  “Stay,” I say. My eyebrows draw down in concern. I can’t say how I know, but I know if he walks away now, I might never have the courage to take the leap with him again. “Please,” I whisper. “Stay.”

  His jaw flexes. “I need to get her off my property before she breaks something,” he says, turning to leave me vulnerable and feeling abandoned. With the heat of his body and mouth stripped away, I’m left with only the cold night air and the smell of the animals sleeping in the barn. I creep to the door, watching Lucas storm toward Cynthia, who is using her high heel to bang on his door.

  “What the fuck?” asks Cynthia once Lucas is in front of her. “I can smell the pussy on you from here. Who are you with? Where is she? Where is she?” Cynthia yells again through clenched teeth. She emphasizes her words by shoving Lucas.

  I grip the door frame, fighting down my instinct to go out there and tell her to keep her hands off him. Why should I fight it though? She said she’s done with me, didn’t she? It’s not like she can fire me any more than she already has.

  Then again… If she realizes Lucas was with me, it wouldn’t be long before she would realize she could destroy everything between us by telling him I am the matchmaker he’s so disgusted by. Damn it.

  I still can’t believe I let myself fall into that situation without telling him. The only reason I came out here was to come clean and clear the air. I heard how angry he was and how sickened he was by the idea that someone had been listening and manipulating events. I thought maybe if I could just explain myself he could forgive me. After that? I hadn’t gotten that far, but I knew I’d never be able to look him in the eye again until I told the truth.

  Except I apparently had no problem letting him eat me out. Again. I lean forward, letting my forehead bump against the edge of the barn door. For someone who made a career out of helping people with relationships, I sure know how to make a mess of my own.

  I feel a wave of sickness pass over me. I can’t do this. I can’t let this happen, not when he doesn’t know the truth.

  I step out from the barn, clothes still in disarray. “It was me,” I say loudly.

  Cynthia rounds on me with a look so full of pure, fiery hate that I almost lose all my resolve and sink back into the shadows, but I don’t. I lick my lips, looking to Lucas, who is watching me with a curious expression.

  “I’m the matchmaker,” I say, unable to even meet Lucas’ eyes. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. It was too late, but that’s what I came here to say. The whole reason I’m in Wade’s Creek was to try to help Cynthia get back together with you. I’m so sorry, if you--”

  “No,” he says, jaw flexing.

  “You fucking bitch,” spits Cynthia. “I’m going to make sure you never work another fucking day in your life. You’re going to--”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Lucas snarls, he still hasn’t taken his eyes from me. “You’re going to do jack shit, Cynthia. Even if you had a tenth of the connections you think you have, you couldn’t stop her from getting a job. But you…” he says, taking a step toward me that makes me want to dig a hole in the ground, climb in, and never get out again. “I never want to see you again. Thought you could pull one over on some stupid ass country boy? Thought you’d just fuck around with me on the side then cash a check when it’s all over?”

  “No, Lucas,” I plead. My voice is weak and thick as the tears start to fall. “I didn’t know you were the one. I didn’t even know your real name until the festival, I--”

  He shakes his head. “I’m supposed to believe you took the job without so much as seeing a picture of me? Or knowing what nicknames I go by?”

  “I swear, I had no idea. I prefer to work blind, it’s more genuine.”

  “Except I gave her a folder full of information about you and pictures the first night she came to town,” says Cynthia in a tone of voice that says she thinks she has just put the final nail in my coffin.

  “Get off my property,” says Lucas.

  Cynthia flashes a wicked, satisfied little grin.

  “Both of you,” he growls.

  “Lucas--baby, let me come in and help you calm down.”

  “I don’t want to see either of you ever again. Especially on my property. Go.”

  I hang my head, walking back toward my car through the darkness, distantly hoping he’ll call after me once he’s calmed down a little and give me more of a chance to explain myself. But why should he? Why would he forgive me?

  Even if I didn’t know he was my client, I still agreed to manipulate a man into getting back with a woman he clearly didn’t want to get back in a relationship with. I deluded myself into thinking it wasn’t that different from what I normally do, but if I had taken a step back I would’ve seen it. There’s a huge difference between helping a woman overcome her self-confidence issues and get together with a guy who’s right for her and helping a conniving woman con an ex boyfriend into getting back together with her.

  “Pack your bags, little miss matchmaker. I know where you sleep, and thanks to you, I have nothing going on tonight,” Cynthia snaps.

  “Just stop,” I say, feeling overwhelmingly tired. “I’m leaving. I won’t be around to fuck up anybody’s life by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Good riddance,” she sniffs before hopping into her fancy little sports car. She nearly clips the fence in her hurry to drive off and spray me with gravel.

  “You’re going to have to be more specific,” says Amy.

  It’s the following morning and I’m grabbing a bagel at a place along the main strip of town, just a couple buildings down from Frank and Martha’s bed and breakfast. Amy agreed to come with me and even allowed me to drag my feet until now about telling her just how bad things with with Cynthia.

  “We’re not going to get paid,” I say, bracing myself for Amy’s disappointment. “Last night went… Well, you could say it went bad.”

  “Bad how?” she asks.

  I watch her, feeling a stab of unease when I see how slowly the truth is sinking in for her. That means it’s bad. Amy can be stubborn, and when confronted with something she doesn’t want to believe, the longer it takes to set in the harder it’s going to hit her.

  “Bad like… Lucas found the microphone and kicked her out. Then I drove up to his ranch and tried to come clean, but ended up in the barn with my dress around my waist, and... Basically if the date was a nuclear reactor, they would be evacuating everything within a fifty mile radius right now.”

  Realization creeps into Amy’s features piece by piece. Her lips pull down slightly at the edges. Her eyebrows sink. Her eyes turn to stare distantly at something on the ground. When she finally speaks again, her voice is quiet, nearly a whisper. “She fired us?”

  I spread my hands. “She didn’t say those exact words, but I think that would be a safe assumption.”

  Amy covers her face with her hands for a few moments, then slides her fingers through her hair. “My vacation?”

  “Probably not going to happen quite yet. I’m really sorry, Amy. I won’t make excuses. I
should’ve made this work. For both of us.”

  She blows out a long breath and softens her features before reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Hey, forget it. Seriously. I’m happy where we are, even if it feels like a struggle some days, we’re making it work. Right?”

  “Yeah,” I say, though I wish I sounded as convinced as she does.

  “It’s just too bad you don’t get to take Lucas home as a consolation prize.”

  I force a laugh. “Well. What do you say we grab our things from the bed and breakfast so I can get out of here before the embarrassment of all this really starts to set in.”

  “Oh would you stop it,” says Amy. “You tried your best to do your job, but the client was an ice bitch and no amount of skill was ever going to land her a guy, let alone a guy like Lucas. And so what if you got involved with him? You didn’t even know. Seriously. Just let yourself off the hook, even if they don’t.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I say with a sigh. “Either way, I think I just want to go home and get a big ass cupcake from that place on Seventh.”

  Amy’s eyes light up. “I knew there was a reason I loved working for you. Wait. I’m invited, right?”

  10

  Lucas

  She’s gone. I heard from Harriet when I went to Mavericks to grab a late lunch this afternoon. Mila and her assistant, Amy, picked up and left town a few hours ago. Shit. I don’t even have her number, I realize.

  I expected to feel nothing but relief at the news of her leaving. I thought it’d feel justified. After all, shouldn’t she have to leave? Shouldn’t I want the woman who manipulated me to have to get the hell out of town?

  I finish brushing down the horses and toss the brushes and buckets messily into the corner of the barn. Normally I’m meticulous, but right now I just feel pissed and confused. I know I shouldn’t want her back, but fuck it, I do. I want to feel her slight body shiver under my strong hands again. I want to taste that perfect pussy of hers and know she’s completely dialed in to my every move. I want to feel the sense of freedom that came every time I was near her.

  I want her back, but it’s too late. I let her go. I have no way to find her now and I’d have to be out of my goddamn mind to try. So I won’t. I’ll suck it up and move on, just like I did when dad died. Except this time the thing I want is still out there, within my reach, even if it wouldn’t be easy.

  What she did pissed me off, sure. But now that I’ve had a day to let the anger fade, I know it didn’t piss me off so much that I want to throw everything away.

  When I step outside the barn, the sun has just started to set behind the pines to the west. I see Cynthia’s car pulling up the dirt and gravel road to my ranch so fast she’s kicking up a plume of dust that must be visible for miles.

  “What now?” I mutter.

  She comes to a stop just as I’m reaching the front porch. I’m about to tell her she can fuck off just as fast as she came when I see the ugly bruises on her face. I may not like the woman, but seeing the bruises gets my attention, real fast.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  She steps out, keeping her distance and wringing her fingers together in an uncharacteristically meek way. Her eyeliner is stained and ruined from crying. “It was Ronnie. If he finds out I came here he’ll kill me. I know he will.”

  “Ronnie? My brother, Ronnie?” I ask incredulously.

  “Yes,” she says, breaking down into tears and falling to her knees. Her shoulders heave with every sob that comes. “I was dating him. Maybe I still am, I don’t even know. He’s the one who put me up to it. To trying to win you back, the matchmaker, all of it.”

  My hands tighten into fists. “What?”

  “He wanted me to marry you. He said the will your father left means you could’ve left the property to anyone you wanted. He’d get nothing if you died. But if you got married, it automatically went to your wife if anything happened.”

  “What was he going to do? Fucking kill me if I married you?”

  “Yes,” she says, bending lower as another round of sobs comes to her.

  I take a step back, feeling light-headed as I fall to the porch. “He’d kill me for this?” I ask.

  “Or worse. I think… I don’t know if he was serious, but he thought I was unconscious and he was talking to his guys. It sounded like they were thinking if they used Mila as leverage, you might just give him what he wanted.”

  “He threatened Mila?”

  Cynthia nods.

  “Where is he now?”

  “Aren’t you even pissed that he hit me? I mention that little tramp’s name and suddenly you care?”

  “Jesus, Cynthia. Mila could be in danger right now and you’re worried about whether I care that he hit you? Of course I fucking care, but I’m worried about protecting Mila now. If I hadn’t been such an asshole she’d be here right now instead of on her own God knows where while my psychopath brother goes looking for her.”

  “An asshole?” asks Cynthia, who is regaining some of her regular, bitchy composure. “Did you forget the part where she wired me up with microphones and was whispering things in my ear to say to you? That she agreed to set me up with you for money?”

  “No, but if I’m going to be pissed at anyone for that it should be you. I was a stranger when she agreed to the job. At least she came clean. The only reason I found anything out from you was because I caught you. And you were going to try to fucking marry me so my brother could kill me off and take my property?”

  “He wouldn’t have ever gone through with it,” says Cynthia quickly. She scrambles toward me on her knees to grip the bottom of my shirt like a beaten dog. “I only agreed to it because I always wanted to be with you. I still want to be with you, Lucas. You’re the only real man I’ve ever been with and I should have never left.”

  I grimace down at her, feeling nothing but pity. No words that come to mind are productive, so I bite them all down. “Go see a doctor,” I say. “Make sure he didn’t break something. I have to go find Mila. Where does she live?”

  Cynthia lets go of my shirt and sinks back to sit on her heels. “Why should I tell you where she lives? So you can go fuck her again? So you can come back here smelling like pussy?”

  “Fuck it,” I growl. “I’ll find her myself.”

  I hop in my truck with nothing but my wallet, my phone, and the clothes on my back, and I head for the city.

  11

  Mila

  I idly tap through the new messages in my inbox, occasionally glancing out the window behind me at the dreary view from my office. It was only yesterday that Amy and I left Ward’s Creek, but everything that happened there is already taking on a sort of haze, like it was something out of a dream--and at times, a nightmare.

  I woke with chills in the middle of the night because I thought I felt Lucas’ protective hand sliding around my waist, but it was just me, alone once again.

  “Stop looking so gloomy,” groans Amy. “This is going to be torture if you just mope around for the rest of your life. I don’t want to be insensitive, but I mean c’mon. Why don’t we go get drinks or something?”

  I give Amy a dry look. “It has barely been twenty-four hours. Isn’t there some kind of two day moping allowance or something? I thought I saw that in the girl code manual.”

  Amy rolls her eyes. “I must’ve lost my copy, because as far as I’m concerned, there are thousands of perfectly good, waving dicks walking around right outside. As we speak,” she adds. “The best recipe for a breakup is always a rebound.”

  “I don’t believe in rebounds,” I say, looking back to the computer and checking an email from a prospective client. Twenty-seven year old virgin female with anxiety disorder.

  “I don’t believe in ghosts, but I still get the heebie jeebies every time I walk by a graveyard at night.”

  “I really don’t see how that’s remotely the same thing.”

  “Doesn’t matter. The point is we’re going to walk away from the comp
uter, go downstairs, get a couple drinks in you, and find you the perfect dick.”

  “I’ll take you up on the first three parts,” I say reluctantly, closing the laptop. “But I’m serious. No rebounds. The last thing I need to feel better is another guy. Besides,” I say a little bitterly. “Another guy would just remind me how perfect Lucas was compared to anyone else.”

  “Oh barf,” Amy says. “Promise me you’re not going to get all sappy for him if I get you drunk.”

  “No promises.”

  We’ve only made it a few steps outside when a tingling at the back of my neck makes me turn to look down the sidewalk. Despite the crowded street full of men and women, I see him right away. I see the cowboy hat, the tall, broad frame, and most of all those piercing eyes looking straight into me.

  “Lucas…” I breathe.

  “Would you--” Amy starts, but she stops short when she turns to see what I see.

  “Mila,” he says, rushing in to wrap his arms around me, not caring how we must look embracing in the middle of the street. “You’re safe.”

  “Safe?” I ask, feeling like I’m swept up in a whirlwind of confusing emotions. “Shouldn’t I be?”

  “You are now. I shouldn’t have let you leave, darlin’. I should’ve never let you leave.”

  “Damn right,” says Amy, who I had forgotten was standing just a few inches away.

  “Some privacy?” I say, shooting her a get lost glare.

  She makes a lewd gesture at me--inserting her index finger over and over into a circle made by her other hand--then heads off in the direction of the bar a few blocks over.

  I pull back enough to look up into his eyes. “I’m just having trouble making sense of all this.”