Kira Sinclair - Up In Flames

No, obviously they hadn’t. But her anger now had a new direction, and the minute she was finished here they were both going to get a serious tongue lashing. The men in her life were all oblivious morons.

“I’m—” his gaze pulled away, focusing on the sky behind her “—taking a couple months off.”

There was a story there. Six years ago she would have asked for an explanation. Today she didn’t want to care, so she kept her mouth shut.

The smile he flashed her was without any of the humor that usually lit his face. “Came home to spend some time with Mom. Your dad’s letting me pick up some shifts at the station.”

Oh, goody.

Lola nodded, because what else was she supposed to do? “Well, good luck with that.” Hooking her thumb over her shoulder, she said, “I’m just gonna go...”

“...do anything that gets you far away from me.”

“You said it, not me.”

“That doesn’t make it untrue.”

She shrugged. He wasn’t wrong, but her mother had raised her to be too polite to say so.

Putting one foot behind the other, she slowly backed away a short distance before he said, “You look good, Lola. I... I really am glad we ran into each other.”

Was he serious? Lola stared at him for several seconds, searching his face before she realized that he was. Which made the anger bubbling up inside her finally burst free.

“Did you take a hit to the head, Erik? You act like I haven’t been right here for the past six years, exactly where you left me when you ran away. Ran away when my brother was lying in a hospital bed, broken and bleeding.”

“Because I put him there.” Erik’s gruff voice whispered over her, a swell of words that made her insides quake with the memories of those horrible days following Colt’s accident.

“You’re right. You did.” The accusation she’d wanted to scream at him for so long fell between them like a whisper through a quiet church.

But she didn’t feel any better. In fact, the ache in her chest felt worse.

“That, right there, is why I left. I could see it every time you looked at me.”

“See what?”

“Blame.” His stark expression ripped through her. And she’d be lying if she didn’t acknowledge the small part of her that wanted to reach out to him and offer him comfort.

But he was right. She did blame him. For so many things.

A blast of childlike laughter startled her as a couple of kids darted through the corner of the parking lot several feet away.

No, she wasn’t having this conversation here, now. It wasn’t the time.

“Whatever.” Lola started to take a step back again. “It’s ancient history and no longer matters.”

“Lo.” Sean walked up next to her, startling her as he flung an arm around her waist again. This time, she didn’t correct him when his fingers swept dangerously close to her ass.

Erik’s gaze narrowed, taking in the familiarity and comfort of Sean’s embrace. She couldn’t help delighting in his reaction.

But mostly she just wanted this encounter to end.

“I saved you a steak, but I can’t fend off the vultures forever.”

“Great,” she said, looking up into his open expression.

Sean flashed her a smile, understanding and concern running beneath the surface. He squeezed at her hip, reassurance she didn’t need but appreciated. Why couldn’t she want him?

Holding out his other hand, Sean waited for Erik to shake it. “Erik, good to see you back, man. Thanks for picking up that shift for me. I really appreciate it.”

Without waiting for a response, Sean swung them around, leading her in the direction of the pavilion. “Thanks,” she murmured.

“Anything you need, beautiful. I’m your guy.”

God, why couldn’t that be true? Even now, she could feel the tingle of energy crackling across her skin. The fine hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. Not because Sean was touching her, but because she could feel Erik’s gaze raking down her spine.

He’d always had that effect on her. On her body. Lola couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t wanted him. From the moment she’d discovered that boys were beautiful instead of gross, Erik McKnight had been the source of all her fantasies.

And apparently, not even Erik stomping on her heart was enough to halt her bone-deep reaction.

Lola fought the urge to glance back over her shoulder. Nope, she was stronger than that.

Or she wanted to be, because her body was still in a riot, even from the brief physical contact of his hard chest and muscled thighs.

Damn him for making her ache in a way no one else ever had.

* * *

“HERE, I THINK you need this.” A day after running into Erik, Hope Harper plunked a shot glass down onto the table in front of Lola, spilling the amber liquid.

She wasn’t wrong. “I shouldn’t.”

“Seriously, Lola, every girl deserves the numbness of alcohol when the ex unexpectedly shows up,” Tatum Huntley drawled. She’d know, considering not long ago her husband returned from the dead after three years.

Picking up the glass, Lola took a deep breath, slammed the drink back and came up sputtering.

“Holy shit. I thought that was rum or something. Why would you give me cinnamon whiskey?”

Lexi Newcomb plopped back into her seat across the table. “I thought you liked cinnamon.”

Lola did, but not when she wasn’t expecting that kind of burn.

Looking at the women surrounding her, she was grateful that the minute she’d called on her friends they’d dropped everything to come ply her with alcohol and provide sound advice.

She definitely needed both right now.

“So, you literally turned around and ran straight into him?”

Lola wiped her hands down her face, hoping to erase the memory with the gesture. It didn’t work. But her body was starting to feel warm—even warmer than memories of Erik usually left her—and some of the tension she’d been fighting since yesterday was easing out of her muscles.

“Yeah. Sean rescued me, not that I needed rescuing.”

“Of course not,” Hope said, patting her hand.

“Sean, huh?” The speculative look that Tatum passed across the table didn’t do much to settle Lola’s nerves.

“Nope, don’t go there.”

Easing back in her chair, her friend crossed her arms over her chest and raised a single eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because the last thing I need is to encourage Sean. He’s been trying to get me into bed for months.”

“And remind me, why have you resisted?” Tatum asked. “He’s hot, has a reputation for knowing exactly what he’s doing in the bedroom, and you haven’t exactly been burning up the sheets lately.”

“Or ever,” Willow Warwick tacked on in her soft way. That didn’t quite kill Lola’s twinge of embarrassment and annoyance—at herself. Her friends weren’t wrong.

“We’re not suggesting you become the Sweetheart slut, honey,” Lexi said. “But there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun now and again. A girl has needs.”

Yeah, right. That was easy for them to say. They all had amazing husbands who were perfectly capable of meeting every one of their needs. They didn’t remember how difficult it was to be single.

Lola looked around the table at the women staring earnestly back at her. Lexi she’d known almost all her life—their dads had been friends forever. Tatum had moved to Sweetheart several years ago. Lola had known Hope and Willow before, but they’d never been real friends.

Not until she’d moved back after college and opened her studio on Main Street, right down from Lexi’s, Willow’s and Tatum’s shops and the newspaper office where Hope worked. In the past few years, they’d become so close that it felt like these women had always been a part of her life.