Ready For You Page 4

  Five minutes later, I was staring at the same report, and I hadn’t made any progress.

  Mia was back. My mind couldn’t get past that, and I was having a hard time processing what I would do now that she was back in my life.

  Was she back in my life?

  Did I want her to be?

  I looked at the clock. Thirty minutes had passed.

  Fuck.

  Leah had seemed to think it was simple. Mia was back, and I was here. We were both single—although Mia had never confirmed that fact—and we had history.

  Leah had said, See? Easy, Goober!

  No, not easy.

  Mia wasn’t some teenage crush. She was the one, and I’d spent my entire adult life trying to convince my heart otherwise—without any luck. Losing her once had left me a shell of what I had once been. Losing her again would utterly destroy me.

  Would I be willing to take the risk if I were offered it? If Mia could be mine again, would I take it?

  “What do you mean, she’s gone?” I asked, my voice sounding hoarse from the shock.

  “She’s gone, Mr. Finnegan,” Mia’s mother said coldly.

  “Where did she go? I need to find her. I’ll go after her.”

  “I’m sorry. She made her intentions clear when she left. She does not want you to know her whereabouts, and she said to give you this.”

  She handed me a folded note. I opened it to see Mia’s handwriting, and I read through it quickly.

  My eyes flew up to Mrs. Emerson. “She can’t mean this. She would never do this.”

  “I don’t think you know our daughter very well, Mr. Finnegan. Good night.”

  No, I couldn’t do it. She’d betrayed me, betrayed us. No matter how much my heart and body still wanted her, I could never forget that.

  A knock pulled me out of my thoughts, and I saw Kara, another sales executive, standing in my door. She was dressed down today since it was a Saturday, but she still looked put together in a flowery summer dress and sandals.

  “I see you’re burning the figurative midnight oil as well?” she said.

  “Funny thing, when you start working sixty-plus hours a week, they start regularly giving you that much more work.”

  “I know, right? I’m fairly certain I didn’t have this much to start with, and I was working fifty hours then.”

  Kara had been stopping by my office, casually flirting, for a couple of months now. She’d just gotten out of a serious relationship, and I bet she was thinking I’d be the perfect follow-up.

  I’m not.

  But then, I remembered seeing Mia and how she had moved back into town and had purposely tried to avoid me. As I remembered the night when I’d sat on that street corner in the rain, clutching that god-awful letter, while screaming in agony with no one to cling to for support as my entire world was crumbling down, I decided I needed a clean break.

  Maybe Kara could be my break—or maybe not, but I wouldn’t know if I didn’t try.

  Looking up at her as she was talking to me about her upcoming trip to Charlotte, I noticed she was incredibly pretty. It wasn’t something I’d ever bothered taking note of before. I didn’t know why, but everyone who worked here was good-looking. It wasn’t written in our job requirements, but pharmaceutical reps tended to be on the hot side. It certainly never hurt our sales. With golden brown hair and chocolate eyes, she had a sweet and trusting look to her.

  “Hey, Kara, do you want to go out to dinner with me tonight?” I asked suddenly, interrupting her midsentence.

  Her stunned look gave way to a dazzling smile. “I’d love to, Garrett.”

  “Great. Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Four

  ~Mia~

  I was not a fan of hospitals, specifically the department I was headed toward, but I needed a job. I couldn’t sit around anymore, and I didn’t like depleting my hard-earned savings account like a bum.

  Somehow, in the last two weeks, I’d managed to interview for the position in the hospital, get the job, and move into my new house. Between learning everything that went into my new job and trying not to panic that I was now a first-time homeowner, I was exhausted.

  “Hey, Mia,” Leah said, greeting me as I took my spot at the nurses’ station.

  We didn’t always have shifts together since she was only part-time, but I did enjoy seeing her. We had become fast friends, especially now that I knew she wasn’t Garrett’s wife. It definitely helped that I didn’t want to rip off her head.

  “Hi Leah. How are you? Did Lily get over her cold?” I asked.

  During her last shift a few days ago, she’d mentioned that her daughter had come down with a cold, and she had hated having to leave her at home.

  “Oh, yes, she’s doing much better. Daddy, however, is miserable.”

  “Your husband got it?”

  “Oh, yes, and let me tell you, men are giant pains in the asses when they are sick.”

  I laughed while listening to her plunge into all the craziness she’d been through during her husband’s “horrific illness”.

  “And I told him, ‘If Lily, the baby, can get over the cold, I’m sure you can suffer through.’”

  “What did he say?” I asked, trying to imagine Leah’s super-hot husband sick and cuddled up on the couch.

  I’d recently found out that she was married to Declan James, the ex-actor turned movie director. I’d forgotten he had moved to Richmond. Hearing her talk about a guy I’d seen in several of my favorite films was weird.

  “He told me that it was much worse for him because he’s bigger. He then tried his best to convince me he needed to be taken care of by his sexy wife. Sponge baths and thigh-highs were encouraged.”

  I snorted out a laugh, and Leah left to make her rounds.

  Working closely with a member of Garrett’s family, even if she wasn’t related, was turning out better than I had expected. I had worried that she would try to set us up or delve into my personal life right away, asking if I was seeing anyone or wanting to rekindle my relationship with Garrett. But since starting here, she hadn’t said a word. I felt like she was actually getting to know me for me, rather than acknowledging me only because of the ties that bound us. It would be nice to have another friend.

  “Hi,” a quiet voice said, pulling me from the list I was working on.

  A young woman, probably in her early twenties, was standing before me, leaning against the counter. Her belly protruded in front of her, and she was rocking from side to side, breathing in and out. Dark blonde hair was thrown up into a haphazard bun on the top of her head, and sweat was trickling down her forehead.

  “Hi. Do you need something? Can I get your nurse?”

  I’d seen this particular woman walking the halls when I came in earlier. I’d learned it was common practice for women to do that during labor. As long as they hadn’t had an epidural, which made it impossible for them to leave the bed, they were free to move about the cabin. Several of the nurses had told me that walking could help alleviate some of the pain.

  “No, no, I’m fine. It would just be nice to have someone to talk to, if you aren’t too busy?” she asked, looking down at my printed spreadsheet.

  I put it aside and gave her a reassuring smile. “No, I’m not too busy. How are you feeling?” I asked, knowing she probably felt like crap.

  “Oh, well, I’ve been better, but it’s not as bad as I thought it would be—at least not yet. I’m Tessa,” she said.

  “Amelia, but you can call me Mia,” I answered back, surprising myself. After hearing it so often now, I guessed it wasn’t so hard to acknowledge anymore. “Do you have anyone here with you?”

  She shook her head as a single tear ran down her cheek. “Nope, it’s just me.”

  “Well, now, you have me.”

  Over the next fifteen minutes, Tessa told me about her pregnancy—the joys, the sorrows, and the hard decisions. “I never thought I’d be having a child alone, but I knew I didn’t want to give her up.�
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  “It’s a girl?” I asked, my voice quivering a bit.

  “Yeah, that’s what they tell me. The first time I saw her on the ultrasound, I knew I’d never be able to look away again, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Three hours later, Tessa gave birth to a beautiful baby girl named Beth. I was able to visit before they took Beth up to the nursery. The baby was beautiful, and her mother was beaming.

  “Nothing quite like it, is there?” Leah said as I returned to the nurses’ station.

  “No,” I answered.

  “I still can’t believe that little thing went natural. I was sure she would cave at the last minute and claw me to death, asking for an epidural. God knows I did.”

  “Maybe she had something to prove. To herself, to the world? Being all alone, she didn’t have anyone with her to hold her hand,” I said.

  “You’re right. Those mothers are usually the strongest of us all. She’s going to do just fine, I think.”

  “I sure hope so.”

  “Holy shit! What happened to your leg?” she asked, leaning halfway over the desk for a closer inspection of my leg which was peeking out from the desk.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” I answered, trying to tuck my legs back under the work space. I attempted to pull my pant leg back down to cover the angry-looking bruise.

  “That doesn’t look like nothing.”

  “I’m installing new floors in my house. I was ripping up the old wood, and I lost my balance and control of the crowbar. I kind of whacked my leg with it. It hurts by the way, if you were thinking of trying it.”

  “Looks like it. That’s a mother of a bruise. You’re redoing the floors of your house…by yourself? Why?”

  “Well, my house is a fixer-upper, and I’m trying to do it on the cheap.”

  “Is it worth your limbs?” She arched a brow in question.

  “I still have all my limbs!” I protested.

  “Yeah, for now, but come next week, you’re going to be coming in here, spouting blood everywhere. I won’t know how to fix you because I only deal with vajayjays. You need some help.”

  Famous last words.

  ~Garrett~

  There was this song by The Offspring called “Bad Habit.” In middle school, my friends and I would listen to it because it had about half a million curse words in it. We’d sneak the CD into my room, play it on my stereo, and pretend like we knew how to headbang. We would mouth the lyrics instead of singing the words out loud because we were too afraid of facing the wrath of my mother. Soap would have been involved in my punishment for sure.

  As I pulled up to the curb of Mia’s newly purchased house in a neighborhood that was blocks away from my own, the profanity in my internal monologue was putting that song to shame. I noticed right away that the front of her house looked like a construction zone with piles of wood near the alley dumpster and boxes of new wood on the porch.

  “Fuck,” I cursed out loud just to make sure I was hearing what my brain was screaming.

  Why was I here?

  Because I was the nice guy.

  I was the guy who had heard his ex-girlfriend had bashed in her shins while trying to take out her hardwood floors and came to help.

  Had she asked? Nope.

  Did she know I was coming? No.

  I was here because I was a glutton for punishment.

  Intent on moving on, I’d taken Kara out that Saturday after I ran into Mia at the farmers’ market. I was done. I’d wasted eight years of my life waiting for—what? For her to come back? For closure? I didn’t know what the hell I had been waiting for, but by the time I figured it out, I could be the ninety-year-old crazy cat man who no one wanted to visit.

  So, Kara and I had gone to one of my favorite local spots, and we’d had a good time. We’d talked and commiserated over work and our summer plans, and then…nothing. I had walked her to her car, and I could see that expectant look on her face. She’d wanted more, and God, I’d wanted to give it to her, but I just couldn’t. I had looked into her eyes, and they were all wrong. Mia had intensely blue eyes, almost bordering on aquamarine, and the deep brown of Kara’s eyes had just mocked me, reminding me of what I’d lost. I’d realized I wasn’t ready to move on. I’d told her that I had a great time and that I would see her on Monday. That had left her in a stunned and bewildered state as she stood by her car in the middle of the parking lot.

  I’d made excuses every time Kara asked me to lunch or out for drinks. I’d been trying to dodge any more awkward exchanges. There was a reason I would give a different name to the few scattered women I’d taken home from bars over the years. I couldn’t stand the thought of hearing another woman whisper my name before our lips touched or call out my name as I made love to her. I’d only made love to one woman, only heard one woman say my name as I came inside her, and even though I needed to, I never wanted to change that fact.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her. Wearing cutoff shorts that barely covered her ass and a tank top that exposed her tanned skin, she bent over to drop a pile of lumber in the already accumulating pile in her front yard. I was moving before my brain could even register it. She looked up and caught my gaze just before I closed the car door. We both stood there, frozen in place, unable to look away.

  It was me who took the first step forward. I walked across the street until I was in front of her, closer than I’d been in eight years. If I reached out, I could touch her, tuck that stray hair behind her ear, or show her exactly what was racing through my mind as I watched her nervously bite her lip.

  “Hi,” she said hesitantly.

  “Hey.” Yep, that was a good start. I was the master of small talk.

  She looked at me expectantly, and I realized I should probably explain why I was there.

  “Leah said that you banged up your leg pretty bad while ripping out your floors the other day. I thought you might need a hand.” I shifted awkwardly and ran my fingers through my hair, unsure of what to do with my hands. I wanted to touch her, yet I didn’t. I’d never had a conversation without touching her, and now, I felt twitchy and unnatural.

  “You talk about me?” she asked.

  “Oh, uh…I mean, Leah mentioned you the other day when I went over to her house for dinner. But I didn’t ask about you,” I said. Ouch, that hadn’t come out the way I meant it to.

  Judging from the way her eyes widened and dodged mine for a moment, I gathered she had taken it exactly how it had come out.

  This was going fan-fucking-tastic.

  “Look, do you want help or not?” I asked in frustration.

  “No, I’m fine. Thank you.” Her arms were crossed, and she looked pissed.

  Well, that made two of us.

  The never-ending stream of curse words started up in my head again, and I was seriously ready to just say, Fuck it, and leave. But then, she turned slightly, and I saw the bruise on her leg along with the Band-Aids on her hands and arms. Mia was never one for grace. She could trip over her own two feet.

  “I’m not leaving. Get your ass back inside.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but I stopped her, placing my finger on her lips. It was the first contact we’d had since she walked away from me all those years ago. The heat from her soft lips seared my skin, and I heard her gasp from the contact.

  Our eyes locked as I said, punctuating each word, “I’m. Not. Leaving. Understand?”

  She nodded her head in agreement, and we both turned to make our way inside. I rubbed my hands together, trying to savor the warmth I’d felt from her mouth, but it quickly disappeared—just like her.

  There wasn’t much in the way of furniture. A red couch was tucked in the corner, still covered in plastic. It was obviously new. A table that looked like it had seen quite a number of years and a couple of chairs sat in the kitchen.

  “There isn’t much yet. I’m waiting to get more furniture until the floors down here are done,” she said before turning around.

&n
bsp; “Why did you get such a big house in the first place?” I asked, giving an appraising glare.

  This was supposed to be our thing—buying an old house and fixing it up. We had planned to do this together. While on the phone or cuddled up together on the hood of my car as we looked up to the stars, we used to talk for hours about what kind of house we wanted and what we’d do to it.

  This was our dream, not hers.

  “Uh…I don’t know. It was all I could afford.”

  Bullshit.

  “So, where do you want me?”

  “What?” she asked, suddenly flustered.

  “Put me to work, Mia. That’s why I’m here.” I tried not to laugh at her reaction to my words. It was good to know I could still ruffle those stuck-up little feathers of hers. God knows I’d spent a good part of my teenage years doing so.

  “Hey,” I whispered, leaning forward in my desk chair.

  Nothing.

  “Hey,” I muttered softly. This time, I took a piece of binder paper, wadded it up, and tossed it at her head.

  That had gotten her attention as she let out an audible gasp and turned around in her seat to face me.

  “What do you want?” she asked coldly.

  Brr…

  “Your name. I want your name.”

  “Why?”

  “So, I know what to call you on our date,” I answered with a sly grin.

  I’d been watching this girl in my homeroom class ever since the first day of school two weeks ago. She’d come from a different middle school, so I had no idea who she was, but the second I’d seen her, I’d wanted to know her.

  “We are not going on a date!” she scoffed.

  “Of course we are, and I can’t ask you out on a second one if we don’t go on a first. See where I’m going with this?” I replied back.