8 Brand-New Romance Authors. Avril Tremayne
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I can’t stay in here or else I’m going to be pushing you aside so that I can puke. Call me if you need something.”
Minutes later, she finally pulled herself away from the toilet, having dispensed of everything and then some. Desperately needing water, she made her way to the kitchen. Josh had such a nice place for a guy. Of course, she had helped with most of it. He’d wanted the apartment to have a woman’s touch without having to invest in a relationship that came attached to a woman.
As she rounded the corner to the kitchen, Josh came into view. Their gazes locked. An onslaught of images from last night’s impromptu but very passionate kiss returned to the forefront of her mind. Heat rushed from her toes to the top of her head with lightning speed. She could feel the crimson flush as it stretched across her face, down her neck and across her chest.
Micah could see it in his eyes. He was thinking about the kiss, too. She should look away, but she couldn’t. His steel-gray eyes held her captive. She allowed herself to break the eye contact for just a moment, taking in his fire-station tee and the way it left little to the imagination. Her eyes traveled back up to his and he quickly looked away.
He stood behind the black granite countertop making coffee, the delicious-smelling aroma pulling her from her overheated thoughts. Without having to ask, he handed her a cup as well as a bottle of water. He knew her so well.
“Sorry about last night.” She cringed as the words spilled out of her mouth, her voice sounding more like a croak. Sorry seemed like such an inadequate word to cover all her transgressions. She was mortified at the boundaries she had crossed.
She sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around the modern handleless coffee cup, and absorbed its warmth. Sending up a quick but heartfelt prayer, she hoped that her actions from last night had not done any permanent damage to their relationship.
“Don’t mention it.” He was busy with something in the kitchen, she couldn’t tell what from her spot.
Micah tried to make sense of everything. Some fogginess still resided from her drunken haze, clouding her mind. She struggled to separate dream from reality. But regardless, the kiss she’d initiated was bold and clear. Nothing about that was clouded.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Josh snapped at her.
“Like what? I’m not looking at you.”
“Yes, you are. It’s weirding me out. Stop.”
So he was going to avoid the issue at hand. Good. She didn’t want to talk about it, anyway.
Plopping down across from her at the table, he poured half the box of cereal into what appeared to be a small mixing bowl.
“I have no idea what you are talking about. Jeez! You gonna save me any?”
“It’s my cereal. I can eat it all if I want to.”
“You’d do that to your guest?” Her head was pounding and this conversation wasn’t helping. Eating might not be such a good idea, anyway.
“Guest? Um...you left me no choice. You were obliterated last night. If you hadn’t lost your purse, I would have happily taken you to your own place.”
She looked up from her coffee and immediately regretted the quick movement. The room began to spin again. She needed to lie back down, not argue about cereal.
It was his way of avoiding an embarrassing conversation. The cereal was unimportant.
“You’ve got something—” He waved his hand over his cheek.
Puzzled, she waited for him to finish.
“You’ve got—” He reached out. Her body went rigid as his hand touched her cheek. Then he ripped something off her face. “It’s an eyelash from last night.”
After flicking the wayward false eyelashes onto the table, he turned his attention back to his cereal.
She was still locked out of her apartment, so this place would have to do for now, at least until this feeling of being on a rocking ship subsided.
“Josh, I need to lie back down. I don’t feel so good.” Her bare feet shuffled against the old hardwood floors as she made her way back to his room. The smell of last night’s bar still clung to her shirt: the smoke, the booze, the other miscellaneous smells that went along with a pub. “And I’m stealing a T-shirt.”
“Why not? You’ve taken over everything else.”
Slipping out of her clothes, she pulled on a vintage band tee she found in his dresser, relishing in the way the cool cotton felt against her warm skin. She dove under the covers and buried her head in the pillow. The unsettling feeling of being surrounded by Josh washed over her, his scent clawing her senses. She had helped him pick out the fragrance, too. Even in her tequila haze she could easily pull out the notes of bergamot, Douglas fir and citrus. It was him, completely him.
Until now, she had not realized just how much his scent had affected her. Memory of last night’s kiss teased her senses once again. She buried herself deeper, needing more of it, needing more of him.
When had this happened? When had she stopped looking at Josh as a friend or a brother? She was positive this kind of traitorous behavior was punishable by death. One did not simply move on from a deceased boyfriend to his best friend, even if a significant amount of time had passed. And it definitely wasn’t wise to start feeling this kind of desire for a man who thought of you as a sister.
Although that kiss said differently. Sleep claimed her before she was able to analyze and gain answers to the questions that now troubled her.
* * *
Josh had been worried about her last night. Micah tended to bottle her emotions until the contents were so compressed that the explosion that followed was a grand display of red flames and fireworks.
And that was exactly what he got. He just hadn’t expected it to be in the form of an earth-shattering kiss. A huge part of him wanted to smile, to relish in the excitement of finally being able to kiss the one girl who had always been out of his reach. But the moment he allowed that excitement to build, it was swallowed up by betrayal and guilt.
She had been drunk out of her mind. He thought for sure that she wouldn’t remember a thing, but he had been wrong. She remembered all right, judging by the way her face had turned a beautiful shade of pink when she saw him.
It had been a mistake.
The grief she had been experiencing recently was bound to make her do something stupid and out of control. Clearly that was what had happened last night.
But if that had been the result of her depression, enough was enough. He couldn’t stand any more of this. He should have talked with her sooner, done something sooner. But what? What did you tell your best friend who after ten years fell back into mourning the loss of her boyfriend? If there was a self-help book, he would have bought it by now. He hated seeing her unhappy, but she was her own worst enemy. She was the one keeping herself from happiness—real happiness, not the contrived happiness she had been living with for the last decade. She was only fooling herself. She deserved more than this.
And he definitely couldn’t handle this latest development. He was wound too tight.
When she’d walked into the kitchen this morning with her rumpled clothes, her curls going in every direction and a false eyelash stuck to her cheek, everything in him had wanted to continue what they had started the night before.
The moment her eyes met his and he felt the embarrassment she felt, he’d known he was being foolish. It could never, ever happen. He set his mind back on course, but the frustration and tension were too difficult to ignore. Instead of pushing her against the counter and kissing her the way he wanted to, he’d snapped at her and argued over cereal.
Josh shook his head. Apparently, this was how he was going to handle this situation: by being a grouch and pissing her off. Great idea, Josh. Real brilliant.
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