Happy Crazy Love Boxed Set Read online

“Yes. But not after a night’s sleep. The bars close late in New York, as you know, so if I worked till close, sometimes the sun was coming up by the time I got off. But it didn’t look like this. Or sound like this or feel like this.” I inhaled, the scent of dark roast coffee mixing with the fresh, woodsy air. “Or even smell like this.”

  Nodding, he sat in the other chair. “The sunrise in the city is definitely different than it is out here.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes, and I tried—I really tried—not to bombard him with personal questions right away. But there was just so much I wanted to know about him! Everything from What do you like to eat for breakfast to What do you write about in that notebook to What did you mean last night that you wanted to make me yours to Are you ready for another round?

  But I didn’t want to spook him too soon, and anyway, it was nice just sitting here. I could get used to this.

  Whoa. Whoa there.

  Somewhere inside me, rational sense suddenly spoke up. You just spent your first night together, so don’t go getting all attached to him or this or anything else. He already told you he moved here to get away and doesn’t want a serious relationship, so don’t go thinking one night of great sex was going to change his mind about that. You are not a special snowflake. I lifted my cup to my lips.

  “No frowning at sunrise.”

  I sipped and smiled at him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to. I was just thinking too hard.”

  “Bout what?”

  Inhale. Exhale. “About last night.”

  A dark look crossed his face, and he looked out into the trees. “It was too much for you.”

  “No! No, not at all. I liked it.”

  “Did you?” He studied me.

  It was cool on the porch, but my body warmed. “I loved it, actually.” I dropped my eyes to my coffee. “I’ve never done that before.”

  “Me either.”

  I looked up, surprised. “No? My God, you knew exactly what you were doing! You seemed so sure of yourself.”

  “I know how to tie a good knot. And I’d certainly thought about doing it plenty of times.” He looked away from me for a second. “I’ve just never met anyone I felt comfortable enough to do it with.”

  “Not even your fiancée?” I couldn’t resist.

  “Especially not her.”

  Oh my God, what did that mean? I was trying to work it out in my brain when he reached over and tugged on the sheet. “Hey. Stop analyzing. Last night was fun. Let’s leave it at that.”

  What? Was he fucking kidding? I couldn’t leave it at fun! What about all the things we’d said? Didn’t they mean anything? “But—“

  “No buts. Come here.”

  A little frustrated, I got up, coffee and sheet and all, and went over to his chair, where he opened his arms and motioned for me to sit onto his lap. His chest was warm, and I leaned back against it, trying not to feel disappointed that he wasn’t going to tell me anything else.

  And then the notebook at our feet caught my eye.

  “So you really like that notebook, huh? Are you a writer too?” I ventured.

  “No. Not really.”

  “I noticed you have it with you a lot.”

  He hesitated. “It’s part of my therapy.”

  “Oh.” I paused for a sip of coffee, wishing I could see his face. Could I keep asking or was I pushing it? “Like a journal?”

  “Sort of.”

  And that was it. We talked a little about the reunion and the job at the winery he wanted me to apply for, but nothing more personal. When our cups were empty, Sebastian offered to refill them, and I stood. He kissed my cheek. “You’re even prettier with no makeup on. Do you know that?”

  I blushed. “Thank you. I appreciate the things you left out for me in the bathroom. You do that for all your dates?”

  “Stop it. I’ve never had a woman here, Skylar. You’re the first.”

  As I watched him go inside, the thought of another woman here with him struck me with a jealousy so fierce it knocked the wind out of my chest. Shit. I really liked him. I wanted this. Why wouldn’t he talk to me? I looked down at the notebook again, the powerful urge to peek inside it overwhelming me.

  No. Don’t do it.

  But when I heard the bathroom door open and shut, I acted without hesitation. I wanted to know—was he feeling anything like I was? Was he just too reticent to tell me? Crouching down, I flipped quickly to the last page and looked to see what he’d written. My heart was already beating madly when I saw my name.

  Skylar

  You fall softly

  like snow

  mine

  I read through the words on the page quickly, gooseflesh covering my skin, and when I didn’t hear the door open again, I read through it once more, savoring the words this time. Tears welled in my eyes—I did want to gather the broken pieces of him close to me. But what did he mean by my “foolish” heart? Was he saying I was dumb to think this could work?

  I flipped back a couple pages and the word kissing. As I began to read, my stomach churned.

  I’m kissing her. We’re on the couch, and she’s sitting beside me. My hands are in her hair, and it occurs to me that I could have the urge to put my hands on her neck and squeeze her throat, cutting off her air. I am weak and will give in to this urge. I pull back from the kiss and she smiles at me. I wrap my hands around her throat and watch the confusion come over her face, her blue eyes widening in concern. She is vulnerable and helpless and trusting. Helpless to control the impulse, I squeeze hard, so that she cannot breathe. Her pale complexion purples as she struggles to breathe, and her eyes are terrified. In a moment, it’s done. I’ve crushed the life out of this beautiful creature, and I deserve to die for it.

  The screen door opened. “What the fuck?”

  I jumped up, my face burning hot, my skin prickling with shame. “Oh god, Sebastian. I’m sorry, I—“

  “Godammit, Skylar. This is personal.” He set the cups on the wood floor so hard coffee sloshed over the edges and picked up the notebook, which was still open to the page I’d read. As he glanced at it, his complexion darkened. “Fuck. Fuck!”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, tears spilling over. “I just wanted to know how you felt and you won’t tell me. But…what is that stuff about choking someone?” Those words…what the hell was that about? Was it some kind of fantasy? Or was it therapy?

  He slammed the notebook shut and stared at me. I’d never seen such rage in his eyes. “Did you need to see if I was the monster I say I am? Got your fucking answer, didn’t you.”

  “Please. I don’t think you’re a monster.” I yanked the sheet up higher and wiped at the tears coursing down my cheeks.

  “Yes, you do. I can see it on your face.

  “No. It was so wrong of me to look in there, Sebastian, and I’ll never do it again. Please say you’ll forgive me.”

  He closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled loudly.

  “Talk to me!”

  He opened his eyes and stared hard at me. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want the truth. Did you look in it the first time? The time I left it at the shop?”

  Oh fuck. This really sucked. I wasn’t even wearing clothes—I had no armor at all. Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “Yeah. I did.”

  “What did you see?”

  I swallowed hard. “I saw the list of things with the numbers, and I saw that Talk to Skylar Nixon was written.”

  “Anything else?” The cold fury in his voice made me tear up all over again.

  “Yes. I saw a poem you must have written about me the day we saw each other again at the beach. It was so beautiful, Sebastian. I was so drawn to you after reading it.”

  He laughed bitterly. “Really.”

  “Yes! At least I’m being honest!”

  “You got caught. You have to be honest now.”

  I bit my lip, torn between wanting answers and knowing I should shut up. “What was that about choking a woman? Was it therapy? Was it about
me?”

  “Fuck off. Not everything in my life is about you.” He turned and stormed into the cabin, leaving me to sob uncontrollably on the porch.

  God, why couldn’t I have minded my own business? Why hadn’t I just asked him directly what I wanted to know? Why couldn’t he and I make this work, and was it even worth trying? If our start was this rocky, should we just forget it?

  I collapsed onto the porch steps and cried hard into my arms.

  Twenty-Seven

  Sebastian

  Up in the loft, I threw the fucking notebook on the floor and sat down hard on the edge of the bed. I was mad as fuck, and I was horrified. Skylar had seen really personal things that I’d written—things that I wasn’t comfortable sharing out loud with her yet, so I’d lashed out. The SUDS list was one thing, I might have talked with her about that eventually anyway, but the stuff about her…God. She’d seen the exercise Ken had recommended where I imagine the worst—I’d written that the night I’d seen her at the beach in the attempt to lessen the impact of the thought, to wrest control away from it. I’d written in graphic detail about strangling her—my god, what she must think.

  It was a matter of time, anyway.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe that was true, I’d treated her with unnecessary cruelty. And yet she’d apologized and asked my forgiveness. I certainly knew what it was like to mess up and be sorry for it.

  I was a monster.

  You warned her. She can’t say you didn’t.

  “So now what, asshole?” I muttered, running my hand over my hair.

  From downstairs I heard the screen down shut, and a moment later I saw her blond head coming up the ladder. She got to the top, struggled with the sheet, then stood up tall. Her face was tearstained and her eyes were red, but the set of her chin was defiant.

  “Here’s the thing,” she announced. “I’m not letting you ruin this.”

  “Ruin what?”

  “Our beginning. I don’t care what you wrote in that book, you are not a monster and I’ll never think that. So if that’s what has you all in fits right now, let’s just get that out of the way.”

  I was too stunned to say anything.

  “And I was completely wrong to look in your notebook the way I did. I’m sorry.” She lifted her shoulders. “I just wanted to know how you felt.”

  I feel like I’m falling in love with you, and I’m scared.

  “Sebastian.” She walked toward me, and I focused on the sheet wrapped around her body. “How do you feel?”

  “I don’t know,” I said lamely. I stared at her bare feet, toe to toe with mine.

  “Yes, you do. You’re scared. I am too.” She put her hand under my chin and forced me to meet her eyes. “I was there last night, remember? I heard the things you said. I said things back to you, and I meant them.”

  Finally, I looked up and met her eyes. “I meant the things I said too.”

  “OK.” She rubbed my arm. “Then we have something worth fighting for, something young and a little unsteady on its legs, but it can get stronger.”

  “What if this is just too much work?” I blurted, hating myself for sounding like a coward.

  “For who?”

  “Both of us. What if I keep fucking up and you get tired of having to forgive me?”

  “Hey.” She knelt at my feet. “I don’t want you to be anyone other than who you are. I don’t know how else to tell you that. And look, it was me today that fucked up and needed forgiveness, right?”

  “I guess so.”

  “And I’ll never do that again. Your journal is your business. Your therapy is your business. I was totally wrong to look in it.” She hesitated. “Even if your words about me did give me goose bumps.”

  I laughed a little, embarrassed but pleased. “Did they?”

  “Yes.” She looked up at me with wide, searching eyes, and I felt my dick begin to stiffen. “But why did you say I had a foolish heart? Do you think I’m a fool? Sometimes I think I’m not smart enough to interest you.”

  My chest caved. “Skylar. I didn’t mean it like that.” Leaning down, I took her head in my hands and kissed her softly, then reached for the sheet wrapped around her. She stood and let it fall, and I grabbed her beneath the arms, tipping her back on the bed. I stretched out over her, covering her naked body with my clothed one, brushing her hair back from her face.

  “I don’t think I’m good enough for you, you know that. And I’m going to frustrate and confuse you, just like you said. Maybe it’s the OCD, maybe I’m just difficult—I have no fucking clue. But I won’t deserve all the chances you’ll have to give me.”

  She wrapped her legs around me and took my face in her hands. “I’m going to give them, though. And if that makes me a fool, well…” She smiled. “At least I’ll be your fool.”

  I buried my face in her neck, not at all sure I wouldn’t tear up. “Mine,” I said hoarsely, kissing my way down her chest.

  “Yours,” she whispered, arching her back when I took the tip of one breast in my mouth. “Yours,” she whimpered a few minutes later when I licked two fingers and circled them over her clit, slid them inside her pussy. “Yours,” she cried a few minutes later as I brought her to orgasm with my hand, my teeth biting down on one hardened nipple.

  I hated taking my lips from her skin even briefly, but somehow she managed to pull off my shirt, and undo my jeans. After shoving them off, I settled between her thighs again, sliding my cock along her clit.

  She dug her heels into my legs and clawed at my back. “Inside me. Please. I miss you there already.”

  Another time I might have teased her, made her wait a little longer, but this morning I just wanted to do as she asked, feel her stretch and open for me, take me inside. Our mouths were open and hot and panting against one another’s as I slid inside her and began to move, slowly at first, reveling in every inch of slick, tight friction. She writhed and bucked beneath me, grabbing my ass with both hands, pulling me in deep and gasping in pain when I stabbed too deep.

  “Too hard? I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered, but my hips rocked harder and faster, taking orders from her hands.

  “You won’t, you won’t,” she said, her eyes shiny and wild. “I love it deep like that. You have no idea how good it feels.”

  I almost laughed. “I do, I promise.”

  “Oh god.” She picked up her head, burying it in the crook of my neck, licking my throat, lifting her hips to meet mine thrust for thrust, driving me to the breaking point. “You make me come so easily, it’s like fucking magic.”

  “Yes. Come with me,” I growled low in her ear, feeling that invincibility surge inside me. “Come hard on my cock, let me feel it.”

  “Oh!” Her climax hit and she dug her nails in deep and held on tight, her lower body going stiff as I drove inside her, again and again. Then I buried myself as deep as I could, coming long and hard, and still felt like I wanted more of her, wanted to give her more of me. I miss you there already, she’d said, and I hadn’t even been inside her yet. But I knew exactly what she meant.

  Even as I held her trembling body close to mine, I mourned the inevitable loss of her.

  Nothing gold can stay.

  Twenty-Eight

  Skylar

  The following week, I called Abelard Vineyards. Sebastian and even Natalie had encouraged me to do it Monday, but it took me a few days to work up the nerve. I wanted to be prepared in case she asked about experience, a college degree, why I’d been fired from Rivard, or even Save a Horse, on the off chance she’d watched.

  So it was Thursday afternoon by the time I punched the number into my cell.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, I’m calling for Mia Fournier.”

  “This is Mia.”

  I took a breath. “This is Skylar Nixon. I got your card from my friend Sebastian Pryce, and—“

  “Oh, at the law firm! Yes! Lucas mentioned you might be calling.”

  I smiled, relieved that she kne
w who I was. “Yes. I understand you’re interviewing for an assistant?”

  “I am. Are you interested in the position?”

  “Yes,” I said, biting my tongue before I added, but I’m not sure I’m qualified.

  “Great. Can you interview next week?”

  I told her I could, and we set up an interview at Abelard for nine AM Tuesday. I’d have to make sure I got that day off from Coffee Darling, but since Natalie was so supportive, I didn’t think she’d mind.

  I went to bed that night happy but nervous, making a list on my phone of all the things I needed to do—print out a resume, plan my outfit, research Abelard Vineyards. I needed to ask Sebastian what he knew about them since he’d met them already, but that would be fairly easy. I’d spent three nights out of the last five at the cabin and I was here now.

  “Stop worrying. She’s going to love you.” He turned back the sheet and climbed into bed, where I was sitting up cross-legged, my phone in my lap.

  I didn’t look up. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  “Stop.” He grabbed my phone and hid it behind his back.

  “Hey!” I got to my knees and tried to get it back.

  “Enough,” he said, holding it out of reach. “You have to get up too early to be doing this right now.”

  “Come on, give it back. I need it.” I made several unsuccessful attempts to get it, and he laughed.

  “You don’t. You need to relax, I can see it on your face. Don’t make me tie you up.”

  Sighing, I sat back on my heels. “Very funny.”

  “You’re fucking adorable when you pretend to be angry with me.” He set my phone on his nightstand and tackled me, throwing me onto my back. Now that we spent so much time together, I knew why his body was so hot—he went to the gym every fucking day! I was a slug compare to him. And he worked at the law firm a lot too. He’d worked a full day every day this week, and then worked out after that. We usually didn’t see each other until dinner time or later, which was why I ended up spending the night so much.