New Love Page 8

  His gaze slid to the clock. “Five hours ago.”

  Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth, as she made a plate for herself and joined him at the breakfast bar. Spearing some eggs, she held back from telling him off. He was still half asleep, and it wasn’t her place to be telling her daddy anything, anyways. Not that it had stopped her before. She just tried to be subtle about it. They were a team. They had to look after each other. She glided the salt shaker across the countertop as a peace offering.

  “You’re so much like her, ye know.” Her daddy fixed his eyes on her forehead, seeing through her to some other time. “Your mama, she’d scold me for losing track of time and working into the early hours. Then she’d look after me, and I’d kick my own tail for missing out on precious moments with her. I still do.”

  “Aw, Daddy, don’t do that. Mama loved that you worked hard to achieve your dreams. When I had nightmares, she used to say to me that I could chase the bad dreams away by thinking of bigger and better things. She said that my daddy was the biggest dreamer of all, and that I had the ability to dream big and be just like you. Because I was a Murphy, too. I thought it was your super power for a while.” Blinking away the sting of tears, she laughed.

  Lines etched deep into his temples as he smiled at the memory. “She always made me feel like I was her hero. The truth is, she was mine. I hope you have the same someday. Your partner should be someone who builds you up and makes you want to be the best you can be.” Blue eyes twinkled as they assessed her. “I suspect he’s not too far away.”

  She returned her daddy’s perusal, a twinkle of her own probably reflecting back.

  He wasn’t too far at all.

  Just down the road, in fact.

  Angel straddled the sturdy sycamore branch, pretending to concentrate on her loose shoe laces as she swung her legs. Fleeting glimpses at her golden-haired companion betrayed the true recipient of her focus. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he ripped long blades of grass into thin strips and sent them twirling to the ground. Each piece of green debris mimicked the fluttering behind her breast bone, induced by being so close to him.

  She leaned forward, the tender skin of her palms scratched by the rough bark, and contemplated lacing her shoes. Anything to keep her mind from fixating on Aiden’s hands, and what else he could be doing with them. She wasn’t sure she was even ready to be having such thoughts. Angel sighed. She was only sixteen, for Lord’s sake. Her mother was probably turning over in her grave.

  She looked towards the house, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to see the old, southern colonial house from this far back in the yard, but still double checking that they were a safe distance away from the prying eyes of her father.

  Once again, her eyes flicked back to their target, heat suffusing her cheeks when she locked onto his whiskey-toned gaze. He smirked and threw a blade of grass into her lap.

  “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” Aiden’s teenage vocal chords hadn’t yet settled on a comfortable pitch, making Angel giggle as the words squeaked and dipped their way out.

  “Oh, just enjoying the warm breeze.” And watching you, thinking of our first kiss.

  The wind picked up her hair, blowing it across her face. She pulled it back, inspecting its bottle-red color, glad that her black regrowth was hidden under her hat. Twirling a strand around her thumb, she brushed the ends along the crease of her lips, enjoying the pleasant tingle. It wasn’t as good as having his lips on hers, though. It’d been over a week since he’d kissed her, but she still remembered the soft feel of his flesh pressing against hers. When the heck he’d pluck up the courage to do it again, she didn’t know. But she was too chicken to take matters into her own hands. It was supposed to be up to the boy to make the moves.

  She shoved the air out of her lungs in frustration, at the same time she heard his breath stutter. Catching him fixated on what she was doing with her hair, she dropped the strands, sat up straight, pushed up her glasses, and crossed her ankles. Maybe she was chicken, but he was probably feeling the same thing. This was Alabama. Southern girls were supposed to be strong. There was nothing wrong with taking charge occasionally. Was there? Besides, if she didn’t do something soon, she’d die of yearning.

  “Are you ever gonna kiss me again?” She swallowed against a dry mouth, and ordered her galloping heart to settle down.

  “Hell, yes.”

  A buzzing in her belly joined the galloping, and her confidence swelled. That was a yes. His gaze was still attached to her mouth, but he wasn’t moving his lips any closer.

  She tutted at his language and his lack of action, raising her eyebrows. “When?”

  “I’ve been waiting for the right moment.” He licked his lips and raised his eyes to hers.

  “Well, now’s good…” She leaned forward putting her face directly in front of his. “…in case you were wondering.”

  His warm palms landed on her cheeks and he slammed his mouth on hers, pushing her off balance, and nearly dislodging her from the tree. Letting out a squeak of surprise, she slapped her hands down on his thighs to stop from falling, and felt something hard under her grip. Aiden reared back, spitting out a frenzy of curses, putting her off balance again.

  Angel blinked back hot tears at his rejection. It wasn’t until his hands clasped at his crotch, his body recoiling against the trunk, and far away from her, that she clued in to what she’d done.

  Her eyelids levered wide. “Oh, Lord. I’m so sorry.”

  Scooting her tail backwards, she locked her ankles together to secure her perch, and covered her mouth with both hands. If she was ever going to use a swear word, now would be the time. But, she pushed her fingers firmly into her cheeks, until her teeth started to ache.

  Aiden’s face was set in a grimace, but he let out a pained laugh. He couldn’t seriously think this was funny. She loosened her hands and watched as his smile grew more genuine, his body unfurling from the fetal position. He was lucky he’d been leaning against the trunk, or he’d have been on the grass with something else broken besides his… boy bits.

  The corners of her lips tipped up, a snort escaping. She blushed, slapping a hand back over her mouth. Not only because snorting was unladylike, but because she didn’t mean to laugh at his predicament.

  Aiden had no qualms about vocalizing his amusement. He tipped his head back, opened his mouth wide, and let out his raucous laughter. She had no choice but to join him, dissolving into a fit of giggles. It was such a rare thing to hear him laugh like that. Angel sincerely hoped she didn’t have to punch him in the… boy bits… to hear it again.

  “Shit, that hurt.”

  “Aiden! Language.”

  “Sorry, but it did.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to… you know.” She looked at his lap briefly, before inspecting her shoe laces again. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “It?”

  “Don’t make me say the words.”

  “My erection?”

  She gasped and chewed on her lips, watching a smirk play on his face.

  “I can’t help it. It happens a lot when I’m alone with you.”

  The buzzing in her belly turned to a roar, sending a power surge through her body with its force. “Oh, my God. Would you please stop?”

  Her words were bashful, but she was proud of herself for having that effect on him. She wasn’t completely naive. She’d pinched one of her aunt’s romance novels and hidden it under her mattress for weeks, soaking up the newfound knowledge any chance she got. Luckily, she’d been making her own bed for a while now, and didn’t have to worry about her daddy discovering her secret.

  She straightened up and smiled. “Could we try that again?”

  “Hell, yeah.” Angel smacked a hand on his chest as he lurched forward.

  “Language!”

  “Sorry.” His face scrunched before relaxing into a wry smile. “How about I pay for my sins with a kiss?”

&nbs
p; She narrowed her eyes, but couldn’t stop the grin. “Yeah, okay.”

  This time he let her move toward him slowly, putting his hands on her waist to steady her. The gentle touch burned through her T-shirt. His fingers flexed and pressed into her flesh like he wanted to hold her tighter, or maybe remove the pesky fabric between them. She had no doubt they’d get to that point eventually, but not while they were perched in their tree, with her father not that far away.

  Placing her hands on his shoulders, she reveled in their hasty rise and fall, knowing that she was near to panting with excitement herself. This boy was hers. He always will be. She just knew it. When his lips met hers again, all her nerve endings came alive, flushing her body with a euphoria only he could instill. The sound of their mingled breaths joined the smacking of lips, driving her excitement higher. She instinctively moved closer, climbing into his lap, and wrapping her legs over his. She wasn’t worried about falling, she knew he wouldn’t let her.

  Aiden pulled back, resting his head on the tree, and gave her a satisfied grin that mirrored her own. “I wish I had my camera right now. I want to capture the look on your face.”

  “You take too many photos already.”

  She slid her arms closer and locked her hands behind his neck, ready for another drugging kiss. Maybe she’d try tongue this time.

  “Aiden?”

  Angel twisted her head at the sound of her pa’s booming voice coming from a distance.

  “Shit!” Aiden pushed on her waist in a panic.

  She had to laugh as she moved back to a safe distance. “I’ll let you have that one for free.”

  His face drained of color, and his throat moved like he was trying to swallow a melon. Her daddy loved Aiden, since the first time she brought him home after preschool. She couldn’t see the threat of a shotgun any time soon, but now that they were more than friends, maybe her father wouldn’t deal so well with his little girl growing up.

  She saw her pa’s wavy, black hair appear above the bushes, before his mammoth, muscled frame stepped into the clearing under the tree.

  “There y’are.” He shoved his motor-oil-smeared hands in his pockets and narrowed his eyes, considering them for a moment.

  She gripped the branch a little tighter, suddenly worried that the threat of his shotgun might not be so ridiculous after all.

  “Aiden. Your father is looking for ye. You’d better go on home, it’s supper time. Come in and get washed up.”

  “Is he here?”

  Aiden’s voice broke on the words, but she knew it wasn’t his immature vocal cords causing the problem. Aiden might have feared her pa, but she’d never seen anything put more fear in him than his own father.

  Mr. Thomas ran a law practice in town, and had a reputation for being a wolf with sharp fangs. She suspected he was just as awful at home as he was in the courtroom, but she’d never been inside Aiden’s house to see for herself.

  “No. He demanded to be let in, but I sent him away.”

  Angel scrambled down the tree after Aiden, landing behind where he stood before her father. He tugged at his clothes, looking like he’d rather do anything else besides go home.

  Her daddy laid his large hand on Aiden’s shoulder, squeezing in a silent show of support before leading him off. She trailed behind them through the thick undergrowth, raising her feet high with each step, and thinking how blessed she was to have her daddy. He knew when a person needed comfort, and he’d always been generous in giving it. He probably knew exactly what was going on in the house down the street, but he’d never discuss it with her. If there was one thing wrong between her and Aiden, it was her exclusion from his family life. She’d guessed why, but it still didn’t sit well with her. He always shut her out. He should’ve known better. It just made her want to fight harder. If she had to march down the road and bang down his door to finally gain entry, she’d do it. The time was coming. Her patience was threatening to snap.

  Chapter 3

  Aiden dumped his bike around the side of his house and ran up the back steps, entering through the kitchen door. His mother sat at the table, ignoring her plate of roast vegetables and chicken, preferring to cradle her glass of red wine. She didn’t bother with a greeting, and he didn’t expect one. It was their routine. She only acknowledged him in public.

  Her disregard wasn’t what made his stomach drop to his toes. It was the gravy smeared plate stacked next to the sink. It was the newspaper spread open to hide all but his father’s clenched hands, and the slicked back, blonde hair on top of his head. It was the thunder clouds gathering behind his father’s eyes as the paper lowered, and Sir stood to his full height.

  He was late for dinner.

  He was so dead.

  Aiden struggled to keep his body from shaking. His palm, slick with sweat, slipped on the door knob as he closed the door behind him.

  He watched in resignation, fighting back tears, as his father started to unbuckle his belt.

  “I’m going to assume that since you weren’t home in time for dinner, you mustn’t be hungry.”

  The smell of the roast meal lingered deliciously in the air. He was hungry. But not starving, thanks to an extra slice of Angel’s chocolate cake that afternoon.

  “I’m sorry I’m late, Sir.”

  “Did I say you could speak, boy?” Spit flew from his father’s mouth, landing on the table.

  Aiden pressed his lips together, and watched his mother vacate the room, like she always did when this happened. More tears threatened. His stupid tear ducts needed to grow up. He wasn’t five anymore. He should be used to the sting of betrayal and abandonment by now.

  “Take off your shirt and drop your pants.”

  He did as he was told, fumbling, and silently cursing his trembling hands. His father moved behind him, pushing him towards the table and shoving his back, so he had no choice but to lean down and hang on.

  “You’ve been over at the Murphy’s again. I know that’s where you go. Hank can deny it all he likes. That bastard and his spawn have been filling your head with all sorts of fairytales about how life should be. What’s the matter, boy, your family not good enough for you?”

  Aiden jerked, pulling in a shaky breath as the first blow landed across the middle of his back.

  “Those grease monkeys aren’t fit to mix with my blood.” Sir leaned over Aiden, growling directly into his ear. “Why would they want an outsider tagging along, getting in their way? You’re not one of them. You never will be.”

  The lash of the belt struck Aiden with enough force to make his eyes roll back in his head. He clenched his teeth harder, and dug his fingers into the edge of the table, jerking with each blow.

  “You got your eye on Murphy’s daughter? She’s only useful for spreading her legs, but you won’t be mixing our blood and tying us to that family for good. I won’t have it.”

  The vitriol spewed from his father’s mouth, thick as molasses. Aiden felt it clogging his lungs and pounding his ears, dragging him under its hatred, and feeding his own hatred for this man. He wanted to fight back, to defend the girl he loved. How dare Sir speak about her like that. She was everything that was good and pure in his world.

  The next three lashes struck in quick succession, making him throw his head back at the searing pain cutting deeper each time. He wondered how many his father would be giving him, and how many more years he would have to endure this torture. If it wasn’t for the Murphys, he’d have run already.

  “The Thomas name is something to be respected and upheld. Until you get that through your head, I forbid you to leave this house.”

  Aiden’s body was wrenched upright, his upper arm caught in a bear-trap hold as his father heaved his limp body up the stairs to his bedroom. Thrown face first onto the bed, he lay still, listening to the click of the lock sealing his cell. Raw nerve endings screamed in agony across his back and the top of his ass, and his lungs struggled for air. He tried to stop the freight train of loathing that was gathering mo
mentum. Aimed mostly at himself, because despite his parents’ mistreatment of him… he still loved them, and wanted desperately to please. And, didn’t that make him a dumb fuck.

  Groaning, he rolled his head to the side, and folded his hands under his cheek for a pillow. The stupid tears he’d been fighting oozed onto his hands, and his nose leaked all over the bed in a trail of mucus. He couldn’t be bothered wiping the mess away. He knew his pain wasn’t done. Not even close. He’d wear it like a tattoo for a while yet.

  Closing his eyes, he willed all the bad shit away, replacing it with images of Angel sitting in that tree. Her floppy hat and baggy T-shirt. The laces of her shoes dangling in the breeze, and the reflection of light filtered through the canopy on her glasses. Her coy smile. Her huge green eyes.

  His teeth hurt from grinding them so hard, but a smile still hinted despite the pain. Angel had asked him to kiss her. She’d been eager enough to risk falling out of the tree by climbing into his lap, and aligning him with the gates of heaven.

  Her parents had been insightful when they’d named her. She was an angel. His Angel. If he could be a part of her life forever, he’d be the luckiest son of a bitch. Aiden worried that her association with him was dragging her name through the filth, not the other way around.

  Pfft. His father didn’t know shit.

  He groaned and threw a hand over his face to block the morning sun filtering through his eyelids, hissing at the pain the movement caused. Rubbing the grit away from his eyes with his thumb, he attempted to pry them open and get his bearings. As if the pain in his back wasn’t enough of a reminder, his ready-to-burst bladder, and dry-as-a-dessert mouth, did a great job at slapping him back to reality. He needed to find a pot plant, or something. Fast.

  Spying his baseball bag, he prayed to God that he’d forgotten to take out his water bottle as he hobbled over. The zip parted to reveal his plastic savior, half full, even. He raised his eyes to the ceiling muttering, “Amen.”