Never Standing Still (The Never Duet #1)(38)

I knew eventually the other shoe would have to drop. I just couldn’t anticipate how much it was going to hurt when it finally happened. My mind flashed to the night my father left and all the tears I’d cried, and my throat started pinching.

I tamped down the emotion, not wanting to taint our weekend with the inevitability of our separation.

“Hey,” he said, sweeping the pad of this thumb over the back of my hand. “You all right? You got quiet and far away all of a sudden.”

“Yeah,” I replied, trying to sound cheery. “I’m fine, and I think Marcus would love to visit San Francisco.”

“Well, we’ll have to plan for that,” he said, giving me the world’s sexiest smile.

We continued on our way to Lincoln City, the five hour drive not seeming that long, as we never hit a lull in conversation or an awkward silence. One would think, after spending eight weeks on the phone, we’d have run out of things to talk about, but not once did we scramble for words.

On top of the fun conversation, Riot made sure his hand was always touching me somehow. Whether he was holding my hand or resting his on my thigh, he was always connected to me somehow. At one point, for many miles, his hand rested on the back of my neck and every once in a while, he lightly trailed his fingers across the sensitive skin there. Goose bumps prickled my skin and shivers ran down my spine. It was hard to concentrate on anything when his hands were on me.

It had been a very long time since his last visit, since his hands had been on me, but my body remembered him and was begging for more contact.



It was early afternoon when we finally drove past the sign welcoming us to Lincoln City. I pointed out a building just inside the city limits.

“See that building right there? That’s Porter’s mom’s bar.”

“Porter is your friend’s fiancé, right?”

“Well, husband since two days ago, but yeah.”

Riot looked out the window, focusing on the sky. “We’re a long way from California,” he murmured.

“Welcome to the Pacific Northwest,” I said through laughter, watching him eye the dark gray clouds in the sky. “It’s probably going to rain the entire time we’re here. Sorry,” I said, my laughter tapering off.

“I don’t mind being indoors.” He used his dark, low, and gravelly voice which did nothing to keep my blood from pooling in my core. I inhaled deeply, trying not to let him see that his words had such an effect on me.

“Well,” I croaked, then swallowed, blushing because it was so obvious I was flustered. “We can get the battery on the alarm fixed and then have dinner at Tilly’s, then we can rent a movie or something.”

“Sure,” he said, all the while smiling as if he knew a secret.

So I gave up. He was obviously trying to get a reaction out of me. “You’re terrible,” I muttered. He squeezed my knee in response.

When we pulled up to Porter and Ella’s house, Riot let out a loud whistle.

“Your friend owns this house?” he asked, obviously impressed.

“My friend’s husband built this house. With his own two hands.”

“It’s massive!” he said in disbelief. “There’s no way….”

“You’ve never met Porter. Trust me, it’s possible.”

Riot scoffed. “If you know a man who could build this house himself, I don’t want to meet him. I would melt into a pool of emasculated mush around him, I’m sure.”

“First,” I said through my laughter. “Porter, although very masculine, is not a jerk and it’s not like he walks around carrying logs on his shoulders or something. Second, he is madly, deeply, and irrevocably in love with his new bride. You have absolutely no competition in Porter.”

“You don’t think I could carry a log on my shoulders?” he asked, straight faced.

“You’re ridiculous,” I said, still laughing, as I got out of the car.

I walked up to the door, unlocked it with the key Ella had graciously given me months ago with instructions to ‘use the house whenever you want.’ I’d never been there before without Ella or Megan, but I knew the lay of the land and the house was magnificent.

Once inside the door, I turned to see Riot walking up the steps carrying both our bags.

“Oh, thanks,” I said, not used to men carrying my bags.

“No problem. I mean, they’re not logs or anything….”

“Oh, my God,” I cried, laughing again. “Shut up about the logs.” I rolled my eyes and tried to take my bag from him but he wouldn’t let me get close enough.

“Just tell me where to put them,” he said with a smile.

“Follow me.” I led him up the stairs to the second floor. I stopped at the first door on the right. “So,” I said as I stepped into the room. “There’s this room.” I swept my arm out like a model from The Price is Right. “There’s an attached bathroom and partial ocean view.” I motioned to the one picture window. “There’re also two more rooms down the hall, but neither of those have bathrooms or pretty views.” When I turned back to him, I was surprised to find him just inches away and closing in.

I yelped as his hands gripped my waist, easily picking me up and tossing me onto the bed. When I stopped bouncing, I was pressed into the mattress by his body.