Hell on Heels(45)

I pulled at his hair and he bit down on my lip.

It was everything but nice.

Kissing Maverick Hart was like rushing the gates of hell with a one-woman army.

I didn’t stand a chance.

My legs tightened like a vice around him and he groaned, ripping our mouths apart.

He dropped me feet first onto the ground and started to back up.

Then he was gone, out the door so quick I still could feel his stubble on my lips.

I heard him growl, “Deadbolt,” from behind the copper.

Dishevelled, I wandered to the door and locked it.

Then his boots moved down the hallway and he was gone.

Gone.

I’d officially illuminated the No on my heart’s no-vacancy sign.

It was full, full of three men.





Have you ever seen inside the soul of a romantic?

I suppose you haven’t; it is hardly for the faint of heart, because while love for a romantic is epic in its highs, the lows of love are sadly so very crippling. It would certainly not take educated eyes to see that. In fact, the soul of a romantic is indeed an expansive battleground of long-lost lovers and the futures that died with them.

So, if you get a chance to see inside the beating heart of a romantic, I dearly hope you say no. It’s so very messy and, sadly, it’s a sight not forgotten by most.

I knew I would never forget seeing inside hers.

“Leighton, honey…” I whispered into my cellphone and leaned against the headboard of my California king. “I’m so sorry.”

“I just… I… I thought he was…” she choked out.

She had gone to Banff with Morgan for a romantic long weekend just the two of them. It should have been perfect for her, with the snow and the cozy fire. Instead, she came so close to love and it burned her. Again.

“I know you did,” I cooed, and fisted my hands in my lap.

Love was a blinding emotion, and Leighton loved with all she had, every time.

“He’s married, Char! Married!” she shouted.

That was the catch.

Morgan had gone to shower. His phone rang, and like the good girlfriend she was, she answered.

And spoke to his wife of six years.

Leighton dumped the contents of his suitcase in the snow. Took the keys to their rental car and left Morgan in the shower without saying a word.

She was now en-route to the airport.

“He’s a pig.” I shook my head, climbing out from behind the covers.

I knew technically as a rule you weren’t supposed to bad mouth someone’s ex to a certain extent, just in case your friend ever happened to get back together with them, but I figured in this case I was likely good to go.

“I can’t believe I was so stupid,” she ragged on herself.

“You’re not stupid,” I told her. “You want to believe the best in people and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

She scoffed. “I’m pathetic.”

“Shut up. You’re not pathetic; you’re romantic.” I sat on the edge of my bed and dangled my legs over the side. “And yeah, sometimes that’s brutal—”

“No shit,” she interrupted.

“But sometimes it’s magical as f*ck.”

Leighton laughed.

“I mean it,” I said as sternly as I could. “I couldn’t do that. Being romantic is not easy. Only tough people can handle that.” I heard her hiccup a sob. “And you’re tough people, Leigh.”

“Thanks.” She didn’t believe me now, but she would be okay.

She always was.

She had a forgiving heart and a forgetful mind where men were concerned.

“Listen, what time will you be in?” I asked.

“Probably six, unless they delay the flight due to weather conditions.”

I padded across the room and pulled a hoodie over my head. “I know it’s not our thing, but why don’t I go get a tree—”

“The ugly Charlie Brown kind?” she interrupted again, and this time I laughed.

She loved those stupid ugly trees.

“Sure. We can decorate it and watch Saw or something.”

“Okay.”

Surviving heartache was the only state in which Leighton ever agreed to watch horror movies with me. She’d come to believe in their properties of distraction much like I had.

“Text me when you’re boarding?”

“I will…” She paused. “Char?”

I stopped at my open bathroom door and leaned against the frame. “Yeah?”

“For what it’s worth, I think you really are trying.”

My eyes welled and a lump formed in my throat. “Thanks.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Then she hung up.

“See?” Henry said in my head. “We aren’t the same, Charlie bear. You’re getting better.”

“Maybe,” I whispered into my bathroom.

It was mid-December now, and Beau still wasn’t back from Calgary. There had been complications with his Dad’s surgery and he needed to be monitored around the clock. We exchanged text messages every few days, but mostly I tried not to bother him.

Maverick, as per his usual nature it would seem, had been AWOL since our shotgun kiss.