Thick & Thin (Thin Love, #3)(63)
“Strangers don’t know love this deep. If they did, they wouldn’t be strangers at all.” That he whispered against my lips, kissing me like he couldn’t keep from it for another second.
“Ransom…”
“I’ll never be a stranger, Aly, because this body, your heart is mine. It always will be.”
He at least let me settle. The air had grown stifling, stuffy. I might not have noticed the sweat now covering my body unless Ransom hadn’t moved, shirtless now from the heat, from how he’d touched me, how he’d kept me from touching him in return.
The thermostat was next to the light switch near the doorway and with the low light falling around us, Ransom’s shadow grew as he stood in front of that switch. His body was wider now than the first time we’d danced, but he’d been a boy back then. Still, the lines of those shoulders were familiar. The narrow slope of his waist. The ridges along his torso; they all reminded me just then of the boy he’d been, beating himself up for a loss that he'd caused. Desperate to free himself from the need of touch, yet eager to keep touching. That had not changed much either. Ransom was a man who liked the feel of contact. When he was mine, he’d always held on to me even in little ways—his fingers against my shoulder as we watched T.V., his palm on my thigh while he drove us around Miami.
Then I reminded myself we hadn’t been together for two years. He hadn’t been celibate, hadn’t kept to himself, I knew that and the thought had me guessing who had held his hand when he treated her to dinner? Who had let him lay in her lap when he was worn from practice? Those were stupid, pointless thoughts which were none of my business anymore.
Ransom turned, stretching those massive arms over his head and I sat up, not wanting to see more of what wasn’t mine. I was stupid, thoughtless, wondering how I could even think of casting Ethan aside on nothing more than a touch, or pretend that letting Ransom touch me would help me say goodbye. This wasn’t going to help me sort out my feelings. Nothing would except distance. Distance he needed to give me.
“Why are you here?” My question stopped his return to the spot next to me on the floor and I felt the tension rise up in his body as he lowered himself three feet away from me.
“I didn’t come here to get you off if that’s what you’re thinking.” He smirked, until I shot him the evil eye. Then he just shook his head, giving up the fight before it began. “I actually had a thought I wanted to run by you.”
He moved then, stretching his arms to rest on his knees and I sat up, turning to face him fully with my legs bent under my butt. “Which is?”
“Cass.”
“The artist?”
Ransom shrugged, a quick snarl moving his top lip. “If that’s what you wanna call him.” When I tilted my head, scooting onto my side he continued, back straight, fingers locked together. “He got a little handsy with my mom the other day.”
“Define ‘handsy.’”
The edge of Ransom’s jaw moved as he ground his teeth, but he kept any sarcastic retorts to himself, though I knew my request had irritated him. He had always been stupid about his parents. Every friendly stranger that smiled at Keira wanted her. Every exuberant fan with big boobs who begged Kona for a picture or autograph, had plans on seeing him naked. Funny how he saw that with them and not the long line of groupies always circling around him when my back was turned in Miami.
“He was touching on her, calling her ‘darlin’ and ‘gorgeous,’ offering to take care of shit.”
Eyebrows up, I could only blink at him. “And that makes you think he’s making a move?”
“No.” A low grunt and Ransom scratched his fingers through his hair. “But him massaging her, rubbing on her shoulders and neck, shit you know he wouldn’t do if Dad had been in the room, that makes me think he’s at least planning shit.”
I understood his concern, but thought Ransom might be overreacting. “Keira would never…”
“No, she wouldn’t and I’m not worried that the jackass is going to tempt her to step out on Kona.”
“Then what is it?”
He took a breath, seeming to gear up for a well thought out, likely only half-realized theory. “Funny how all this shit happened with my dad and his ex and this, whoever the other woman is, when Cass comes around.” Ransom curled his lips, pressing them together like the thought of the entire situation made him sick to his stomach. “More than once he’s commented on Mom moving back to Nashville and he volunteered to help her set up sessions here in New Orleans like he’s her right hand man or something. He’s always trying to get her back to Tennessee, offering to tag along if she needs him for showcases or to network. He’s looking to take advantage of her clout. I’m guessing he thinks her in Nashville would open more doors for him. The problem with that is…”
“That Kona’s job is here.” He nodded at me and I began to understand where Ransom’s worry came from. I’d heard Cass make that very suggestion once or twice. Even at the barbeque he talked about going back. He’d even got Keira to reminisce about living there. “Koa and Mack, their home is here. Not in Nashville.”
Ransom nodded, scratching his chin. “You know my mom isn’t good at reading people, especially men angling for something. Dad is. I am. It’s why Cass scatters when Kona is around. It’s why, I’m guessing, he doesn’t like her being there with Cass and no one else.”