If It Makes You Happy(116)

Tracy takes in Michelle again, eyes flicking from her face down to her black loafers. We’re probably standing closer than best friends should, and Tracy clocks it from a mile away. But neither I nor Michelle budges.

Tracy’s eyes narrow.

What the hell?

I work out my stiff jaw with a forced smile. “Hey, how about we put up the Christmas tree, huh? We’ve been waiting for Mommy to arrive to do that, haven’t we?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” Brittany gasps, leaping up and running into the living room with a happy squeal.

Yesterday, I brought down rattling boxes of decorations from the attic. I almost dropped them halfway down the ladder, but Emily and Michelle fumbled to catch my fall. All four of us laughed about it for a while after. It felt comfortable. It felt like home.

Now, with Tracy flashing a big smile to us and following her daughter into the living room, the house feels still, like the static air before a storm. Emily raises both eyebrows at Michelle and me and exhales.

“Fun,” she whispers sarcastically.

I give a weak smile as she leaves to go in the living room too.

The kitchen is quiet again.

“So, that’s your ex,” Michelle announces.

I nod solemnly, trying to gauge her reaction, but she seems unaffected. So sure of herself. I smile. Of course she is; she’s Michelle. But I also know she hides behind a lot of walls.

“She’s not so bad,” Michelle says.

“She’s not,” I agree. Except I keep thinking about that look she gave Michelle and how much I didn’t like it.

“This won’t be an issue.”

I smirk at Michelle. “Oh, really?”

“I’ve handled harsher women. I’m a harsher woman.”

I wrap my arm around Michelle’s waist and tug her into my hip. I run my thumb up to her ribs and lean over to nip her earlobe between my teeth. She hisses in a breath, followed by bubbling laughter. Having her in my arms instantly makes me feel better.

Her eyes cling to the threshold Tracy passed over. She might not want me to think she’s self-conscious, but I can read her like a book.

Pressing my forehead against her temple, I whisper, “Have I told you lately how badly I want to rip off these pants?”

I tuck my palm into her back pocket and squeeze a handful of her cheek.

A small smile slides over her lips.

There we go.

“Many times,” she whispers back.

“Ah, I was afraid of that.”

“You can tell me again, if you want though.”

“How about I show you later?” I murmur. “Maybe unzip them with my teeth, if you’re lucky.”

Shivers break out over her neck. I trace my finger over them.

“You want that?”

“Of course I do,” she answers defiantly. If she’d tacked on the word idiot, it would have fit seamlessly.

I run my nose over her neck. She leans back, exposing herself to me more as I place kiss after kiss down her jaw and onto her collarbone. I feel her swallow.

God, she’s intoxicating, and she’s mine. For some reason, this quiet, closed-off woman chose me. She lets my hands roam where they like. I didn’t know something this healthy could exist, yet here I am, with a woman who longs for my touch.

Michelle leans back and traces her fingertips over my jaw.

“Are you doing all right?” she asks. “Seriously.”

I smile, kissing her once more, tucking my thumb under the hem of her jeans and murmuring, “Come on. We’ve got a Christmas tree to put up.”

She inhales an offended breath, then grabs a fistful of my shirt and pushes me away.

“You tease,” she snarls with a grin.

I chuckle. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called a tease.”

I walk behind her through the dining room, and she halts in front of me. Instinctually, I grab her hips to steady us both, but she takes the opportunity to push her ass against me.

I choke out a laugh. “Michelle—”

“Good luck with your boner,” she whispers, reaching behind her to pat the growing bulge in my jeans for good measure.

I let out a frustrated growl as we cross into the living room.

Brittany digs through the box of ornaments. Emily sifts through her CD collection next to the stereo. But from the armchair, Tracy stares at Michelle and me with tense, pursed lips.





CHAPTER 39





Michelle




Our group grows exponentially in a short amount of time. Sara and Dad arrive back in town shortly after Tracy. Cliff helps carry Sara’s suitcases inside, and the moment they fall onto my bedroom floor, the weight in my stomach plummets like an anvil to my gut.

Sara’s officially moving in to run Bird & Breakfast.

I must have been staring at the suitcases for too long because Sara leans her head on my shoulder.

“Sweet suitcases, right? I bought them with your graduation money.”

I couldn’t make it out to California for her graduation due to all the business around the inn. But I heard all about it over the phone, and I sent her probably more money than she needed.

“It’s a pretty suitcase set,” I agree.

It’s a nothing conversation, interrupted by Cliff, who yells from the kitchen, “Michelle, you want mustard on your sandwich, right? The entire bottle’s worth?”