Finding Peace (Breaking Free Series Book 2) Page 3

  Aly pulls back slightly, her eyes still closed, and whispers, “Touch me… Please.”

  Everything inside me is telling me this is a bad idea. She’s drunk. Yet, I can’t stop myself. She’s laying on her back, me right beside her. I lean down, breathing in her scent. My tongue grazes her neck, and her head falls back as I lightly suck that spot under her ear. As I start to slide my hands under her shirt, Aly speaks a name. Only it isn’t mine.

  “Mike.”

  I draw my hand back slowly and place one more soft kiss on her lips. She groans her disapproval, but doesn’t fight it.

  “Sleep, Aly.”

  She barely notices my words. Her breathing slows as she falls asleep. I stand up, knowing I should leave. Most likely, she won’t remember any of this. I decide right then that I will never mention this kiss. It will be my own haunting memory. If there is ever a time we kiss for what she thinks is the first time, she will remember saying my name, not his.

  But, instead of walking out the door, I sit on the recliner in her room, torturing myself again. I place the guitar on my knee, and begin strumming Every Breath You Take by The Police, telling Aly in her dreams what I can't say when she’s awake. She's just not ready yet.

  Bentley

  I'VE BEEN ITCHING to get a new bike and have plans today to take a ride to the local Harley dealership. I sold my old bike to help cover some of the costs for the restaurant my boys and I opened a while back. On the off chance Butter My Bread wasn’t successful, I didn’t want to over extend myself. Thankfully, business is great and my bank account is looking pretty good. I'm far from being considered rich, but I’ve saved enough that I can afford this splurge. There is only one person that I want to share this day with. That someone is currently outside.

  Aly is sitting on the porch swing, one leg tucked under her thigh. The other is pushing the swing. Casually, I ask her, "You busy today?”

  She stops pushing the swing, turning her head towards me. "Not really. I have nothing important planned. Why?"

  "You want to take a ride with me?"

  She raises her brow at me. "Where?"

  "It's a surprise. Get your shoes and let's go.” I offer a hand and help her to her feet.

  "Okay. Give me a few minutes to get my stuff. Are you going to tell me where we are going?”

  "You'll see.”

  Every time Kat comes over on the back of Caleb's bike, Aly always gets a look of jealousy. She never fails to tell us she would love to go for a ride on a motorcycle one day. I think she is going to love this.

  I grab my keys, wallet, and sunglasses from the kitchen counter. I wait by my jeep for Aly to come down. As she descends the stairs, I know I am in trouble. My eyes start with her toned legs, followed by her short shorts, up to her tank top that doesn't do much to hide her perky tits. Her long blonde hair gets caught in a breeze. It blows across her face and all I can think about is my fingers getting tangled in her locks. Fuck me. I need to get this shit under control fast. She has a boyfriend. Yeah, he's a complete tool, but she still has one.

  I get my thoughts back to motorcycles and open the jeep door for Aly. Her body brushes against mine, and I give my dick a stern mental warning to stay down.

  "Thanks, Bents. Such a gentleman.”

  She wouldn't think that if she could read what’s going through my mind. I close her door and head around to the driver’s side, shaking the dirty thoughts out of my head.

  "You ready, Angel?" I ask her as I start my jeep up. I reach in the glove box and hand her a Butter My Bread baseball cap, knowing she'll need it with the top down. She tucks her blond locks through the hole in the back.

  "Ready." She states.

  As we head out to the main road, Aly starts fumbling with the radio until she finds a song she likes. Justin Bieber’s Love Yourself rings through the speakers.

  "I love this song!" She yells and starts dancing in her seat.

  I just shake my head at her display.

  "Do I embarrass you, Bents?"

  At the traffic light, she unbuckles her seatbelt, turns the music up, and stands on the seat. Meanwhile, all I'm thinking is thank God the traffic lights are long at the intersection because her dancing is too fucking cute! The people in the car next to us lower their windows and the girls in the car join in with Aly. The light turns green; she buckles up again. Then she gives me a big toothy grin.

  "You are nuts. You know that?” I tell her. And you’re fucking adorable is what I’m really thinking.

  "That's why you like me. I'm your bat-shit-crazy, dancing neighbor,” Aly says still smiling.

  "I wouldn't go that far, but I think I'll keep you around for a while. Strictly for entertainment purposes."

  The sign for the local Harley dealer comes into view, and I turn on my blinker. When I pull into the dealership, Aly looks at me with wide eyes. "Are you getting a motorcycle?”

  "I used to have one. Now it's time for a new one. You want to help me pick one out?"

  "I don't know how much I can help, other than tell you which one you will look hot on. Although, I’m pretty sure you will look that way on any of them.” She opens the door, jumping down from her seat to the ground. “Maybe you can even take me for a long ride, and make all the girls jealous.”

  Just as I was about to beat my head on the steering wheel, Aly asks, "Are you coming or what?"

  When I finally get out of the car, Aly bounds towards me. Taking me by the hand, she hurries me to the front door. I open the door to the showroom, as she chatters excitedly. She walks through the door and spins around taking in the sights. I already know what I am looking for, but I can wait while Aly ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ over every bike.

  The salesman walks towards us and extends his hand to me. With long hair, long beard, and a black leather vest, he looks like he is part of a motorcycle club. "The name’s Ryder. Anything I can help you with?"

  Aly just happens to be looking at the bike I have in mind.

  "Bents, look at this one! This one is nice. Paige will love riding on the back."

  Aly has no way of knowing that she is the only woman I want on the back of my bike.

  Ryder laughs, then looks at me. "I take it she's not your woman.”

  "Nope. Roommate."

  "Damn shame. Never had a roommate like that." His comment should offend me, but it's the truth.

  "She's definitely one of a kind."

  Aly comes up next to me. "You two know each other?"

  Simultaneously, we answer. “No.”

  "Huh, it seems like you do. When can we sit on a motorcycle? Which one do you like? Ooh, do you have those ones with three wheels?"

  Ryder laughs at her spirit. "You mean a trike? Come on. I think I have just the one for you.”

  Aly follows behind him, excitedly gesturing for me to follow. Ryder leads us outside to a custom trike, purple with light purple flames. "Oh my gosh. Can I sit on it?”

  Ryder produces a set of keys. "I'll do even better.”

  He lets Aly climb on, teaching her how to start and rev the engine. I take out my phone snapping a few pictures as she starts to pose. When she stands up for her next pose, she leans forward with her perfect ass in the air.

  Ryder grumbles, "Now that, right there, belongs on the page of a magazine."

  Fuck. This girl is going to be the death of me. "No one’s going to get their hands on this picture but me.”

  "Just your roommate, you say?” Ryder laughs. Yeah, I know. The attraction is obvious, even if it’s one-sided.

  "That's all it is to her, brother. I got the friend end of the stick."

  "It's a shame. She'd look good plastered to your back, riding down the road."

  Exactly what I am thinking. And wanting.

  When Ryder turns off the engine, we finally get down to business.

  Aly asks, "You sure you don't know each other? You two seem awfully chummy. What are you talking about anyway?”

  In unison, we say, "Motorcycles."

  I p
ut my arm around her shoulder. "Come on, Angel. Let's go buy me one."

  Two hours later and a much lighter bank account, I walk out of the showroom with a set of keys in my hand. "Will you drive the jeep home?"

  Aly grabs my keys from me. "Wait. Is this why you brought me? To drive the jeep back?"

  "Partly, but you had fun. Didn't you?" I open the driver’s side door for her.

  She kisses my cheek making me feel like King of the World for five seconds. "Yes, Bents. Maybe I can convince Mike to get one of these. And we can all go riding together."

  Like I said, five seconds. Then the feeling is gone.

  Alyssa

  MIKE'S CAR IS PARKED out front. When I climb out of Bentley's jeep, he has a scowl on his face.

  "What the hell, Alyssa? Where have you been? And why are you driving that thing?"

  "Did we have plans?" I don't remember if we had any. In fact, Mike and I haven't talked in days.

  "No, we didn't have plans. I thought we could go have lunch, but I see you are busy."

  "Bentley needed me to drive his jeep home. He just bought a motorcycle."

  Bentley pulls in the driveway just as I finish speaking.

  "Hey, Mike,” Bentley says in a greeting. Mike just grunts, takes my hand, and pulls me upstairs. He doesn’t even give me a chance to return Bentley's car keys.

  "Slow down, Mike. I'm going to trip.”

  He slows his pace. When we reach my apartment door, he waits for us to be behind closed doors before completely flipping out.

  "Why the fuck couldn't he ask one of his friends? You are my girlfriend, Alyssa. Not his. You should have been here when I showed up. I knew you moving out would change things. Every Saturday we go to the pub. Just because you left me doesn't change that."

  "I didn't leave you, Mike. He just needed a ride. It took longer than I thought. You should have told me you were coming. You could have texted me.”

  Did he think I would sit around and do nothing?

  "You know what, Alyssa. I've had enough. When you want to be my girlfriend, give me a call.” He walks back out the door, slamming it shut. And once again, Mike manages to ruin a fun day.

  I just sit in my bedroom for the rest of the day, contemplating what I should do. Should I just end it with Mike—throw away eleven years of working at this relationship? Am I a bad girlfriend for going out with a male friend? I mean, that's all Bentley and I are, friends. A light tap on my bedroom door brings me momentarily out of my thoughts.

  "Aly, it's me," Bentley says quietly from the opposite side. Slowly, he opens the door. "Are you okay?"

  No. Do I look okay? I pause, taking a deep breath. It's not Bentley's fault Mike is mad at me.

  "I'm fine." I tell him.

  "It's late. You forgot your phone in my car. It's been buzzing all night. I thought you might need it." He places my phone on the closest dresser.

  “Crap, I have your keys too. What time is it?”

  He looks at his phone. "Almost ten.”

  I've been sitting in my room for half the day. How did that happen?

  "You hungry?" Bentley looks at me.

  "No, just tired," I reply.

  "Okay. I'll let you get some sleep.”

  I don’t want him to leave. Being alone mean all I will do is sit here and think. "Wait. Will you stay?"

  "Sure, Angel. Give me a minute and I’ll be right back.”

  He returns with his guitar, and I smile. I love when he sings. Bentley gets comfortable, he talks. "I'd like to dedicate this song to my roommate, Alyssa Amsel. This goes out to you."

  He starts playing an acoustic version of Justin Bieber’s Sorry, reminding me of our earlier car ride. I smile wanting to know how and why he knows how to play this song. He smirks and shrugs his shoulder.

  The song ends. Bentley kisses my temple then whispers in my ear, "Good night, Aly. Get some sleep.”

  "Bentley, Paige is a lucky girl to have you. Thanks for being such a good friend."

  His response is nothing more than a low groan.

  Minutes later, I am asleep.

  Alyssa

  THE HOLIDAYS ARE my favorite time of year. During Thanksgiving, I spend most of my time making pies for my family’s annual Best Dessert Contest. I am determined to keep my winning title. And I do. My pumpkin pie with a pecan crust is a hit.

  On black Friday, I start getting ready for Christmas.

  In honor of my new home and the new space I get to fill, I purchase a real tree for the first time, and probably the last. Florida heat does not bode well for my seven-foot spruce tree. I sweep needles off the floor daily. Mike helps me bring the tree inside, but he refuses to help decorate—not his thing, or so he claims.

  It takes a bribe of homemade treats, but I convince Bentley to hang lights up around the outside of the house. He sounds more like the Grinch than Santa when I tell him he has to go around the whole house, not only the side facing the road. It is the first time I’ve ever seen him grumpy. It’s too cute.

  By the way, never tell a grown man he looks cute when he is angry. It earns me a hard glare, followed by an ‘I’ll show you cute’ tickle fest that only stops when I fight to catch my breath.

  Two days before Christmas, I’m in full on baking mode. I already baked four different types of cookies and have two other types of dough chilling in the refrigerator. Tonight, I plan on blasting Christmas music and hanging the ornaments. Bentley said he will help me, if I feed him.

  Just as I begin to open the first ornament box, Bentley walks in. He’s carrying a bag in his hand. I know exactly what he has inside it: ingredients for eggnog. He claims it’s his family tradition. His family is a lot like him. Sweet and fun. The first time I met his mom, she gave me a big hug and kiss, and told me how beautiful I am. She shared stories about Bentley’s childhood, and his teenage years, none of which he was happy about. We bonded over his favorite recipes, which we swapped.

  He begins preparing the drinks, and I set up our snacks. I pull the mini pizzas shaped like trees, stars, and bells from the oven. My vegetable tray is arranged to look like an ornament and I already arranged a wreath of crackers and cheese. For dessert, there are three types of cookies: triple chocolate chunk, salted caramel mocha, and German torte. Little strawberry Santa hats, dipped in white chocolate, topped with a marshmallow are my final treat for us.

  “Is there someone else coming besides me?” Bentley asks as he stirs the drink mixture. I pop a mini pizza in his mouth as he finishes his sentence.

  “No. Why?” I question.

  “This is a lot of food for just the two of us.”

  I look at the table thinking he may be right, but it’s the holidays. Over indulging is expected.

  “I guess it’s good I didn’t make anything else! I can’t help myself during the holidays. Besides, anything extra I can take to Mike’s house tomorrow.” Every year we spend Christmas Eve with Mike’s family and Christmas Day with mine.

  Bentley pours the eggnog into the Christmas mugs I have put out for us and places them on the coffee table. I go ahead and put together a plate of food for the both of us.

  Bentley claps his hands together. “Are we ready to get this tree decorated?”

  “One more thing.” I go over to the television and queue up my own pre-made Yule Log video and music.

  Bentley shakes his head and laughs. “You really go all out, don’t you?”

  “This is the first year I get to decorate my own place. So yes, I am a little excited. At least I didn’t wear a crazy Christmas sweater.” However, I am wearing my red t-shirt with a glittery tree on it.

  “It’s eighty degrees outside. I don’t think a sweater is appropriate for Florida.”

  I open the first carton of ornaments and start hanging them. Each time Bentley takes one, he asks me about it. It feels like discovering old friends. I have a story behind each one: where I got it, and who gave it to me.

  “This one is from the year I was born.… That one is an ornament I made
in kindergarten…. The bike ornament I got when Santa got me my first two-wheeler….”

  Bentley seems to enjoy each of my stories.

  It doesn’t dawn on me how tall my tree actually is until it is time to put on the tree topper. As I turn to get a chair, Bentley grabs me by the waist and lifts me like I weigh nothing. Once I secure the angel in her rightful place, he lowers me to the floor. A shiver runs down my spine… Our bodies are too close—touching too much. I chalk it up to feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Truth is, no one has ever lifted me like that and it’s been awhile since I have been that close to a man.

  Bentley hugs me close and kisses the top of my head, sending another chill down my spine.

  “Merry Christmas, Aly.”

  “Merry Christmas, Bents. Thanks for helping me.” I step away, needing some distance. I busy myself with setting up the Christmas movie I picked out for us to watch.

  “That’s what neighbors and friends do.”

  Right… neighbors and friends. That’s all it is. Nothing more.

  When I wake the next morning, I’m late. Mike is due here in an hour to exchange our gifts. I quickly shower, readying myself for the day at his family’s house. Turns out, I rush for nothing. Mike shows up a bit later than planned. We only have a few minutes to exchange presents in private. He seems thrilled with his tool set, the one he mentioned he wanted months ago. He hands me a box, wrapped too nicely. It’s the perfect size to be a ring box. My hand trembles. I’m trying to keep calm, hoping my anxiety isn’t showing.

  “Open it, Al.” He gently encourages me. I carefully tear the tape away, praying it isn’t what I think it is. I need more time. I’m not ready for this. Slowly, I open the lid, letting out a puff of air.

  Relief.

  A pair of silver hoop earrings with my birthstone are inside.

  “Thank you, Mike. These are beautiful.” My heart is still racing slightly, as I replace my earrings with the ones he just got me.

  I make it through the next thirty-six hours of holiday cheer with Mike’s family and my own family. I am ready to get home, wanting nothing more than to curl up and watch a classic film with a cup of hot chocolate.