What the Heart Needs

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

Layne closed the liquor cabinet doors before placing the tequila on the bar top. He inspected the bottle of Patrón, the same one Dylan had kept stashed in the back. Whatever Heaven planned to do with the other tequila, he didn’t care. This particular bottle wouldn’t be a part of those plans. Not when he wanted to enjoy its smooth taste himself. He needed something strong to help him forget everything.

For a day that had begun weird, each minute proved stranger. The last fifteen minutes were the worst.

His conversation with Heaven played through his mind. The more he thought about it, the more it incited him. She’d jerked her hand away like he had some disease. Hadn’t they agreed to be friends? For Christ’s sake, he did it for Dylan.

Okay, that was stretching the truth a little, but he didn’t want those thoughts. It’s where the Patrón factored in. He couldn’t keep doing this. Hadn’t he tortured himself enough? Why did he have such complicated relationships?

Where were all the nice girls? His friends found them, but not him. He wanted what he couldn’t have. Karma was a b***h, and she had his name at the top of her list.

Tucking the Patrón under his arm, he grabbed the other bottles from the bar top and turned toward the kitchen. He’d pass them off to Heaven, then find the shot glasses. Might as well start the party. Perhaps getting drunk would help.

He scoffed at the thought. Considering his company, there wasn’t enough liquor in the world. He’d be lucky to survive the day.

Once he exited the den, he hesitated in the hallway. A silent curse passed over his lips as he eyed the door. He hoped Dylan would get back soon. He hated the thought of reentering the tension-filled room ahead. Yet something in his gut urged him forward, no matter how much he wanted to resist.

Then Heaven’s cry pierced his ears.

Racing through the archway, he found her teetering on top of the stool, battling with gravity. Gravity won out. Then the three-hundred-dollar bottle of tequila went to the floor, along with the other bottles. Whether they broke, he didn’t care. Saving Heaven from hitting the ground… He cared a hell of a lot about that.

He didn’t remember leaving the archway or moving across the kitchen, but there he was, kneeling beside the stool. Heaven lay in his arms, chest heaving with deep breaths. He’d never been this close to her before, never noticed the olive flecks in her eyes or the light patch of freckles on the bridge of her nose. God, she smelled great—sweet—like walking in the woods in the spring.

A bead of sweat formed at the back of his neck. If it weren’t for the breeze blowing from a nearby vent, he’d assumed the central air was off.

Did Heaven have a fever? Maybe that’s why she said she couldn’t sleep last night. Was she sick?

No. The heat generated from him. When he met her gaze again, he swore he’d caught fire.

Damn it! He had to stop this. The thoughts racing through his mind would only lead him down a path of regret. For the love of God, this was his best friend’s girl, the woman Dylan had sworn to marry.

She was Faith’s sister, too, but he didn’t know if Faith was still a part of his life. After the last month, she sure as hell didn’t want him touching her.

The state of his relationship didn’t matter. Some lines he refused to cross, even if he wanted to.

“You all right?” he asked, resisting the thoughts begging to surface.

“I think so. It happened so fast, I didn’t realize—”

“What happened?”

He followed the length of her arm as she pointed to the cabinets above the refrigerator. “I was getting the blender when this huge spider came out of nowhere. I hate spiders.”

Didn’t most women?

As his chest shook with laughter, Heaven’s brows knitted. “Glad you find it funny.”

“I’m sorry. It just amazes me that a woman will do everything she can to get away from a spider, even if it means breaking her neck.”

She growled a complaint. It made him laugh harder until she pushed away from him to stand. He didn’t want to release her, although he knew he should.

“Let me help you.”

“I’m fine.” She did her best to shake him off at the same time he stepped forward. Their feet tangled, sending both to the floor.

As they lay facing the ceiling, Layne fought back laughter. He failed.

Heaven elbowed him in the ribs.

“Listen here,” she grumbled. “Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean you can laugh at me.”

“Okay, okay.” He found it a challenge, but he contained his amusement. Then Heaven burst into laughter.

God, he’d never forget this day as long as he lived. No other laugh could be so contagious.

Once he got back on his feet, he offered her his hand. “Think we can try this once more?”

“Sure,” she snickered, “as long as you promise not to push me this time.”

“I’d never do such a thing.” He pulled against her weight until she stood, “You’re just clumsy.”

“Nope. It was your fault.”

Those golden eyes he wanted to forget stared at him for what seemed like forever. He should put distance between them, but the sound of her voice acted as a lasso around his waist. He couldn’t escape it or her. Damn. Why couldn’t Faith be like Heaven?

“You can let go now. I promise not to fall.”

He found their joined hands. “Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you had your balance.”

God, he sucked at lying. At least to her. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t bat an eye, but Heaven’s gaze shook him. It was as if she could see past his mask and into his soul. No woman had that effect on him.

He needed to get away from her before he said or did something he’d regret—something Dylan would never forgive him for. And just as his best friend resurfaced in his thoughts…

“What the hell, man? I leave for an hour and you’re here making the moves on my girl?”

Dylan had returned.

Fuck.