Sweat Equity Read online

Within an hour, anxiety buzzed so loud in his brain he could hardly stand still. He’d shaken Heather off at some point, and stood alone among the sea of people, unable to locate Sara anymore.

  Get a grip God damn it. You know what to do. Dump the crazy bitch; go to the game, then get Sara back.

  Yeah. Easy as that.

  He rolled his head around, released some tension in his neck and sipped the beer he’d been nursing, wanting to keep his wits about him if at all possible. Hiding behind a buzz of alcohol had become too easy. He had to get control of himself. Then, he could control what happened next. He’d slipped, badly, after Sara left him. He’d allowed himself to coast back into bad habits, including the tall, dark one who was getting drunk off her ass over by the vodka and Red Bull bar.

  A commotion by one of the beer bars caught his attention. Before he knew what happened, he’d made his way there, and stood in a strange tableau with the woman he loved yelling at her brother to leave her alone and to let her live her life, while her current boy-toy remained opposite the scene, staring daggers into his chest. Suzanne appeared at Craig’s elbow, whispered in his ear, and seemed to calm him down.

  Now that is a strange turn of events.

  He watched the blonde man take a step toward Sara and felt something rise in his chest, making it impossible to breathe.

  Mine.

  He took his own step into the fray, catching Blake’s eye, but stopped when Sara moved away from her brother and held out both arms. “Dear God, all of you, leave me alone. I don’t need this right now. You,” she pointed at Blake, “mind your own fucking business for a change. And you,” She glared at Craig, “stop trying to convince me you know best. And you,” Jack crossed his arms when her eyes met his. “You–just, oh hell.” She dropped her arms and walked out, leaving an empty void between the men, who stood staring at each other.

  Suzanne put her hand on Craig’s arm, whispered something in his ear. He nodded and started after Sara. Jack felt the possessiveness smothering him again but had no interest in a pissing match with the guy. So, he squashed it best he could, and watched while Suzanne put an arm around Blake’s shoulder. Glancing around he realized Rob had left the tent completely, and made a mental note to find out what the hell was going on with him and Sara’s brother.

  Jack turned and headed back into the crowd, ignoring everyone around him, seeking the bright yellow cap she wore. Determined to find her and try to calm her down, all the while a small voice inside reminded him that she didn’t want to be helped. She’d said so herself. But he knew better.

  Sara pushed blindly through the drunken group, let herself get buffeted, hugged, and ass slapped. Holding back tears, she wrenched free of the hands clutching her, suddenly unable to breathe another minute in the tent.

  Air. She needed air.

  The opening at the far end promised sunlight and freedom; she made a beeline for it, sucking in huge gulps of oxygen. If one more person touched her, gave her advice about her life or even looked at her she knew she’d scream.

  Escape.

  Shoving aside the tent flap she stumbled out into the bright, October sunshine then dropped into one of the chairs nearby, putting her head on the table. Her heart would not stop pounding. Finally, she sat up convinced she might live through the next few minutes when her eyes landed on a pair of folded hands boasting a French manicure. She sighed and met Heather’s eyes.

  “I know you’re talking to him. Every night.”

  Sara stared, unable to process how completely insane her life had become. Heather took her silence for agreement.

  “So you can just stop right now. He’s with me, do you understand? You had your chance.” Heather stood, wobbled and nearly fell. Sara watched as if from a long way away when the crazy bitch pointed a finger at her. “He’s mine. He may talk to you every night but he’s in my bed, every night.” The woman gripped the back of the chair for balance as the level of her voice grew. “He tells you things he doesn’t mean. You can’t trust him. He doesn’t miss you. He has me!” The last was loud enough to silence the small knot of people sitting at nearby table.

  Sara closed her eyes, unwilling to engage on any level as her chest tightened and her head started ringing. She started at the touch of a hand on her shoulder. Looking up into Craig’s dark eyes, she realized he’d been standing there, heard everything. She stood and nearly got bowled over by the man himself, rushing out of the tent opening.

  “Can’t you control her?” She glared at him as he gripped Heather’s arm and led her away without a word, then slumped back into the chair. The pure, raw energy of jealousy thrummed through her body.

  Recognizing it is half the battle, eh Sara?

  She groaned and put her head back down. Don’t do it. Don’t give in to it. You do not need either of these men. Walk away.

  The words her mother had said had worn a groove in her brain. “It’s love Sara.” She watched Jack’s broad back as he walked away from her, and tried to quell the sudden bout of shivering that enveloped her.

  Craig sat, put a hand on her shoulder then removed it. Images of her, of them together, swirled around in his brain, but the sudden new image of the petite redheaded woman intervened, making him grit his teeth. “You’re right.” He said to Sara’s bowed head.

  “About what?” Her voice muffled.

  “We can’t do this anymore.” He stood, heart heavy. “I love you Sara.” She sniffled, looked up at him.

  “No you don’t. You love the idea of me not with Jack. There’s a difference.”

  He frowned, anger crowding out the confusion clanging around his psyche. “Don’t tell me how I feel.” He hauled her to her feet and kissed her, shoved his tongue between her lips, hands fisted in her hair. She responded at first, molding her body to his, making small sounds in her throat that ramped up his determination even further. The sound of a whistle broke the moment.

  “Get a room kids!” She gasped as he gripped her face in his palms.

  “I do love you, Sara, goddamn it, and it’s killing me seeing you like this but…” he looked up, unsure how he felt since thoughts of Suzanne had begun to invade his dreams more and more.

  She shook her head, tears streamed down her face. “Go. Leave me alone. I mean it Craig, I can’t,” she yanked herself out of his arms. “I can’t do this anymore. It was a mistake, you and me. I, oh hell I used you, used you do you understand? I am still using you and it’s not fair.” She clutched his biceps. “You deserve better than me.” He stared at her, resentment taking a firm foothold in his gut, but he knew he’d been complicit in the whole thing. .

  “Yeah, I knew you were, though. I let you. Friends with benefits. Christ. Guess I’m just not cut out for that.” He shrugged out of her grip and took a step back. Running a hand through his hair he caught a glimpse of Suzanne, still standing with Blake, their heads together in some kind of earnest conversation. A thrill of something he’d later identify as lust went through him at the sight of her but he repressed it, refocused on Sara. “You’re right, like I said. We can’t do this anymore. I am falling for you, period, “he sighed and shrugged.

  She sat back down. “Yeah. Me. I’m a mess. Seriously Craig, let’s just cool it, okay? I need space to think, figure out what the hell it is I really want.”

  He took a breath, forced away the intense urge to hold her, kiss her, to make it better. She smiled at him, nearly melting every bit of resolve in him. “You do deserve better.” She put a hand to his face.

  He moved out of her reach, lest he do something stupid. “Okay. Fine.” Frustration surged through him like a wave, making his throat ache. “I’m going home.” The band around his chest tightened when he got another glimpse of her deep green eyes, haunted and hurt. He’d be damned if he’d let that asshole do this to her. But, he had tried, and she still didn’t want him, she wanted the asshole.

  She stood, side stepped him and took off away from the loud party in the tent. Craig watched as she disappeared over a hill of the
golf course where thousands of tailgaters made merry, sighed and ducked back inside. His heart ached as he caught Suzanne’s eye. She leaned on The Local’s bar; Blake had disappeared.

  “I’m sorry honey, don’t make me leave.” Heather kept her death grip on Jack’s arm even as he whistled for a passing taxi.

  Jack bit back the urge to smack her on the ass, hard. She’d misinterpret it anyway so it would be wasted effort on his part. “Get in the car Heather. I’ll pay the guy. Go home and sleep it off. I’m going to the game. Afterward, I want you to come over and your crap out of my house, do you get me?”

  She jerked out of his grip, stumbled, and then righted herself. Jack kept a hand on the taxi door. His head had never been er. Heather turned to him, her face set and eyes wild.

  “You don’t love her you know. You just want what you can’t fucking have. She knows that. She’s playing you like a goddamned violin. Don’t you get that?”

  He kept his face neutral. “You’re drunk. Again. You and I are through. Now get in the car.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Jaaaaack,” her lips captured his but he turned away, pulling her arms off him, disgusted with himself for ever even touching her. “Honey, I’m sorry.” He glared at her.

  “Heather, I’m done. Get in the car now.” She sniffled, slid into the back seat, tugging him down with her. He knelt by the open window.

  “You won’t be happy with her Jack. You’re too much alike. You and me, we’re better.” She clutched his hand, tears streaming down her face. “I get you. She never will. Don’t kid yourself.”

  He jumped up, avoiding the closing window just in time. He shoved his hands in his pockets and watched the yellow car weave into the increasing traffic around Michigan Stadium.

  Heart light, head and laser focused, he turned and strode back towards the tent.

  Sara.

  He had to find her. Now.

  Taking long strides, he calmed his breathing, trying to figure out what he could possibly say any differently to her than what he already had, but determined to try harder. By the time he got back to the tent, it had ed some as people had made their way into the game. Sara was nowhere in sight. He grabbed a beer and slammed it, patted the inside pocket where he’d stashed his flask of bourbon and made his way into the nearly one hundred thousand people headed into the football game, figuring the distraction of a decent football game, and a solid, slow drunk would help.

  He found his seat in the middle of a bunch of fellow realtors, laughed, joked and tried like hell not to stare around for her. The bourbon warmed him as the afternoon cooled down and the teams took the field. A sudden flurry of activity towards the aisle made him look and come face to face with her as she made her way down the row, apologizing along the way, only to plant herself right next to him.

  “Hey.” He handed her the flask. She took it and helped herself to a healthy slug.

  “You’re welcome.” The crowd around them cheered as Michigan drew the first blood, scoring on their first drive down the field. He took the usual rash of shit from everyone around him and then leaned into Sara’s ear. She sat stock still, staring straight ahead.

  “Earth to Sara.” She glared at him, but he kept his gaze neutral. She softened and slumped a little so he put a friendly arm around her shoulders. The sensation of her leaning into him felt more perfect than anything on the planet.

  The crowd around them got more raucous and they laughed and chatted with colleagues and friends. At one point he looked at her, caught her staring at him. He glanced at his phone and noted what had to be the millionth text from Heather.

  “So is this us, on a date?” She grinned and whispered in his ear. He realized the bourbon had loosened her up considerably and took the last sip just before the halftime show.

  “Oh God no. Not us.” She put a hand on his thigh, making his skin prickle in anticipation. He plucked it off, and put it back on her lap.

  “Don’t.” He smiled at her and some perverse way got a thrill of satisfaction at the frustration that passed over her face.

  “I thought we were sort of communicating well, you know, lately.” Her voice took on an icy edge.

  “Yeah, maybe, but I’ve got a huge fucking mess to deal with tonight, dislodging Heather from my place. Sorry. I’m distracted.”

  “Fine.”

  Her hand made its way back to his thigh as the game got exciting and when Michigan made a dramatic touchdown in the final seconds she leapt up and hugged him in her excitement. The very feel of her nearly made him keel over with a sudden surge of possessiveness. That fucking kid had been dipping into this, he knew it. He had to grit his teeth as raw jealously coursed through his veins.

  As they made their way out, joining the throngs at the corner of Main and Stadium, she tucked a hand into the crook of his elbow. Using every particle of self-control he had, he moved away from her. “What, Jack? You’re gonna stand there and tell me you didn’t enjoy that? I mean, it was fun. I thought,” she stared at him but he held his tongue. She set her shoulders and crossed her arms. “Well, do you want to walk back to my place?”

  The look on her face, and the pure need that oozed from her made his body clench with intention. He clamped down on it. He did need to sort the thing out with Heather. Sara needed to sort out some shit in her own head. He turned to her once they were of the crowd on the sidewalk. “As tempting as that is, I’m gonna say no.” It took all he had but he kept his distance. “I don’t share and I won’t ask you to. I need to things with Heather. And you,” unable to resist, he tucked a thick curl of her hair back behind her ear. “You need to figure out what you really want.”

  “I really want you to come home with me Jack. What part of that didn’t you get?”

  He grinned, and brushed her lips with his, then leaned into her ear, taking a deep breath of her scent. “The part where you still have the dashing hero, Mr. Robinson, in your life.” He walked away, hands in his pocket, heart in his throat before she could say anything else.

  Sara watched him go, her entire body thrumming with residual energy and quickly fading happiness. As the reality stole over her–that he’d told her essentially to let go of Craig, to choose one of them or the other–sunk in, and irritation replaced the pleasant glow of the time they’d just spent together.

  Asshole.

  She grabbed her phone and dashed off a text, telling Val to meet her at Café Luis downtown for a martini then headed in the opposite direction from her condo, diving back into the teeming hoards of football fans exiting Michigan Stadium.

  Fuck him and his pompous ultimatum. She’d do this thing on her own terms, not at his command.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “C’mon honey, let’s find you a cab.”

  “But, I want…” Sara signaled the cute waiter who’d slipped his number to her on a napkin.

  “Nope, no more. Let’s go.” She focused briefly on her friend. The room spun then stopped as she attempted to look more sober than she actually was. Val stuck her in the backseat of a taxi, then crouched down by the open door as Sara tried not to gag at the old cigarette and cheap leather odors. “Sara, you have got to get this thing sorted out.”

  She nodded, felt a tear slip down her cheek but didn’t wipe it away.

  Val patted her leg. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Do you want me to let Jack know…?”

  “No!” Sara glared at her, tried to focus on her friend’s face. “I’m fine. I don’t need babysitters. I mean, sorry, I don’t mean to be such a bitch. Don’t tell him anything. I’ll be fine.” Val shut the door and Sara closed her eyes, opening them when the car stopped in front of her condo.

  After paying and making her wobbly way up the sidewalk, she nearly stumbled over someone on the steps. She glared at the masculine hand on her arm, keeping her upright. “What the hell?”

  Craig’s face became , sending a bright shaft of annoyance through her brain. She yanked her arm out his grip. “What do you want? I told you I need
some space.”

  He took her keys and unlocked the door without a word. She took off her jacket and scarf, and then kicked off her shoes before stomping into the kitchen for water. The light nearly blinded her, but she sucked down two glasses before turning to acknowledge the man’s silent presence behind her.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Just wanted to make sure,” she cut him off, as the extreme emotion of the day and the grip of two stiff martinis washed over her, drowning out reason.

  “Christ, Craig. Why don’t you get a grip? Stop being so fucking….nice all the time.” She moved past him, but gasped when he grabbed her arm and pulled her close, his lips hovering over hers.

  “Okay.” He said, simply. Then slanted his mouth over hers, shutting out all sensation but for his hands and lips.

  Craig had spent the last weeks in a wash of frustration and anger. The fact that Sara had been ignoring him did not help his mood. As the youngest of five boys he’d learned to be quiet, to watch, listen and learn and not let his emotions lead him. But something had built in him since first encountering Sara, something that felt wild, uncontrollable, possessive and competitive all at once. Not a healthy way to feel about a woman he knew. The longer he went without actually talking to her the worse it got. It made him antsy, quick tempered, and pretty much miserable and he’d wanted to skip the whole fucking tailgate party altogether.

  So, when drunken Heather had broken the news that Sara and Jack had been talking every night, he’d practically been frozen with fury. The exchange he’d had with her after that had simply not been enough. They needed….something. Closure. So he’d headed to her place, waited, and now in the face of whatever shit she was slinging, he lost it. Completely and utterly lost it.

  He fisted hands in her hair and swept into her mouth with his tongue, pressing his body into hers. A brilliant beam of need, anger, frustration and something a little scary lit the edges of his vision. The small sound of pleasure that she made in her throat egged him on, driving to say things, do things he never believed himself capable of. Her shirt ripped under his hands and he watched it drop to the floor as if seeing it with someone else’s eyes. He felt her fumble with his zipper, free his rock hard shaft, sensed her hand on his flesh as he tugged her away from the sink and pressed her up against the kitchen wall.