For the second time tonight I found myself shoving my hands against rock-hard pecs. Jeez.
“Get away from me!” I bit out.
Ryker dropped his hand from my neck and stepped back a little, his eyes still intense on mine.
“Who do you think you are, huh?” I snapped. “Are you trying to make me look like a tramp? Because, let me tell you, I’m doing a fine job of it on my own and I don’t need your help!” I emphasized the last part because it was the damned truth. I stood there breathing hard as I glared up at him, the breath emanating from my mouth in white puffs with each exhalation. I’d forgotten to grab my coat and now ran my hands up and down my arms for warmth while stating, “You tell me you only want a ‘hookup’ but when you see me talking to someone else you screw any chance of my getting with him by telling him we’ve slept together? What is that?”
As I was speaking, I watched him unzipping his hoodie and taking it off. When his arms went around me I flinched thinking he was going to “trap” me again until I realized he’d draped his jacket over my shoulders to keep me warm. Ugh. Now I couldn’t even be as mad at him as I wanted to be.
I crossed my arms and gripped the sides of the hoodie and unable to help myself tilted my head down to my right shoulder and closing my eyes took a surreptitious whiff finding that it smelled just like him, all clean with a hint of a warm spice. Ugh.
Drive that knife in deeper, Frankie. Smash those last pieces of your heart into dust.
“What do you want from me?” I whispered looking up at him.
He shook his head before muttering, “I don’t know.”
Well, at least he was being up front about it. Even though I’d have loved for him to tell me that what he wanted from me was me, he couldn’t live without me and he wanted to be with me forever, I knew that was just the dreamer talking. Man, this dreamer persona seriously needed to take a freaking hike.
I stared at him for several seconds before eventually speaking. “Thank you for being honest.” I saw his mouth curl up at the sides probably at my sudden mood change. “I get it now,” I shared as I nodded. “But since we’re not gonna be together, you really can’t be doing things like you did earlier. I mean, what if I’d wanted to go out with Cole?”
His eyes flared (what was that about?) then he decreed, “He’s not someone you should go out with.”
I rolled my eyes at his big brother demeanor. “And why’s that? From what I saw, he’s a nice guy.”
“Not so sure the mother of his son would agree.”
My brow came down. “What?”
“He’s got a kid. Born right before season started. Cole tells us all he’s gonna marry this chick then he goes and fucks everything in sight.”
“Oh.” Crap.
Ryker kept his eyes on mine before they moved down to my lips for a moment before he gave what I thought was a frustrated sigh. He next rubbed his hands over his face and asked, “You need a ride?”
“I was gonna get a cab.”
“Come on.” He grabbed my hand and started walking up the street pulling me along with him. When we got to an orange sixty-something Mustang, he said, “Here,” and taking the hoodie from my shoulders helped me put my arms into it and zipped me up, the whole time looking like he wanted to say something but keeping quiet. After opening the passenger door he put his hand at the small of my back and guided me inside and after he closed me door, I watched him walk distractedly to the driver’s side, running his hand through his hair as he did. When he got in, he started the car and asked, “Where to?”
I told him my address and we took off, neither of us saying a word the whole way. I was too busy thinking how things were really really over between us to say anything and I knew he had to be tired from his tournament. When he pulled into a parking space at the apartment complex I started to take off his hoodie.
“Keep it,” he muttered.
No way could I keep it. All it’d do was remind me he’d never be mine. “I can’t.”
I felt his intense gaze on me. “You can.”
I sighed and sat back in my seat and turned my head so I could look at him. “You confuse the hell out of me, Ryker.”
One side of his delectable mouth twitched. “Why?”
I turned away and looked down at my hands that were messing with the zipper on the hoodie as I talked. “All I’ve been for you is a hookup,” I glanced at him then looked back at my lap. “But I feel like you’re saying one thing and your actions are saying something else.”
He ran his hands over his face again with a sigh then put a hand on the back of my seat as he turned toward me. “Would it help if I told you that you confuse the ever-loving fuck out of me too?”
I jerked my head back with a frown as I looked at him. “I do?” I mean, I thought I’d made it perfectly clear what I wanted, having jumped into bed with him twice already.
He bit his lip as he nodded slowly. Next, he reached out with the hand on my seat and grabbed a lock of my hair between his fingers and tugged. “You’re a huge distraction.”
“I am?” This was definitely shocking news.
His eyes moved to the tress he was twisting in his fingers and he snorted. “Oh, yeah.”
Okay. Time to end this. We were never going to be together and I needed to move on before he hurt me even worse.
Before I could open my door, he suddenly dug his entire hand into the hair at the back of my head clenching his fingers tightly into it which didn’t hurt as much as it startled me, making me cry out. Jerking me toward him roughly, his eyes looked angry. My hands flew out seeking to balance myself before they landed on his muscular thigh, the denim of his jeans now like a second skin on the hard contours of his bent leg and then his face was in mine, his other hand coming up to hold my chin with fingers that gripped firmly as he growled irritably, “Huge fuckin’ distraction.”
Um. Okay.
“You’re confusing me again,” I whispered.
His eyes burned hotly into mine at that but I wasn’t scared. Matter of fact, I was so turned on I was panting waiting to see what he’d do next.
“In my head all fuckin’ day and night, totally fuckin’ shit up,” he mumbled.
Well, that didn’t sound good.
I tried pulling back but he kept me where I was, his fingers digging into my hair and chin a little harder. As he stared me down, I saw him shake his head as if in defeat before smashing his lips against mine in a bruising kiss, his tongue plundering my mouth, finding mine to tangle with it.
Good lord, the man could kiss. I felt a huge dip in my womb at the hunger he displayed as if he couldn’t get enough of me. But I was the same (damn it), moving a hand up to lock in his hair, my other behind his neck holding him tightly to me needing more. Always needing more.
We made out for a long time before he ended it (damn it again) with several soft, sweet kisses on my lips, my jaw, my forehead, the tip of my nose.
I was this close to asking him in when he spoke up.
“I need your number.” He moved his hand from my chin slowly down over my throat, and even more slowly down between my breasts on to my waist and around to my back where he found my pocket and pulled my phone out. He brushed his lips over mine as he handed it to me before sitting back. “Dial,” he ordered and gave me a number.
I frowned at his bossiness but dialed the number and upon hearing his phone ring, I hung up.
“Call me anytime you need me,” he announced which I thought was really nice. Until he added, “You get starved for my cock, hit me up, babe.”
Wow.
Wow.
And here I thought we’d made some leeway but apparently not. I was back to my original play of getting out of his car which I did quickly, but not before turning and telling him to go fuck himself then slamming the car door and stomping to my apartment. Right before I got the key in my door, I heard him chuckle as he said out of his window, “Won’t be fuckin’ myself, but I will be fuckin’ you soon, darlin’.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I mumbled turning the key in my door. I slammed it shut then holding both hands up, fists clenched, I let out a pissed off shriek as I heard him drive off. “Why am I so stupid?” I yelled to no one before stomping to my room and throwing myself on my bed.
My phone chimed that I had a text and I remembered that I needed to text Sharee and Gladys. I was on my stomach, so lifting my head, I swiped my phone unlocked and read what’d been sent.
Text Message—Sun, Jan 18, 12:24 a.m.
Unknown: Don’t forget to put my name in your phone, Francesca
Ha. Fat chance of that ever happening. I deleted the text and the number, texted Sharee to let her know I was home then got my pjs and went to take a shower. Back in my room, I heard my phone chime again and picking it up saw I had messages.
Text Message—Sun, Jan 18, 12:57 a.m.
Ree: K! Glad & I are having fun… don’t wait up
At least someone was having fun at the party. I looked at the next text.
Text Message—Sun, Jan 18, 12:32 a.m.
Unknown: Goodnight, beautiful
Deleted.
I got in bed and turned out the light only to toss and turn for a while. As I thought about everything, I figured it was good that Ryker pissed me off so much which took the focus off my broken heart.
Huh. Would you look at me being all optimistic and shit.
~*~*~*~
I drove Gladys to the airport Sunday morning. She and Sharee had barely gotten up before we had to leave, both of them having hangovers from hell.
“I told you not to let me drink more wine,” Gladys whined at Sharee who was practically passed out in the backseat.
Sharee moaned, “As if I could’ve stopped you,” but it came out garbled.
I picked up coffees at Starbucks on the way trying to sober up their drunk asses and by the time we reached the airport, what do you know? They were at least able to walk without zigzagging too much.
“Let me know when the next big party is,” Gladys said, hugging both Sharee and me. When she pulled back, she gave me serious eyes. “And I’m sorry I was such a pain in the ass about guys. You’re doing just fine, Frankie.”
Ugh. If she only knew. But it was still nice to hear she was dropping my love life as her focus for now.
“Yeah,” Sharee added. “Sorry, Frank.”
“Can I get my phone out and record both of you saying this?” I asked with a grin.
“Hell no,” Gladys said with a snicker. “I’m still drunk. I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying.”
Sharee nodded in agreement and I shook my head at both of them.
“’Kay! I’m outta here! You guys be good!” Gladys announced giving us both a hasty hug before going through security. She turned and gave us one last wave and then she was gone.
“Makes me sad when she’s gone,” Sharee declared as we turned to leave.
“Yeah,” I concurred. “I miss her.”
Back at the apartment, Sharee went back to bed while I did laundry and prepared for the coming week. I had minimal lesson plans to write up for PE and only needed to wash jeans to wear, so I was finished in no time. I checked the grocery list on the fridge and decided to do some shopping. Knowing Mrs. Bertolini probably needed a few things, I climbed the stairs to her apartment and knocked on the door.
“Hello, Francesca!” she exclaimed when she opened her door. “Come on in!”
I loved Mrs. B’s apartment. It always had a faint smell of Chanel No° 5 with a hint of bread baking, her artwork displayed on every wall and sculptures in every corner. I’d spent an entire afternoon and into the evening with her a couple years ago learning about each piece she’d done and it’d been fascinating. She’d sold a lot of them, having posted them on a website that her daughter, who lived in San Francisco, had set up for her. It was amazing to know that each piece sold anywhere from one-hundred dollars well into the thousands. Mrs. B had tried giving me a painting before I left the day she’d told me about her work, but I’d refused telling her I hoped to have enough money to buy one some day soon.
“Hi, Mrs. Bertolini. I’m going to the grocery store and wanted to know if you needed anything?”
“I do! But come in and have a cup of tea with me first.”
Sharee and I tried visiting with her at least once a week since she lived alone, but she was so busy with the senior center and managing her website that she was in no way lonely. Usually, we were the ones who sought her out if we were bored or craving company.
“What’re you hooked on this week?” I asked with a smile since she was always changing her flavors.
“An apple cinnamon herbal that’s to die for!”
“Sounds great! I’ll get it started.” I’d been by so often that I knew where she kept everything. I mean, it wasn’t hard since the teakettle was always on the stovetop, but I knew the tea was in the cabinet at the top and to the left of the oven and the cups and spoons were on the right.
As I filled the kettle with water she jumped right in. “So who was that young man you were kissing last night?” I turned to her, mouth dropped wide open. “It’s not polite to let your mouth hang open, dear.” She winked and gave a little chuckle.
“How could you see that?” I asked, putting the kettle on the burner and turning it on. “And what were you doing up that late?”
She chuckled louder. “You forget I’ve got twenty-twenty vision and I was still awake getting some paintings ready to ship.”
I shook my head and leaned against the counter, arms across my chest. “He’s just a guy I know.”
“From the way it looked, he’s more than that to you.”
I shrugged. “I’d like for him to be but he doesn’t want more.” I got the teacups and saucers out of the cabinet and put them on the counter. “Besides, he says the crudest things anyway.”
As I got spoons out of the drawer, she answered, “And he looked like he wanted more too, honey. Men don’t grab onto a woman the way he was holding you without it meaning something.”
Hm.
“And he’s a dirty talker too… my Marco had a filthy mouth which added so much to our sex life. Spicy!”
Oh, my God. I actually dropped the box of tea on the floor and couldn’t help wanting to put my fingers in my ears and chant a ditty so I didn’t hear any more of what she had to say.
She laughed. “I know I’m ‘grossing you out’ but I’m telling you, when Marco and I were younger, we sure had some good times in bed. You find yourself a dirty talker and you’ll never be bored. My first husband was—”
I gasped. “You were married before?” I picked up the box and set it on the counter, opening it to get the bags out to place in our cups.
She nodded. “Yes. To a very nice young man. We were eighteen, in love and couldn’t wait any longer. We were both each other’s first and it was… nice but not steamy.”
The teakettle started whistling so I took it off the burner and poured the hot water into our cups. After putting it back, I carried both cups to the table as Mrs. B followed.
“Now, I was in it for life,” she said as she sat. “I’d said those vows in front of God and everyone and I meant them.” She picked up her cup and saucer and after blowing on the tea, took a sip. “Joe didn’t take them as seriously as I did and ended up having several affairs.”
“What?” It pissed me off that someone would treat sweet Mrs. B that way no matter how long ago it was.
She nodded and took another sip. “Oh, we were quite the scandalous couple in town. One just didn’t get divorced back then, but I’m not one to put up with a cheating husband, so I went to my father and informed him what was going on. My father was a good man. Honest. Hardworking. He owned a lumber mill in town and people liked him. Respected him. Needless to say, they were quite shocked when he hunted Joe down after giving him a week to stop what he was doing, mind you, and beat the hell out of him.”
“Good,” I declared before taking a sip.
She chuckled. “And this is where it gets good,” she said cryptically giving me a wink before taking a drink.
“What happened?”
“My father wasn’t a very big man, standing maybe five-foot-three. Momma barely cleared five feet which is why I’m short. Anyway, Joe was over six feet tall and was a fairly muscular man. People talked at first, but then assumed that Daddy had been just angry enough to best Joe. Oh! I forgot I have Nook pastries! They’d go well with the tea.”
I got up and found the pastries in the cabinet, getting a knife out to split one between us. “Go on. I wanna know what happened!”
She smiled then continued as I placed each half on the saucers I’d gotten out. “I’d been around the mill all my life. Daddy was always hiring what Momma called vagabonds, drifters. I’d seen the latest drifter he’d hired months before I learned of Joe’s infidelities, and if I hadn’t been married, I’d have been all over that.”
I laughed at her lingo. I know she’d heard Sharee and me saying that very thing. I took a bite of my pastry half, closing my eyes for a moment at the deliciousness, then opened them to see her doing the same which made me chuckle before I prodded, “And?”
She took another drink. “This drifter was as big as Joe, maybe a tad taller, but he was a Greek god compared. Oh, my, was he handsome. And Daddy liked him because he worked hard too. I’d moved back in with my parents and Momma invited this gorgeous man, Marco, to dinner several times a week since he was renting a room in the hotel and lived alone. I had the biggest crush on him but since I was newly divorced, it was inappropriate to even think of dating anyone at the time, so I waited. After seeing Marco up close, Joe became just a fleeting memory for me. A few months later, we learned Joe had gotten himself in trouble when he had an affair with a married woman whose husband didn’t take to kindly to that sort of behavior. That beating landed Joe in the hospital. I went to visit him only out of propriety but wished I hadn’t. He had a broken arm, his nose was smashed and it seemed he had bruises everywhere. When I walked into the room, he started crying, asking my forgiveness, begging me to take him back.”
“You didn’t, though, right?”
Another cryptic smile and more pastry eating and tea sipping was about to drive me to the brink.
“Mrs. B! What happened?” I pleaded for her to continue.
After dabbing her lips with her napkin, she said, “I told the son of a bitch to get lost.”
I burst out laughing because she rarely used foul language. I think I’d heard her say damnation once but that was about as bad as it got. Through my giggles I asked, “And you and Marco got together after that?”
“Oh, no, honey. It wasn’t that easy.”
“Why?”
“I was a divorcée after all and, well, you just didn’t hop into another relationship back then.”
“So what happened next?”
“Daddy had given me a job keeping the books at the mill so I saw Marco every day and we became friends. We flirted like crazy but nothing ever came of it. Until six months into my working there when he cornered me in the back one day.”
Sounding like a broken record, I repeated, “What happened?”
“It was the summer of 1953 and there wasn’t air conditioning at the mill. I’d gone to the back to cool off since there was a big fan back there. I’d also grabbed a cup of ice. Since it was hot, I had on a pair of shorts and a button up shirt but I untucked my shirt and had unbuttoned the top several buttons and was smoothing ice over stomach and what would be called my décolletage when Marco happened to walk in and see me. We stared at each other for a moment before he stalked over backing me against the wall and in his slight Italian accent murmured in my ear that he could make me wet in other places.”
I gasped again. “Whoa. That was pretty risqué for back then, right?”
“Downright salacious,” she said with a smirk.
“So you went out with him after that, right?” She shook her head. “What? Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. We went another six months, casting surreptitious glances at each other, me blushing every time because I knew exactly what he wanted. When finally one night at dinner Marco was over, he looked at my father and said, ‘Mr. Williams, I’d like your blessing to date Sarah. Now, we can do this the easy way with you approving or we can go the difficult route with you telling me no and I’ll take her out anyway. It’s up to you, sir, which way things will go.’”
“Holy shit.”
She nodded. “Daddy squinted his eyes at Marco for several seconds, sizing him up, I suppose, then he looked at me. ‘What do you say, Sarah?’ he asked. I nodded slowly, still in awe that Marco had stood up to Daddy like that.”
“Why did you need your dad’s permission? You’d already been married before. You were a grown woman, right?”
“I was twenty at the time but still living under my parents’ roof.” At my questioning look she explained, “That’s just how things were back then.”
“Weird.”
She chuckled. “I guess it would seem weird to today’s twenty year olds.”
I nodded in agreement. “Okay, go on.”
“Marco and I dated for two months before he told me it was he who’d beaten up Joe and not my father. He said the first time he’d seen me he’d been smitten but had been disappointed to learn that I was married. When he found out that Joe was stepping out on me, it infuriated him that he’d do that to me. He approached Daddy and asked if he could take care of it and Daddy was more than happy to allow it.” She took a sip of tea. “I’m sure it sounds uncivilized, but in those days people took care of their problems and moved on. We didn’t worry about being sued over every little thing. The minute Marco told me he’d been the one to fight for my honor, well, I didn’t think it possible to fall more in love with him, but he proved me wrong. Two months later, he proposed, after having gotten Daddy’s permission to do so, of course. We got married that spring, a simple ceremony since it was my second marriage, but my dress was still stunning. I remember being so nervous on our wedding night.”
I jerked my head back in surprise. “You hadn’t slept with him?”
“No. Those were different times, remember? Oh, but we did plenty of other things.” At my raised eyebrows she actually giggled. Then she got a faraway look in her eyes. “We were together for fifty-four years before he passed.”
I sat watching her get teary-eyed and had to join her. I pulled a paper napkin out of the holder at the center of the table and wiped under my eyes. “That’s a beautiful story.”
She wiped at her own tears nodding in agreement and went back to her original point. “And let me tell you, the man knew how to talk in bed. So, honey, if you find that, you’d better grab on for dear life.”
Now I was crying for real.
“What is it, sweetheart?” She reached over and put her hand on mine, squeezing. I stared down at it while tears ran down my face. Her hand was worn and wrinkled, a few liver spots here and there, fingers crumpled permanently due to the arthritis with which she’d been afflicted. Yet at one point I knew those hands had been capable of creating the most amazing art, they were experienced, had once held babies, wiped runny little noses, blood from scraped knees. They’d comforted a husband when his parents had passed, framed his face when he doubted himself, held his hand as he’d taken his last breath.
I looked up at her. “I love your hands. They’re beautiful.”
She gave mine another squeeze then smiled waiting for me to talk.
I gave her hand a squeeze back before sliding it out from under hers so I could wipe my eyes again. “I—I don’t know if I’ll ever have that with someone, that connection,” was my choked confession.
She looked affronted. “Honey, you already have a connection like that.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t want it.”
“He looked like he wanted it last night.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “He wanted something all right just not that.” I looked at her through what I knew were puffy eyes. “He’s not interested in a long-term thing. He just wants a hookup.”
She nodded knowingly. “A booty call.”
I snorted out a real laugh this time. “Mrs. B, how do you know what a booty call is?”
“I may be old but I’m not dead, Francesca.” She gave me a discerning look.
“Sorry. Well, it’s over between us anyway so it doesn’t do any good to talk about it.” The look on her face remained. “What?”
“Remember what I told you the other night?”
I nodded. “You said I needed to play it smart if I wanted his eyes to open.”
“That’s right.”
I sighed. “But what does that mean?”
She shrugged. “That’s for you to find out.”
I stood grabbing up both of our cups and saucers to take to the sink. I rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher then looked back at her. “I just don’t think we’re meant to be.”
She tsk’d at me. “You remember what I said I did to catch Marco’s eye?”
I thought for a second, leaning a hip against the counter. “You didn’t really do anything.”
“Exactly.”
“So I’m not supposed to do anything and he’ll come around?”
“I didn’t say that.” She sighed. “You kids today just don’t get the nuances anymore. Everything has to be spelled out for you.” She winked so I knew she was teasing. “I kept Marco engaged, intrigued. We became friends first but we also flirted a lot and it worked out.”
“I’m supposed to become his friend?” I raised an eyebrow.
“What’s wrong with that? If you’re not friends and you get married, what do you have to fall back on?”
“So am I supposed to text him and stuff?”
“Sure. You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”
“But what if I become his friend and he starts talking to me about other women?” Yikes. That would suck big time.
“Then you’ll know.” Her eyes twinkled at me when she said, “But I doubt he’s that stupid.”
With a sigh I declared, “I’ll give it a go and see where it goes.”
“Good for you!” she gave me a smile as she stood. “The grocery list is on the fridge. You’re a good girl, Francesca. Now, all this talk has worn me out. I’m going to lie down. You’ve got a key, so let yourself in when you get back.”
She turned to go to her room but I called her name, going up to her and bending low gave her a hug. “Thank you.”
When I pulled back, she gave my forearms a squeeze. “Any time, dear.”