Naomi

 

I jumped when the timer went off. As I walked toward the wall oven, I kept my eyes to the cheap smartphone that lay on the granite counter. Once I retrieved the cranberry-orange muffins from the oven and put them next to the apple-cinnamon ones to cool, I leaned against the counter.

After work, I’d stopped by Walmart and had passed the little prepaid cell phone kiosk four times not knowing if I should go ahead with this whole thing. Maybe Braydon was telling the truth and the woman who answered his phone had been an associate. But the way he’d stumbled over his words when I questioned him had my mind whirling. I was his wife and never had answered his cell phone for crying out loud!

The first time I’d walked by the kiosk, I’d gone to the candle aisle. There I noticed they had all the Christmas scents out, so I picked up one of each. I’d made my way toward the phones and gotten just about two steps from them before I turned around telling myself it had been stupid not to grab a few extra fall scents since it was only the beginning of November.

Heading down the main aisle again, I’d passed right by the phones thinking I should pick up another bottle of laundry softener. Then I’d gone to the baking aisle and spent a small fortune there. After tossing all the goodies into my ever-filling cart, I chastised myself. Told myself I was being a big baby and I wanted answers and this was my ticket to getting them. But I wasn’t sure if it was the answers I’d been hesitant about or having contact with this PI.

I mean, I really didn’t know Victoria Staten, who’d recommended him, well enough to trust her judgment. Hell, I didn’t really know her at all. She and a few other women had been sitting in the lobby of the Landslide one day and I’d overheard them talking about a PI service. I’d asked, and she had expressed how great and thorough Dark Edges PI had been, then provided me with their e-mail.

This meant I knew nothing about him either and from the very short e-mail of instructions, I wasn’t sure I’d been making the right connection. I was a lonely woman in a strange town and we all knew what could happen to them. They ended up on the news, missing or worse because they thought the guy had just been really nice.

Regardless, I’d gone and snatched the best-looking cell phone with the maximum minute card they had. As soon as I’d gotten home, I’d set it all up and tossed it onto the counter before pouring myself a glass of wine. Then off to a bubble bath, with baking following.

Now, I felt like the cheap phone was staring at me with accusing eyes. As Beyoncé bellowed through the speakers in the ceiling, my nerves began to spike.

Was I doing the right thing?

I took a deep breath and inhaled the comforting aroma of baked goods which made a sense of calm come over me.

See, all good.

Until the phone buzzed and skidded on the granite.

I froze.

I stared at it.

It buzzed and stirred again.

I blinked then mechanically walked toward the counter and leaning slightly over it, saw the screen displayed a text from a blocked number.

Pick up the damn phone.

My hand snatched it up and I tapped the screen. The message was two simple, nonthreatening words: Hi Naomi.

Smiling at the phone, I replied, Hi, Mr. Black.

After I hit Send, I put the muffins into Tupperware containers. The phone sounded again.

That was quick.

It read, You can call me Chase. I like to get to know a little about my clients before starting my investigation.

I typed back, I can understand that. We can meet tomorrow on my lunch hour, say noon, does that work for you?

Since the muffins were in their airtight containers, the oven was off and the kitchen already cleaned, I shut off the lights. I grabbed the phone off the counter and went to the front window, watching as a sleek black car pulled out from across the street before I shut the white wooden shutters.

After, I went up to my bedroom and closed the door behind me, moved to the panel next to it and shut off my playlist, that was programmed into the fancy system, then made sure the house alarm was set. The cell buzzed in my hand.

Chase: I like to keep my privacy, meeting is a no go. Phone call?

The thought of not meeting with him threw up red flags. Since he was working my case, wouldn’t he want to sit down with me? Ask questions and go over a few things? I do understand that they can be asked over the phone as well, but an uneasy feeling flowed through my body.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

I tossed the phone onto my lavender-with-brown-satin-edging comforter, did my nighttime bathroom routine, and slipped into bed. I reached for the remote on the cherry-stained wood nightstand and hit power.

I hated our bedroom set. Braydon’s parents had given it to us as a wedding present. Maybe hate was not the right word. It was a nice set but it was definitely for a couple that enjoyed the high shine of cherry-stained wood and bulky furniture. That was not me. It wasn’t my style and his mom had known that, which was why she’d purchased it in the first place.

A week after our wedding, I’d overheard Braydon and his mother talking. I knew she wasn’t thrilled with our quick marriage; that had always been in her expression when she’d looked at me, as if I wasn’t good enough for her Braydon.

He’d told her that he really appreciated the bedroom set but it wasn’t my taste. His mother, the great Elsa McAllister, had informed her son she didn’t care. She’d known he would like it and that was all that had mattered.

And he did like it; actually, he loved it.

In the few short months that I’d dated Braydon before our wedding, I’d only met his mother maybe a handful of times. The visits were always brief and Braydon had acted differently, like he was trying to be someone he wasn’t and trying to impress her. Even the normal jeans he’d worn on his days off were replaced with suits when we visited her. It was something that always puzzled me but I’d figure it was Braydon trying to impress his mother as she had worn only the finest brands of clothing as her normal everyday attire.

I brought up my DVR list and hit Play on the first of many baking shows I had taped. Baking hadn’t always been my thing, but it gave me something to do in the long hours I spent alone since moving to Denver. And I was really beginning to enjoy it, as were my colleagues who most times I used as guinea pigs. The only thing I hadn’t appreciated was the extra weight all the baking had made me gain. Then again, everything comes with pros and cons.

I picked up the phone and typed out a quick, Sure, when is good for you?

Not one minute later the phone buzzed next to my thigh where I’d laid it. I glanced from the TV to the cell and saw he was calling.

Oh God! What do I do?

I stared at the alert of an incoming call. It stopped then notified me of a missed call.

Shit!

It buzzed again, this time with a new text message. I snatched the phone up and opened it.

Chase: Is now not a good time?

Reaching for the remote, I paused the show on which they were making pumpkin cream cheese cookies and that’s something I wanted to try.

 

Oh, screw it.

I typed out a quick, Sure, now’s a good time.

Then I hit Send.

Then my heart rate picked up.

My palms became sweaty.

The phone rang.

I felt like I couldn’t take a deep enough breath.

I answered anyway.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Naomi,” his deep voice replied in a lax manner.

The rough edgy tone sent a shiver down my spine, the second time today that had happened. But this time I was able to enjoy the tingling sensation that his voice left coursing through my body, whereas earlier I’d been interrupted by Marcy and unable to find the source of the deep chuckle that’d initiated the same reaction.

“Hi,” I managed to squeak out.

“I won’t keep you long as it’s getting late and I know you have to work tomorrow,” he said and paused.

I heard a beep in the background, like a car signaling doors being locked.

“How do you know I work tomorrow?” I quickly questioned.

He chuckled and that sound triggered a hot flush to flow through my body and land between my thighs. I made a mental note to try and make him chuckle again, because that was a feeling I hadn’t… well, ever felt before, and I liked it.

No, I loved it.

“You texted that you could meet me on your lunch hour tomorrow,” he replied with a bit of humor in his sexy, deep, rough, oh-my-God-I-think-my-panties-are-wet voice.

“Oh, yeah, I did, didn’t I,” I muttered softly.

“You did,” he replied quietly.

And that… hearing that tone come from his rough deep voice produced a spasm between my legs.

My mind rapidly went to the thought that maybe meeting him wasn’t a good idea. If his voice had this kind of influence on my body over the phone, in person it would probably be disastrous.

I heard a door shut and a lock latch through the phone.

“You bake?” he asked.

My brows drew together as I squinted. “How did you know?”

“Your e-mail,” he responded with what sounded like more wit in his voice.

And it was nice.

“Oh,” I mumbled then shifted in bed.

“Are you okay, Naomi?” His voice took on a concerned tone.

I took a quick inventory of myself and realized no, I wasn’t okay. But I wasn’t going to relay that information.

“No,” I blurted out quickly.

Stupid bitch with a big mouth.

He asked firmly, “Are you in danger?”

“No. Nothing like that,” I reassured him. “I’m okay.”

“You said you weren’t, so apparently you’re not.”

The way his tone dipped low, accentuating the roughness of it, had me leaning my head back against the pillow and closing my eyes.

“I don’t know; I guess I was expecting this marriage thing to be different,” I told him quietly.

“How so?”

I realized that I wasn’t talking to a therapist but the private investigator that I’d hired. I needed to shut my mouth.

“Nothing, just nothing. Okay, what kinda questions do you need to ask to go forward with the investigation?” I requested, hoping I was leading him down another path.

I hadn’t told anyone about what I suspected Braydon was doing and how much he’d changed since our wedding, like he was a different person. Not even Grace, and Grace was the one who knew the most about me.  And I would never tell my Gram. I didn’t need her worrying about me.

“You seemed to be doing a good enough job telling me about you. Please, carry on,” he insisted.

I sighed and revealed, “The filter from my brain to my mouth seems to be tired right now and maybe I’m giving a little too much info.”

“Do you have any friends, Naomi?” he bluntly asked.

“Um, yes. Yes, I do,” I announced firmly. Who was he to ask me such a question? I didn’t know this man. And Grace and I had formed a pretty great friendship in the time I’d been working at the Landslide.

“Besides the people you work with?”

Shit!

“No,” I admitted quietly, but went on with more assurance, “Just because I work with them doesn’t mean that they can’t be good friends.”

He chuckled again but this one didn’t do anything to my body, because it was laced with a drop of sarcasm.  “When’s the last time you went out?”

“The other night,” I told him with a confident huff.

“Really? Good for you. Where did you go?” I could almost hear his smile.

I opened my eyes and focused on the blank wall next to the window, wondering what his smile looked like. Was it a small cute smile? Was it an all-out full smile that showed his teeth that said he really meant it, and you felt deep down how genuine it was? Could it be that lame smile people gave to one another in passing that said, yeah, life is just glorious? Or possibly the ultimate package, multiple smiles that each made you feel something.

“A bar,” I replied.

“Nice. Did you have fun?” he probed and I thought I heard the slide of doors opening and the sound of muted cars in the background.

“Are you outside somewhere?” I asked curiously.

“I’m out on my balcony. And you?”

The last had my brain working overtime to come up with something other than telling him the truth. Like before, my brain-to-mouth filter had apparently fallen asleep, because I revealed, “In bed.”

“Mmm,” he mumbled.

The rough sound caused a hot rush through my body. I squirmed under the covers, trying to extinguish the feeling.

I really need to get laid, since I’d been experiencing a one-and-a-half-month drought.

I squeezed my eyes shut. The thirteenth letter of the alphabet, used on a daily basis by many people, had me curling up into a ball of sexual need when he muttered it.

“Naomi?” he called.

I blinked. “Yeah… I’m here, sorry.”

“You don’t ever have to apologize to me.” His words hung in the air for a few seconds before he continued, “It’s late and you have work in the morning. I think we need to end this call.”

“You have to work too,” I stated.

“Yes, sweetheart, I do. But I don’t sleep much, plus I make my own hours,” he told me quietly.

He called me sweetheart!

Oh, grow the fuck up! He probably calls his mail lady sweetheart.

“Okay. Well, good night, Chase.”

“Good night, Naomi,” he replied softly with a drawl to my name that hit me right between the legs.

I tapped the End button before I made any more of an ass out of myself. Tossing the phone on the night table, I stared at it. The light from the TV made the wood of the table glow. I reached for the phone and quickly made sure the ringer was on high. Just in case he needed to get a hold of me for something important. 

“Is it normal to get this turned on by a voice?” I muttered to the empty room.

Yes. Yes, it is.

I really loved my subconscious at times.

I stretched, put the cell back on the table, and put a hand to the brass handle. Pausing a minute, I glanced over my shoulder at the TV and said, “Fuck it,” and opened the drawer and retrieved the small blue jewelry box. Taking off the top, I pulled out the purple finger-sized vibrator.

I tossed the box back in the drawer and placed both hands under the covers. One held the toy, the other went for the bottom of my nightgown. Once it was up and my panties were pushed down my thighs, I ran my fingers through my soaking wet pussy. Just that light touch caused a spasm.

I closed my eyes and God help me, but I heard Chase Black’s voice, a man I’d talked to exactly once, in my head. Moving my other hand to my pussy, I slid the vibrator over my folds. The toy glided easily as I brought it to my clit and began to make small slow circles with the tip.

A moan escaped my mouth. His voice calling me sweetheart echoed through my mind. My wrist started moving faster and I felt the tightness in my gut that told me I was close. It usually took me a good fifteen minutes before I had any results. Tonight, in fifteen seconds I was soaked and hanging on the edge and I hadn’t even turned the toy on.

“Yes,” I groaned.

Then his rough “Mmm” had me falling over the edge. My pussy convulsed and slowly pulsed.

“Uhh,” I moaned as I held it to my clit and turned it on.

The vibration quickly sent me into another shuddering orgasm, this one better than the first. I wanted to ride the wave and fall into another, but instead turned the vibrator off with a satisfied sigh. My arms fell to my sides and a relaxed but also unfulfilled feeling flowed over my body as I slipped off to sleep.

 

***

 

“You look tired, sugar,” Grace said to me as she poured coffee into the mug I held out.

We met every morning in the Landslide employee kitchen/breakroom and gabbed before our work day started. But right after our exchange of good mornings, she’d pegged the nail on the head.

“No, I’m okay,” I lied and put my cup on the counter and went toward the fridge.

God, I was tired, so tired.

I’d fallen fast asleep after my multiple releases but woke to something vibrating on my hip two hours later. I’d made a mental note not to fall asleep next time with my vibrator by my side. It had scared the shit out of me, not to mention, the first thing I did was grab for the cell phone on the nightstand, thinking it was going off. And that action had me awake for hours, tossing and turning with my brain on overdrive. It had been around four in the morning when I decided to tell Chase I’d changed my mind and no longer needed his services.

My mind had been wandering too much with thoughts that should never have entered my brain. I knew fantasizing about another man wasn’t cheating, but I did feel like I was betraying Braydon in some way. That had given me a small chuckle because of the reason I had hired Chase in the first place. If I hadn’t laughed, I would have just crumbled, and I was holding on to hope that I wouldn’t have to fall apart.

In the shower at five in the morning—two hours before my alarm was set to go off—I’d come to the realization that this was my life. I’d made my bed and I’d either lay in the mess it was turning into or I had to get up and straighten the covers. I was terrified of the outcome, either way. When and if I found out the truth, which I felt I knew deep down already, my life would drastically be transformed. 

“I don’t know who you’re trying to fool, but it isn’t working on me,” Grace grumbled in a stern voice, breaking me out of my own head before taking a sip of her black coffee.

I reached for the creamer and added a splash and tried to convince her without making eye contact, “No really, I’m good.”

“Lunch today at one,” she said.

“I can’t,” I told her and took a sip of the liquid gold, then went on, “I have a few errands to run.”

“My house tonight at seven. You bring the wine; I’ll supply the food. The kids are taking Flynn to see some turkey cartoon movie that’s playing at the park. And I ain’t sittin’ my old ass out in this cold,” she informed me as she sat down at one of the round tables in the break room.

“Don’t they have those huge space heater things? Like, the ones on the patio at The Bridge?” I asked, leaning against the counter.

“Yeah, they do,” she muttered, looking off into the distance.

“Then you’ll be fine and should go,” I offered quietly, hoping I could divert her.

Her head swung to me. “Girl, my house, seven, no arguments,” she ordered. 

“Fine,” I huffed, pushed off the counter and went to start my day.

 

****

 

I sat in my car with a deli sandwich, watching the cars on the freeway down below. This wasn’t a place I went to often but there was something soothing about it. Maybe it was the seclusion from the world below. It was a cute little street I’d found when I’d tried to navigate Denver without my GPS on.

After the fifth bite of the plain turkey sandwich, I threw the rest in the bag. My appetite for any nutritional food was diminishing quickly. For any food, really. My life had been so boring lately that the thought of everything was fading. Taking showers had become a nuisance. There had even been many times I’d had the phone in my hand to call out of work.

But I hadn’t. 

Even with the new evidence I'd found when opening up Braydon’s credit card statement, which I knew wasn’t the right thing to do but I did it anyway, only to be slapped in the face with numerous cash advances. This new proof had all fingers pointing to the direction that he’d been doing something behind my back. Additionally, he still wasn’t taking my calls or answering my texts. With everything I had in me, I’d plastered on a fake smile and gone on with my days.

Actually, all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hold a white flag above my head. When those moments hit, I always thought of my Gram. She’d always been a strong woman, still was. Although her memory had faded away, she kept on going. I loved getting weekly e-mails from the nursing home on how she was doing. Most times, there was something funny she’d done that week, for instance, the time she’d punched a guy in the arm because she thought he was going to steal her chocolate pudding. Okay, maybe her act of violence wasn’t funny, but the director assured me that she hadn’t had the strength to knock a piece a paper out of someone’s grip, so the gentlemen had barely felt her impact.

There she was, eighty-four years old with dementia and standing guard over her chocolate pudding. And here I was, twenty-eight, healthy as could be, and couldn’t even stand up to my husband. 

A tear grazed my cheek before it landed on my black wool coat. Reaching into the console for my cell, I tapped a few buttons and said a small prayer he’d answer as the ringing echoed in the car.

“Don’t have much time, Naomi, what’s up?” Braydon said in greeting.

“How are things going?” I asked with hope in my voice and not caring if he had a minute or just seconds.

“Slower than I had expected,” he replied.

I took a deep breath, getting up my courage and blurted out, “Bray, I’d like to go see my grandmother.”

The annoyed sigh didn’t go unnoticed as he answered, “When I get back I’ll take—”

I cut him off. “But since you are away, I thought of going myself.”

“You have a job and responsibilities, Naomi. You can’t just go taking off,” he said firmly.

“I’m sure I can get a few days off, or maybe switch my schedule around so—”

“No!” he shouted loudly, and it rang through the car.

I slumped my shoulders, feeling defeated as I whispered, “She’s my gram, Bray. The only family I have, and....”

“When I get back, I promise,” he told me gently.

“Promise?” I repeated his last word, holding out hope that he’d keep it, wanting to believe he wasn’t having an affair and was just working his ass off like he always insisted.

“Yes,” he returned.