thirteen
peyton
Swan Point Inn was exceptional, the attention to detail amazing. I should have slept like a baby, even with sleep being hard for me, but thoughts of Rutledge had kept me tossing and turning.
Thinking about last night, despite how it ended, he had been battling the same feelings as me. Over the last few days, something had been building between us. Last night, I had been so ready to offer him what I so badly wanted him to take, so the abrupt change in him and how quickly he pulled back from me; I couldn’t lie, it wasn’t just unexpected. It hurt.
I’d always been one who believed things happened for a reason. Falling so hard for a house, purchasing it so rashly then meeting the owner; a man I couldn’t stop thinking about. Someone who made my heart beat faster, made my body burn, and had my legs feeling not too steady. The same man who made me laugh, who could give me a barely there grin and it felt like I’d just been gifted the world’s best present. Even whatever haunted him had helped forge the man he was, a man I thought was perfectly imperfect.
I was losing it. Maybe the house, Rutledge, and my reaction to him were symptoms of a bigger problem. Maybe I needed to literally get my head examined.
Today, I planned to explore. I needed a job eventually, so I was checking out the town. Maybe, like the house, something would catch my eye.
I climbed from bed and headed to the bathroom. Again, I noticed the attention to detail from the towels to the soaps and lotions. Pear cinnamon shampoo, locally made. I needed to check out that shop.
The shower head was one of those rainfall ones, the warm water cascading down my body. I tried, but failed, to keep thoughts of Rutledge at bay. His arms came to mind and the tattoos that told a story, one I wanted to learn. I thought of his hands holding me up that day in the kitchen, the heat stirring in both of us from the contact. Those hands on my body pressing me close, holding me to him. How his hips moved when we danced, the intensity of him, like he was consuming me. Thinking about where that dance had been leading, thoughts of his calloused fingers running along my skin, the rough pads scraping along my collarbone, down the valley between my breasts. My throat constricted with lust thinking about those fingers brushing over my nipple, catching that peak, the tug and twist. I moaned and the ache between my legs pulsed. My hand moved down my body, over my stomach and lower. I touched myself, thoughts of Rutledge filling my head. His big body over me, those eyes locked on mine, his cock driving into me, the smell of sex scenting the air. My hips moved into my touch, my thumb continuing to work my clit as I slipped two fingers inside, pushing in deep. The moan caught in my throat. My hand slammed against the tiled wall when I came.
My legs weren’t steady when I finished in the shower and stepped from it, because even just coming to thoughts of him I wanted him in this bathroom with me, naked in that shower, messing up the sheets of the king-sized bed. I wanted to see him smile, hear him laugh, wanted one of those grins. I wanted to be on the receiving end of that look that made me feel both hot and safe all at once. I wanted him. He wanted me too, but what I wasn’t so sure about is if he wanted to want me.
Pulling on my faded jeans, my gray scoop-necked sweater and hat, I grabbed my purse and key and locked up. The scent of coffee and something with cinnamon wafted down the hall to me. I entertained having breakfast at the Inn, but decided to grab a coffee-to-go from one of the many cafes in town, but not the one Rutledge had taken me. Sentimental, silly even, but I’d only go there with him.
The cool crisp air was heavy with the scent of autumn; whatever it was that caused the smell that was unique to this time of year. The street was lined with trees, their jewel-toned leaves were quintessential New England. Storefronts had pots overflowing with mums and pumpkins. Scarecrows rested precariously from door frames or tied to trees. One cafe caught my attention by the sheer number of people exiting and entering. The front window had a large tree drawn in window paint, done by what looked like the hand of a child. Apples fell from the tree, a basket on the ground already overflowing with the red fruit. It would seem Ogg’s Point took their autumns very seriously, and considering it was my favorite time of year, I absolutely loved it.
Inside the cafe, standing in line, the man in front of me I assumed worked as a mechanic based on the various stains on his overalls. His cell was to his ear, but his focus was on the dining area, or more specifically, the women. He wasn’t shy about checking them out, his lustful gaze on their asses as they walked from the cafe. When he pulled out a business card and started flossing his teeth, I lowered my head to hide the chuckle.
“Hey.”
Shit. I felt his stare, my skin crawled. It took effort to lift my gaze, his smarmy smile revealed yellow teeth, well what was left of them. It was a ridiculous thought, but I wondered why he was flossing because there were large enough gaps between his teeth that flossing seemed unnecessary.
“You new to town?”
Technically, I wasn’t new to town, but it was the warning that tickled my nape, the desire to share very little with this person that had me replying, “No, just visiting.”
He turned to face me, his hands slipping into the pockets of his overalls. I suppose I should be flattered that I got his undivided attention, but I didn’t want it. I was staring right at him when he moved his gaze down my body, lingering on my breasts. I wanted to kick him in the balls, and I gave myself a moment to appreciate the visual of him doubling over in pain. Two birds, because I’d be one person closer to coffee.
“How long are you in town? Maybe you’d like someone to show you the sights?”
And by sights I was guessing he meant his cock. So tempting. That or root canal, hard decision. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m okay.”
One brow rose. “It would be no trouble.” His gaze drifting down again, my own did as well because he was touching himself as he spoke to me. Was this dude for real?
He looked down my body again. “I’m Herb, and the offer is open.” Then he turned and stepped up to the counter. I needed another shower.
***
The old iron gates drew me in. I was at the far end of Main Street, the white steeple of the church rising up to the heavens. Large oak trees were scattered around the small cemetery, their yellow leaves falling from the thick branches to settle on the fading green grass. Some of the stones were old, so weathered and worn the inscriptions had long ago faded. Others were newer, the stark contrast between them was a reminder that life was a cycle. I strolled through the cemetery. I’d always found them peaceful. There were two stones situated under a tree. It was how they were placed that suggested they were together, spouses or family. My heart dropped when I stepped closer. Raines, Mary and Lesley. Mary Raines was Rutledge’s grandmother, the woman whose house I was buying. The dates on the other stone had a lump forming in my throat. Lesley was younger, most likely Rutledge’s mom. Tears burned my eyes looking at the dates. I didn’t know his exact birthday, but based on when she died, he hadn’t had her very long. Worse still, he had been left with a father who was unfit to care for a hamster let alone a child. I understood now the look when he thought of his grandmother because she had been his mom.
My steps were slower as I walked from the glimpse into Rutledge’s past, a glimpse that shed a bit of light on the complicated man and explained in part why he was the way he was.
I started for the heart of town, and so distracted by my thoughts I didn’t realize I had stepped into some kind of performance until a man, belting out a show tune, took my hands and started spinning me around.
I tried to see those around us, but it wasn’t easy with how fast we were going. We stopped, and I almost fell over. His hand on my back steadied me. It was then I heard the applause. I also spied the flyers. The Great Martin. Seemed a little presumptuous to call himself great, but he was parading around Main Street in a sparkly outfit, dancing and singing with no apparent purpose. Chancing a glance at the building we were in front of I half expected to see it was a mental hospital, but no, insurance. The reminder that I’d left all of that, walked away from my life didn’t cause panic. Whatever happened, I was glad I took the step.
A truck rolled down the street, a black pickup, and my heart leapt. My phone was heavy in my pocket, my hand itching to reach for it. After last night and how he’d left, I wasn’t sure he’d want to talk. I could always make it a business thing. I was exploring. There was a strange man now singing Evita on Main Street. I think it could be argued that was information I should have had when making my decision. The fact that I’d been drunk when I made the decision was neither here nor there. I reached for my phone. It was silly, he’d see right through what I was doing, and still, my fingers danced over the keypad.
Me: Rutledge. Are you aware there is a nut strolling the streets of Ogg’s Point? He goes by the name of The Great Martin and I’m sorry, strolling is misleading. He’s singing and dancing and sparkling. I think this is information that should have been disclosed to a potential buyer. He has an amazing voice though. ; )
It wasn’t even a minute when my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I couldn’t stop the smile or the butterflies that started going crazy in my stomach.
Rutledge: Ahh, that’s what I wanted to tell you the other day. Lol. Martin is still fucking there?
I grinned because I could almost hear the humor in his words.
Me: Yes, and by the crowds, I’m thinking he does at least three shows a day. He’s harmless, right?
God, I hoped he was harmless.
Rutledge: I can assure you, Peyton, that Martin is completely harmless and has become a staple at Ogg’s Point. In the future, do your fucking research on the town you plan on living in, sweetheart. ; )
He was bossy, but another scenario completely unrelated popped into my head; a situation where I’d be happy to take orders from him. I could have thought on that for a good portion of the day. I studied his text, was happy that whatever had caused him to leave so abruptly last night, he seemed back to what I was beginning to understand was his kind of banter.
Me: You’re right. I did all of this backwards, but I’m not sorry I did.
Rutledge: Are you sorry about anything since stepping foot in Ogg’s Point?
I couldn’t help the smile. He’d been thinking about me too.
Me: Only that I didn’t get a burger to go last night because I could go for one now.
I hesitated for only a second before I added.
Me: The company too.
Rutledge: I can remedy that when I get back in town.
I bit my lip, even as heat rushed through me. I almost asked him to hurry.
Me: I look forward to it.
Rutledge: As do I.
Yeah, this man was dangerous.
Me: I don’t suppose you know a Herb? Tall, blond hair, likes to...well that’s not important. Met him today too. Charming man.
Rutledge: I hate to break it to you but Herb, and his sidekick Willy, are the inspectors coming out to the house. They might not be the brightest crayons in the fucking box but, they get the job done and a good one at that. They’ll be there early next Friday morning. Wish it was sooner, but it’s the best they can do. In the meantime, I need you to go to their office on Elm Street, which is off of Main, and sign a few papers.
Of all the people. I didn’t think before I texted back because honestly, what the fuck.
Me: Well, shit. It’s a good thing I didn’t kick him the balls then. And Elm Street? Yeah, that’s fitting. This day is turning out to be a slight nightmare. Can one conjure Freddie? I’m going to try.
Rutledge: Kick him in the balls?
I could almost see the look on his face when asking that.I replied back.
Me: It’s kind of my standard impulse when being ogled by a dickhead.
Almost instantly he replied.
Rutledge: Hold on…
I stared at those two words and wondered what he was doing. I couldn’t deny reading the words ‘hold on’ from him had a few other situations where they could apply. The accompanying ache was distractingly pleasant. His next text interrupted me from fully developing that little fantasy.
Rutledge: Peyton?
Me: Yes.
Rutledge: Where are you right now?
Where was I? Not where I wanted to be. I’d rather be holding onto Rutledge while he took me up against the wall, my fingers digging into his shoulders as his cock pounded into me. It would seem my imagination refused to be denied. I then remembered where I was, so I quickly typed back.
Me: I’m on Main Street. The Great Martin has moved on to a melody from Guys and Dolls. He does a surprisingly good imitation of Marlon Brando.
His one word replied made me laugh out loud.
Rutledge: Jesus!
Chuckling I typed back.
Me: I don’t think he’s done Jesus Christ Superstar, but I’ll look for a suggestion box.
Rutledge: For fuck’s sake, Peyton, that’s not what I was asking or saying… or… never fucking mind.
Giggling, I shot back.
Me: You might want to switch to decaf, Rutledge. Just saying.
Rutledge: I don’t need to switch to fucking decaf! Jesus!
Me: If you say Jesus three times he’ll appear. Oh wait, that’s Bloody Mary. Never mind. Good thing too, because I’m not dressed to meet him. I should have on a dress or at least a skirt.
It took longer for him to reply, and I just knew he was taking a deep breath.
Rutledge: If you happen to notice two huge fucking rub marks on my forehead, you put them there. Now, get your cute fucking ass over to Elm Street. Herb is expecting you, and I promise you won’t have any issues with him anymore. You think that’s possible, sweetheart, or should we wait for The Great Martin to finish???
I smiled because I could see the expression on his face, the annoyance coupled with the grin. The fact that I could, and that it made me feel as happy as it did. It was a flag. I really needed to keep my distance, keep myself from falling for this man, but I had no intention of keeping my distance. Thinking about Herb, even with Rutledge’s promise that I wouldn’t have any issues. I typed.
Me: Is there a bar on the way to Herb?
Rutledge: A bar? What the fuck for?
I wondered if he kept a daily count of how often he used the word fuck in a sentence. In answer to his question, I texted back.
Me: Liquid courage.
Rutledge: I guess that explains the four beers you had last night, and I will keep that noted. ;)
Well, shit. Of course, he’d make the connection. Dangerous, sexy and smart. I really was in trouble.
Me: You got me, but you can be slightly intimidating. I’m sure I’m not the first woman to tell you that.
Rutledge: What other women have said to me doesn’t even fucking count. But I will tell you ONLY once, you can trust me, Peyton. And as for Herb, I took care of the matter. And if you do have any problems with him, you tell ME!
What other women said didn’t count. I liked that answer. A lot.
Me: I do trust you, and thank you for taking care of Herb.
Rutledge: I’ll remember that. ;) No thanks needed.
I wanted to ask him why he left, wanted to call him and ask because this Rutledge was the man I’d spent the last three days with. So what happened last night to cause the change? Not wishing to end this exchange like last night ended, I let it drop.
Me: I’m heading over to Elm Street now. And I know you’ve taken care of Herb, but if his eyes move lower than my chin, I’m kicking him in the balls.
Rutledge: Can I suggest something?
There were many things he could suggest that I’d agree to.
Me: If you’re asking if I’m packing. I’m not. But maybe I should.
Rutledge: No, nothing that drastic. But I would suggest you change a few articles of clothing in your fucking wardrobe.
Fuck had to be his favorite word. I laughed when I texted him back.
Me: My wardrobe?
Rutledge: Maybe you’re unaware, Peyton, but most of your fucking shirts stretch across your tits like they do in every guy’s fantasy. All you need to complete the image is a bucket of water poured over you.
I dropped my phone. Even when I reached for it, I had trouble grabbing it. It was like an art form the way he could string words together that turned me into a hot mess. Every guy’s fantasy, including his. The intent was to get me to wear less revealing clothes, but his revelation had me making a note to self to buy my tees one size smaller.
Rutledge: As you have yet to answer me back, am I to assume that you’re walking toward Elm? Maybe still enjoying The Great Martin? Or... have I rendered you speechless, Peyton? ;)
It wasn’t speechless I was feeling. I surprised myself when I texted back.
Me: Just thinking I need to go a size smaller in my tees.
Rutledge: Excuse me?
My fingers hovered over my keypad, nerves turning flirty into unsure. Somehow, I found it in me to text back.
Me: Every guy’s, you said, including you?
Rutledge: It doesn’t take a fucking rocket scientist to see how you affect me, Peyton.
I knew that, but hearing him confirm it brought on a new wave of feelings, some of which I wasn’t ready to deal with. Still, I carried on when I replied.
Me: So like I said, a size smaller.
Rutledge: You know, sometimes you give me a damn headache, woman, but I ain’t gonna fucking complain.
It wasn’t my head that ached when talking to him. I kept that to myself.
Me: I’m heading to Elm. The Great Martin is on break.
Rutledge: Thank fuck The Great Martin is on a break, so you can get your ass to the office before it closes. Do you know where you’re going?
Where I was going was insane. But I had a feeling I was going to thoroughly enjoy the trip.
Me: No, I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m sure I can find it. If not from using the Force, I’ll just ask someone. One sec as I get my bearings…
And the return of my sanity. I didn’t walk far before I came up on Elm Street.
My phone rang. I was holding it when it rang, and expecting a text, it flew into the air. I looked a bit like a circus clown trying to recover it. I didn’t need to look to know who was calling.
Even with the nerves, I answered brightly, “Hey, stranger.”
“Bearings?” was all he said.
That voice was like hot fudge over ice cream. I loved his voice. I really needed to get the man to keep talking, pepper him with nonsense questions just so I could listen to him. Not today, but that plan made my must do list. “Yeah, bearings but I’ve found Elm Street.”
He let out a deep laugh before he said, “Okay, do you see the letters, H and W?”
Even his chuckle did magical things to me, but I pulled it together and looked for the sign. Spotting it, I was surprised at the sight of it, knowing it belonged to the uncouth animal I had encountered earlier, because it was charming, fitting for the quaint appeal of the town. The scrolling iron bracket that held the wood sign, hand carved and painted in hunter green with soft muted gold lettering. As a human, Herb was a pig, but as an inspector maybe, he knew a thing or two. His sign suggested so.
“I’m here.”
“I think we both wish you were,” he smoothly whispered and finished, “Now, go sign the papers, Peyton.” Then the line went dead.
I stood staring at my phone, wishing I had the power to get him back on the line, but not having the courage because the man was trouble, the very best kind. And it was thanks to Rutledge Raines that I entered Herb’s shop aching in all the right places.
The bell over the door rang. Another touch that was completely unexpected, yet charming. A man appeared from the back. At first glance, I didn’t recognize him. Maybe because his hair was brushed, or the fact that he wasn’t in oil stained overalls. Another reason for not recognizing him...his eyes never left my face. Not once.
“Miss Morgan,” Herb cooed. “Mr. Raines said to expect you.”
I was sure that wasn’t the only thing Rutledge had said because this Herb was nothing like the one I’d met earlier.
“I’m here to sign some papers.”
“I have them right here.” His hands, the same ones that had been fondling himself earlier, were twisting together in a nervous gesture. “I would like to apologize for earlier. I was out of line.”
Oh hell no. Now I needed to know what the hell Rutledge said to gain such results, and with just a phone call.
“It’s over, Herb, but thank you for the apology. So if I could just sign those papers.”
“Right away.”
I was in and out in five minutes. I stood outside their office; my thoughts were everywhere, my emotions too. Who knew that by a simple click of the mouse it would drop a man like Rutledge Raines into my life? All teasing and lust aside, the man was way more than he seemed, and I knew myself well enough to know that between the time we spent together and our banter, it would take me down a path that I had no business being on. Him looking out for me, taking care of me, it felt nice. Too nice. Something I knew I could get used to. I had to be smart, but I had a terrible feeling I wouldn’t be the same regardless of how smart I played it.
Lost in thought, the crashing sound jarred me. My head snapped up to see the lid of an old metal trash can still circling the ground, knocked from its place on the can. Scanning the street, no one was there. Odd. Maybe it was a cat.
I started back to Main Street. ‘Hold on’ his text had said. Those words proved to be rather foretelling. Hold on was exactly what I’d be doing, riding the storm that was Rutledge Raines and hoping like hell when he blew out of my life that I’d still be in one piece.