Chapter Eleven

Booker

Fuck, I need to control this want for her. Or whatever is happening. Why can't I? It's the outfit. She looks almost virginal in her white sundress, except for the scarlet cardigan and sexy as fuck shoes with red ribbons attached that lace up her ankles. She's taken MILF to a whole new level. I want to keep kissing her, want to slip my hand under her dress, feel how wet she is, but this isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing. When I saw Austin earlier, he asked me how ‘project Cat’ was going.

I lied. Told him everything was great.

It isn’t.

She slides off the counter and adjusts her red sweater with shaky hands.

“I’ll just slip out first,” she whispers.

“Ok.”

She does this little shimmy through the barely opened door so Tristan can't see inside, and I stare at myself in the mirror. What am I doing? She has a kid, and I have, well I have to leave.

When I open the door, Austin leans against the wall. The high from kissing Cat dissipates.

“So, how’s it going?” he asks, with a smug look on his face.

I pull him into one of the bedrooms across the hall. “You didn’t tell me she had a kid.”

“Does it matter?” He crosses his arms.

“Yeah, it kinda fucking does. I can’t be an asshole to her now just so you can swoop in and save the day.”

He takes a moment to study me. Then, it’s like a light bulb goes off inside his head. “Ah, I see what’s going on here.”

“No, you don’t.” But, I’m pretty sure he does.

“You like her.” A slow grin spreads across his face.

“No, I don’t.”

“Listen,” he checks over his shoulder to be sure no one is overhearing us down the hallway, “you’re leaving town soon. Cat lives here. Her family is here. I think it’s best if you just stick to the plan and do what I’m paying you to do.”

“And if I say no?”

“Why would you?”

I step closer. “Maybe I don’t feel right about it anymore.”

“My friend who recommended you said you help guys get the girl. Well, I haven’t gotten the girl, yet.” He wipes a hand down his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles like he’s some prized pony. It irritates me. He irritates me. “Besides, you’re leaving. Why don’t you just do what you came here for?”

And he’s right. I am leaving. I shouldn’t be pursuing her.

“Be a jerk, and then you two live happily ever after? Is she even into you?”

He gives a smug smirk, and I want to punch it. “Maybe. What do you care?”

“Fuck you.”

I head outside, trying my hardest not to even glance at Cat standing by the gate chatting with a couple of mothers and kids leaving.

I should slip out unnoticed, say fuck it all, but instead, I walk to the opposite side of the yard to the small frame crouched by a makeshift waterfall. “What are you doing here all by yourself?” I ask Cooper.

He shrugs. “None of the other kids really want to play with me, but that’s ok.”

I crouch down with him. “Why is that ok? It’s your party.”

He looks up at me with watery eyes. “Because, I’m having fun here.”

“How about that chess game before I leave?”

“You sure?” he asks.

“Well, I haven’t had a good chess game in a long time. I could use the win.”

His eyes light up. “Follow me,” he says before running towards the house. He leads me through the spacious kitchen to the living room. I drop down on the tan sofa while Cooper grabs the game from a cabinet in the black oak coffee table.

Ten minutes later, I'm getting my ass kicked by a seven-year-old.

“What are you two doing in here?” Cat questions. “I brought you some cookies before they're all gone.” She holds out a paper plate and Cooper grabs something that I'm just going to be honest about—it doesn’t look edible.

These so-called cookies resemble rocks. Gray rocks.

“Are we supposed to eat these?” I ask.

Cat smiles. “It’s ok,” she encourages me, “they’re just sugar cookies.”

I reach my hand out, then pull it back, still uncertain. “Nah, I’m good.”

Cat pushes the plate closer. “Have one,” she insists.

I look up at her. “You’re sure trying to push your cookie on me.”

She pulls the plate back. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Is he talking about S-E-X?” Cooper asks around big bites of his rock cookie.

“No, he isn’t.” Cat gives me the evil eye before she takes the plate back into the kitchen.

“I think you’re in trouble,” Cooper says. “She just gave you the look.” He moves his Queen into position. “Check.”

Son of a bitch. I move another piece, and on Cooper’s next turn, he declares checkmate.

I stare at the board. “Well, that was the quickest game of chess I’ve ever played. I’d like to call a foul. You used your mom to come in here and distract me.”

“Sore loser. I never took you for that,” he says.

I'm denied a rematch when Cooper is summoned back to the party by a little girl with blonde hair and glasses. Go figure.

I place the chess board back in the box along with all the pieces. Time for me to go.

“That was really nice of you,” Cat says when I enter the kitchen.

I shrug. “Yeah, it’s his birthday. I let him win.”

Her eyes narrow. “Right.”

“You don’t believe me?”

She steps closer, her perfume wrapping around me, making me dizzy. “No, I’ve just played with him before.”

“Kid’s good.”

She offers a sexy smile. “He’s very good.”

I raise a brow. “I’m better.”

“I'm sure you're the best.” She moves forward on the checkerboard marble floor.

Like the pieces of the game, her in white, me in black, we face each other, building defenses.

The kitchen shrinks in size, and I know I need to get the hell out of here before she puts me in check, and I succumb to the urge to throw her on the kitchen counter.

“I need to get going. Thanks for everything.”

I step away from her. The King may be most important, but the Queen is most powerful. I leave before Catherine Wells can finish me off.

***

A few nights later, I pull up to Cat’s two-story cottage. Yeah, apparently, I'm putting my own self into checkmate.

I had to see her. And returning the hat and gloves was all I could really think of to stop by. Sure, it's lame, but I don't care.

“Wow,” I murmur when she opens the door wearing a flowy, blue sundress that hugs her full breasts, leaving the top swells exposed. She’s stunning, and ...perfect. “I… uh… came to return your hat and gloves.”

“Thank you.” She takes them from me and smiles. Barely. “Want to come in?”

She opens the door wider, and I step inside. Her home fits her. It has a soft, relaxed feel to it. Pale yellow walls, photos of the ocean, flowers on the table. A candle burns on the coffee table in front of the wide gray couch in the living room. Wild thoughts run through my brain about pushing her over the arm and spanking her rounded ass for turning what was supposed to be no different than a million other jobs into me clutching an excuse in my hands just to see her.

She leads me to the living room, and I inspect a few wood-framed photos lining her mantle.

One, of a woman, with long brown hair much like Catherine’s, holding a baby in her arms, catches my attention. “Is that your mom?”

She steps next to me. “Yeah, she left when I was a baby.”

I reach my hand up, placing it on the back of her shoulder, and graze my thumb along the soft skin of her neck. “I’m sorry. She sure missed out on getting to know you.”

She leans into my touch. “You have magic hands.”

And that’s my cue to put an end to this. I back away.

Her eyes meet mine and then she surprises me once again. “Want to get out of here? Cooper is staying at a friend's house, and I'm dying to get out.”

And obviously, I don't do the right thing. “Say no more.”

We hop into my Mustang, and I press the button to put the top down. The sun rests on the horizon, not wanting to disappear just yet. It’s a beautiful evening. It's the kind of evening that lulls you into forgetting, lulls you into making mistakes with a beautiful girl wearing temptation on her lips.

I drive her into town, and we grab a few burgers. Over dinner, the conversation with her is easy. I tell her the good things, and she tells me about Tristan’s sex store. I learn not only does she like pickles on a burger, she also likes tomatoes. She laughs when I tell her to apologize to her burger. It feels very much like a date.

“Ever been to Fleener Creek Overlook?” she asks when we're back in my car.

“No.” She directs me past town, out into a secluded area.

“Turn left here.” Her hand lands on my thigh, and I suck in a deep breath. “The overlook isn't far.”

I don’t know what this place is we’re going to, but it sounds like the type of place where I can be completely alone with her. A place I can look out at the town, instead of it looking at me.

Every time I venture out, I get the barrage.

“How’s your mother?”

“You’re just like your father.”

“Your dad was a good man.”

I don’t want to think about any of that tonight.

I follow her directions and park my car in the high grass off the side of the two lane road.

“Come on,” she beckons, opening her door.

I follow her through the brush, up a steep winding trail, and past a thicket of trees. Then I see it.

Up high we stand, overlooking the ocean with the moon hanging just above it.

“This is beautiful,” I breathe out.

“Isn’t it? Come on.” Cat holds out her hand and I take it.

We go a little further up the trail and come to a landing to sit on.

It’s just me and her in this little slice of heaven. A perfect spot to breathe in the romance of the tiny town beneath us.

“I love it here,” she whispers. “I come here a lot when Cooper is at my dad’s.”

I lean back on the palms of my hands, my legs outstretched in front of me. “Why?”

“To think about things.” She adopts my position and we gaze up at the twinkling stars beginning to make their appearance in the black sky.

“Like what?”

“Things,” she says with a shyness I find adorable. “I don’t know. If I'm doing a good job raising my son. If he’ll have anger issues later, blame me for my choices. If he has enough love.” She chews her lip, thinking, then continues, “If I’ve lost myself trying to be everything. Then I feel guilty for thinking that.” She sighs, and fuck. The feelings. I've got the fucking feelings listening to her worries. “I didn't have a mom, so I feel like I'm just copying everyone else.” She looks over at me. “I'm not bitter, though. Even if I sound it.”

I smile. “You are so bitter, but I think Cooper is going to be just fine.”

She laughs. “What do you think about when you’re all alone?”

I raise a brow.

She picks up a blade of grass and chucks it at me. “Not that.”

“Well, you asked.”

“Is that all you ever think about?” She tilts her head to the side. “S-E-X,” she spells out.

I shake my head with a naughty grin on my face. “Oh, Catherine, you’re too sweet.”

And she is. She stares at me, as if trying to read something in my face. As if I'm a puzzle to solve. A faint blush stains her cheeks.

And now I want nothing more than to claim her on this little patch of land, underneath the glorious sky, out in the open. “This place is the perfect spot to think. Then I can sit down at my typewriter and bleed.”

“Ah, I like that,” Cat says, scooting a little closer.

“Hemingway said it.”

This earns me a little eye roll from her. “He was a drunk who hated women.”

“He didn’t hate women,” I say, gazing into her eyes.

“Uh, yes he did,” she argues.

“No, he was upset with them.”

“Upset why?” she asks.

“Because men are a slave to them.” And that’s exactly how I feel sitting beside Cat right now. Chained. Bound. I feel like one word from her and I will be all over her, begging for a chance to kiss her, touch her, anything.

She ponders my words and then smiles. “Sometimes women are a slave to men as well.”

“No,” I state.

“Sure, they are.”

“Not like us.”

“How so?” She turns on her side, propping her elbow in the cool grass, resting her head in her hand.

I run my gaze over her face. So pretty. “We’re a slave to sex…”

She cuts in, “Oh my God. Not all men are.”

I lean forward. “Yes, all men are. We have a hunger deep inside us that only a woman can satisfy. I’m a slave to women, just like Hemingway says.”

“Ah, so you’re a player?”

I shake my head. “No, not like that. Actually, it’s been a long time. I just mean, well, I just mean, I like them.”

She smiles. “You’re cute.”

I’m not sure how to take her compliment. Shouldn't I be sexy or something? “I don’t think I’ve ever been called cute before.”

“No?” She looks very pleased. “Well, I’m happy to be the first. But, what have you been called in the past?”

“Asshole. Jerk. Bastard. Oh, the list continues on and on.” I laugh and she laughs with me.

“So, not a good track record with women, huh?”

“Not in the least. But, I keep trying.”

The breeze lifts her hair, and she tucks a strand behind her ear. “Well, I’m glad.”

Everything about this girl is pure. Her demeanor is playing with my head. I shouldn’t be having this much fun. I should be reeling her in, not the other way around. It’s like with every word she says, I feel myself on the edge of my seat ready to hear more. I want to know everything about her. This isn’t how I operate. This isn’t me.

“Most men can control their urges. But, I like to think Hemingway couldn’t.”

“Is that what you do?” She lies back on the grass staring up at the sky.

“What I do?” I ask, unsure what she means.

“Control it?”

I smile. “Who says I’m controlling anything?”

She turns her head to me. “So you’re a wild sex fiend?”

I laugh a little. “Maybe I control it better than most. But, I do like sex.” I won’t go into how much or how deep I like to play.

I don’t want to scare her off. And besides, I’ll never get to enjoy her. But, fuck, her innocence is such a turn on.

“Yeah, I guess most people do.”

And then I cross the point of no return. “Do you like sex, Catherine?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

God, so many ideas run through my mind. I need to steer this conversation back onto safer grounds, build a fortress against her, before I start asking her where, when, and how hard she likes to fuck.