Chapter Five
Jo
After three weeks Mrs. Remmick—she told me to just call her Nana—and I had settled into a comfortable routine. Mornings were breakfast and physical therapy, sometimes with a dialysis appointment. Afternoons were lunch, a couple hands of cards, and an episode of General Hospital. Nana would take a nap and I would get some studying done.
Clint would leave wads of cash on the counter for groceries and anything else we needed. Otherwise, I barely even knew he lived there. He would come home late at night or sometimes not at all. On my nights off, he would spend time with Nana, but he didn’t say much to me.
Not that I was expecting him to say anything. It was probably one of the best setups I’d ever had in this line of work. I didn’t need Clint to say much. I wasn’t disappointed at all if he pretty much ignored me.
I frowned at my cards. Nana was a wicked gin player. I was going to lose yet another hand.
“One more game, dear?” she asked innocently, setting down her winning cards. “Or do you need to study?”
“I should study. Besides—” I laughed “—my pride can’t stand losing to you again.”
Nana shuffled the cards and looked smug. “I saw the circular in the mail the other day from the senior center,” she mentioned. “They have a gin game every other Thursday.”
“Really?” I took our iced tea glasses to the sink and ran through Nana’s schedule in my head. “Well, that wouldn’t interfere with dialysis. I’m sure we can give it a try one day.”
“How about tomorrow?” She innocently put away the cards. As if she hadn’t been planning this all along.
“Sure, we can go tomorrow,” I agreed as I helped her out of the kitchen chair. I walked Nana to her recliner and found the remote. She’d be asleep before her show ever started. I smiled. I’d bet that Nana hadn’t watched an entire episode of General Hospital in years.
Setting up my books and notes on the kitchen table, I kept glancing at the fridge. Every morning, I got up and ran to the kitchen. Clint would leave me notes about his schedule with a special motorcycle magnet just above the ice dispenser. I told myself that I needed to plan my day, but really I just wanted to see his messy handwriting, read his message to me. Most of the time it was something like, Be home past ten. One day he said, Got a hot job, sleeping at the shop tonight. I wondered if that was true. Was he really sleeping at his garage, or did he stay with a woman? Not that I cared one way or the other. I only kept them because they had details about his schedule. No other reason, I told myself.
I found the piece of mail from the senior center and looked at the entry for the gin game. I could take her and sit with her until I had to leave for school. But Clint would have to pick her up and bring her home. I had class that night and the senior center was on the other side of town. It was my turn to write a note.
Gin game at senior center. Can you meet us at six? I have to leave for class.
I wondered what would happen if I wrote him something funny, or personal. I threw the Post-its on the counter and stepped back. Why the hell was I thinking of leaving Clint a special note? He was my boss.
My incredibly sexy boss. He was the guy who stood shirtless in the driveway so that I wouldn’t be afraid of him. I shivered thinking of those tattoos up and down his arms. He was also the guy who apologized for checking me out in a towel and vowed never to make me feel uncomfortable again. It had been a little disappointing—but then he held my hand too long and I knew that maybe he saw me as more. More than just the woman who took care of Nana.
Shaking my head, I put the pack of notes back in drawer. This was a dangerous line of thinking for someone in my line of work. I was the employee, not a part of the family. I’d always remembered that, until now.
After slamming the drawer shut, I put the note about the senior center on the fridge and went to join Nana in the living room.
* * *
The next day, Nana was excited for her trip to the senior center. She spent a longer time than usual on her hair and insisted on wearing her lucky cardigan. It was dark blue with red roses on the collar.
“Why is it lucky?” I asked as I helped her with the hairspray.
“I wore it when I won the gin tournament five years running in Astoria.” She looked at herself in the mirror. “Okay, I think that’s enough spray. Let’s go see if I can win some money today.”
I cleared my throat. “Are you going to try to make friends too?”
She laughed. “Oh yes, that too.”
Nana talked about various gin and card games all the way to the senior center. I was a little shocked. It turned out she played blackjack too and was really good.
“It’s hard, though,” she concluded as we pulled into the parking lot. “It’s hard to know when to say enough and not keep betting in blackjack. It’s a fine line between fun and obsession.”
“How did you know when to stop?” I asked as I unbuckled our seat belts.
“I just never crossed that line,” she explained. “But those that have crossed the line and then recovered, they’re very strong, you know. There’s no shame in overcoming your weaknesses.”
I studied Nana as I helped her out of the car. It was one of the most impassioned comments she had ever made to me. I wondered if she really had been addicted to it once, but managed to control it.
“It takes real strength of character,” I agreed as we rolled into the big glass doors of the center. “All right, here we are.”
There were a few round tables where groups were playing cards, so I pushed Nana’s chair over there. She introduced us and then whispered to me, “I can take it from here, why don’t you go read a magazine?” She winked.
I stepped back, feeling dismissed. Then I giggled. She was definitely in her element. The other people at the table had already dealt her in for the next hand. I left her to play with the cool kids and I went to go find a couch. I sat on one end of the couch, an older woman sat on the other end knitting. She nodded to me and I opened my box of flashcards. A lady with white hair rolled into a careful chignon played the piano while I studied.
Soon, I got lost in my studies. I didn’t look up until the piano screeched to a halt. Everyone had stopped, even the gin game paused and everyone looked to the door way. I twisted around to see what happened. Clint was standing in the doorway. He was wearing a brown work shirt with his leather vest and stained jeans. A chain looped from his pocket and he was still wearing his sunglasses. He looked every inch the outlaw biker.
Everyone watched as he strode across the room and dropped a kiss on Nana’s cheek. After that, activities resumed. The piano player picked up where she had left off.
“Hey,” Clint said, sitting on the couch next to me.
“Oh, hi.” I put down my flashcards. “You didn’t need to be here for another half hour or so.”
“I thought maybe you’d want to leave a little early to study or something,” he offered.
“I take my stuff with me.” I held up my flashcards. “Anyway, how was your day at work?”
“Good. Nothing exciting,” he answered.
I wasn’t sure what to say next. The outsides of our legs were pressed together as we sat on the couch. Every inch of my thigh began to tingle. I tried to shift away, but there was no more room on the couch. Finally, Clint stood up.
“Would you like to dance?” He gestured toward the wide spot of linoleum in front of the piano.
Dancing with Clint meant having his arms around me, feeling his breath on my cheek. I wanted to jump up and accept his offer. I looked around and no one else was dancing. He was standing there with his tattoos showing and his leather vest, a real tough guy—he couldn’t really want to dance with me in the middle of the community center.
I laughed. “You’re joking, right?”
“Uh, no. I wasn’t joking.” Clint shrugged and grabbed a newspaper off the rack next to me. He sat back down. “I just thought it might be fun, something different.”
Oh shit. He really did want to dance and I had totally blown it. He opened the paper to the sports page and then skipped to the local section. I’d hurt his feelings because I was afraid to take a chance. What could I say to make this better?
“I’ll dance with you, young man.” The woman got up quickly and held her hand out to Clint. “My name is Alma, and I know what to do when a handsome man asks you to dance. You say yes.”
Clint was caught. He looked from Alma and then back to me, unsure of what to say.
“All right.” He got to his feet. “Foxtrot?”
“Yes, please,” the lady responded.
Clint and Alma began to dance and I was impressed. He obviously knew what he was doing and never missed a step. He became popular and four other ladies took their turns.
I glanced at my watch. Shit. I needed to leave. I started to pack up my things.
“Hey, a dance before you head out?”
I looked up to see Clint holding out his hand. Here it was, my chance to make this right. I shouldn’t dance with him. He was attractive and sent delicious shivers up and down my spine whenever I thought of him touching me. But he was my boss.
Before I could say anything, he dropped his hand and tried to smile. Shit. He was my boss, but he was also a guy and I really wanted to dance with him. Indulge myself in his arms for just a minute.
“Okay.” This time I held my hand out and he helped me up. His fingertips were rough and warm. I knew I should drop his hand; we were dancing, not going steady. But I liked touching him.
“Foxtrot?” he asked, then leaned in and whispered, “That’s kind of all I know.”
“Well, you know more than I do,” I admitted as we walked to the dance floor. “So you’ll have to teach me.”
He continued to hold my hand as we walked to the makeshift dance floor. His touch sent little tingly bits of lighting up my arm. I tried to ignore it. He was going to dance with me, just like he danced with the other little ladies. But the little old ladies didn’t know what he looked like without his shirt on. I groaned as the memories flooded my mind. I could do this. It was just a dance at the senior center.
“Okay, so you hold out your right arm and hold my hand,” he instructed.
I put my right hand in his left and he wrapped his other arm around me. I froze. His hand was on my back and I had nowhere to look except into his eyes, or staring at his chest.
“They’re just waiting for me to be a bad dance instructor,” he teased, referring to everyone watching. “At least look up, Jo. Otherwise we’re going to have a million little old ladies here teaching us both how to dance.”
My gaze snapped up to his and then I craned my neck around the room. He was right. We were prime entertainment.
“Always look into your dance partner’s eyes.” He waggled his eyebrows and I tried not to laugh. “I’m gonna take a step forward and you’re gonna take a step back. So, you’ll do two steps back and then one step to the right. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, starting to walk backward. He wasn’t ready and he stumbled. “Oh, sorry.”
“So, I’m gonna be the one leading. Let’s do this.” He brought us a little closer together. Now there were only about six inches separating us. I swear I could feel the heat from his body in my nipples. I gulped. “I’m gonna lead this time, so when you feel me step, you’re going to step too, so you’ll just step wherever I go.”
“Wait,” I protested. “How do I know where you’re gonna go?”
“You just have to use my body movements as cues so you know where to go. And don’t look at your feet.”
There were a lot of things I wanted to use his body for, and the foxtrot was not even on the top one hundred.
I took a deep breath. I could do this. I lifted my head because I realized I was looking at my feet, and our eyes met. He stepped forward and I moved my foot back a pace or else he was going to land on my toes. He took another step and so did I.
“And now to the side,” he said, stepping to the right.
Pretty soon we were dancing. Clint moved my right hand a little every time a side step came up and I got the hang of it. I was doing well enough, but I was just staring into his eyes, thinking about how this would feel without his shirt on. I needed something to keep myself in check.
“So where did you learn to dance?” I asked.
“I’m gonna spin you.” He moved his arms so I could do a quick twirl and we started up again. “Nana taught me. I didn’t get along with my dad when I was a teenager, so I spent a lot of time at her house.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear about your dad.” I frowned. Even though things were rough for me growing up, I had been close to both of my parents. “Is he still alive?”
“Yep.” Clint nodded. “He and my mom live in the same little town on the coast where Nana used to live. How about you? Are your parents still alive?”
“No.” I looked down and then remembered I had to look into his eyes. He squeezed my hand a little, as if he wanted to hear the rest of the story. “My mom left when we were teenagers and my dad died when we were nineteen, my sister and I. She lives in Seattle.”
“That must have been rough,” he whispered. My gaze dropped to his lips. It would be so easy to just kiss him, feel his arms tighten around me—not be lonely for a just a few moments.
As we neared a wall, Clint did a special step to move us out of the way. Instead of following, I crashed into him. Flat up against him. My breasts pressed against his chest and my nipples hardened instantly. His lips were so close to mine, he just needed to tilt his head a little. His hand slid down my side and landed on my waist, where he pushed me back. I could feel the imprints of his fingers on my skin, even though he never touched my bare skin.
This was getting out of hand. He asked me a question about my past and here I was pretending we could be something more. My stupid fantasies about my employer needed to stop.
“Whoops.” He chuckled, and held his hands out to start again.
“I need to get to class,” I admitted, stepping back. “Thanks for the dance.”
He walked me back to the sofa where I had left my backpack, and then I said goodbye to him and Nana. As I walked out the door, I heard the piano player pick up again and I laughed. Maybe I should give myself some slack. I wasn’t the only one who wanted to dance with the hot guy.
* * *
When I got to class that night, I was really glad I spent that extra time with my flashcards at the senior center. The practice midterm was hard, but I thought I did pretty well. I snapped my notes closed and started to gather up my books.
“Hey,” Rachel whispered loudly from the next desk over. She and I had started the school at the same time—she was my best friend. “Has Tomas asked you out yet? Rumor has it that he told Gini he thinks you’re great.”
I rolled my eyes as I cleaned up my stuff. Gossip ran through the nursing program faster than the common cold.
“He’s cute, you know. In case you missed it,” Rachel teased. “Sometimes I have to remind you of these things.”
“I don’t need to be reminded. I notice when men are attractive,” I mumbled as I stuffed my notebooks into my backpack. I especially noticed when they stripped off their shirt and gave me a good long look in the middle of the driveway, or when I bumped into a hard chest when I took a wrong step while doing the foxtrot.
“So you’re gonna go out with him?” Rachel pressed. “You haven’t been on a date since I’ve known you. You’re only twenty-six, Jo. You need to get out more.”
“I get out,” I protested. “I went dancing this afternoon.”
“You went dancing this afternoon?” Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Well, it was at the senior center while Nana was playing cards.” I cringed. When I put it that way, it didn’t seem like anything important. But I had been dancing with Clint and he’d told me a little about his childhood. That moment meant a lot to me.
“Don’t you want to fall in love? Get married? Have kids?” she continued. She stood up and began packing her things. “You spend your days caring for people who might die soon. Let yourself live a little.”
“It’s not like I’ve never had a relationship.” I rolled my eyes. “Remember Tony? The guy who stole all of my money and my furniture? And left me with two months of back rent? It’s just easier to be alone. I’m protecting myself.”
“You mean you’re hiding.” She shrugged and threw her messenger bag strap over her shoulder. “You’re just being a coward by not putting yourself out there.”
“I’m not a coward,” I said, knowing it was crap the minute I said it. She was right. Tomas had a great personality and was amicably divorced with a cute four-year-old son. He had a steady job and didn’t seem like a deadbeat. So why wasn’t I interested in dating him?
Clint’s face floated in front of me, his lips parted in a laugh. I squeezed my eyes shut to try to get rid of the view.
“Shhhhhh, here he comes,” Rachel whispered.
I opened my eyes and saw Tomas waving at us as he came down the hall. “Hello.” He smiled. “How are you ladies this evening?”
“Jo is really excited tonight,” Rachel teased, and batted her eyelashes. “She heard you were going to ask her out.”
“Oh, um...” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at me.
Rachel ran off down the hall and left me alone with him. I’d get her back for this somehow.
“She was just teasing.” I waved my hand, trying to blow the whole thing off. “How are you tonight?”
“Fine. But actually I was going to ask you out.” He grinned and ducked his head. “I thought maybe we could go to dinner sometime.” He looked up at me. “I really like you and I think we’d have fun.”
He looked so hopeful, like a little kid. Or when my Alzheimer’s patients thought I was their long-dead spouse. I sighed. Maybe Rachel was a little right. Maybe I was being a coward for not wanting a relationship. Besides, it wasn’t like my boss was a candidate. As soon as the relationship was over, I’d lose my job and end up living on the edge again. I hated that. If I was going to date someone, I couldn’t work with him.
Tomas, a fellow student, would be perfect. Except he didn’t wear leather. Or have tattoos. Or take me dancing at the senior center.
“I’d love to, Tomas.” Tomas and I could have fun. We could give things a try. “What night are you available?” He had his son some days and I needed to ask for the night off in advance.
We agreed on Wednesday of next week. He’d pick me up. I sang along to the radio as I drove home that night. I had a date.
* * *
I snuggled into my covers and tried to recapture my last dream. He had his arms around me, music was playing in the background. Stars were all around us as we swayed to the beat. I leaned in to kiss him and saw—Tomas.
I sat bolt upright in bed, my heart pounding. I’d been expected to see Clint, wanted to see Clint.
I rubbed my eyes. It was good that I was dreaming about Tomas, I told myself. I was going out on a date with him, so it was only right that he was the one I should be dreaming about. Damn, I was going to need to ask for Wednesday night off.
I threw a short robe over my T-shirt and panties and went to the kitchen. Since Clint and I communicated via refrigerator note, I stood at the counter and wrote out a Post-it. I hoped it would be okay—I hadn’t asked for a night off since I started work. Then I heard a clanging noise, like when a spoon hits a metal mixing bowl just right. The sound was coming from the garage. Odd. Was someone out there?
I opened the door to the garage and froze.
There, lying on his back, was Clint. He was bench-pressing weights. Shirtless.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away. His body had been amazing before, but now he was slick with sweat and my entire body got hot.
The muscles in his arms and chest contracted and then stretched as he raised the weights over his head. A ball of heat formed deep in my stomach as I watched him. His abs and lats were so sculpted, I wanted to run my fingers up and down them like a xylophone. One press, two presses, three presses. Oh god, the arousal moved south and I pressed my knees together. He was magnificent.
The world swayed and I put my hand down on the workbench, so I wouldn’t fall over, but the surface I touched wasn’t stable. It was depending on a roundish car part for balance. It started to roll and I stumbled to catch myself. Lunging, I tried to catch the piece of metal as it fell off the bench. An arm hooked around my waist and hauled me away.
I heard the part smash onto the concrete floor, but I didn’t turn to look at the mess. I was too mesmerized by the sight in front of me—the magnificent chest I had been admiring earlier. I was tall, but he was taller. His blue eyes bored into mine as he held me against him. One of my arms was pinned behind my back, but my other arm ended up crushed between us, resting on one of his tattoos. It was the tattoo over his heart—an engine.
“That carburetor would have broken a toe if it fell on your foot,” he said, looking into my eyes. “You should move away from heavy metal objects, not try to catch them.”
The words weren’t seductive, but hearing his voice, feeling his body vibrate so close to mine, made my mouth go dry. It was like that moment when we crashed while dancing. I’d played the memory over and over in my head. But now here I was, pressed against him, shirtless. I waited for him to push me away, but he didn’t. It was up to me to separate us. I needed to say something. Something that didn’t involve sex, or two bodies fused together, or how much I wanted to touch all of him.
I moved my hand and felt a hard little nub under my palm. I couldn’t help myself—I brushed my thumb over his nipple. He groaned and leaned me backward slightly. His hand supported me between my shoulder blades, and my robe slid open. I was wearing a tank top, but I knew he could see the outline of my breasts.
He dipped his head and the heat of his breath burned my cheek. He was going to kiss me and I wanted him to. This wasn’t love, this was pure animal lust, and I wanted Clint around me, inside of me, all at once.
He kissed my neck, just underneath my jawbone. It was really more of a breath, but he brushed his lips across my skin, and I couldn’t help myself. I moaned. Next, he kissed my cheek, just a fraction of an inch away from my lips. I was through playing—I slipped my arms around his neck and brought his mouth to mine. He was warm and soft and tender. He didn’t push, we just melted into each other.
Clint was kissing me.
His beard scraped my lips, causing more tingling all over my body, and his tongue was warm and playful as he darted into my mouth. My body began melting and I could hardly hold myself up, so I let his arms support me as he cradled me against his body.
God, it would be so amazing to wake up in the morning to a kiss like this. Then I remembered that I would be waking up in my boss’ bed. No matter how I tried to focus on Clint’s lips, I just kept running a break-up scenario through my mind. We’d break up, I’d lose my job and my place to live.
I tore my lips away from his and steadied myself. Placing my hands on his chest, I put some space between us. He was gorgeous and attractive and my boss. Even though he made me feel this feeling, I couldn’t lose my job, not this close to graduation. I would lose everything I had worked for. I couldn’t risk it. I had to separate myself from him. I had to say something, do something.
Something. Anything.
“You’re my boss,” I whispered. “We shouldn’t.”
“You’re right.” He straightened and took a few steps deeper into the garage. He paced the concrete for a few seconds, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have done that.”
“I’m gonna go.” I reached for the door.
“Jo, wait,” he said from behind me.
“What?” I didn’t turn around—I leaned my forehead on the door, waiting for what he was going to say.
“I’m an asshole for saying this,” he started, “but if you ever think you can forget that I’m your boss, I’d like to take you out.”
My fingers tightened on the doorknob. I wanted to say yes. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to stay here with him and let him give me a raging orgasm. I knew he would. The way he made me feel when we kissed would be nothing compared to us together in bed. But he was my boss and I couldn’t afford to lose my job now. Not when I was so close to graduation. I had to make a choice between fucking my boss and my future.
“I’ve got to go,” I whispered, opening the door.
I fled to my room, panting like I’d just run a damn marathon. Once I got my heart rate under control, I tried to fall back to sleep. But sleep was a long way off as I stared into the darkness.
My mind played wild images of him and me in bed. On his motorcycle. On his weight bench. I clenched my legs together and moaned.
I needed to do something. Reaching under my bed, I pulled out my trusty vibrator. This would be perfect. I could just get myself off and forget that the man I worked for had the body of a god.
After a few minutes, I realized my vibrator was loud and not doing the job. Besides, the images of Clint had simply intensified in my head. Groaning, I put it back in the shoebox under the bed. The only thing that was going to help was the real thing. It was so much harder to ignore these feelings now that I knew he was interested too.
I took a sleeping pill and went to bed.