CHAPTER SIX
Langston
I held her like that for the longest time, pulling my robe over her naked body as she slept, my thoughts like a tornado in my head.
I was leaving tomorrow. I glanced at the clock. No, I was leaving in an hour. I’d signed a commitment for six months. Sure, before tonight, I’d felt certain I would recommit and be there for an entire year if not longer. But that wasn’t set in stone. Now, over the course of a few hours I was rethinking my plan because of a wild-haired redhead I met in a bar and had slept with within an hour of saying hello.
She sighed, and I held her closer, pressing my lips into her sweet smelling hair.
The way we met sounded sordid. In reality, it wasn’t sordid at all. It was… exactly right, though I doubted many people would think so, not that I gave two shits about other people’s opinions.
She would.
She wasn’t like the other women I’d met. I had no proof of that, but I knew it was true.
I didn’t believe in instant love, but I absolutely believed in instant attraction, and my internal radar had locked onto her like a hawk would lock onto a rabbit racing across a field. And I had devoured her as voraciously as a predator would its prey.
And she’d devoured me too.
She appeared to be surprised by our connection. Delilah, the man slayer. Samantha, the witch. A total stranger wrapped in a mystery that had seemed fun and playful only hours ago. I had let her know up-front that I wasn’t available for more than one night. I’d seen the understanding in her eyes. I’d seen how attracted to me she was. I’d seen and understood how keeping me as a stranger would help her wake up with less regret.
But, now, I deeply regretted not insisting on a formal introduction.
“My name is Langston Kimbrough,” I said to her sleeping form, hoping my voice would wake her. It didn’t. She only made a sweet little mewling sound and nuzzled her face into my neck.
Knowing my time was running out, I pushed to my feet, taking her with me, then groaned when the forgotten condom slipped off and hit the floor. That hadn’t been very smart. I’d take care of it later.
I carried my sleeping beauty to the bed, determined that, if she woke when I laid her down, I’d tell her my name again. I’d leave it to fate to direct me down that path. But she slept like a dead person, grumbling a little before curling up on her side. Her auburn hair spilled all around her, the curls even curlier than before.
Adorable. A sweet mix of sexy and girl next door, with a large dose of free spirit tossed into the combination of genes and personality I couldn’t stop looking at.
Covering her with a sheet, I took a hot shower, the last I might be getting for a while, then gathered my things, taking the toiletries from the bathroom and placing them in my bag. I’d packed light, five pairs of pants, ten pairs of underwear and socks, boots, running shoes, and a pair of slip-on shoes for any downtime I might have. A sleeping pad with mosquito netting, my laptop, iPad, and little else. If the people I was helping had very little, I’d damn well rough it too.
Opening the laptop, I opened my email and responded to a few messages from my attorney and accountant. Over the past month, I’d updated my will and power of attorney, making sure the charities I supported would inherit the bulk of my fortune should I die. For years now, I’d donated all my salary as well as all the interest I earned each year, which was sizable, averaging between thirty and forty million dollars annually.
One of my passions was providing scholarships to future doctors and nurses, people who couldn’t have afforded medical school otherwise. The little bitch Leesa from Columbia thought I should give my money away, but I thought it made better sense to invest in human beings. Fifty-six dollars to a single mother wouldn’t buy groceries for a week, but a full scholarship to nursing or medical school would change her life, and in turn, she would change the lives of others once she graduated and began working in the field. She’d also be able to change the lives of her children, giving them more opportunity to help others as well. That was the ripple effect, the contribution I wanted to make to my fellow Americans, especially the ones who fell down the government cracks.
The selection wasn’t based on poverty level, but on need. In the hospital environment, I’d met and worked with too many middle-class people working their asses off just to get by, but still lived paycheck to paycheck through no fault of their own. They made too much for government assistance but not enough to ease the struggle. Same for financial aid. They didn’t qualify for grants but couldn’t afford tuition on their own. Those were the men and woman I wanted my foundation to target primarily. And we were getting there, dozens of people at a time. When I came home for good, I’d get even more involved in promoting the foundation and recruiting perfect candidates.
After powering off the computer, I stuck it in my rucksack and leaned back in the chair, suddenly tired. I hadn’t slept well last night after being unable to save the little girl. I’d caught two, maybe three hours of sleep, then tonight… absolutely nothing.
But the exhaustion went past physical. I felt it pulling at my emotional wellbeing too. Maybe that was why I was so reluctant to leave the woman still sleeping in my bed. She hadn’t just filled a physical need, she’d created a wonderfully safe space that I hadn’t been aware I needed.
That was all.
And that was a lie.
She was more than that.
With a deep exhale, I gathered her clothes from the floor and folded them over the back of my chair, leaving her my shirt to replace the one I’d torn as promised. I held her ruined shirt in my hands and laid it on the stack of clothing too. Then, feeling like a lovesick puppy, I picked it back up and stuffed it in my rucksack. She got mine. I got hers. Fair enough exchange.
Feeling foolish, I sat down on the side of the bed and pushed her hair back from her face, then leaned down to kiss her temple. If she woke, I’d tell her my name. I’d let fate decide.
When she didn’t even stir, disappointment stabbed at me, so I kissed the tip of her nose, giving fate another chance. Nothing. Not even a flinch. I kissed her lips, her ear, did everything but shake her awake.
Damn.
She really did sleep like the dead.
Fate had spoken, I guessed.
And I hated, detested, the answer.
Fuck.
When my time had run out, and I absolutely had to go, I noticed her enormous leather bag and was tempted to go through it to find her identification. I was even reaching for it when the small hotel notepad on the nightstand caught my eye. Instead of invading her privacy, I found a pen and scribbled out a note.
I want to see you again.
I added my phone number and email address, then signed my real name and placed it on the nightstand by the bed.
There. The tension that had been squeezing my chest lessened as I placed a glass of orange juice on the note to hold it down.
Fate be damned. I would create my own fate.
She would call, I knew it. Then we could maybe FaceTime or Skype, get to know each other from a distance. Then, when it was time for me to come home, it wouldn’t be so bad.
So lonely.
She would be waiting, and we’d go on dates, explore the attraction between us, see where it led. She would get to know me, and I would get to know her too.
Her tattoo flashed in my mind, but I didn’t lower the sheet to look at it again. Of all the things she could have used to cover the scar, why the tree?
Trees were considered sacred in many countries and cultures, but were seen mostly as a commodity here in the States. Trees symbolized resilience and strength, but also knowledge, protection, strength, forgiveness. Eternal life.
When she called me, I would ask her about it. I would ask her a million questions and answer hers.
Feeling lighter now, I placed one more kiss on her temple before grabbing my bags and heading out of the door.
I’d go. But I’d be back.
I was smiling. Because I knew I’d get to see her again.
When it was last call for my flight to be boarded, I wasn’t worried. She was probably still sleeping. When the flight attendants had made the announcement that all devices must be powered off, I wasn’t worried then either.
She’d call. I knew she would. She had to because I needed it to be so.
As the lights of New York faded below me, I closed my eyes and slept, safe in the knowledge that I’d know her name soon.