by Mia Fox
I started to wonder if Kat had a type. He didn’t look anything like me, but he was maybe only a few years older than me. A million thoughts entered my head at once. Who was he? How long had she known him? Most prevalent in my mind was the question of whether my stubborn and foolish ideas had driven her to him.
I wanted to leave those woods, but I couldn’t keep myself from watching them. She took a step toward him and he closed the gap. What came next, I couldn’t bear. He reached for her and she tilted her face upwards toward him. I didn’t stick around to see what would happen next. I knew what was coming and it killed me.
I pulled into my driveway and didn’t even remember navigating the roads to get home. Everything was a blur. Kat and another man. What had I done? I don’t know why this surprised me. It’s not as if a woman like Kat would stay single forever. What was she supposed to do in light of everything that had happened over the last year?
She never dated anyone else in the time after we broke up. She was professional when I ended up in her class. She even risked her life for me, and when it all went terribly wrong, she stayed by my side until I recovered from the attack. And how do I repay her? I tell her we can’t be together after we’re together. Is it any wonder she would end up with someone who actually shows her affection?
I grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, plunged onto the couch and turned on the television feeling sorry for myself. Her favorite movie filled the screen and I immediately turned off the TV once more.
I got up and walked to the bathroom. One of the headaches that still plagued me since waking from the coma was coming on. I opened the medicine cabinet and reached for the prescription that would numb the pain and help me sleep. It was barely dinner time, but the only thing I wanted to do was fall asleep for the night and ward off any dreams of Kat. I swallowed two pills with a dry mouth.
Entering my bedroom, I took a moment to smell the t-shirt that Kat last wore before closing the curtains and climbing into bed. I had never felt more alone. I went to bed wondering when Kat had met this mystery guy and whether it was serious.
Chapter Twenty
Kat
I didn’t even know his name.
Frankly, that’s what made the kiss so hot. I had never kissed a stranger. I entertained the idea, probably after watching a romantic movie. This was a bit like one of those scenes, but it was happening to me. His look changed from accusatory to curious. He saw the lust in my eyes and matched it. His hand went to my back and he ever so gently dipped me backwards, planting his lips on mine.
What I started by stepping into his personal space, he took to new heights. He weaved his hand into my hair, held me close, and kissed me with a hungry passion. I could have come to my senses and cut the kiss off shortly after it started, but I quickly realized that it was a damn good kiss. So good that I didn’t want it to end. Good enough to make me forget what had been troubling me. Not completely, of course. For the last year, thoughts of Cole were constant, taking me to heights and plummeting me into sadness. I needed to forget, if only for an afternoon. Maybe one moment of reckless abandon would turn into an afternoon romance, which might turn into something more.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, showing him that I was into it. He reciprocated those emotions by grabbing under my thigh and hitching my leg up around his waist. I was balanced on one leg, but he held me steady. He pressed his hips into me and with my leg wrapped around him, I could feel his masculinity expand. I threw back my head, finally needing air. He tilted his head forward, layering softer kisses on my throat before finally letting go of my leg and steadying me onto my feet.
My arms were still around his neck when he narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow at me. His hands found my waist and held me in place while he stared with that inquisitive look as if trying to figure me out. I thought he could let me in on any insight that came to him because I certainly didn’t know what had gotten into me.
“You gonna tell me your name?”
“Are you still planning to have me arrested?” I countered.
To that question, he let out a hearty laugh. “Well, that would be a waste I’ve decided.”
I shrugged. “Prisoners are allowed visitors.”
“What’s your name, Princess?”
We hadn’t said much before the kiss, so it was only now that I heard a slight Southern accent. “It’s Kat.”
“A pleasure, Kat.” He held out his hand, “I’m Bennett.”
I took his hand in my own and stifled a laugh.
“Something amusing to you?”
“Not really, except… a handshake seems overly formal… considering.”
“Considering?”
“The kiss,” I explained.
He shook his head. “I don’t believe you. It’s not the kiss you were considering.”
“Oh really? Just what do you think I was considering?”
I had my hair tied into two braids and he reached for one, twirling it in his fingers. He gently tickled my cheek with the end of it, an intimate gesture for someone whose name I had only just learned.
“I think you were considering what would happen after that kiss.”
It was my turn to shake my head. “I most certainly was not.”
With stealth speed, he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in close. I could feel his hips against mine. His eyes stared into mine; his mouth just inches from my own lips. He bent his head even closer toward mine, and when our lips just barely grazed, he whispered his words into my mouth. “Did you want me to kiss you again?”
I couldn’t formulate a word, let alone a sentence. He had bent his head lower and his mouth was trailing a line of kisses up my neck, slowly hovering over every inch of my exposed skin. His lips felt hot in contrast to the cool air and I shivered involuntarily. He noticed and ran his hands over my arms.
“Are you cold?” he asked as his hands lingered. It felt so good to be held by a man. In truth, I knew I wanted it to be Cole’s hands on me, but Bennett was easy on the eyes and sent my heart rate beating. I was experiencing aerobic lust in action, and he was right, I didn’t want it to end.
“I feel fine,” I finally spoke.
“Good.”
With that, his lips finally met mine again. This time, it wasn’t unexpected. I let myself show my reaction. I didn’t feel like being coy. I didn’t know him. I had nothing to prove. And, I was unattached. Whether I liked that fact or not, it was the truth. I had every right to do this.
“Yes,” I uttered during the kiss.
“Yes, what?” he spoke into my ear as his hand roamed lower down my back and rested on my bum.
“Yes, I want more than a kiss.”
He stepped away to untie our horses. “Let’s get them back home.”
I nodded my agreement and climbed onto James, all the while pondering whether I was behaving recklessly or romantically, and then wondering if this is where the idea of the reckless romantic developed.
I had no idea what Bennett was thinking or planning, but I was happy to go with it. He made conversation easily and had a come what may attitude. We worked comfortably next to each other to groom the horses after their ride, and Bennett pitched in to help me hold James steady. I was thankful for this as cleaning up James after a ride was never an easy task. He seemed to have a gait that always kicked up a fair amount of dirt and dust, and his owner would not be happy if I left him in that condition.
Bennett had a similar routine to mine in terms of post riding chores. We both checked our horses’ water supply, noting they were running low, Bennett offered to forage two buckets of water from the faucet to our stalls.
As horses can drink up to 10 gallons of water a day, I was fine in letting Bennett handle this chore on my behalf. I watched him approach carrying two five-gallon buckets, noting how the weight of the buckets made his biceps pop. “When I do that, half of it spills along the way,” I smiled.
“Happy to help out. I’m going back for the other buckets. You
need any tools while I’m over there?” he motioned down the long line of stables.
“I’m good,” I said waving my hoof pick.
He nodded to me and was off for the second round of water. I decided to do something cute to return the favor, although my gesture was partly a joke. I carefully brushed out the mane and tail of both our horses, then braided them and untied the ribbons from my hair to fasten my handiwork in place.
When Bennett returned, he assessed his horse. “Nice, but I’m not sure that look is right for… him.”
“I didn’t take you as being sexist. Are you saying male horses can’t wear braids?”
He moved in close and once again reached for my own braids, which hadn’t yet unwound with the removal of my ribbons. He slowly undid one braid and then the other, letting his fingers move slowly, allowing my hair to fall free. “I’m most certainly not sexist. For example…,” he paused to push a section of my hair behind my shoulder so he could nuzzle my neck, “I think your independence is incredibly sexy. As for me, I’m secure in my masculinity. I just didn’t know that my horse would look so dapper in plaits.”
“Good answer.”
His hand had meandered to my lower back, but he released it and held it out to me instead. “By the looks of our horses, I’d say we’re ready. You?”
I didn’t know what I was in for, but in that moment, I felt ready.
There was something exhilarating about jumping into Bennett’s convertible, feeling the wind whip through my hair and taking off without any knowledge of the destination. It could have been scary or at the very least unwise, but I felt safe. I had spent the morning with Bennett and rationalized that if he were a psycho, some sign would have emerged. Not to mention, he had a presence at the stables, as did I, and others had seen us today. If I were to go missing, certainly it would be fairly easy to track me down.
I allowed any fears to blow away with the wind and leaned comfortably back, closed my eyes, and enjoyed the rush of the car and the feel of the California sunshine on my face.
“Aren’t you curious as to where we’re going? You don’t strike me as a go with the flow type.”
He was right. I planned everything and I hated that he quickly had me pegged. “You’re correct. But, I’d like to be a bit more spontaneous so I’m not going to ask. I assume you know where we’re going.”
“Actually, I don’t.”
“What?” Now I was getting concerned. “Then, where are we going?”
“I thought you weren’t going to ask.”
“Well, one of us has to know.”
He laughed at my logic. “We’ll know when the time is right. I just want to enjoy the drive for a bit longer. The car and the road will lead us somewhere.”
I realized that this was the right time to just let the moment transport me. It’s not like my life was perfect right now. In fact, I’d been downright depressed. Maybe today would be the day that I change or at least, make a change. If Bennett could distract me from the past during our morning together, then maybe the afternoon would do the same. Baby steps, I reasoned. I had to move on from Cole.
I can’t control him or the future, but I could enjoy the present with Bennett, which was something that had been eluding me lately.
“I’m just curious…” I spoke up.
“About what?”
“It’s all fine to let the road take us someplace, but don’t we need some sort of goal, so to speak?”
“The starting point is within you,” he said without any hesitation as if it was a given fact. “The goal is how that starting point transports us. It doesn’t have to be so final.” And then to validate his words, he asked, “How do you feel?”
I thought for a minute because so many thoughts came to mind at once, then I decided to go with it. “Nervous. Excited.”
“Keep going,” Bennett urged.
I laughed. “Hungry.”
“Now we have a goal. We’re going to the beach… for lunch.”
He drove down the 405 freeway and then west along the 10 and finally, though the McClure Tunnel until the magic of the ocean appeared to the left of PCH. A happy playlist sounded from his iPhone making the long drive fly by. We headed north once we reached Santa Monica and after finding a parking spot along Third Street, he took my hand and we walked to the Promenade, our arms swaying to and fro playfully. Adjusting his grasp, he interlaced his fingers between mine and sent me a smile, but spoke no words. It felt that none were needed.
I was simply doing as Bennett suggested, walking amongst locals and tourists, enjoying the day without contemplating where we were headed. After walking a lengthly block, he paused in front of an Italian cafe.
“It may be in the middle of Third Street Promenade, but when you taste their Cacio e Pepe you’ll swear you’re in Tuscany.”
“What is that?” I asked, intrigued.
“Simply put it’s pasta in a butter sauce with enough parmesan to make it interesting. Trust me; it’ll change your life.”
Thinking of the butter and subsequent calories, I commented, “Sounds decadent. And fattening.”
“Nah,” he said shaking his head. “They ship their flour in from Italy and make their own pasta with it.”
“What does that have to do with being fattening?”
“Everyone knows it’s our flour that’s the problem, not the recipe. You never gain weight from real Italian cooking.”
“Somehow I doubt that applies to me, but I’ll be game.”
He opened the door and to my surprise, the host greeted him by name, asking Bennett if he wanted his usual spot.
“Do you mind sitting at the bar? You’ll get the best service.”
“I don’t mind, but the fact that you’re known here and have a regular spot kinda takes away from the ‘go with the flow,’ ‘drive where the car leads,’ vibe,” I joked.
“Hey, just because my flow and car are creatures of habit doesn’t mean I’m not spontaneous. I’ll prove it with this meal. It won’t be me who decides what we eat.”
“You’re not going to have me choose!” I replied horrified.
“No, not you either. Him. The Master,” he said indicating a man with jet black hair behind the bar. “With the exception of the pasta, which I order every time because it’s just that good, I let Luca decide.”
“Is he the owner?”
“Yes. And he can practically tell fortunes with his food choices. He’ll pick the perfect meal for each person. Does it intuitively.”
My stomach rumbled with anticipation. I placed a hand on it, embarrassed at the commotion.
“Sounds like you’re in agreement.” Bennett pulled out my bar stool and Luca came to greet us.
“My friend, it’s been too long,” he said pulling Bennett in for a hearty hug. He patted him loudly on the back and Bennett returned the gesture. Finally, the two men pulled apart and to my surprise, started conversing in Italian. The flowery language flowed and animated expressions and laughter followed.
“If you can tame this one like the wild horses, you’re an impressive woman,” Luca said to me.
“Oh, I don’t know if that’s my role or at all possible.” I smiled politely knowing that the restauranteur had mistaken the depth of our relationship. Getting on with my life was one thing. Jumping into a relationship was quite another.
Luca excused himself and I decided to focus on the moment. It was decidedly the best thing Bennett had instilled in me today and I was going to keep up the philosophy. Soon, the bartender placed a sparkling wine in front of me and a red in front of Bennett as if he was also in on Luca’s secret epicurean mind reading tactics.
A steady flow of dishes followed from the most delicately battered calamari I have ever enjoyed to a plate of sautéed mushrooms in a garlic wine and butter sauce. Skewered shrimp scampi seasoned to perfection, a side dish of sautéed spinach with a lemon aioli drizzle, and of course, Bennett’s favorite pasta.
I lifted my white, cloth napkin and waved it at B
ennett as if it were a white flag and I was surrendering. “I can’t eat another bite. You have to stop. I’m afraid I’m going to explode.”
“In that case, let’s go home.” He had a glint in his eye that made my stomach do a little flip. I had told him earlier that I felt nerves and excitement. The same was true now, over an hour later. Only difference was that I could also add confusion to the list, and if there was one thing I did know was that my heart was navigating the course for all of my emotions.
When we got to Bennett’s house, he poured me a glass of wine and I accepted. Although we had enjoyed a feast and I had sworn I would never need to eat again, enough time during the drive had passed that his offer of dessert was appealing.
“I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” I said quickly, and then as if my stomach and my mind were out of alignment, it growled noisily.
“Still hungry?”
“Absolutely not. Just embarrassed.”
“Well, there’s always room for dessert and I have something you might like. Have a seat; be comfortable.”
His home interior style was similar to his personality… easy, comfortable, stylish and yet seemingly without effort. A large U-shaped sofa took over much of the space. It was upholstered in white linen with generously stuffed pillows cascading one behind the other, inviting guests to melt into them.
I nodded and took a seat, feeling like a small doll perched in the midst of the massive cushions. He grabbed a faux fur throw from a nearby chair and draped it over my shoulders.
“Thanks,” I said, suddenly aware of the quiet in the house. As if he also sensed it, he flipped on the television to keep me company and then retreated into the kitchen.