by K. C. Crowne
When she noticed I was staring, she turned her attention back to me. “Something wrong?”
I shook my head. “Nothin’ wrong in the slightest.”
She glanced down at my shoulder satchel. “What’s in there?”
Instead of speaking, I opened the latch and pulled back the flap. Inside was my camera, along with a few extra lenses.
“Ah – I should’ve known.” She smiled, then returned her gaze to the scenery.
I glanced at the pilot, who’d slipped a pair of Air pods into her ears and taken a small book out of her pocket to read – no doubt to give us some privacy.
The landscape around us was incredible. I’d been up in air balloons more than a few times, but never in Colorado. The mountains, the city, the rolling hills – the sights gave me a feeling of belonging that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I felt like the land itself called out to me.
The fresh, clean smell you could only get this high up in the air filled my senses. Each lungful of crisp air reinvigorated me, giving me a rush of vitality. And it didn’t hurt that I was standing next to what had to be the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life. I really wanted to be staring at Lola, to take photos of her and capture her beauty. I needed to take my mind off her something fierce, so I lifted the camera and started snapping shots.
I took a good few of the downtown area, of the mountains, and of the grid of suburbs below us. There was so much to look at that I had to force myself to put down the camera.
But the sight of Lola in front of the mountains was so damned beautiful I couldn’t resist. I raised the camera toward her. “With your permission?”
She bit her lip, her cheeks reddening adorably. “Oh alright. But just a few.”
I grinned and snapped shot after shot. Every single one was perfect. Lola’s beauty, the slight shyness – they were the human touch that contrasted perfectly with the mountains rising behind her, their gray faces imperious and unmoving.
I didn’t press my luck, though. After a few pictures, I turned back to the landscape and took more photos, snapping a flurry of pictures until a rumbling in my stomach brought me back to reality.
“Holy shite,” I said, glancing at my watch and seeing that nearly thirty minutes had passed. “We really been up here this long?”
Lola smiled. “You were in the zone – I know how that gets. I didn’t want to bother you.”
I chuckled. “Don’t know how I’m always surprised when time flies behind the camera. Anyway, how’re you?”
She nodded, inhaled deeply, and squared her shoulders. “I’m good. Not going to lie – it’s scary as hell to know one wrong move and I’d be a splat on the ground. But at the same time…I have to admit it’s pretty damn thrilling.”
I smacked my hands together, pleased as could be at her answer. “See? I knew you’d love it.”
Lola sucked in one more deep breath before turning her attention to the floor of the basket. “But I think I need to take a little breather.”
“Lunch then?”
“Perfect.”
We sat down on the floor of basket, the thing gently swaying as we flew. I glanced at the pilot, who was still reading her book, her ear buds in. Once she realized I was looking, she raised her eyebrows, asking wordlessly if I needed anything. I gave her a thumbs up, and she replied with the same.
I poured us each a glass of the white wine. “Alright,” I said once each of us had a glass in hand. “What’re we drinkin’ to?”
She glanced aside, giving the matter some serious thought. “Something to drink to. Hmm.” Then her eyes flashed with realization. “How about to a wonderful new friendship.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I said, raising my glass. “Slainte.”
She scrunched her brows.
“Cheers in Irish – pronounced slan-sha.”
“Then…slainte.”
We tapped glasses and drank, the wine almost as crisp and delicious as the air around us.
“So we’re friends now, are we?” I asked.
She nodded her head. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all. Though, I’m not going to lie, I’m curious why you’re so adamant about that. I mean, we enjoyed one another that night, didn’t we?”
Her cheeks flushed again, and she lifted the glass to her lips again to take a drink. I could tell something unsaid was hovering over us and had a feeling I knew what it might be. So I decided to break the ice.
“So, my last breakup went so poorly that I had to get lawyers involved.”
Her brows lifted, and she pulled her knees up in front of her, her wine glass dangling from her hand. “What happened?”
I told her about Fay and all the bullshit I’d gone through with her. I didn’t want to dump my relationship drama in her lap, so the story was the short version.
“Wait,” Lola interrupted, sticking out her finger slightly. “She was pissed about you donating to charity?”
“She’d never come out and say it, but when I’d mention some group I was interested in supporting, she’d always make the same face.” I attempted to mimic the look with an exaggerated roll of my eyes and a pouty mouth, eliciting a laugh from Lola. “At the time, I thought it was just because the subject of where I spent my money bored her. But after it was all said and done, I realized the truth – she was pissed that—”
“You weren’t spending your money on her.” She grinned, as if pleased with herself for figuring it out.
I let out a laugh, pleased she was right there with me. “That’s it! Isn’t that the damnedest thing, that a woman would be angry at someone for donatin’ to charity instead of spendin’ their hard-earned money on her?” I shook my head.
She chuckled. “Some people are like that, just totally shallow and self-absorbed.” A tense expression took hold of her face for the briefest of moments.
“Tell me about you, gorgeous,” I said. “You’ve got to have some shitty ex in your past.”
Another flash of tension. “Just the usual jerks, you know?”
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she was keeping something to herself, but that was her prerogative, and I wasn’t about to push if she wasn’t ready to talk.
I glanced down at the food – wrapped sandwiches on baguettes, fresh grapes, and some Greek yogurt and blackberry puree for dessert.
“Well, we’ve all got our pasts,” I said as I handed her some food. “And I don’t know about you, but I like to keep the past just that – past. What difference does it make where you came from if it doesn’t affect your present or future, yeah?”
“Easier said than done,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation. “Some people live in the past.”
I shook my head as I unwrapped my sandwich. “That’s no way to live. You have to leave the past behind you. Otherwise, a bit of your soul is trapped there. Nothing worse than always goin’ over events years gone by.”
She glanced at my sandwich, then winked at me as she said, “I hope you didn’t pack two turkeys.”
“Open yours,” I said with a smile.
Lola unwrapped her sandwich and lifted the bread, revealing a roasted vegetable and cheese sandwich. She chuckled. “OK, I have to say that wins you major points. When I tell most guys about my vegetarianism it goes in one ear and out the other. Or even worse, they try to talk me out of it.”
After taking a few bites from our sandwiches and sipping our wine, Lola and I rose. The vista was just as stunning as it was before, with big, puffy clouds floating among the brilliant blue all around us. We sipped our wine and didn’t utter a word for a long while.
“So,” she said, a challenging smile on her face, “what exactly made you so damn philosophical?”
“Travel,” I said without hesitation. “Nothin’ like travel to open your mind, get you seein’ things in a way you never have before. Takin’ photos is only half the reason I’m in the line of work I am. The other’s so I can see the world, meet new people, hear their stories.”
“And that’s what brought you here, huh?”
I nodded. “One specific story, to be precise.”
“Oh?” she asked, interested.
“You heard of The Shining?”
“Like the movie?”
“Like the movie. And the book.”
She nodded, so I told her all about my plans for the new book, about how I wanted to travel across the country and document the secret, haunted place all over America.
“And,” I finished, “I wouldn’t mind a guest on my trip to the hotel.” I flashed her a sly smile, knowing that the answer to this was likely no.
She shuddered, shaking her head. “No, thank you. Going up in a balloon is one thing. A haunted hotel is something else.”
Despite her not wanting to come with me to the hotel, I could tell she was intrigued. We chatted more, and I did my best to learn what I could about her. But it wasn’t easy. Lola was a closed book, and I barely managed to get anything out of her about her past or her life outside of work. And to my surprise, it only made me want to get to know her more.
The balloon landed, we said our thank yous to the pilot, and soon we were on our way back to the car.
“So,” I said, as we walked, “we were up there talking for a few hours and I think all I managed to get out of you was that you’ve got Greek ancestry.”
She smiled, the tinge of red to her cheeks suggesting even that much information about herself had been more than she’d wanted to share. “What can I say?” she asked. “I’m more of a listener than a talker.”
“I’ll say. You should open up a bit more – it’d do you some good.”
She raised her eyebrow. “Is that right? Isn’t the gift of gab an Irish thing?”
I chuckled. “Fair enough.”
“And if that’s the case, I’d say you have quite the gift.”
Another laugh. “Now, was that some ball-busting courtesy of the good doctor?”
“Maybe it was.”
“But you’re right – I’ve always been a bit of a chatterbox.”
“It’s good,” she said as I opened the passenger door for her to get into the car. “The world needs talkers, and it needs listeners.”
“That’s a perfect way to look at it.”
I placed my hands on her hips and guided her around to face me. Her eyes flashed wide, and a sharp breath passed through her parted lips. “The world needs something else, too.”
“What’s that?”
“Gorgeous doctors and charming men who want them like mad.”
I leaned in and kissed her hard, her taste flooding my senses, her lips parting to accept mine. We kissed long and deep, my tongue probing into her mouth, finding hers, lashing it gently. My cock was stone-stiff from the moment I placed my lips on hers, and all I could think was how much more I wanted.
“You know,” I said. “There are much more fun things to do than just kiss.”
She glanced away, the gears were turning as decisions were being made. But it didn’t take long for her to bring her eyes back to mine and smile. “You’re right.”
Music to my ears. One more kiss and I guided her into the car. I adjusted my jeans so my hard-on wasn’t jutting straight out, then hurried to the driver’s seat.
As I drove, a strange series of emotions ran through me. First, there was excitement. I was minutes away from being in bed with the woman I couldn’t get out of my mind. But the excitement gave way to something else, a feeling I wasn’t used to experiencing – caution.
I thought about her words on the balloon, how she’d wanted to toast to friendship. Now, her accepting my offer to jump into bed meant that Lola was clearly open to more than that. Still, it made me wonder if she was angling for something else – maybe a friendship with benefits. Strangely, that wasn’t what I wanted. What I did want was to get to know her better, not to just fuck her on occasion. It was so damn strange. Usually, being able to have a causal relationship with a beautiful woman was right up my alley. But with Lola, it was different.
Hell, with Lola everything was different.
We reached her apartment, and as we walked to the entrance, I knew what I wanted. We stopped in front of her door and kissed more.
“So,” she said, taking her lips from mine, “it’s cold out here – much warmer inside.”
“I bet it is, but how about this – I call you tomorrow.”
She was confused, her brow knitting in total befuddlement. “W…what?”
“This has been a blast, but why don’t we call it a day? I’ll give you a call tomorrow. We can plan something fun.”
“O…OK.” She nodded slowly, eyeing me with confusion.
I’d said my piece. With one more smile, I was off. And, as always, I had nothing but total confidence in my decision. Time would tell, however, if I’d just made the mistake of a lifetime.
Chapter 14
LOLA
I stood on my doorstep stunned for a long, long moment. Patrick had gone, and I was alone with one question in my mind. What the hell just happened?
I gathered my senses, the cold finally getting to me. With a quick turn of my key and a pull of the door I was back in my condo. The warmth hit me, and I pulled off my coat and beanie and tossed them both aside.
A glance out of the big, picture windows in my living room revealed that the sun was on its way down. The afternoon had been magical – no other word for it – and my heart still raced from being up in that balloon. More than that, I was still shocked he’d managed to talk me into it. If I could go back in time and tell myself on Friday that I’d be up in a freaking hot air balloon, I wouldn’t have believed it.
How the hell did Patrick manage to have such an effect on me? How was he so damn good at coaxing me out of my comfort zone? As far as I was concerned, going up in that balloon had been just as daring, just as not like me as hopping into bed with him had been. But I’d done them both.
And I wanted more.
Hell, what I really wanted was for him to be in bed with me now. But he’d teased me with the idea of sex only to pull away at the last second. Had he been playing some game?
I sighed with frustration as I stepped out of my duck boots and headed into the bedroom. I was turned on like crazy, my panties soaked from the kiss and the idea of being underneath him. Part of me wanted to take a quick bath and have some fun with the showerhead just to scratch the itch. But I didn’t.
As the sexual frustration faded it was replaced by annoyance. I grabbed some comfy flannel PJs and put them on, going into the kitchen when I was done and pouring myself a tall glass of red wine. Snow began to fall, light flurries whipping here and there on the wind. It was shaping up to be a perfect night to stay in and relax, maybe order a little Thai later. Not a chance I’d let Patrick spoil my night.
Glass of wine in hand, I lit some scented candles and settled into the couch. Before I picked up the remote to begin the always-time-consuming process of finding something to watch on Netflix, my mind drifted to Patrick.
Specifically, I focused on the strange look he’d had on his face before telling me he wanted to call it a night. Maybe I was only imagining things, but it had almost seemed as if he’d changed his mind at the last second, that he’d truly intended to come inside, but for some reason thought better of it.
Another explanation for his behavior, a more likely one, came back into my mind – he was playing with me.
I growled with frustration as I considered the possibility. With a man like Patrick, there was no doubt he was experienced with women. He’d told me about his last girlfriend, the one who’d really done him wrong. But what if his hesitation had been carefully planned out and was nothing more than some step in a process? Leave me wanting more. In this case, leave the woman you just kissed hard standing in front of her apartment door wondering what the hell just happened.
I imagined him pulling this same stunt before, of him using it to wrap woman after woman around his finger until he got bored with her, tossed her
aside. Then it was off to Mumbai or Mongolia or Mozambique or whatever other exotic place he planned to visit next where he’d do it all over again with whatever local woman caught his eye.
My summation of his life filled me with a sense of determination. Whatever he was doing, I wasn’t going to be a part of it. Not a chance I’d be dumb enough to let some charming Irishman fly into my life, have his way with me, then leave. I wasn’t going to be his Denver hookup.
I sipped my wine, the determination taking hold, a confident smile spreading across my face. I hit the power button for my TV, the Netflix menu appearing moments later.
Patrick O’Connor had just played his last game.
“Aw, damnit!” I spoke the words out loud to no one but myself as I drove to the clinic.
It was Wednesday, and I was on my way downtown to do my pro-bono shift. In the middle of a bout of frustration, I realized that my perfect plan to never see Patrick again was doomed. I’d forgotten all about the little fact that he was one of the potential investors for the clinic.
And that day, the investors were coming in to check out the place, have a meeting with some of the doctors. That meant I’d be seeing him whether I liked it or not.
I drove on, the glass and steel condos of the ritzier, newer parts of downtown giving way to the rougher, worn-out townhomes and tenements of the block where the clinic was located. Men and women dressed in ratty winter gear meandered here and there, most of them seeming to have no place to go.
When I drove to the clinic, all I could think about was the potential of the area. I liked to imagine the clinic getting the funding it needed so the staff and I would be able to re-do the building, to fill it with new equipment. It would be the cornerstone of the neighborhood becoming something new and great. And more than that, I’d be able to give the people here the care they needed but couldn’t afford.
It was a fantasy I was happy to let myself get lost in. I loved working at Pitt Medical, but the clinic satisfied me intrinsically. Patrick or no, the clinic needed investment. We wouldn’t be able to do it on our own.