The Write Escape

by Charish Reid

  Her chest tightened at the sight of him. Their years apart diminished in an instant as a tsunami of heat hit her body. Already wet with her own desire, her nipples constricted into stiff peaks, brushing against her blouse and creating a delicious friction. She wanted to forget how angry she was and climb him like the magnificent tree he was. But Augusta couldn’t forget the rage that she’d carefully nursed since their break up. Bryon Donnelly broke her heart and she’d remind him of it as soon as she could quiet the aching throb between her thighs.

  Whew... If he wasn’t supposed to be checking his email, Aiden would have stayed and read the rest of her first draft. But he was supposed to be checking his email. He carefully minimized her document and did so. He read Robert’s email, rather distractedly, as it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the hot story he’d made himself quit. Sure enough, the call for submissions sounded like something he could participate in. If he tailored his conference paper correctly, he could easily stretch it into something for the anthology. Aiden sighed. He’d tack the anthology chapter onto the long list of things he’d need to work on for the summer.

  “Does the internet work okay?” Antonia asked from the doorway.

  His gaze shot up. “Yes, yes, it does.”

  She peered at him. “Everything okay?”

  “Everything is perfect,” Aiden said. “I’m going to submit something to an American Literature anthology.”

  “Cool,” she said with a nod. “Sorry about the mess. I was writing when the storm got bad.”

  He closed her laptop. “No worries. I see you’ve got some inspirational literature for your work,” he said, holding up a worn book. On the cover, a woman with a heaving bosom was being held by a shirtless man.

  “Oh god,” she said, thoroughly embarrassed. “Please ignore those.”

  Okay then, she definitely wouldn’t want to know I’ve been reading her book. “It’s nothing to be worried about,” he said. “I’m not going to wind you up over research.”

  Antonia’s face was not relieved. She entered the room, snatched the book from his grasp and gathered the rest of her books from the bed. “Yes, but I don’t want you to think I sleep with porn,” she said with shaky laughter.

  “Admittedly, what I’m imagining is delightful,” he said with a chuckle. She carried the books to her suitcase and dropped them inside. “But the books can serve more than one purpose, right?”

  She shot him a look. “Aiden.”

  “If I were to start reading romance, which of those books would you recommend?”

  Antonia stood still with her arms crossed over her chest. This wasn’t like when they were tipsy. She was dealing with the fact that she’d told him about her book in the cold sober light of the morning. “Why do you want to know?” she asked, narrowing her large brown eyes into suspicious slits.

  “Because I might like to read one,” he said in an easygoing tone. “I’ve never read a romance. Frankly, with all of the teaching and writing, I haven’t had time to read anything.”

  She was still suspicious, but she loosened her arms. “Okay...”

  “What do you recommend?”

  “It depends,” she said. “I only brought historical romances with me. Do you prefer the English or French period pieces?”

  “Fuck the English,” he said bluntly.

  “Alright,” she said retrieving a book and tossing it to him. “If you don’t mind reading about the French Revolution, try this.”

  He caught it with one hand. The cover was much less conspicuous than the others, no half-nude couples grasping at one another. It was a simple French flag and an unfurled lace fan. “Doesn’t look very romantic.”

  “Trust me, you’ll get what you’re looking for.”

  The cover, like all the others, was worn and tattered, its spine was broken in several places where Antonia had refused to use a bookmark. “Well, then let me make a suggestion for today’s activities.”

  “Yeah?”

  Aiden pulled himself off her bed, her book in hand. “Let me take you to Letterfrack for some grocery shopping. Afterwards we can stop at a coffee shop for some writing. You can continue working and I can read.”

  The look of suspicion eventually melted away to reveal a puzzled grin. “You really want to read that while I write?”

  “How can we keep talking about your book when I don’t know anything about the genre? I’m a researcher at heart, Antonia.”

  Her contagious grin soon lit his face as she nodded. “Okay, yeah, let’s do that.”

  “Excellent.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “This is what you listen to?” she said, flipping through the CD book from under Aiden’s passenger seat. It seemed that the man was stuck firmly in the ’90s grunge scene and only deviated for Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin. He chuckled as he easily rounded a curve through the countryside. He drove his stick shift Volvo with an adeptness that made her jealous.

  “What’s wrong with my music?” he asked, slowing down for passing sheep. Aiden pulled to a complete stop and reached over to take the book from her. “This is classic stuff.”

  “Yes, it definitely is.”

  “Please tell me you’re not too young to remember Zeppelin.”

  “You’ve only got five years on me,” she said. “But there are nearly twelve Zeppelin CDs in here.”

  Aiden plucked one of them from its sleeve and slid it into the player. A very loud, but familiar Jimmy Page riff filled the car. She immediately turned it down. “‘Black Dog,’” he cried. “That’s a brilliant song.”

  “I appreciate them as much as the next layman, but twelve CDs?”

  “Dear me, what kind of music do you like?”

  “I like all kinds of things,” she said.

  Aiden shifted the gear and started up when the last of the sheep finished crossing. “Spoken like a true fair-weather friend. Lemme guess, you’re the biggest Beyoncé fan there ever was?”

  Antonia let out an exaggerated gasp. “You can let me out of this car and I’ll walk to Letterfrack if you utter one word against Bey.”

  He laughed uproariously. “Let the record show I’ve got nothing to say about Queen Bey.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “She’s just a tad overrated, is all.”

  “Boy, if you don’t stop...” she warned, giving him a swat on the arm.

  “I’m just taking the piss, darling!” he said.

  She bit back a smile as she gave him a sidelong glance. “That’s what I thought,” she repeated. Antonia enjoyed this. She missed laughing and joking with someone like this. She was happy that he suggested this trip to Letterfrack. When he’d asked for one of her books, she was shocked that a man who taught literature would be interested in her hobby. After working for Wild Hare for several years, a place that wouldn’t even entertain the idea of genre fiction, she was used to colleagues denigrating romance. But of the few instances romance manuscripts accidentally landed on her work pile, she had read them carefully, and mourned the rejection letters she’d sent the authors. They were good, but they weren’t good enough for her publishing house. Richard would have laughed at her if she attempted to acquire a kissing book. Antonia struggled to find fault with happily-ever-after endings that made women believe in true love. What was wrong with reading about a perfect man who could unconditionally love a woman?

  And then Antonia glanced at the man next to her. Aiden could be that man. That morning, when she’d woken up in his embrace, she’d seen the sleeping face of a content man. His arms had tightened around her body when she shifted against him. He hadn’t wanted to let go. She had especially enjoyed the way his face lit up when she met him by his car. He’d complimented her outfit and gushed over how she styled her hair. Another thing Derek stopped doing long ago. Derek had usually regarded her with spot-inspections that made her feel mor
e doll than woman. Her mother once told her that if a man’s face didn’t brighten when she entered a room, there was something missing.

  “What’s on your mind?” Aiden asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Nothing,” she lied.

  “You’re an introspective little lady,” he said, glancing over at her. “When you’re quiet, I feel like you’ve gone somewhere deep.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said.

  “I’ve watched your face when you’re not looking. Your eyes get darker and your nose twitches like a rabbit.”

  Antonia was startled. “That’s not true!”

  He laughed. “Maybe not like a rabbit.”

  “I don’t know when you’ve had the time to observe me like that.”

  “I had more than enough time to observe you,” he said.

  Antonia blushed. That much was true. “I think my sister and I are generally pretty quiet people.”

  “Then I don’t know how you’d feel hanging out with the Byrnes Clan. We’re a pretty loud bunch.”

  “Octavia and I were raised by a theatrical woman who was loud enough for everyone,” Antonia said, recalling some particularly embarrassing highlights from her childhood. “But she gives pretty solid advice and she’s...protective over her girls.”

  “You’re also very diplomatic,” Aiden noted.

  “You enjoy telling me about myself, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “I like learning about you.”

  Antonia grinned as her gaze drifted toward the scenery. She remembered driving through this a few days earlier and was glad to see it again from a passive position. As they drew closer to the small town of Letterfrack, she grew excited by the change of scenery. Tully Cross was lovely and quaint, but she did want to hang out in a slightly busier area.

  “That look on your face is quickly becoming my favorite thing in the world,” he said, parking the car.

  Redness flooded her cheeks as she turned to look at him. His masculine energy suffocated her when she was near him. She had already sampled a small taste of his passion and couldn’t imagine what the rest might feel like. “Yeah?”

  He saved her from having to reply with anything intelligible by leaning in and giving her a sinful kiss. His lips, pliant and crushing, left fire in their wake as his tongue against her own. She was shocked by her eager response to the touch of his lips as she parted her own and raised herself to meet his kiss. A small moan escaped her throat as she angled her head for more. Before she could drink in the sweetness of it, he pulled away, leaving her aching for more. He sat back, letting her catch her breath, which was quickly getting away from her. Aiden’s gaze roved lazily over her body. “I wanted to do that while I was driving. You’ll let me know if I’m behaving too impulsively, won’t you?” The smoldering flame in his eyes startled her.

  Antonia absently touched her swollen lips before answering. “I can try.” She spoke in a suffocated whisper that she almost didn’t recognize. Were it not for last night’s blackout, Antonia wouldn’t have recognized the surge of sensations in her body either. But she was convinced that she hadn’t felt those sensations with any man. His grin is positively rakish. It sounded like something she had read in her paperback romances, but she couldn’t think of any other way to describe it.

  “Right, let’s get some vittles,” he said, getting out of the car. She watched him walk around the front to get to her side. When he opened her door, she couldn’t help but smile.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said.

  “I know, but it makes me look like the gentleman I’m pretending to be,” he said with a wink.

  Inside Kilian’s Grocers, several shoppers milled around the aisles while a smiling checkout boy greeted them. They took a couple of handbaskets and split up. Antonia needed some space from him. If she believed in the power of auras, then Aiden’s would be the color of the sun, threatening to knock her off orbit with his energy. She stopped in the bread aisle first, picking out a loaf of the brown bread that she’d grown to love.

  “So what do you like to eat?” he asked, sidling up to her.

  Once she grabbed the bread, she moved toward the snack aisle. “Oh, whatever is easy to prepare. I eat at my desk a lot.”

  “Okay, but what do you like to eat on the weekends?”

  She shrugged. “Mostly takeout.”

  “What do you like to cook?” he pressed. “What’s Antonia’s favorite home-cooked meal?”

  She looked up at him with a grin. “Cook?”

  He scrunched his nose. “You don’t like to cook?”

  “I don’t,” she said, plucking a bag of cookies that seemed the closest approximation to chocolate chip. She dropped them in her basket and moved on to the chips. “I don’t have to cook where I come from.”

  “People cook in Chicago,” he said, giving her a quick and chaste kiss on her forehead. “If you’re simply too lazy to cook, don’t lay that at the feet of millions of Chicagoans.”

  Antonia was too distracted by his kiss to mind the jab. She liked this outward show of public affection. She liked how easily it came to him. Her face broke into a goofy smile. “I live in a neighborhood on Devon Avenue that’s packed with beautiful Indian and Pakistani restaurants and takeout. My next door neighbor, Mrs. Shah, is a restaurant owner. She regularly feeds me.”

  She followed him to the condiments aisle, where he shook his head in disappointment. “So I’m not the only poor fool who’s keeping you alive,” he said. “Here I thought I was special.”

  Antonia laughed. “I’m not totally hapless.”

  “You don’t even bake?” he asked, selecting a bottle of mustard.

  “I especially don’t bake,” she said, standing beside him. She recognized the brand on a jar of pickles and a wave of homesickness washed over her. Everything in the grocery store looked foreign and off-brand. “I didn’t go to school for chemistry, so baking is a bit of a mystery to me.”

  Aiden laughed at that. “I’ve never heard it explained that way.”

  “Maybe we should get some wine?”

  “You’re not shopping for the week, are you?” Aiden said, turning to face her. His smile was a bemused one. “You’re just focused on one meal to the next.”

  “That’s how I eat.”

  “You seem like a planner though.”

  Antonia jutted her chin in defiance. “I’m on vacation.”

  His green eyes twinkled with mischief. “I’m issuing you a challenge, Ms. Harper.”

  “I don’t know if I want to accept it.”

  “I encourage you to accept.”

  How could she deny him? How could she look into those smiling eyes and say no?

  He could ask her to marry him with those eyes and she’d start planning the next wedding. “Fine.”

  “I’m going to pick out the ingredients for my favorite cake and we’re going to bake it together.”

  Antonia grimaced. “I hope you’re kidding.” She followed him through the aisles as he plucked random baking ingredients from the shelves. He completely bypassed the ready-mix cake batters and picked up a bag of white flour.

  “I’m not asking you to kill a puppy, darling,” he joked. “It’s a simple cake.”

  She sighed. Antonia loved a challenge as much as the next person. Wait, maybe that isn’t the case... “You don’t want to end up sick on your vacation, do you?”

  “Confidence is key, my dear. I’ll be by your side the entire time and I’ll even let you lick the spoon,” Aiden said with laughter in his voice. He balanced a carton of eggs on top of his items and turned to face her. With one strong arm, he pulled her close, ducking his head for another kiss. His lips brushing over hers made her knees weak. She leaned against his hard body, clutching her basket. While looking up into his eyes, she saw something that wasn’t raw passion. It was a s
oft loving expression that made his eyes look kind. If he kept kissing her like this, she would agree to climb an Irish mountain and swim the freezing Atlantic.

  She breathed shakily before answering. “Yes.”

  * * *

  Thoroughly engrossed in the saga of a local vineyard owner in the middle of the French Revolution, Aiden flipped through the pages at lightning speed. Apparently, Claudette’s father died and left her to manage the family winery, which serviced the royal family of Versailles. And although she was the daughter of a merchant, she regularly found herself amongst the vile people of Louis XVI’s court. Her love interest was the young man who helped her manage the farm, but Claudette was also being pursued by an unscrupulous duke who may have killed his wife.

  “Where are you at?” Antonia’s voice and the sounds of the coffee place were faraway echoes that Aiden had shut out over an hour ago. “Aiden?”

  His eyes snapped up to see her laughing eyes. “Huh?”

  “Is it that good?”

  Aiden sat up in his seat and looked around him. Letterfrack’s only coffee shop, Pooka’s Beans, was busy with weekend traffic, but he was in 18th century France waiting for the powder keg of the Bastilles to blow up. “Claudette just had sex with Jean Paul, but she thinks it was a mistake. I don’t know how she could think that; Jean Paul is perfect for her. I hate the duke and how he keeps cornering her. And I don’t know, can we trust this Pauline woman? Is she selling secrets of the court to the Jacobins? If so, is Claudette going to get caught up in the crossfire?”

  Antonia blinked before bursting into a peal of laughter. “Oh my god.”

  “What?”

  She wiped the tears from her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re enjoying it...”

  “I am enjoying it,” he said defensively. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Antonia was literally crying. “I’ve never met a man who was enthusiastic about historical romance.”

  He cleared his throat. “Now that we’ve established that I’m a different breed of man, will you tell me one thing?”