by Ward, Susan
He hits the turn signal and turns down a narrow gravel road. There’s a small sign at a locked gate: Tiki’s House. What the heck is that? Bobby said he was running a foundation.
I bite my lower lip, refraining from grilling him, and watch as he stops the truck. If the guy prefers to show me, I’ll let him show me. Memories of us come tumbling back. I should have let him lead more often. I should have been willing to follow at times.
Bobby opens his door, hops from the truck and unlocks the chain across the road. He climbs back into the truck. We start to bounce down the gravel road.
I laugh. “What kind of place are you living in, Bobby?”
“It’s private. No one to disturb here. It suits my needs.”
“What needs? And why do you want privacy? Are you growing medical marijuana? Is that your new business?” I tease.
Bobby laughs and I’m relieved that he takes my comment as humor and remembers that I’m a tad sarcastic at times. I smile.
“Nothing so glamorous. I already told you that.”
“Well, you’ll certainly have privacy here. Who’d want to brave the driveway?”
He pretends to give it serious thought. “The driveway is pretty bad. Do you think that’s why I can never convince a date to come home with me?”
A date? I definitely didn’t like hearing that one. I have to force myself to maintain the teasing banter.
I playfully scrunch up my nose. “Maybe it’s your technique?”
He shakes his head. “No, can’t be that. My technique got me the hottest girl in Pacific Palisades.”
The way he’s looking at me makes me nearly cry from the joy of hearing him say that. “And it got a busy independent filmmaker here today.”
His eyes fix on me intensely. “Maybe my technique only works with you.”
I sure hope so, my heart whispers, and I can’t wait another second to touch him. I unbuckle my seat belt. Every inch of my flesh comes awake with anticipation. I start to ease into him.
He opens his door and pulls back. “Come on, I want to show you everything.”
I watch him disappear into the sunlight and a heavy sigh of disappointment pushes through me. Then I notice my surroundings: a charming blue-paint, white-trim farm house, velvet lawns, old oak trees, long rows of tiny structures and….barking?
I climb from the truck and closed the door. “What is this place?”
Bobby smiles. “Tiki’s House. My foundation.”
My eyes widen as I try to absorb my surroundings. “But why is there so much barking? What kind of foundation is this?”
“I rescue dogs. Most of them come to me by way of illegal dog fighting.”
He gestures to the sign. Dog Rescue, Rehabilitation and Sanctuary.
“Dogs?” I don’t know what to make of this. This is not on the list of what I expected Bobby to show me. “You run a dog rescue and rehabilitation foundation?”
Amusement dances in Bobby’s gorgeous green eyes. “You’re the one who told me to be less complacent. To do something meaningful with my life. To find something I wanted to do. To live my own life instead of yours. Well, this is it, Kaley. I’m living my own life instead of yours now. Doing what I love. I’m happy.”
Crap! Was I such a bitch when we were together that I actually said that? And what is he trying to tell me with that speech?
“I’m glad. I never wanted anything but you to be happy, Bobby. It looks like we’ve both found something worthwhile to do with our lives. It’s amazing what you’ve done here.”
He lowers his frame to give a gentle scratch to the fierce-looking pit bull inside a cage. “Maybe if I’d been more interesting none of the other stuff would have happened,” he says so softly I almost can’t hear him.
Other stuff? The lump swells in my throat. How like Bobby to take responsibility for my stupid mistake.
I stare at the long row of kennels. “How many dogs do you have here?”
“Fifty. I’m at capacity. The city won’t let me have any more. Every day new dogs are rescued and there is no place for them to go.”
I shake my head. “And all these dogs were used for illegal dog fighting?”
“Except the Chihuahuas. They don’t fight. They’re used in fight training.”
“I don’t understand. How are they used?”
Bobby straightens up. His eyes are heavy with that sensitive kindness that drew me to him from the start. “They’re bait dogs. Without getting too graphic, they are used to see which pits will fight. If the pit doesn’t kill the bait dog, he’s destroyed and the bait dog is either destroyed or used again.”
I feel sick, like I’m going to vomit. “That’s awful!”
“It’s an important story, Kaley. Maybe you’d like to go on a rescue sometime and film.”
Is that why I’m here? He wants me to make a documentary about the plight of these poor animals?
“Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there, camera in hand.”
Bobby’s lips curl in a slight smile. “Thanks, Kaley. I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather have tell their story. Maybe with you onboard we can make some meaningful change to the law that will prevent this.”
The law? Did I hear him right? Is Bobby not only a dog rescuer but a full-fledged activist against animal cruelty? Bobby?
It feels like my head is spinning trying to catch up to all the changes in Bobby and all the old familiar sensations coursing through my veins. Everything is new in Bobby’s world. Everything is the same inside me.
“I didn’t even know you liked dogs. I would have never imagined that this would become a cause for you. That this is what you’d pick for your profession.”
“I didn’t pick it, Kaley. It picked me.”
My eyes widen. “Picked you, huh? You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”
Bobby shrugs and he looks a little uncomfortable now. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and starts to guide me down the aisle between the kennels.
“After we broke up and I moved out, I just wanted to lie low for a while, think things through. We both made so many mistakes and you were right about a lot of the things that you said to me. I couldn’t just live off my folks and do nothing. Or worse, cruise through life as a passenger in your life. Without you, I realized you were right. I didn’t have any idea which direction I wanted to go. What I wanted to do. And then one morning I was up surfing at Rincon and someone tossed something onto the side of the road. When I went to check it out, I found a dog, Kaley. It was Tiki. Bloody. Half dead.”
“Oh my God. What kind of person would do that?”
There is fury in his eyes of an intensity I’ve never seen before. “A jerk who makes money training dogs to fight. Illegal dog fighting is big business in California.”
I stare in wonder and fascination at the neatly tended ranch with the blue painted house and white railed front porch, the lawns, the dog runs, and the long bank of indoor-outdoor kennels.
“So you rescued Tiki and it turned into all this?”
Bobby shrugs. “I didn’t plan any of this. I was just taking a poor half-dead dog to the vet. The vet didn’t expect her to survive and recommended euthanizing her. That even if she recovered she would probably always be vicious because of the kind of life she lived. It took months for her to recover. Months for her to be unafraid. And months to learn to trust me.” There is pride on his face now. “She’s up at the house. I’ll introduce you before you go.”
I drink it all in before I shift my gaze back to him. “It’s amazing, Bobby.”
He smiles. “It’s getting there. Everyone says I have a knack, that I’m a natural at rehabilitating dogs.”
“Everyone? Who’s everyone?”
“The dog rescue community is large and we network to make sure that as few dogs as possible are left with only the option of euthanasia. I specialize in pit bulls since most people won’t take them and too many people just want to exterminate the breed. But others specialize in other
breeds. We share resources, knowledge. Work together to raise public awareness.”
It is hard to comprehend that this is Bobby talking so passionately about his work. When we were together his life pretty much consisted of surfing and me. This is a new side of him: this confident, take-charge, passionate man. It’s totally unfamiliar…but totally a turn-on.
We’ve walked almost to the truck and I didn’t even notice where Bobby was taking me.
“Do you have time for a glass of wine before I take you back to the city?” he asks.
I’m not going back to the city, my body screams.
I smile and nod. “I might even be convinced to stay for dinner. It’s getting late. I’m hungry.”
Bobby laughs. “There’s not much here to make for you. I still can’t cook.”
I smile up at him hopefully. “We could order in.”
The smile tugs at the corners of his lips and I want desperately to kiss him. “If you want.”
I stop, tired of the careful talk and holding my heart at bay. “I want, Bobby. I want very much to stay. To get to know each other again. To reconnect with my best friend.”
I brace myself to look into his eyes to see how that one hit him and the expression on his face takes my breath away.
“Did we ever disconnect, Kaley?” Bobby asks. This time he steps into me and takes my hand. “Stay, Kaley. Stay the night with me.”
His mouth lowers to me. I ease up on my tiptoes to him. His fingers spread wide to hold my cheeks and then Bobby is kissing me with starving purpose and remembered sweetness.
More emotion than I ever thought possible pulses through my veins and the weight of two years without him shrinks to nothingness.
Even though this is far from our first kiss—heck, I gave myself first to Bobby when we were in high school—there is a luscious freshness, a newness to it all, thrilling because it is also blending with all that I remember and have always felt for him.
Our tongues swirl in a knowing dance, and a groan of pleasure vibrates from his lips into mine as I mold my body into him, letting him lead us in this mating ritual, this gentle prelude to lovemaking, so much richer because there is no need for words. We know each other intimately and our bodies know the dance.
Being here with Bobby like this is every fantasy, every dream I’ve conjured for the past two years, and I’m not about to let anything end this. Feeling him start to ease back, this time I step in, kissing him.
To hell with the food. I want him now.
Against my lips, he whispers, “Is that a yes? You are staying the night with me?”
I’m about to whisper, “I’m staying forever,” when I am suddenly pushed back by a barking, free-running dog. It starts pushing up against me with its massive body and I’m more than a little afraid because the dog is huge and looks determined to separate us. This pit bull looks so much bigger outside a cage.
I keep a watchful eye toward the ground and press full length into Bobby. It looks very protective of its owner.
His laughter swirls in my curls. “She won’t hurt you, Kaley. Tiki is very jealous. She’s not used to having competition for my attention.”
Flushing and more than a little pleased with that, I say, “Glad to hear it. Now can you have her give me a little space?”
“I would never let anything happen to you. You’re perfectly safe so long as you stay close to me.”
Bobby’s smile is a touch seductive, a touch teasing, and a touch amused. I want to laugh and hit him, but that is not a good idea right now, especially with the way Tiki is staring at me.
“I’d be more than happy to stay close to you if you get her to stay not so close to me. Is she this jealous with all your dates?”
“I don’t know. I’ve already told you. I haven’t brought anyone to the house.”
My heart sings with happiness over that.
Bobby steps back from me. “Down, Tiki. Sit.” Bobby’s voice is commanding even in his usual wonderful, gentle tone.
The dog immediately obeys.
Bobby smiles. “It’s all right, girl. This is Kaley. She’s a friend.”
I watch him scratch Tiki’s head and am reminded of how marvelous his touch is and that we were—or at least, what I hoped before the interruption—on our way to bed and reconciliation.
My smile suddenly turns into a frown. “Just a friend?”
He grins at me. “If I tell her more she may not want to accept you into the pack.”
I laugh. “Then don’t tell her more. I want very much to be welcomed here.”
Bobby’s smile shoots straight to my heart. “Why don’t we go inside for the wine?”
He holds his hand out to me and I take it. He opens the screen door and I precede him into the comfy living room. Something brushes the back of my leg and I look down to see Tiki close to me instead of Bobby.
I look back at him just as he steps through the door and the image of him surrounded in sunshine makes my body throb with anxious want. Everything about him is gentle and good, male and perfect. I savor the sight of him and can’t believe that I chatted to a stranger that he was the perfect imperfect guy.
Bobby is the best man I’ve ever known. Beautiful inside and out. And I can’t believe that I am here, again with him, and very soon about to get to kiss and touch every speck of that glorious man.
The screen door make a little slap as it closes and I shift my eyes to see Bobby studying me.
“Keep staring at me like that, Kaley, and you won’t get the wine. Two years is a long time.”
There is nothing I can do to keep the smile from my face. I used to dream this moment and now I’m here.
“That’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” I whisper.
He pulls me against him, claiming a fast, heated kiss, and then his laughter fills up the quiet house. “Then I’ll grab the wine and you get into bed.”
How wonderful it is to hear the sound of his laughter again. I want to lie in bed with him, stroll the aisles of a grocery store, learn to love these dogs, and be forever with him and his laughter.
I watch him disappear into the kitchen. I take in the lovely arrangement of the living room.
“Where did you get the money for all this?” I ask.
I hear laughter from the kitchen. “Kickstarter campaign. Donations. I board some dogs. I hold training classes and I’m thinking about releasing a book.”
“A book?”
He moves through the kitchen doorway, a bottle of chardonnay and two glasses in hand. “I’ve got an outline and four thousand words done. It’s about our foundation, our rescue operations, and the world of illegal dog fighting. When it’s finished I’d like you to be the first to read it. Everyone says the key to success is to market in multiple channels.”
He’s talking as though what we’re doing is not a one-time thing and my heart takes off racing again. Still, I feel a little worried that we haven’t covered any of our issues, not our breakup or that night or details of exactly what this is.
I watch as he sets the wine on a table and puts Tiki into her cage.
“Why are you caging her?”
“She likes it in there. It’s her safe zone and, like I said before, she isn’t used to sharing me.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend you haven’t been with anyone else since we broke up. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”
Bobby steps closer to me and starts to speak, but then his mouth is on mine before I can take in air. I am suddenly lost to everything but the feel of him and he is moving us toward the bedroom. He plunders deeply in my mouth and I find myself opening all parts of me to him.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed that.” He kicks closed the bedroom door behind us. “We can talk as much or as little as you want later. I’ll tell you anything, everything you want to know. But I am not going to bed one more time without you.”
He is staring at me with hungry eyes and I am just as anxious to make love to him and t
o kick from the room anything that might interfere with us loving each other forever.
I lean in closer as he starts to unbutton my dress. It may be the wrong time, wrong moment, but I can’t stop myself and I say, “I love you. I may have made a mess of us, but I have never not loved you.”
My dress is gone and Bobby sweeps me up into his arms. “I’ve always loved you and I’m going to love you the rest of my life. That’s what I figured out in two years without you.”
“Me, too,” I whisper, kissing his neck and feeling myself being lowered onto the bed. “Make love to me. I can’t wait another moment.”
And then we are not waiting, we are naked in bed together, my flesh pressed to his flesh, my lips are being devoured by his, and the urgency of our bodies is capering in the air and making the room electric. All my parts awaken at once. How have I managed to survive two years without this?
The bed smells of fresh washing and Bobby, and the two scents together are rightly so. Fresh sheets. He planned this. Everything below my waist begins to throb madly. He wanted me even before I followed him here.
His kisses run over my mouth, my cheeks and neck as if he’s reclaiming the feel of me and I am just as frantic to reclaim the feel of him.
He turns me beneath him on the bed and lowers his mouth to flick at my nipple. A violent shudder rolls down my limbs and I moan, arching into him, filling my hands with his soft, chestnut waves. I move against him in aching demand, feeling his hardness against my urging softness, and wanting him inside me without delay.
My body is boiling and I don’t want to come before he’s inside me. Later, we’ll take each other with leisure, but this yearning I feel is too greedy for play right now. His lips move from my breasts. His thumbs gently stroke my nipples as his kiss roams downward to my navel, his tongue swirling the acutely receptive flesh there. My muscles below clench and Bobby moans, moving downward, always downward in his kisses.
“I love the way you feel against my fingers and my lips,” he whispers, knowing exactly how to tease, tempt and get me to beg. “I love the way you taste.”
I arch upward on the pillow. “Then taste me, Bobby, and get in me fast.”