by Brill Harper
That makes sense. Once I get out of bed and get back into the normal rhythm of my day, it won’t feel like something hit a fault line in my heart, ripping it open and exposing me to the elements.
Because we are not going there.
“Look, I have things to do. I’m not trying to be rude, which is why I didn’t wake you. I just think it’s best we get back to normal.”
“Back to normal. Are you kidding? I am not ever going back to normal.”
I can feel my face paling. Jesus, I’m such a coward. “Gertrude...”
“Wow, you are really freaked out, aren’t you?” She sits up, clutching the sheet to her chest. “I’m talking about me, not you. I’m not going back to sub-zero temperatures now that I know what it’s like on the other side. I intend to have a lot of sex from now on.” She murmurs, “A lot. A lot. A lot.”
In theory, that sounds amazing, but the compressed, tight ball of fear in my gut turns my mouth to dust. “Tru, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea...”
“Would you relax?” She moves quickly, straddling me, and damn, she’s damp and ready. “If you’re not up for it, I’ll find someone else.” She wiggles against my erection. “But it feels to me like you’re up for it.”
Every caveman instinct I have comes roaring to the surface. Someone else? Does she think someone else can give her as much pleasure as I can? My eyes lift from those amazing tits to her face. Wait just a minute here. “That sounds like a dare. Do you think you can get me into bed on a dare?”
“As a matter of fact,” she slides that warm pussy along my aching cock, wetting it with juices, but not letting me inside. “I do. You should probably teach me a lesson.”
I stop her glide, grab a condom, and pull her over the tip of my aching cock when it’s ready. She arches her back and slowly slides down the length of me, her neck elongated, her eyes closed as she concentrates on the feeling of ecstasy. She’s beautiful, luminous. And I forget everything but watching her learn to ride.
TWO HOURS LATER, I call in a favor from Stella, of which I have more than a few owed me, and she covers me at the bar for the rest of the day. I stay away from Ironwing, from the apartment, and from my sexy roommate all day and well into the night. When I creep into the house, she’s asleep in her own bed and Fifi growls at me.
“Keep your opinions to yourself, little gerbil.”
She’s still staring at me with judgment clouding her gaze. I’ve become used to the adoration clouding her gaze, and this new look sort of bothers me.
“What do you know? You’re a dog.”
She whines and puts her chin on her paws.
“It’s for the best that we nip this in the bud. Trust me, it’s best for you too. You don’t want your mistress getting attached to me and then having her heart broken. I’m not interested in a relationship. It’s better for all three of us this way.”
I even give the ungrateful rat an extra treat before I go to bed, alone, and try not to think about the way it felt to wake up wrapped around a warm woman. To smell her hair and hold her sleeping, relaxed body against mine.
At the bar Tuesday night, she’s acting like nothing is wrong. Which is what I want, but it pisses me off. Leo and Dixie are teaching her how to play darts, and every time I look over there, she’s smiling and laughing and it makes me want to throw something, preferably the dartboard. Right through the window and onto the street.
I catch sight of something on the wall near the board that I hadn’t seen before. I stalk over to it, grateful for something tangible to be upset at. “How long has this been here?” I demand, pointing my finger at the new mirror like a man finding a lover in his wife’s bed.
She takes a dainty sip of her tea. Because now we serve tea in a damned bar. “It came in yesterday. Isn’t it great? I found a bunch of retro beer mirrors on eBay, but this is the only one I found with an Ironwing logo.” She traces her finger over the band logo and smiles softly.
It probably is really great, but all I see are spots. “Stop making changes without discussing it with me first. I don’t want you redecorating the bar. Next you’ll have lace curtains on the windows.”
Her head tilts and she eyes me curiously, setting down her tea on a coaster. “Where is this coming from? Why are you so mad at me about a mirror? I didn’t even use the business account.”
“I’m not mad,” I say through clenched teeth.
Her gray eyes ice over and she clasps her hands, linking her fingers together in front of herself, drawing inward. “All right,” she agrees with me warily. I’m such an asshole, but I don’t know how to stop this roll now that I’ve gotten going. Gone is the smiling, laughing woman playing darts with friends. My friends. Returned is the out-of-place woman from weeks ago. That’s my fault too. “I can close the pub if you like.” Her tone is cool, controlled. Chilled really. “Maybe you could go put your feet up or watch television upstairs. What is it that Stella says? Take a Midol.”
“Are you coddling me?” I snarl, my mood slapping us both. “I said I’m not mad.”
She holds her hands up in surrender. “Fine. You close then. I’m going upstairs to put my feet up.” She calls Fifi to her.
“Leave her. She needs to go for a walk. I’ll take her when I lock up.”
Tru scoops the dog up. Her eyes are glittering, but she’s honed her Park Avenue persona well, lifting a haughty chin in my direction. “I believe I can manage walking my own dog.”
I can’t tell her that I don’t want her outside in the dark by herself. But, shit, I don’t want her outside in the dark by herself.
She leaves, not giving me the satisfaction of a backward glance, and Leo and Dixie are staring at me like they’re embarrassed they witnessed our fight. “It’s nothing,” I tell them.
They look at each other, the kind of couple that can communicate without using words. “We should get going.”
“You can stay. Finish your game.”
“I think we’ll just go.”
I think I am fucked.
Why did I start an argument with her? I look at the offending bar mirror and shake my head. My dad is going to love it. The patrons will love it. If I had found it, I would love it. But no, I had to make her feel bad for no reason other than I don’t want her to be comfortable here in my world when she has made me feel so out of place in it.
Tru
A WOMAN WALKS INTO a bar with a dog sounds like the beginning of a joke or a repeat of my not-so-distant past, but this time the woman is Stella and the dog is definitely not well-groomed or in a Louis Vuitton carrier.
He’s some kind of terrier. Probably. Black and white and grizzled. His tongue lolls out and his eyes look a little deranged. But when she puts him on the floor, he and Fifi are instantly smitten with each other. Sniffing and tail wagging commence immediately.
“No,” Nash says. Which is one word more than he’s said to me this morning. He did manage a gruff “I’m sorry” last night. He didn’t elaborate, so I’m not sure what he’s sorry for. Getting upset about rock memorabilia? Being rude to me? Avoiding me since we had sex? Maybe he’s sorry we had sex at all. That’s probably likely.
Which is a shame. I’d like to test some more of my non-frigid boundaries, but apparently, he’s taken it upon himself to decide that I can’t handle the intricacies of a no-strings affair. He also doesn’t realize that he’s the one having a hard time with it, not me. I’m not interested in a relationship. I’ve learned my lesson about relying on a man and am not keen about getting put in that position again. Passion—that’s different. I’d love to explore that some more. Eradicate the old me completely.
“Take that dog right back from wherever you got him from.”
Stella pouts, then remembers it’s Nash and pouting doesn’t work on him. “Please, Nash. His name is Bo and he’s a really nice boy. I had to go pick him up from death row at a shelter in the city today. He’s meant to be yours.”
“I don’t want a dog.” All three of us look at Fifi who
finished sniffing Bo and is now sitting on Nash’s foot proprietarily.
Stella ignores the obvious. “I did a reading last night and used the pendulum this morning. Bo is meant to be with you. The cards and the pendulum agree. Please.”
Bo stretches the leash to sniff at Fifi, and Nash pulls her up off the floor protectively. “Back off, buddy.”
“He won’t hurt her. They were both wagging their tails. Put her down. You’ll see.”
It pains him, but he puts Fifi back down, letting the dogs get to know each other some more. “Fifi is only here temporarily. What will I do with a dog when they go?”
He almost spits the word they out.
Stella’s gaze catches mine for confirmation and I nod. Stella bites her lip, thinking how to spin this now. “Could you at least take him until I find another home for him?”
“How stupid do you think I am, woman?”
“You don’t really want me to answer that, do you?”
The mailman comes in with my package, thank you Prime, and it distracts Grumpy McGrumperson long enough for Stella to “have to run,” leaving Nash with a new dog and a promise to call later.
He rounds on me. “I thought we agreed no purchases without discussing them first.”
I take a deep breath, not understanding why he keeps trying to draw me into fights with him. “I’m sorry you’re upset with Stella, but please don’t take it out on me.”
He pulls out a pocket knife and takes the box off the counter. “What is it this time?” he asks.
I try to snatch the package. “It’s mine.”
He’s got it open before I can get it back, telling me all about how he likes the way the bar is now, it looks just fine, and I have no right to just come in and turn his life upside down and now he has two dogs...and then all the color leaves his face when he pulls out a long box with a purple penis on it.
He brings his eyes to mine and our gazes catch for a long moment when time slides into another reality briefly. He blinks once. Twice.
I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s not for the bar. It’s for my vagina. And if you’d be so good as to put it back in the box, I’d appreciate it.”
“You bought a dildo?”
I snatch it from him and lower my voice so...well, there’s no one in the bar to overhear, but I do it anyway. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“You don’t really want me to answer that, do you?” He just blinks at me some more. Waiting. “We’ve established that I’m not frigid. You don’t seem to want to continue what we started, and you appeared jealous when I suggested that maybe I find another lover—”
“I don’t get jealous,” he interrupts, his jaw so tight I can hear his teeth grinding.
“Yes, all right. Anyway, I thought it best not to let the pipes freeze back up. Stella recommended this model to me...why are you recoiling in horror?”
“Stella has a purple...one of those?” He gestures to the box in my hand.
“Well, actually, I don’t know what color hers is. I thought purple was kind of whimsical, so I—”
“Whimsical?”
“Why do you even care? You have made your position very clear. You are counting the days until I leave and you don’t want me to insinuate myself into your life any more than I already have. I thought I was being very mature by not flaunting finding another paramour under your nose.”
“What’s a paramour?”
It’s a very good thing I don’t carry a small knife in my pocket the way he does. That’s all I’m saying. “Do not make fun of the way I talk. You know very well what a paramour is. I’m going to go put this away upstairs and then I am going to meet Pauline for lunch. If we’re done here, of course.”
His tense jaw squares even more. “Yes, we are done here.”
“Wonderful. Would you like me to take Fifi or leave her here to keep Bo occupied while I’m gone?”
He picks up a towel and a glass, his go-to activity when he’s thinking. “Just leave her.”
PAULINE TAKES A BITE out of her meatball grinder, though she’s hanging on my every word. We’ve got the corner table, but I try to keep my voice down. This town has ears in the walls, I think.
“He’s just trying to protect his heart. He’s striking out at you,” she explains, “hoping that you’ll get mad and either break things off for good or say something he’ll be able to pin all the blame on when things don’t work out. It’s classic.”
“Well, that makes no sense at all.”
“Did you think it was going to?”
I contemplate my potato chip, but the answer isn’t there. “But there is nothing to work out. We aren’t involved. There’s nothing to break off between us.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“Trust me. It was a fling.”
Pauline nods. “Sure, it was.”
“We have nothing in common. He resents my very presence. He doesn’t like my dog or my ideas.”
“Honey, he loves that damn dog. Have you looked at him with her? And if you could see the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention, you’d see what the rest of us do.”
I sit back, unable to eat another bite, but knowing I’ll somehow find the room to put the whole sandwich away before this lunch is over. “So you’ve only met him a handful of times. What are you basing this knowledge on?”
She blushes. Which I’m sure she doesn’t do very often. “Brandon talks about him a lot.”
“Brandon, huh?”
“I’m not sleeping with him, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she quickly interjects, her features frozen in an almost stoic expression.
“Why not?” I cover her hand with my own. “Pauline, I wouldn’t judge you if you were. You know that, right?”
A secret smile crosses over her features. “Sorry...I just...people are used to making rash judgments about me. But I’m not. We’re friends. For now, we’re friends.”
“Do you have feelings for him? More than friend feelings?”
She lifts one shoulder. “I feel like I should take my time. I don’t want to get burned again.”
It feels really good to have a friend, a girl friend, to talk to about crushes and men. Nobody has ever filled this role for me before, and now I have Pauline and Stella. But I can’t talk to Stella about Nash. Our talks are more general...what kind of sex toy is best, which wine goes with Sara Lee Cheesecake...that kind of thing.
But my ex-husband’s wife? I feel like she’s my sister somehow. Sister wives is the wrong vibe, but sister friends is pretty close.
“Brandon is a nice man.” Despite raising such a dimwitted buffoon. That was unkind. Despite raising an intelligent buffoon. I can honestly say that Nash isn’t dimwitted in the least, though he is content to let others believe he is simpler than he is.
“Brandon wants to take me on a real date. I keep putting him off.”
“Why?”
“I have to think of Danny. I don’t know...following my heart has led me to some trouble in my life. And I’m not always sure it’s my heart I followed when all is said and done. My ovaries make horrible life decisions, so I’m trying to pay more attention to my brain, I guess.”
“That makes sense. Except I can tell you that following your brain sometimes leads you astray too.” My heart wasn’t involved when I married Richard. For sure not my ovaries. I guess it wasn’t my brain either. It was fear. Fear of being completely alone in a world where I was already so lonely.
We get quiet after that. “I think you should seduce him,” she says as if we were still talking about Nash.
“I don’t think that’s a great idea. Why don’t you seduce Brandon instead?
“I think with Brandon, it would be best if I let him work for it a little longer. Make sure this is what we both want. I think the problem with Nash is he’s thinking too much. You both are. Seduce him.”
I look at her, all made up, dressed to slay from her sexy hair to her red-clawed hands to the stiletto heels
. “I think the world works a little differently for someone like me, Pauline. I don’t have your skills at seduction.”
“Well, you do dress like my grandma, but that hasn’t stopped him from wanting you.”
I throw my straw wrapper at her. “This coming from Peg Bundy.”
She throws it back. “Underneath, you got the goods. Use that instead of your softer side of Sears getup.”
Right. She’s right.
Could I seduce Nash?
I bet if we have sex one more time, it will get him out of my system. We can end things on better terms. But my clothes and lingerie won’t do it. My very boring lingerie. My even worse clothes.
My lingerie wouldn’t seduce anyone. I’m going to have to be more creative.
That night, after closing, I race upstairs while he walks the dogs. I light candles, I hide the television remote, and I tear off my clothes.
When he comes in, I’m sitting on the couch wearing one of his shirts and reading a book.
One of his eyebrows shoots up when he looks at me. “What are you doing?”
I set the book on the table and look over the top of my reading glasses. “I’m testing a theory.”
“What theory is that?”
“You said I can’t learn life from books.” His eyes narrow. “I want to try something I learned in a book.” I glance at the book on the table and look back at him, waiting for him to notice the Kamasutra book’s title.
Chapter Eight
Nash
THE SIGHT OF HER WEARING one of my button-up shirts makes me want to beat my chest and swing from a vine. Her hair’s up in a messy bun, her glasses are perched precariously on her nose, and she’s blinking at me a little too innocently.
“What did you learn in a book?” I glance at the title, hoping it’s not a cookbook. I have a high fire insurance deductible.
Holy shit. It’s not a cookbook. She’s reading erotic literature on my couch while half-dressed and one hundred percent sexy. Every available brain cell I have just died and all I can think of is the ways she tastes.