The Replacement

by Wade, Rachael

  “Glad to hear it.” He runs the disposal, then switches it off when he’s satisfied. “Anything else you need help with while I’m here? I won’t be back around for a few weeks, unless you need something else.” He leans a hand on the counter as he turns to face me, propping his other hand low on his waist. My gaze floats down to his arms, and curiosity gets the best of me. I have to ask.

  “What do your tattoos mean?”

  His brows lift for second at the change of subject and he follows my gaze, holding out his arms to take a look. “Hard to explain, really. They’re kind of personal.” He points to the expressive sleeve on his right forearm. It’s full of swirling, black Old English text that I can’t make out, and an arrangement of leaves and branches. A tree, I think. There are words carved into the wood of the trunk, but I can’t make those out, either. “This one is kind of my version of the tree of life. The text is just a combination of things that mean something to me. Song lyrics, quotes, old proverbs…mostly stuff about nature.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I hop down from the counter and move closer to him to get a better look. As I lean in, I get a whiff of him. Pine and cinnamon. Like rich tree bark and the topping on a pumpkin spice latte. It brings all of my senses to life. “What does that part say?” I touch a line of text wrapping around the tree, tracing the words. I hear him swallow and feel the muscles in his arm flex.

  “It’s, ah, it’s a part of this poem. By Lord Byron. ‘Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage.’” I don’t wait for him to read it to me. I can see it clearly now. The line mentions loving nature more, but not loving man any less.

  “That’s beautiful,” I say, lifting my head when I feel his eyes on me. “I only have one tattoo.”

  “Oh, really? Where is it?”

  “Nowhere you can see.” I smile unabashedly and hold his gaze, liking the way he turns a little crimson when I indulge him with an eyebrow wiggle.

  He laughs and shakes his head, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, ink is very personal.”

  “I’d agree with that. I love yours. Who did your work?”

  “This chick Tracy, over on Bainbridge Island. She owns this little shop downtown. She’s pretty rad. I won’t let anyone else color me up.”

  “I’ll have to pay her a visit next time I want to get some work done.”

  “You should. I’d be happy to hook you up.”

  “Cool, thanks.”

  He nods and hesitates for a second, settling on the decision to grab his tool box. “Well, looks like you’re all taken care of here. Guess I better be on my way.”

  I watch him as he starts to make his way through the living room, allowing my eyes to travel the length of him as soon as his back is to me. The man has an ass to die for, narrow hips, and broad shoulders. The kind of shoulders girls like to hold on to. He can’t be much older than me, and he’s got no ring on his left finger. Not that that’s ever stopped me before.

  I chew on my lip and follow him to the door to walk him out, stopping him when he goes to reach for the door knob. “Hey, Ryder, what are you up to tonight? Anything?” My plan to call Brad this morning to ask if he’d come with me to the festival tonight just got tossed out the window.

  “Tonight?” he stills, brushing his palm over his cheek. My eyes hone in on the light shadow there. He’s handsome in a rugged way, like the tree on his arm. A clean shave would probably look unnatural on him. “I’m free, actually. Why, you have plans to get some more ink?” His crooked grin appears, coaxing those dimples out from wherever they’ve been hiding. I’m happy to have them back.

  “No, but I do have plans to eat a ton of cotton candy and as many funnel cakes as possible.”

  His smile brightens, bringing light to his whole face. “You’re going to the holiday festival, I take it.”

  “Busted.”

  “What time?”

  “Around 8 tonight. I’m meeting up with someone from work. You wanna join?” As I watch a glimmer of interest appear in his eyes, I can’t help but wonder if he knows me. If he’s a local, there’s a good chance he does. Most of the women know me. The men know they know, and it hasn’t stopped them from trying their luck at least once.

  Suddenly, I feel like playing coy, although I get the faint impression that he sees straight through my act. “I mean, unless you have a girlfriend or something…” I can’t stop the mischievous smile that springs up on my lips. Why would I want to? It’s too much fun.

  “Ha,” he huffs, his lashes lowering as he looks down at his shoes, “you don’t have to worry about that.”

  “Really? No girl at home?”

  “Nah. She couldn’t deal with my gypsy ways and modest income. New York business men with cozy 401ks were more her style.”

  “Sorry to hear.” No, I wasn’t.

  “Don’t be,” he shrugs, moving to lean against the door frame. “You know what they say. When one door closes…”

  I smile playfully.

  “What about you?” His eyes narrow and his brow creases as he smirks. “You’re not hiding a man in the oven or anything, are you?”

  “I’m free as a bird,” I answer with no hesitation at all.

  “That’s…interesting.”

  I feel my shoulder muscles tighten. Maybe he knows exactly who I am. Elise Duchamp, the notorious, antisocial home wrecker. “Why do you say that?”

  He focuses on the doorframe, picking at the beveled wood. “For one, you’re hard to miss, with that beautiful body and all. Most men try and lock that sort of package down pretty damn quick. But you know that already, don’t you?” His gaze lifts to mine again, rooting me to the carpet.

  I expect my muscles to relax, but they don’t. They tighten further, and the next question I ask is crucial. I’m desperate to hear his response before I’ve even asked it. “And for two?”

  “Well, for two, you’re good company.”

  “Good company?” I blink, not sure what to make of that. What do I make of that?

  “Yeah, good company. I like talking to you. You’re down-to-earth. Open. I like that.”

  “You do?”

  He lets out a laugh, and it’s husky and hearty. It’s a warmth-inducing, toe-curling sound. “Uh…yeah, yeah I do. But I bet you know that already, too.”

  I race to cover up my genuine surprise, playing what I play best—the cool façade. “Maybe a little.” I grin up at him, subtly arching my back to draw his attention to my breasts.

  He takes the bait.

  Licking his lips, he breaks the stare from my cleavage and opens the front door. “And modest, too.” He locks eyes with me for another second, letting me know he’s on to my game. “Okay, so… 8 tonight?”

  “Yup. We’re meeting in front of Stella’s. Do you know the place? The retro diner down on the waterfront?”

  “Yeah, I know the place. Never eaten there before, but I see it when I drive down that way.”

  “Cool. See you tonight.”

  “Later.”

  I close the door behind him and slump against it. Something strange unfurls in the pit of my stomach. Strange, but not unpleasant. I don’t linger at the door long. I have a lot to get done by tonight, and there’s one thing that absolutely has to happen before the festival, one thing that takes precedence over everything else. I need to see Christian Walker, and I need to see him right now.

  CHAPTER 5

  Christian’s sleek black Mercedes gleams in his driveway as I pull up next to it. My fingers have had a death grip on the steering wheel the whole ride here, and that buzzing in my stomach that sparked the second Ryder left my place is now churning with anxiety.

  Oddly, this anxiety has nothing to do with the way things ended with me and Christian. Clearly, things never really ended if I’m showing up at his house like this. He didn’t hesitate for a second on the phone when I called him. He simply told me to come over right away, adding that he couldn’t wait to see me. Still, I can’t help but feel I’m crossing over to the dark side. Robbing a grave. R
esurrecting something that has no business being resurrected.

  A wry smile pulls at my lips as I shift to park. The dark side? I already made that jump long ago. This is child’s play. For once, though, I’m here not to screw Christian, but to talk to him. His reaction to that should be interesting, but I’m determined to do this. I’m not even sure I know what this is, but whatever it is, I know it needs to be done.

  “Hey baby,” Christian greets me at the door, immediately pulling me to him. He doesn’t look around outside to see which neighbors might see us, doesn’t think twice about holding his intense gaze on me, just takes me into his arms and lets his hungry eyes drink me in. “I’ve been so worried. When you called, I didn’t know what to think.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but I’m yanked into the house and shoved up against the wall before I can blink. Christian’s mouth buries into my neck and he knocks the door shut with his elbow, breathing hard against my throat as he fumbles with my blouse buttons.

  “Wait,” I pant, already feeling his magic consume me. I haven’t forgotten how perfectly his hard, strong body melds to mine, how the sting of his teeth on my flesh instantly makes my clit throb. The man is an animal, and he touches me like I’m the last drop of water on Earth. But feeling it again reminds me how deprived I’ve been. When I’m with him, I’m a goddess and he’s my master, and that’s a hard habit to break. “Christian, that’s not why I’m here.”

  His lips roam upward, to the space just below my ear, and he laughs as he dips his tongue there. “You’re talking crazy talk, baby. That’s exactly why you’re here. You’ve missed this.” He lifts up my skirt and skims his thumb over my panty line, sucking in a sharp breath. “I’ve missed it, too. Don’t ever leave me like that again.”

  I moan as his fingers slip into my panties, rolling over my slick wetness. “Oh, God.” My head hits the wall, and my eyes snap shut in pure pleasure. “Christian, we need to talk.”

  “After,” he growls into me, rocking his taut hips and straining erection against me. “Fuck, you’re so ready. Always so wet for me.” He withdraws his hand and slides his index finger into my mouth, letting me taste myself.

  I bite down, heady with wild need, need for this man to own me like only he can, but I release his finger and shake my head. I need to break the spell right now, or I won’t get what I came here for. “No, we need to talk now.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He bites a trail down my throat, moving south. He sounds amused. “What about?”

  “I’m not sure exactly,” I pant, answering honestly.

  “Mmmm,” he groans when he reaches my breasts, his mouth sucking straight through my bra. My nipples harden and my back bows. I’m losing control fast.

  “I want to talk about me and you,” I say more evenly this time. His head continues to move downward. It’s over my belly now. “I need to know if you were serious about me moving in with you.”

  He pushes my shirt up and bites just above my navel, his hands dropping down my hips to cup my ass. “Of course I am.”

  “Why do you want to live with me?”

  He laughs, but it’s cut off by a moan when he hits the apex of my thighs. The heat swells, sending me closer to the edge, and I involuntarily buck against his mouth. “You’re a dirty, filthy girl, and I fucking love you for it, baby.” He nuzzles his nose against me, blowing hot breath between my thighs. I nearly convulse on the spot, but I steel myself up and focus.

  “Christian, answer me.”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “An important one.”

  He seems to realize I’m not giving up on this and his movements finally slow. He exhales and tilts his head back to look up at me. He rises and his chest is heaving as he stares down at me. “Doesn’t this answer it for you?”

  “Doesn’t what answer it for me?”

  “This.” He removes his hot hands from my body only long enough to wave between us. “Us. You and me. The way you respond to my touch. Have you ever felt this way with anyone? Because I sure as hell haven’t.”

  “So…you want me to move in with you based on what, the way you touch me?”

  “Elise,” he pushes out a breath full of frustration, “what are you getting at, baby?”

  “I want to know why you want to be with me. What do I have that Kylie doesn’t have? What, I’m better in bed than her?”

  “That’s not—” he huffs in disbelief, “that’s not what this is. You’re not hearing me. This chemistry transcends the physical. But we don’t need words. We don’t need talking. We only need this.” His hands plant firmly on my hips and he presses his erection harder against me, eliciting a whimper from somewhere deep in my throat.

  Why does he have to be so damn good at that?

  “We can’t survive off of that alone. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Of course it does.” He blinks, looking at me as if this is a no-brainer. “Think about how many people share a marriage based on other compatibilities, but there’s nothing deeper. No passion. There’s none of this.” He lifts a hand and pinches my nipple between his fingers. I groan. “I would know, Elise. I’ve been in one of those marriages for five years now. There’s no such thing as a perfect relationship, married or not. When you find a connection like we have, you recognize it. You grab hold of it and take it for all its worth. You don’t let it slip between your fingers.”

  “What if that connection’s not enough?”

  “There’s no such thing as enough. It’s an illusion.”

  “What happens when someone else comes along? When this grows dull?”

  “It won’t,” he insists, stunned, like I can’t possibly be saying what I’m saying to him right now. “No one can ever replace you.”

  “You say that now.”

  His nostrils flare and he tilts his forehead to meet mine, staring me square in the eyes. “You’re a keeper. Not a substitute or a flavor of the week, baby.”

  “Why do you want me? You don’t know me.”

  His eyes burn with determination, but he comes up pitifully short. “Because we fit.”

  “Simple as that?” It comes out quietly.

  “Simple as that.”

  A lump forms in my throat and a civil war breaks out, wreaking havoc on my mind. He’s giving me all he’s got. He’s not being cold or insincere, or even dishonest. He’s 100 percent genuine about his perception of us. What we are, what we’ve been, and what we will be, if we stay together.

  But it’s not enough.

  And I think he’s right. Enough doesn’t exist. Even if I want it to, it doesn’t, and it probably never will. So where does that leave me? Where does it leave us? Right now, it leaves me against a wall with an Adonis of a man worshiping my body like I’m the shrine of an adored idol. Right now, there’s nothing else.

  For now, that has to be more than enough.

  ***

  I leave Christian’s house thoroughly spent and sated. One afternoon of love making with that man, and my limbs are weak and aching in all kinds of delicious ways. I remove the awareness that I’m oddly restless, even after our tiring romp, from my mind, determined to get home in time to get ready for my evening out.

  My brain does somersaults while I shower and change, tossing Christian’s words around like laundry in a dryer. They feel perpetually damp, spinning round and round on a broken cycle. But I made a promise to Natalie, and more importantly, to Ryder, and for once, I don’t feel like being the town tramp loner girl. I want to be normal, even if only for a night. I’ll have to return to my pumpkin carriage before the clock strikes midnight, but I can live with that.

  Stella’s parking lot is packed when I arrive. It’s hard to find a parking space, but I manage to pull into one before a blue sedan cruising for a spot beats me to it. Parking around here is always brutal around this time of year, regardless of the night rush at Stella’s. As soon as the annual holiday festival begins, people are out and about, braving the chilly temps in exchange for hot cocoa an
d the array of eclectic booths that set up shop along the waterfront. There are foods from all over the world, and unique arts and crafts at every turn.

  I step out of my car and wave to Jay through the diner window. He’s busy, running around like a mad man as usual, but he waves back and gives me one of his signature smiles. I check my watch to make sure I’m on time, and it turns out I’m a few minutes early. I begin to stroll down the diner’s front walkway, stopping when I come to the end of the building, where there’s a sweeping view of the harbor.

  The waterfront is always charming at night, especially with the festival lighting. The evergreen trees lining the sidewalk have been lit, even though we haven’t made it to Thanksgiving yet, and caramel and pumpkin aromas are everywhere. This is without a doubt my favorite time of year, and it reminds me of the times Tee and I spent together during high school, tasting our way through the festival, trying new foods and sneaking booze along the way.

  “Hey Elise,” Natalie’s voice sings in the distance. I spin to find her walking toward me from the other end of the sidewalk. Nate is at her side, their hands comfortably linked. Nate is holding a cold beer in his free hand, his eyes traveling up and then down when he sees me.

  I smile.

  “You look gorgeous!” Natalie hurries up to me and gestures for me to turn, so I oblige and give her a little awkward spin, wobbling to the left. My long blonde hair is down, with soft curls that hit just above my breasts, and I’m wearing a snug-fitting cream turtleneck that shows off my curves. A pair of dark skinny jeans and tall, black suede boots complete the ensemble, leaving me feeling casual, sleek, and elegant.

  “Thanks,” I say. “You look nice, too.”

  She shrugs with a grin, looking down at her bright red sweater and black-wash jeans. Her red hair is thrown up into a loose, pretty bun, and her pale skin is fresh and bright. She really is an attractive girl, but I can tell she doesn’t seem to think so. “Sorry we’re running a few minutes late. Nate couldn’t find his car keys. I swear, he loses everything. Then he wanted a beer, so we had to stroll a bit.”