by Michelle Amy
“Did he pay for your drink?”
I felt my brow furrow at that realization. “Uh. No.”
“So you dined and dashed?”
My cheeks burned. “Oops.”
Carly laughed. “Miss goody two shoes over here. Look at you go.” She saw the look of horror on my face. “Oh don’t worry about it. What happened after that?”
So I told her a little bit about how the night unfolded. I didn’t give her all the descriptions, and I left out McCoy’s ‘begging’ expectations for fear she wouldn’t understand. Instead I indulged her in the more surprising things about him. How gentle he was. How he cared about how I felt. That he wanted me to feel safe and comfortable around him.
Carly took another mouthful of her coffee. “Okay, I admit, he doesn’t sound all bad.”
I grinned. “He’s not. I… I don’t want to get ahead of myself but I can’t but wonder if this will all go somewhere.”
I saw the corner of her mouth twitch. “I get that. But, don’t get too involved too fast. Not with this kind of guy. It’s easy for them to love you and leave you, you know what I mean?”
I heard the sound of my bedroom door clicking open upstairs. Apparently Carly heard it as well because her eyes practically popped out of her head. Then she pointed at me again and her face became a mask of sheer delight. “Did he stay the night here?” She squealed.
“Shush,” I snapped. I didn’t want him to hear her making a fuss. “Listen, don’t be weird. Please, Carly. Don’t scare him off.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You like him.”
“No, Carly, come on-”
“Oh no, no, no. You like him. You like him a lot.”
My cheeks were burning. I couldn’t lie to her. She could always see right through me. I rolled my eyes and nodded slightly, admitting it. “I do, okay? And if you would give him time, I think you would find that he’s not that bad.”
“How much time did you give him?” She asked, winking at me.
“Stop it.”
His footfalls on the stairs made us both fall into silence. When he emerged in the open archway of the kitchen he stopped and looked at Carly, who was sipping her coffee and looking everywhere but at him.
“Morning.” He said.
She looked over at him with a polite smile on her lips. When her eyes fell upon him her mouth practically fell open. He was only wearing his boxers, which were skin tight and left little to the imagination. That distracting body of his was on display. “M-morning,” she stammered.
I hid my smile as I turned and began to make another pot of coffee. He padded around the island in the middle of my kitchen and grabbed the tie from my robe. He pulled me to him and lifted my chin up. “I said, ‘Morning’.”
“Good morning,” I said, embarrassed that he would do this to me in front of Carly.
But he let me go and then leaned against the counter and crossed his arms across his chest. Carly made it no secret that she was checking him out. I was checking him out too.
He cleared his throat and lifted his eyebrows at Carly as she did a clean sweep of him with her eyes. “How was the rest of your evening, Carly?” His tone had adapted the same laziness that it held last night.
“Good,” she looked back down at her coffee cup. “Went home. Drank by myself. Ordered pizza. Drank more… called somebody five hundred times.”
He gave her that crooked devious smile that I liked so much. “She was a bit preoccupied. Apologies.”
“Alright,” Carly said as she put her mug down. “I’m out. You two have a good time doing whatever it is you do. Call me later, okay?” She gave me a nod that told me she wasn’t upset. She just wanted out. McCoy wasn’t making it an incredibly comfortable environment for a third wheel.
She slipped out of the kitchen and McCoy and I stood in silence until we heard my front door close behind her. Then I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it. It broke over me and I was bending over to hold my ribs. Then he started up. It was the most delightful sound I had ever heard. He threw his head back when he laughed and he closed his eyes. I wanted to hear the sound all day long.
When we finally pulled ourselves together he came to stand behind me, bracing himself against me and holding me to him. I rested the back of my head on his chest. “I’ve never slept so well in my life,” I confessed.
He chuckled and drank his coffee. He kissed the top of my cheek. “Cute robe.”
It wasn’t cute at all. It was powder blue fleece and it cut off just above my knee. There was nothing cute or sexy about it. “I didn’t want to wake you up so I kind of darted out of my room without thinking about it and this was all I had-”
He turned me around. “I was being serious. It’s cute. I don’t think I’ve ever called anything cute before.” He pursed his lips and looked to the ceiling, feigning thoughtfulness.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh please.”
He laughed lightly again and started to make his way out of the kitchen. When I asked him where he was going he looked over his shoulder. “I’m not leaving. Just grabbing a cigarette.”
“I didn’t think you were leaving.”
“Didn’t you?”
He had called me out and he wasn’t wrong. I had suddenly been gripped with panic at the thought of him leaving- which really made no sense. I hardly knew him. He was, at best, still only an acquaintance. Sort of.
He left the kitchen and eventually so did I. I refused to be the girl who stood around waiting for him to come back in. So I went up to my room and started the shower. I left my robe on the floor and stepped into the steam and hot water. I scrubbed away my makeup and lathered my hair with shampoo. Soon the smell of sex and sleep was gone and replaced with the sweetness of coconut and lavender.
I let out a surprised yelp when McCoy pulled the shower door open. He stood there, naked, staring at me as I rinsed conditioner out of my hair. “What?” I asked him.
“I like watching you. Is there a problem with that?”
“No.” I like watching you too. I watched you sleep for at least two hours.
He stepped into the shower with me. His hair hung in his eyes when it got wet and he slicked it back with one hand. The motion of his fingers raking through his hair was toxic to me. He closed his eyes as he let the water hit his face. “I’m not too proud to ask to use your shampoo,” he said, holding out an open hand expectantly.
I pumped my shampoo in the center of his palm.
I watched him lather his hair and rinse it out. Then I watched him wash his body. When he was done he faced me. The shower rained down on his back. Water ran over his brow and down his nose. His lashes were wet and beads of water clung to them.
He took me in the shower and I succumbed to him without protest. By the time we were done the water was no longer hot. We wrapped ourselves in our towels and I retreated to the warmth of the blankets on my bed. He followed me and wrapped me up in his arms to warm me up. He took me again.
He rolled off the bed shortly after and nodded at me. “Get dressed. You should eat something. I’ve been greedy.”
I didn’t want to move. I was so content to lay there in the state of bliss he had put me in. “I’m so cozy,” I mumbled.
He tapped my ankle as he stood at the end of the bed. “Up. Now. I’ll take you for lunch. Then you can come right back here, if you wish.”
I looked down at him and didn’t hide my frown. “Alone?”
“Only if you want to be.”
“And if I don’t want to be?”
“Then I will join you. For as long as you like.”
I sat up. “I don’t mean to sound accusatory, or ungrateful. But I didn’t think you would want to stay. I didn’t think you would even be here this morning.” He wouldn’t look at me as I spoke. “McCoy, don’t misunderstand me, I want you to be here. But why are you… you know, sticking around?”
When he finally lifted his eyes to meet mine I felt the loneliness that I saw in them. “There is something about you. I ha
ven’t had a woman trust me the way you do in a long time. I haven’t had anyone look at me the way you do in a long time.”
“How do I look at you?”
“Like you see me.”
That electric feeling that I had felt last night coursed through me again. It was wild and quick and made me feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy inside. I shimmied off the bed and dressed myself while he sat at the foot of the bed and watched me. The sun was shining outside so I grabbed my favourite pair of white jeans. I threw a printed floral blouse on and slipped into my gold sandals. “Okay, ready. Where are you taking me?”
He was making it no secret that he was staring at my ass. When he stood he grabbed it in one hand and made a seductive sound in the back of his throat. “White is becoming of you.”
“I may have had a suspicion that you would like these,” I snickered. It was true. I had a hunch he would appreciate the way the white pants hugged my curves.
He took me to a bistro that I had walked by many times but never stopped to try. It had glass garage doors as outside walls, which were currently rolled up into the ceiling, making the place glow with sunlight. He walked me to a table near the open front and we sat down. A waiter brought us menus and water. As soon as I started to look at the options my stomach started to growl.
McCoy gave me a knowing look. “Told you.”
“What?”
“That you needed to eat.”
“And you think I would have stayed in bed and starved if left to my own devices?” I asked, cocking my head to one side.
“Who knows. Maybe I want to take care of you.” If that had come out of any other man’s mouth, I would have seen it as a red flag. It would have been a clear indicator that he had control issues, and that I wasn’t the girl for him. I was independent. I was capable of making my own food and taking care of myself. I’d been doing it for at least ten years. When I was with Jason I took care of both of us.
But for some reason when he said it I felt special. I felt protected. “Maybe I don’t need to be taken care of,” I pushed.
“You definitely don’t need it. I just want to. There’s a difference. Don’t get your panties in a bunch about it.”
I looked up from my menu and grinned at him. “I’m screwing with you.”
He analyzed me for a moment before laughing lightly and tossing his menu down on the table. We ordered our food and enjoyed the meal together, chatting about things that didn’t matter. Then he started to ask me about Jason.
“What’s his issue?” He asked as the waiter topped off our waters.
I shrugged. “He’s a jerk. We were together for a really long time. Besides you he’s the only guy I’ve ever… you know.” I expected McCoy to look surprised, but his expression remained neutral. “I found out nine months ago that he had been cheating on me. He’d been having several affairs for the last four years of our relationship, and I never had the slightest clue. I thought… I thought I was going to marry him.”
“How’d you find out?”
“That he was cheating? Carly saw him on a date with another woman. They were in a hotel bar making out and when they made for their room Carly lost it. Went after him. I only heard it from her mouth, but I really wish I had seen it. Apparently she poured her drink on him and slapped him.” I laughed. “His face would have been priceless.”
“I’m sure it would have looked just as stupid as it did last night.”
I nodded. “Definitely.”
“Carly is a good friend. She cares about you.”
“Yes, she does. I don’t know what I would do without her.”
“Does it bother you that she has her reservations about me?” His question was straight-forward, simple, clear. His face remained collected in that calm and cool expression. But something in his eyes was lonely again. Sad.
“Not anymore.”
The sadness evaporated. He looked away from me and nodded almost to himself. “I am glad to hear that.”
CHAPTER SIX
After lunch McCoy and I went to Peace Park. We hailed a cab and sat in the back seat wrapped around each other. He had one arm draped behind my shoulders. His fingers played with my hair. His other hand was across his body and resting on my knee. My cheek rested on his shoulder.
We sat like that for the entire ride and McCoy made small talk with the driver, who we learned was from Canada and had been driving a cab since he was sixteen. Apparently he had been driving people before he was even legally allowed to. McCoy took a liking to him and the cab driver indulged him in funny stories he had from driving for so many years.
When we arrived at the park McCoy took my hand and we made our way down the path and into the treeline. The park was a big place. I used to walk it with my parents and our dog when I was a kid. It looked a lot different than I remembered. The trees weren’t quite as large as I recalled- although, they were still massive. The leaves and branches created a canopy above us as he followed the trail. We passed the occasional other group of walkers and nodded polite hello’s. McCoy never let me go. If his fingers weren’t wrapped around he had one hand resting lightly on my back. Or he had his hand on my ass. Both were frequent. I didn’t mind. I liked it. I knew it for what it was: he was possessive. Another red flag. But I couldn’t help but want him to touch me.
By the time we were half an hour into the trail McCoy pulled me off the path and guided over roots and moss. We made our way over a slight ridge and dipped down the other side of it, out of sight of anyone who may be walking the trail behind us. He turned to me and I saw that all too familiar sparkle in his eyes.
“I can’t control myself around you.” He confessed.
“Then don’t try to.”
That was all the permission he needed. He wrapped me up in his arms and we went down to the forest floor. He wasted little time. My pants were down around my knees and I was on all fours in seconds. His hands held my hips to him as he entered me and I did everything possible to keep quiet.
We lay in the moss and twigs and branches when we were done, staring up at the blue sky through the trees. When we caught our breath he helped me to my feet and looked apologetically at my white pants.
The knees were stained green and I had somehow managed to get mud on my thighs. I shrugged. “It was worth it, trust me.” He kissed me and offered to buy me another pair.
I laughed. “It’s okay. I have another pair that are similar.”
“Thank the Gods,” he breathed, “I’d hate to never see you looking like this again.” He pulled a bramble out of my hair and we laughed.
We returned to the path but didn't follow it too much further. By the time we walked another half mile McCoy turned us around and we started to head back. We talked more as we went, and I learned more about him.
He had grown up with both his parents and two siblings in a small suburb outside of the city. His father had been an alcoholic who used to hit McCoy's mother when he went on a bender. Suddenly all of McCoy’s miniscule movements and his ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude started to make sense.
“I'm sorry,” I offered when I could see that discussing his family wasn't a comfortable topic for him. “I don't know what that's like. I wish you didn't have to live it.”
He looked down at me and gave me a weak smile. “Me too. But, we don't always get what we want.”
“What do you want, McCoy?”
The question confused him. He lifted a brow at me and pursed his lips.
“I mean big picture. You hate working construction. What do you wish you were doing instead?”
He blushed. It was weird. His cheeks grew rosy and he rubbed the back of his neck and refused to meet my eyes. Then he started talking. “I like to take pictures. I like to capture things that people miss. I'm good at it. I've never told anyone before.”
“So you want to be a photographer? That's amazing. Do you have a portfolio? Can I see some?”
I had overwhelmed him. I could see him struggling to sort through his thou
ghts and his feelings about it. Perhaps I was asking him to share too much too soon. It was fair. He didn't have to if he didn't want to. “McCoy, it's okay to say no.”
“I'll show you sometime. Promise.” He gave me another small smile.
McCoy hailed us another cab at the entrance to the park. We were surrounded by cyclist and other walkers and I felt the need to be some place quieter. He asked me what I wanted to do next. I asked to go home.
He paid the cab driver when we pulled up in front of my house and we went up my front porch. He joked about how ruined my pants were and I scowled playfully over my shoulder at him. “No thanks to you. Maybe next time you could show a little restraint and keep your hands to yourself?”
He stepped up beside me on the porch and tucked the fingers of both hands into my back pockets. “Do you want me to keep my hands to myself? It could be arranged, you know.”
Someone cleared their throat to our right and I jumped in surprise. Jason was sitting on my porch swing, watching us with irritated eyes. McCoy left his hands on my backside buried in my pockets, and I found myself wishing he would take a step back.
Jason stood and rested his hand on the railing of the porch. He picked a bit at the blue paint before he finally met my eyes. “Vee, this may be a bad time but I was hoping you would have a free moment. Just to talk.”
“Jason, I'm sorry, but I don't want to talk.” I didn't offer him any other explanation besides that. In my mind, it was enough.
He disagreed. His eyes fell over McCoy for the briefest moment, and I saw all the same anger from the previous night build up in him again. “I think it's important that you hear what I have to say.”
“And I think it's important that you listen to what I have to say, Jason.” My voice hardened. Anger of my own bloomed within me. “I don't want anything to do with you. Ever. You hear me? Now get off my porch and leave me alone.”
His eyes were pleading. He stared between me and McCoy, who was remaining quiet. I was exceedingly grateful for this. Although he was protective he respected me enough to fight my own battles. He felt no need to step in and tell Jason to take a hike.