Wayne had held her hand, all the way from the ambulance into the waiting area, and it had been delightful being a part of a group of people acting more like family than friends.
Inside she’d been jealous of it, knowing this could truly never be hers, then fought the feeling off while roaming in the waiting room’s clatter of news and sports blurting from the radio.
“So,” the car was not yet warmed up as they sat down into it, and the early evening cut the day too short, “what are your thoughts?”
“About what?” she answered, and sat her hands under her thighs not too freeze too much.
“About this,” his hands pointed loosely at the hospital before them. “About the new baby?”
“Well, first of all, I don’t know your friends that well,” she answered softly, “secondly, you know I’m torn because of my situation of not being able to conceive, but yes of course I think it’s wonderful. A new child born into this world. Let’s just make sure her life turns out well.” Her hands reached up to redirect the heating vent turning it against her face which was sticking up from the thick jacket she’d wrapped around her tightly.
“Of course she’ll be fine, what do you mean?” His hand reached back for the seat belt then blasted the heat to full capacity.
“I’m just saying, life is dangerous and sad. I’m glad she has people around her who care.”
“You have something you want to share with me?” His hand rested on the stick between their seats, his eyes attempting to read the mind of his passenger, but failing. She didn’t look anything but tired, tired from them staying up, tired from taking care of Jefferson’s older daughter Nova, and maybe tired from work.
“You want to go back to your place and fool around, celebrate life?” He tested the ground. If she was up for it, so was he, and if not, he’d try again tomorrow. He knew he’d been an asshole, and would not take it as anything less than a surprise if she said yes.
“Are you staying the night?”
“You decide. You have seniority in the love department, I certainly don’t know much. What you say goes.”
“Stay, but you can’t leave until I say so. Breakfast is included, and you’re gonna make it.”
“You got it.” He smiled and pushed down the gas pedal, taking them away from the hospital’s dark parking lot, now swallowed by dusk and the beginning of a new moon.
Chapter Seventeen
“Brody, here you go.” She handed him the square box of freshly baked chocolate croissants over the front desk at the bakery. “What happened to your shirt?” Her head nodded at the dark spot staining the front of his ironed shirt.
“Thanks, Christine,” he said as politely as he had done the previous seven mornings in a row, tipping her the brim of his hat. “I had a grape soda tossed in my face by a woman named Shaniqua. Hell of a morning to be honest.”
“I’m sorry. Hopefully the baked goods will make the rest of your day a bit better.”
“These are dangerously delicious, and thanks to you opening this shop I’ve gained a few pounds, but as I said, they’re irresistible.” He opened the lid to the box and she watched a smile cross his lips as he eyed what was on the inside.
“No, thank you Brody for coming in here making my first order of the day something this sweet and tasty. It sets a good tone to the day when the aroma of chocolate lingers in the air for hours after I take the croissants out of the oven. Why don’t you share some with your fellas at the fire station, I bet they’d like them too.”
“Share?” his mouth blew louder raspberries than that of a toddler. “I’m not sharing with anybody. These are mine,” he said with a grin, showing a white front tooth already smudged in chocolate after the first bite from the baked goods in the box. “I’ll gladly run more miles over the hills after work than ending this new tradition of deliciousness.” With a croissant hanging out of his mouth, and a hand tucking the box tightly against his chest, a call came in and he shook his head, shaking his big hat.
“That’s my cue to leave, but thanks again for these. I’ll see you later.” His towering length, dressed in black with stains of purple and the silver star decorating his wide chest, left through the door carrying the scrumptiously scented box in the nook of his arm as gently as an infant.
“I’m glad you’re settled now, sweetheart. We’re so glad to have you.” Zelda, one of the ladies from the Women’s Club stood next in line, but Brody’s body had had no problem blocking out something so diminutive. Yet, the white hair, on the brink of light blue, was easily recognizable from afar.
“Thank you, Ms. Z. What will it be for you today? I’ve got coconut macaroons screaming for a mouth to pop into. Or, why not buy two loaves of pumpkin spice bread and I’ll throw in a box of those macaroons for you. How’s that for a deal?” She smiled at the old lady seeming to shrink right before her eyes. Feet and all melting slowly into the wooden boards below her feet.
“You make it hard to say no, darling,” the lady’s voice held the same size as her body, making it impossible to understand unless she hung over the counter, close to Ms. Z’s mouth. “I will have to go with your offer. The ladies back at the club will think it’s the best knitting session we’ve ever had. Thank you, dear.”
As she’d rung up Ms. Z and sent an extra batch of sugar cookies in pink sparkle to brighten the day for the senior ladies of the local club, she noticed the clock on the wall, its arrows pointing at nothing but lunch. Or, at least that’s what her stomach said. The old cowbell dangling at the top of the door chimed as she secured the lock and swung the sign to the bakery from open to closed, and with quick feet, she moved through the space and with a loud sigh sat her tired body down on the few steps leading from the backdoor down to the parking lot she shared with the vet clinic.
Maybe she could get a dog, she kept thinking. She’d been alone for some time, and not living with someone, unless Wayne decided to stay the night. It would be nice with a companion. Wayne had also let her in on the secret of his neighbor’s dog: a larger breed, with beautiful brown eyes, and who turned out to be a great ‘fence-listener’ through lonely hours spent in his backyard until sleep would arrive. Maybe, Wayne wasn’t so bad after all, she thought, not as bad as his father, and then she took a large bite in the foot-sized sandwich she’d stuffed with most of the things her fridge had accumulated over the weekend. Nothing too bad, just interesting combinations maybe, but nothing a sweet Coke couldn’t push down.
Her hand fiddled in her side pocket until she got the folded note she’d tucked into her jeans before she left her house this morning, and with a sandwich in one hand she opened the white note one handed. With a smile on her lips between bites of mustard and deli meat she read what had been left on counter this morning, grazing the side of her coffee cup.
“Christine, my words are not even remotely sufficient in my attempt to describe what I feel for you.
Instead my mind keeps repeating your words; looking upon a loved one’s face should intrigue you for a lifetime.
But you know me. I’m famously the man who cares with actions not with letters.
I would find it hard to not go to bed at night listening to your slow breathing, knowing you’re already deep inside that dream of yours.
I’d find it hard to turn around in bed and not be met by the warmth of your skin, warmed up by the comforter sealing us to each other, away from the rest of the world.
My body would scream of loneliness if I wasn’t able to slowly slide my hand around your naked morning skin, molding your heavy breasts in the palm of my hand. Listening to how you come to life under my touch.
It’s almost crucial that I see your tussled up hair across the table in the morning, naked eyes, eyeing the word in the paper, hearing your slow sips of hot coffee as it touches your lips.
Losing you would be losing me. You see, if you’re not with me, I’ll be half, no, even less than that, of myself. Living a life grabbing onto everything trying to fill the void of you.
&n
bsp; If this is love, then make it so. I need nothing in return. Just know – you’re mine.
- W”
Who knew days of devoting themselves to each other outside of work could work wonders, but nothing could better describe what immersing themselves fully into each other’s lives had done for them.
Up to this point she felt their relationship was nothing less than a rocky road with more dents than a tumbled Honda sedan down a mountain side, but they still kept an eager interest in one another.
“You’re pretty sitting here in your loneliness admiring the words on that paper,” a familiar voice broke her thought, and a tall man in a blue shirt blocked out the warm rays from the sun that had been melting away frost building on the tall weeds along the brick wall. “What are you eating?”
“I threw a bunch of leftovers in this Ciabatta roll and it tastes kind of weird, to be honest, but I was beyond tired when I left for work this morning. It was this or living on cookie dough all day.” She scooted over slightly as he sat next to her on the steps, elbows leaning on his knees.
“Wayne, the note was wonderful. I might frame it. Thank you.” She said with a soft voice meant to show her deep appreciation, and then she leaned over and kissed him gently on his cheek, causing that smile she had grown to adore to settle on his lips.
“I hope I didn’t wake you up this morning when I left? I think I took t five or six steps back and forth next to the bed, wanting to kiss you goodbye yet not wanting to wake you up. I’d like to do that again,” he said and rubbed his large hand over her thigh, settling it on her knee. “Want to come over to my place tonight for a sleepover?” His eyebrows rose in a mischievous taunt.
What was left of the bread and haphazard ingredients flew through the air and landed at the trash can by the wall, freeing her hands. Free to roam his hair as she moved to straddle him on the steps, deepening a kiss that just started. Tasting his very insides until two strong hands lifted her up with a annoyed grunt. “You dry-humping me here is giving me a boner, and I can’t go on a call with a hard on. All my thoughts will be of you naked and where I want to put myself, and that won’t do good for any patients I may need to rescue or attend to in the back of the ambulance.” He took a deep settling breath.
“Yes, please, no boner-showing at work,” a sharp voice startled them from behind her back, making them both jump off the stairs.
“Brody, what the hell! You scared the shit out of me,” Wayne yelled and stood to righted the not so subtle bulge nicely rounding the front of his pants.
“You’re back already? Was there something wrong with your purchase?” Christine scrunched her eyes, and held up a hand slightly covering the low fall sun.
“Absolutely not, they were all delicious, and also, they’re all gone. I’m just here for this.” His hand went up to empty his head of his hat and showed them both a smudge of blood that had stained the inside of his topper. “Drove by the station and they told me you were probably here,” he smiled to Christine, “and I was wondering if you could stitch me up so I can be on my way when the next call comes in.”
“Yeah, sure, let’s head back to the station and I’ll fix that for you in no time,” Wayne slapped Brody on the shoulder and headed for his car.
“What happened to you?” Christine interrupted the two men already walking away from the back door of the bakery.
“Damn people with raccoons as pets, it never works out.” He shook his head in frustration and opened the door to his cruiser, and it made her laugh a little imagining tall, correct Officer Brody battling a wild animal turned pet inside someone’s home. He’d taken one for the team this time. “Primrose Valley should make a law saying no wild animals are allowed as pets within city limits. If no one brings that up at the next city hall meeting, I’ll make my own law for this town seeing as I’m the one who gets the calls in situations like this.”
“Raccoon, huh?” Wayne stopped in his tracks. “Follow me down to the hospital instead and they’ll give you a shot and maybe some antibiotics for that.”
“Shots? Really? It’s just a scratch,” Brody’s eyes were the size of golf balls.
“A scratch deep enough for stitches, and unless you want to gurgle yourself to sleep, foaming at the mouth in your lonely hours, you better make sure you get something for that rabies infected animal you spent what seem like a very pleasant morning with.”
They both slammed their car doors hard, in both annoyance and a sense of urgency, but before Wayne pulled out he rolled down his window and crooked a finger asking Christine over to the car. “See you at my place at six?”
“You betcha. Can’t wait for all the sleeping we’ll have to look forward to,” her voice running like honey through his ears landing at his cock, which awoke from its slumber.
“I really got to go before I break my zipper. See you tonight.” He sealed it with a kiss and drove off into the chill of the day following a well-polished, white police cruiser, carrying a very tough officer with a secret weakness for needles.
Chapter Eighteen
His fingers rode slowly up the side of her ankle, passed the outside of her knee, and settled nicely on her ass. With his body weight her back touched the soft fabric of the couch beneath them, and his tongue ran slowly from her collarbone to her ear, creating waves of shivers pulsating through her body.
“I’ve been hard for you all day today,” he whispered into her ear, pushing the evidence between his legs into the apex of her thighs. “I think we should do something about that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she whimpered under his relentless take-over of her body. Even with clothes on she could imagine what it would feel like having him inside her again, and with the solidness still growing between his legs she wasn’t surprised it could push through her pants and enter her without much force.
“I want to fuck you, Christine. Hard. In every single opening your body has. I want it all,” he grabbed strands on top of her head in his hands forcing her to look up at him. “Let’s go. Let’s fuck our brains out.”
Something interrupted them. A sound neither of them expected at this time of night.
“Brody or Bryce? Which one is your take?” he let out a deep sigh and pushed himself off Christine’s beating chest. “Mind going for the door?” he asked, pointing a finger down at his crotch. If it wasn’t for the fabric strength of his jeans, his cock would be jutting in excitement in midair looking for a place to bury itself.
It made her giggle, and with a hand through her hair, and the other pulling her shirt down over her bare stomach she left the pleasant moment they’d shared on the living room couch and went for the hallway leading down to the front door of his house.
As she looked out the frosted glass at the top of the door her eyes noticed neither Brody nor Bryce, but further down a slight body the size of a child. She thought for a moment, debated whether to call for Wayne or open the door. Her hand turned the lock around with a faint pop and opened slightly to let the chill of the evening and the small voice of a girl enter the house.
“Hi,” she said softly, a hoody covering what seemed to be darker hair pulled back in a ponytail, she assumed. “I’m not sure if this is the correct house, but I’m looking for a Wayne Matthews. Do you know where I can find him?” The girl took a half step back, possibly thinking she might not be welcome, and pushed her hands into the pockets of a green jacket covering the thick sweater. A lower lip trembling in the light of the porch light.
Too young to have slept with. Christine’s mind quickly ran a scan. Maybe family?
“Um, I guess so. Hold on a second.” Scrunching her eyebrows heavily together, certainly leaving a creased line, she held the open door steady in her hand and turned to yell into the house. “Wayne, there is a young girl here looking for you!”
“What?” A few quick steps were heard exiting the kitchen after the fridge door closed with a hard slam. As he walked down the hallway to the open front door, he met her eyes, quietly answering his question of who
this girl might be. Neither of them seemed to have a clue.
“Hi, can I help you?” he said to the youngster standing outside, hands still deep in the pockets of her navy green cargo jacket.
“Are you Wayne Matthews?” the girl asked quietly but holding her voice steady, looking straight into Wayne’s eyes, which were growing more horrified by each second drifting by them.
“Yes, I am. Has something happened? Is something wrong? What is it?” Panic sheered through him like a bonfire. That’s what it was. That’s the feeling bubbling all the way from his feet and burning like a fireball at the center of his chest.
“No, not really,” the girl answered and looked down her feet.
“What do you mean, not really? Is someone hurt? You need to tell me? Who are you?”
“Calm down, Wayne. And you,” Christine interrupted them and turned to the girl outside. “You need to spill the beans and get to the point. What the hell is going on here?”
The girl took a deep breath and opened her mouth. “If you’re the Wayne Matthews who was dating Lucy Anderson in high school, well then… you are my dad.”
“What?” Wayne shook his head in disbelief, spitting out a gruesome laugh. “I’m sorry, what did you just say? I’m… I’m what? No, no, no. What… what?” His hands were flying vigorously in front of his chest, fending off any words aimed his way.
Eventually his trembling voice died down and an awkward silence spread between the three. For a long time Wayne’s voice was repeating words of a misunderstanding, until Christine placed a hand on his shoulder to quiet him down. Her eyes flew from each of the quiet houses on the cul-de-sac ending with his and noticed a light turned on in Mrs. Peterson’s upstairs bedroom. Unfortunately, she was the nosiest woman in all of Primrose Valley, and not someone to share things with unless you wanted everyone at Harold’s, Rick’s pub, or the members of Primrose Women’s Club’s knitting group to gossip about it.
Once Upon A Killing (A Gass County Novel Book 2) Page 10