by S. E. Lund
I ran my hands over his chest and down to his abs, my eyes lingered on his pants, which revealed a lovely bulge from his more-than-ample erection, but before I started to unfasten his belt, I ran my tongue over his chest to one nipple and he let out a low moan when I circled it with my tongue.
It was then I saw a thick scar on his neck, running ragged from a few inches beneath one ear to the middle of his neck.
As if someone had tried to slash his throat or behead him.
The edges still had a sewn-up look, faint dots beside the seam where the knots of each stitch had been. Whoever sewed him up did it really quickly.
It wasn’t a surgical scar -- that was for sure. It was an injury, the stitches looked like they saved his life but only just.
“Oh, my God,” I said, unable to help myself, stepping back. “How…”
He sighed and covered his eyes with a hand, then pounded his temple with a fist. “I’m so sorry, Miranda. I didn’t think…”
“What is that?” I said, my throat tight. “What happened? You never told me…”
He sighed heavily. “You don’t want to talk about your sad story? I don’t want to talk about mine.”
“Where did you get that?” I said, undeterred, every ounce of desire seeping out of me. “Were you attacked? Was that in Afghanistan?”
He nodded. “Shrapnel from an IED.”
The scar brought everything back to me – learning of Dan’s death in Afghanistan during a routine training mission. Two uniformed men driving up to the house, getting out, their hats in hands. Jeanne crumpling onto the floor as she realized what their presence meant. Me running to the back of the house, not wanting to hear the truth, covering my ears as if that could prevent it from being true.
Dan was dead…
“I…” I swallowed hard, my desire drowned in a wave of emotion that still felt like grief even almost a year from the day I got the news. “I don’t know…”
“Don’t,” he said and reached out for me. “Don’t pull away.” He tried to embrace me again, but I couldn’t respond, my mind returning again and again to the war and to Dan. “Let it go.”
“It’s just that,” I said, my voice cracking. “My husband…”
He touched my face, his fingers caressing my cheek, tracing my lips. “You’re married?”
I frowned. “Widowed,” I said, my voice breaking. “Dan – he was killed in Afghanistan a year ago…” I didn’t want to say another word, because it was still raw – the emotion connected to his memory.
He shook his head softly. “I’m sorry,” he said and took my hands in his, kissing them tenderly. “I understand.” Then he pulled me into his arms and we stood together and I let him hold me.
I relaxed a bit, but the desire that had built up in me from his kiss and touch, from the feel of his body against my hands, his scent, all died when I thought about Dan.
Dammit!
“I’m sorry,” I said and looked up at his face, forcing a smile. “It made me think of the war and…”
He nodded but kept me in his arms. “I understand.”
We stood like that for a while, his arms wrapped around me, my head against his bare shoulder.
“Do you want me to take you home or will you stay?”
I sighed. “I should go home.”
He sighed heavily in turn. “Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?” He tilted up my face and looked in my eyes. “We can sit out on the deck at Louis’s Backyard and enjoy the sunset. Talk. Take up where we left off – whatever you want.”
“I work tomorrow from five until ten.”
“A late supper? They serve food until midnight.”
I smiled at his persistence. “I’d like that.”
“Whew,” he said and wiped his brow dramatically. “I don’t want to leave without seeing you again.”
He bent down and kissed me and it was tender rather than passionate and I felt a stab of regret that this happened.
“You have to understand,” I said, my voice soft. “I’ve been with two men in my life. My childhood sweetheart and Dan. It’s not easy for me…”
“I do understand,” he said and frowned. “I’m sorry that I didn’t warn you about my scar. It really creeps out some women but I didn’t know…”
“It doesn’t creep me out at all,” I said and shook my head, surprised that anything about Beckett could creep any woman out. He was just way too gorgeous. “Is that why you wear a turtleneck even in the summer?”
He nodded. “I don’t like to have to answer questions about how I got it. Most people aren’t ready for the truth.”
I understood completely. I didn’t really want to know what happened to him, for it brought back too many memories of the time just after Dan was killed, when we tried so hard to find out what happened, but only got a few reports about the crash in the storm. It was a terrible time in my life and in the life of Dan’s parents and family.
I slid out of his arms and picked up my dress, pulling it over my head and smoothing my hair, while he put his shirt back on. He left the top buttons of his shirt undone and then pulled on his jacket.
“Let’s go. I’ll take you home.”
I stopped him, my hand on his arm.
“I’m really sorry.”
“No apologies,” he said and touched my chin with his thumb. “When you’re ready – hopefully before I leave – we can try again if you want. I know I want it.”
“I do,” I said, kicking myself mentally for my reaction. “I really do. It was just a shock. I didn’t know it would bring me back like that.”
He smiled softly. “Next time, you won’t be shocked. I’ll make sure to wear a plain old t-shirt and you’ll look at it all during our date. By the end of the night, it’ll be old hat.”
He grinned, a mischievous expression in his blue-grey eyes, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“I look forward to it.”
“Good.”
Then the driver took us to Dan’s house. Beckett sat close beside me, talking along the way about Brimstone, the company he created when he returned from the Middle East. When we arrived at Dan’s house, he kissed me once more, long and deep before I left the car. I stood on the front porch and watched the limo drive away.
How strange to meet someone so much like Dan…
The next day, I met Leah at the restaurant for breakfast and sat on the deck, talking about the night before.
“So,” she said, wagging her eyebrows. “Was your night as hot as mine? Brandon’s a god. Beckett looks pretty damn hot, too.”
“We didn’t,” I said and couldn’t meet her eyes. I braced myself, for I knew what was coming.
To my surprise, she said nothing. I glanced at her and she was staring out at the ocean, which was calm and relatively quiet.
“You’re not going to say anything?” I said with shock. “You’re not going to tell me that I had to lose my re-virginity? That I needed to move on?”
She shrugged and then turned to face me with a sneaky smile. “I don’t have to. You said it all yourself.”
We smiled and I took a sip of my coffee, twirling Dan’s wedding ring on my middle finger. I wanted to talk about what happened. I waited for her to ask me.
“Tell me,” she said. “You know you want to…”
“He was so hot,” I said immediately. “We made it to his bed. He took off my dress, and I took off his shirt, and then, BAM. End of story.”
“Why? Was he deformed or something?”
I shook my head. “He has this scar,” I said and motioned to my neck to show her where on Beckett the scar was located. “It made me think of Dan and that put a stop to things.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, sweets,” she said and reached out to touch my arm. “I never saw any scar on him so I bet it came as a shock.”
“It did,” I said and nodded. “It looked like someone tried to behead him and that made me think of Dan and how he died.”
“Did you ask Beckett what
happened? How did he get it?”
I shook my head. “He didn’t want to talk about it,” I said. “I didn’t really want to talk about it either. I felt so awkward and embarrassed but he said it was shrapnel from an IED explosion.”
“What was he like? I mean, was he upset that you guys stopped?”
“He felt really bad but he was super nice and understanding. We’re having dinner tonight when I get off work. Maybe try again.”
“Oh, good,” she said and smiled. “You need it, hun, more than anyone I know.”
“I do,” I said with a laugh. “I’m in serious need of a babe like Beckett. Someone like him is a great sendoff to my old life and the start of my new one.”
She and I clinked our coffee cups together and sat watching the surf for the next fifteen minutes, until I needed to start the daily cash out from the night before. Dan’s mom, Jeanne, taught me to do the daily cash as a way for me to earn money and stay in Topsail Beach with them for the whole year so I didn’t have to go back and face real life. They understood that Dan was everything to me, besides my grandfather in Queens and my studies. Without Dan, I felt lost, without anything to ground me. Staying with them for the year I took off from my studies had been healing. They were both so understanding and loving.
It made up for the loss of Dan and an absent mother and dead father.
Now, I’d be moving to Manhattan to finish my degree – finally – and then do my internship. I’d apply for the FBI when I was done with my Master’s Degree, which was in another two years.
We cleared up our dishes and I went into the office while Leah went to the prep area to help get things ready for the lunch crowd.
Daily cash took about three hours total, so it was after lunch when I was finished. I had lunch with Leah once she had cashed out, and we sat back on the deck, off to the side once the other patrons had gone. “You’re working tonight?” she said, although she knew my shift as well as her own. “I’m off tonight and seeing Brandon for dinner and then we’re going to Milano’s again. He likes to dance as much as I do.”
“Yes. I get off at ten and we’re going to have a late dinner.”
“Good,” she said and squeezed my hand. “When you go back to Manhattan, you’ll be a brand new un-virginized woman, ready to face the future.”
“Un-virginized. Honestly,” I said with a grin, “I don’t know where you get your material.”
She stood, and leaned down, pecking me on the cheek. “I’m here every Thursday through Saturday.” She winked at me and then left me alone.
On my part, I went back home and had a shower, changing into my work clothes. I ran into Jeanne on my way out.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?” she said, stopping in the doorway to her home office. “I’ve barely spoken with you for a week, it seems.”
“I’m fine,” I said with a smile. “Been busy taking extra shifts. Went out dancing last night.”
“Good for you,” she said and came closer to me. She was in her fifties and was still attractive, with her salt and pepper hair in a bob, her makeup meticulous, and dressed in something business casual. “You know, it’s time for you to get out and meet people again. Dan would want it.”
I glanced away, not sure what Dan would want.
“I mean it,” Jeanne said, turning me around and looking me straight in the eyes. “He wouldn’t want you to become a spinster. He loved you and wanted you to be happy. So,” she said and leaned closer. “Be happy.”
We hugged and I didn’t say anything but it made me feel so good to hear that from her lips. For the past few months, I’d become a bit stir crazy, spending all my time at the restaurant working in the bar or doing the cash in the morning. My only relief was Leah. She was a godsend. I was so lucky to have a friend who was willing to help me through the hard times in my life.
I pulled the afternoon shift as a bartender and instead of Steve, Brent worked in his place. The usual crowd came in – local workers finishing their shifts, tourists looking for a drink and dinner in the restaurant, young people partying it up. I wondered if Beckett would show up and when, but by nine o’clock, he was still a no-show. I thought he might arrive early and sit at the bar so we could talk. Perhaps he’d changed his mind. Maybe I was more trouble than I was worth.
I was so attracted to him, and last night would have ended up in bed – on the bathroom counter, on the floor – wherever. If only it hadn’t been for that scar of his…
When I thought about last night, I cringed inwardly. Why would any guy put up with someone like me – so hesitant to take the plunge? He was hot enough that he could have any woman he wanted. I was certain that he had no trouble getting some if and when he wanted.
So why keep after me? Sure, I was attractive enough. I ran a hand over my hair, which was long and thick and straight and a shade of red that was almost auburn. I was told I had nice eyes – Dan used to tell me I had bedroom eyes, whatever that meant. My figure was curvy – what Beckett called lush. I had decent enough fashion sense, when I had a need to use it.
But overall, there were more attractive women at the bar last night. Beckett could have gone home with anyone else. I saw other woman looking at him, checking him out, talking to each other about him.
He wanted me.
In other words, I wasn’t an easy lay, which he could have with any number of women. I was complicated. I had issues. I would take time.
Why me? I just couldn’t get that question out of my mind, and my confidence wasn’t high enough to say why not?
I sighed to myself and shut it off, deciding not to second guess myself any longer. Thing was, I was not used to one-night stands. In fact, I’d never had one. I had been with two men in my life and so I was used to meaningful relationships – not meaningless fucks.
Last night, I just wanted to feel Beckett inside of me. I wanted to feel like a desirable woman again – the way Dan made me feel.
About a quarter hour before my shift was scheduled to end, I was starting to think that Beckett stood me up, when he arrived, dressed the way he looked when he first walked into the bar – faded jeans, thick black belt, leather riding boots, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket, his helmet under his arm.
Damn, he was hot. Seriously a babe. His hair had been recently washed and was still a bit wet, but the ends were drying. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a shower. Or off the beach or swimming pool.
He gave that brilliant smile when our eyes met across the bar, and my cheeks heated in response. As long as I didn’t do something really stupid tonight, I’d probably end up fucking him later and that knowledge sent a wave of desire through my body, ending with a pleasant throb.
“Hey, lovely lady,” he said as he walked up to the bar and claimed a stool. He put his helmet on the stool next to him and sidled up to the bar, his hands folded. He leaned forward. “You look like a glass of water to a man dying of thirst.”
I laughed and raised my eyebrows. “That’s high praise,” I said and grinned. “I’m wearing a black t-shirt, black jeans, Doc Martens and a green apron. I bet I look like a working stiff, not some glass of water…”
“You do to me.” He smiled and we locked eyes for a moment.
“What can I get for you? Woodford Reserve or something different?”
He leaned back and eyed the bottles lining the shelves behind and on either side of me. “I’m thirsty. How about a nice glass of draft? Whatever’s on tap.”
I listed the various draft beer we had on tap and he chose a local craft beer as he had the night before. I pulled him a pint and placed it on the bar in front of him, along with a paper coaster.
“Busy day?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
“Lots of meetings and talks with potential clients,” he replied. “And a nice long ride along the island.”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “You’re lucky to live here. My dream is to have a nice cottage on a cliff so
mewhere warm overlooking the ocean. You know, one of those cottages with nautical decorations,” he said and glanced around the bar. “Like this place has. Shells, paintings of old ships. Everything beach and sand and surf.”
“Sounds fantastic.”
I poured a drink and then turned back to Beckett. “Tell me more about Brimstone,” I said, wanting to give him the chance to talk about himself. “When did you start it, where did you get the idea?”
He took a sip of his beer and nodded. “I’m ultimately interested in how artificial intelligence can play a support role in the military. How it can improve communications and make for better outcomes. I was in a recon unit in Iraq and our biggest problem was communicating intel about potential threats when we found them. When I got back, it seemed logical for me to try to turn my computer skills to good instead of evil.”
I laughed at that. “You mean instead of making a zillion dollars in computer games?”
“Exactly,” he said. “Although we are creating computer games of a sort, but as a way to teach soldiers how to use our technology.”
Then he spent the next fifteen minutes telling me about Brimstone while I cleaned up my pour station and restocked my end of the bar so I could get off shift. I finally finished and untied my apron, hanging it up and ducking under the bar hatch.
“I have to go and sign out and do my cash-out,” I said, taking my cash tray out of the till. “I’ll be about ten. Do you mind waiting?”
Beckett shook his head. “No prob. I’ll finish my beer and watch the game.” He turned around on his stool and faced the flat screen TV that was on the opposite wall.
On my part, I went to the back of the restaurant and did a quick cash out, signing my deposit and placing it in the safe in the office. Then I went to the bathroom and checked myself out in the mirror. I’d had a long day of work and felt like I needed a shower. In fact, I knew I needed one. I wondered what Beckett would think if I asked to have a shower at his place, because I didn’t want to take him home to Dan’s parent’s place while I had a shower there. But I also wanted to be able to go back to his room, if the evening went that way.