I turn the key and listen to the car cooling down for a few minutes, noticing that I’ve driven the entire trip in silence. I rub my lips, still tingling from the goodbye kiss we shared before I left her apartment.
It’s obvious I’m in new territory when it comes to taking it slow. Ruminating on the lingering sensation of a solitary kiss is killing me. I want her. So. Bad.
However, my self-doubts have crept in over the last hour on my drive home. She seemed to enjoy today, and it seemed natural the way we laughed, touched and kissed. But I’m thinking ahead, which I swore I wouldn’t do. Now I can’t be sure whether my dick will rise to the occasion and it’s making me anxious.
I rub at my lower back as I climb out of the low seat of my Porsche and stretch out before walking toward the front door of my house.
Once inside, I throw my keys on the table and walk through the darkness into the kitchen. I pour two fingers of bourbon into a heavy-bottomed tumbler and take the stairs up to my bedroom.
As ever, my room is pristine, no clothes strewn about or bed unmade. It is, as Blane pointed out, a lonely, soulless show home.
I toe my shoes off and sit on the edge of my bed, staring across to the moonlit adjacent golf course. I need to go on a round tomorrow. Just to clear my head.
✽✽✽
The early morning round on my own, is healing and although I have to push my father’s whispers away a few times. I accept it is my fault for visiting the Carpeaux sculpture. Those white lifeless eyes boring into my soul. It’s hard for me not to conclude that my father left me because he doesn’t care.
It takes effort to refocus before each shot on my technique and put into play the mindfulness exercises Meredith showed me.
I close my eyes and imagine her holding the club, my arms wrapped around her arms, snuggling her back into the curve of my chest. I nuzzle passed the summer fresh hair and cover her hands with mine before pivoting my hips and bringing the club back behind my head. My groin pressed into the top of her ass brings my mind back to my dick in all its rigid glory. I hit the ball with precision and strength, powering it down the fairway and straight onto the green. That fucker is going straight in. I launch my club into the air after the ball.
Thank fuck for that.
I stride off toward the green, knowing for certain that ball is in the hole.
And although there’s no-one to witness it, I don’t care. Because all that matters is the manifestation that my confidence is on the up.
Chapter Eighteen
Meredith
I’m growing tired of Hector’s constant barrage of questions about golfers, their habits and issues. He’s determined to move into the sporting arena but with only one professional name to our portfolio it’s difficult. The contact he met with the other week seemed promising but unless Johnson gives a personal reference, even that will not work.
Hector seems equally frustrated by my limited answers and we seem to head for an impasse.
So, today, I try to throw myself into my other work, taking on new clients and putting effort into researching and following up with existing ones.
But my mind constantly drifts to Johnson and the date we had at the weekend. We had fun and rather than being tired on Sunday, I was refreshed. I tried not to read too much into the kiss at the end of the date.
Because that’s all that it was.
A kiss.
I like how it felt and if it had developed into more, I’m sure I would have gone with it, but it was Johnson that broke it off.
Not abruptly like he did that first time. My eyes roll at the absurdity of that incident.
No, simply because it ended. And it didn’t seem as if it was ever going to be anything more. Like he planned it that way.
It’s been so long since I last shared a kiss, I’ve potentially put too much weight on its meaning. When Johnson placed his lips onto mine, he moved in a slow and seductive way, giving me time to enjoy the texture of his skin against my chin and to inhale the spicy scent of his cologne. The taste of his tongue was sweet and savory like salted caramel. There was no fervor or need and he gave much more than he took.
Well, he said he would take it slow.
I shrug, open my laptop and save the notes I made from my last consultation.
Then I take out the fruit infused water from my drawer and take a sip, watching through my window, my last patient stuttering across the car lot.
Poor guy, he’s not likely to experience such a kiss, such is his level of anxiety about relationships.
It makes me aware of a comparison with Johnson that I don’t want to dwell on. If I delve too deep into Johnson’s subconscious I worry I may end adopting my usual emotional detachment.
A text from Johnson breaks through my contemplation.
Johnson: Time for lunch?
I glance down at the green salad I had brought with me this morning and shut the drawer on it.
Me: Sure
Johnson: Come downstairs then.
Once again, I come from behind my desk to the window to see him resting against the fender of his Porsche. His legs crossed at the ankles and phone in his hands.
I scrabble in my purse for my make-up bag and take out the mirror from inside it. Checking my face for flaws, freshen up the rouge and apply lip gloss. Then I pull a brush through my hair before hurrying out of the door and into the elevator.
It’s not that I’m rushing to his beck and call, it’s only that my free time is limited. I’ve got appointments this afternoon and calls to make. Or that’s what my head is telling me, anyway.
I walk out of the building toward Johnson, and ever the gentleman he opens the passenger door before scooting around the hood to the driver’s seat.
“Hot dog?” he asks.
“Oh, okay.” I agree, not terribly impressed with his suggestion.
He chuckles, looking across at me as he starts the car and revs the engine.
“Only joking, although watching you eat that dog on Saturday was so hot.”
“Oh.” I blush up, wishing I hadn’t touched up my rouge. At least he can’t see what is happening at the top of my legs. The warm moist sensation makes me tingle as I wonder what has come over him today.
“We’re going to a little Italian I know. I figured you can’t take the whole afternoon off and I know they can make a decent pasta dish in a matter of minutes.”
“Sure.” Reminding myself not to order spaghetti, or actually I should. A faint smile blossoms on my lips at the image of sucking it up in front of him.
Johnson turns the music down so I can hear him ask how my morning has been. Good Riddance by Green Day, mellowing into the background.
“Not too bad.” Not wanting to recount any details of my stressful morning. “Anyway, what are you doing in New York?”
“Wilder Foundation meeting with the family and Cherie. Blane’s got big plans, as usual. This time he wants to create an annual event for children and young adults with limb loss to compete at track and field but where international athletes participate also, to draw in the crowds. I tell you, I’ve never met a guy as driven as him. All while his first child is about to make an appearance.”
“He sounds inspirational.”
“He is.”
I bite the corner of my lip, but can’t help the words from tumbling out. “Would it have been difficult to admit to that before his accident?”
For a nervous second, he looks across at me and I wonder if the old Johnson will answer.
“Probably,” he mumbles, as we pull into the parade of shops where the Italian restaurant is located.
“You all seem to get on well.”
He laughs, “You wouldn’t say that if you spent time with us. No, actually that’s unfair, we get on. We’ve had to, to overcome the challenges we’ve faced over the years.”
“And your Mom sounds lovely. So strong.”
“The strongest.” He looks across at me as he parks up. “You strike me as being pretty strong too.”
“Suppose I am.”
We both climb out of his car and when he goes to place his hand on the restaurant door handle, I tuck my fingers into the crook of his elbow.
“Johnson, you’re not going to order duck terrine again are you?” I joke.
“That’s not even funny.” He deadpans, but not able to hold a straight face, he cracks and chuckles. “No, I’m going for a full-blooded blue steak.”
Oh, if only I didn’t have appointments this afternoon.
We are the only patrons in the restaurant and after ordering our food, Johnson reaches across the table for my hand, which I gladly give him.
“What made you strong?”
I smile nervously. There’s never a right time to tell someone new about my past, and in my line of work I’m used to listening to other people’s woes I’ve never practiced telling anyone mine.
“I’m fine, it’s only my upbringing was restrictive and rather boring.“
“Why, what do you mean?”
“My dad died with no warning from a heart attack and my Mom couldn’t cope. The grief was too debilitating for her, so my grandmother insisted we move in with her. Which meant her rules, and her old-fashioned take on family. She wasn’t mean or anything, just strict. I suppose it helped me focus on my studying at school. I was a grade A student.” I laugh. “But I had to be strong willed to make sure I lead my life how I wanted and not become reliant on others like my Mom did. But it was all fine in the end. When my grandmother passed away at a good old age, Mom found a new friend. A man. He’s lovely and looks after her well. And I, well I loosened up plenty at college.” I muster a smile.
“You must have worked hard for what you’ve got today, and I’m sorry if I rail-roaded you into any of this.” He leans forward. “I should never have put your job on the line. That was selfish of me.”
“No Johnson. That wasn’t you. I am perfectly capable of saying no.” I lick my lips. “I just decided I didn’t want to.”
“Okay, now I know you might say no to this, I’m a little nervous in asking. I wondered if you were available to accompany me to the annual golf club dinner in at the end of the month.”
“Is it one of those events you would have taken Cherie to previously? To ward off all of those hussys?” I laugh, trying to make light of the situation.
“Yes, it is exactly like one of those events, but this time there is no pretending. I would like you to be there as my real girlfriend.”
Chapter Nineteen
Johnson
Tonight, is the night.
I know that’s a bad thing to say as soon as the words spill out over my lips. They were meant as an affirmation to my confidence, but they’ve only made me frown.
Meredith and I have been on eight dates now. All have been fun but innocent. I’ve gotten to know her by talking to her, asking questions and watching. It’s a revelation, asking someone how they feel instead of assuming from their actions.
I never knew any of the women I’ve spent time with in the last few years. I might have worked out how to make them scream my name or what their best dance moves were but I never asked how they felt when they watched a movie or lost a close friend.
Even with Kirsty I knew stuff about her, but she never opened up, not that I remember anyway. Because that’s another thing I’ve learned to do. Listen. I listen with not only my ears, but my vision too.
I catch the corresponding twinkle in Meredith’s eyes when she’s excited and the laziness of her smile when she’s teasing or turned on. The way she curls her hair and then swiftly pulls her hand away when she reckons I’ve not noticed. The way she squeezes her legs together when my dimples come out to play. And how her nipples harden when I whisper in her ear.
I listen to it all.
Tonight, my golf club is hosting the annual ball and as their favorite, and only, pro-golfer I’m expected to attend and give a speech to all the members about my experiences on a tour. It’s a way of saying thank you to the owners for the freedom of playing the course whenever I choose. It’s not the financial benefit I enjoy, it’s the convenience and pride of it being near my home. And if I can motivate even one local golfer to become professional, then it is worth my time.
It’s not the usual sportsman type dinner, there’ll be no crass comic or lewd performer. My golf club isn’t like that. The chairwoman of the club will host both male and female golfers tonight.
This will not be the first time I am accompanied by a woman but it will be the first time it is more than for show. I’m taking a risk. I know that. There will be a lot of characters there, involved in my past, some of whom may pass a quip or two that will make me wince. But as long as I have my wits about me it should not be an issue. And anyway, Meredith knows who I am and where I’ve been. Mostly.
I double check my teeth and the line of perfection of my shave. After splashing cologne onto my sensitized skin, I leave the bathroom and enter the walk-in closet to dress.
I’ve a brand-new white dress shirt which I finish with cufflinks before sliding a belt from the revolving rack and run it through the belt loops on my jet-black pants. I run a clothes-brush over the shoulders of the matching suit jacket before slipping it on and secreting my wallet into my inside pocket. Finally, I pick out a Rolex. Perfect timing. Just enough to get to Meredith’s but not too much to dawdle about it.
When I pull up outside her apartment, I let the engine idle while I call her on the phone. The hall light in the block switches on and seconds later she comes to the door. I have to jump out of the car before she reaches me, keen to open the passenger door for her. But for a moment I’m rooted to the spot by the sight of her.
Every time it gets me.
Makes my breath stutter at her perfection.
And I can’t say it’s simply her hair, or her smile, or the way she sashays her hips. Because it isn’t any one of those things. It’s all of them put together.
I rush around onto the sidewalk. “Meredith,” I breathe as she walks down the stairs to the open car door.
“Punctual as ever, Johnson.” She smiles, letting her eyes swim over me in a way that makes me stir.
I reach forward putting my thumb on her chin and press my lips onto hers in a lingering kiss.
Tonight, is the night.
“You look gorgeous, Meredith.”
“Oh, why thank you Mr. Wilder. You don’t scrub up so bad yourself” she says with all the sassy confidence of a forties movie star, before lowering herself into the car in a refined way.
I close the door and stride around to my side, start up the car feeling the rumble of the engine further energize me.
“I could have driven you know, Johnson.”
“Yes, you could have, but I want you to relax and enjoy the evening. I’ve made sure they’ve got your favorite wine behind the bar.”
“Thank you,” she purrs.
“Anyway, it means I get to spend extra time with you. Alone.”
I reach across with my hand, rubbing the fabric of her silk dress up and down her thigh.
Now don’t jump to conclusions. I’ve made no plans for after the ball and she’s asked no questions. Where she stays tonight is entirely up to her but taking it slow is another way of saying winding it up. I’m feeling good today and by that I mean confident, and when I’m confident, I know I’ll not disappoint.
It doesn’t take long with good company at my side to eat up the drive to the golf club. We talk about music mainly and find out we’ve got a lot in common on that score.
The front parking lot is full when we arrive and I drive up to the clubhouse and let the concierge park the car around the back, in my reserved spot near the first tee.
The chairwoman comes straight over when we stroll into the function room and the official photographer crouches down at our side, snapping away, rotating his lens to perfectly capture our entrance.
Several introductions are made as we’re steered through to the top table and we take our seats next
to the club captain and his wife.
As the stragglers file in and locate their seats, the noise in the room builds, but I blank it all out when I spot Darcy, weaving her way through the room, her eyes latched onto mine. She’s like a black widow spider about to eat her last fuck. Actually, I’m sure I wasn’t her last fuck, but she was mine.
“Darcy,” I acknowledge her, as she slithers to a halt at my side. Knowing full well to ignore her would only fuel her vicious tongue.
“Johnson.” She glides her eyes from mine to Meredith’s. A slight twitch evident at the corner of her mouth and her false eyelashes flicker when she lingers a little too long. I slide my arm up on Meredith’s chair.
“I’ve not seen you around for a while,” she falters, flicking with increasing intensity, between Meredith and me.
“No, you haven’t. That’s because I’ve not been around. Too focused on getting my life together.”
“So I see.” She straightens up and huffs. “Well, if real life gets too boring, give me a call.” Then with a final nasty look thrown at Meredith she turns on her heels.
A sigh of relief escapes my lungs, and I turn to Meredith to explain. She softly shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she whispers, “It’s all in the past.”
This woman.
I smile my thanks to her.
In contrast to the bitching I deserve she chooses to forgive me. No questions asked. No sarcastic comments made. She didn’t even stoop to take a shot at Darcy. Even though I’m sure she would have come off fine if she did.
A casual raise of the hand and a waiter comes across, bending down beside me to hear my request to bring over the wine I had asked them to stock for Meredith.
“Thank you,” she mouths, as she places a hand onto my knee and slides it slowly up to the middle of my thigh.
The combination of her lips pouting and the caress of her hand squeezing my thigh makes me rigid and I sense my ability to take it slow is coming to an end.
Tee It Up: A Wilder Brothers Romance Page 12