Twila's Tempest

by Natasza Waters

  “Why is that?”

  “Woke up dreaming of you in my arms. Went for a run. Now I’ve got you in my arms.” He nosed her and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “Since you didn’t give me a good enough reason, I’m going to spend the rest of the day making up for lost time.”

  His lips devoured hers, his arms holding her gently, but drawn possessively around her.

  “Ah, hey Drake, how’s it going?”

  They turned to see three women standing beside them. He straightened and nodded. “Morning, ladies.”

  Trouble spelt with a capital ‘T’. The women were darting looks between them and hateful ones at her. The tall, lanky blonde seemed like the leader of the pack.

  “Heather out of town?” She gave her head a little cock to the side as if she’d caught him doing something criminal and wanted to make him squirm.

  Close girlfriends of Heather, confirmed. Twila remained silent. There was no point introducing herself, and Drake knew that as well.

  “Haven’t got a clue, Gretchen. Don’t think you’ve met my girlfriend. This is Twila,” he said, and hugged her closer.

  Three sets of eyes blinked and created a black hole they were so large, and Twila’s weren’t much smaller. Girlfriend? Didn’t he say he didn’t do girlfriends?

  The blonde’s perfect hair swayed as she shook her head. “Did you and Heather break up? She didn’t say anything to us. We had lunch with her yesterday.”

  “We weren’t a couple.”

  The shorter brunette decided to put her two cents worth in. “Think that’ll be a surprise to her, since she said you’re getting married.”

  Drake gave a non-committal shrug. “Nice seeing you, ladies.”

  The blonde threw a hateful glare her way, and the three of them continued down the ramp. Twila pressed her lips together to avoid laughing when the blonde’s spike heel got caught in the boardwalk and she nearly tripped. All three of them looked like they hadn’t been to bed yet with their short, short skin-tight dresses and dangling earrings. When they were out of ear shot, she hissed. “Why did you do that? You know they won’t even get to their car before they’re texting Heather.”

  “Yesterday, in fact, probably the first day I saw you, I came to my senses. I have no idea why I wasted time with Heather, or more so, let her waste mine.”

  “Have you told her that?”

  “Listen.” He placed his arms around her and pulled her tight. “It doesn’t matter how many times I repeat myself, the woman thinks she can have whatever she wants, but she can’t have me. Enough talk about her. It’s a dead issue.”

  Twila wasn’t convinced, but she couldn’t deny the little happy dance that started to tap its toe in her heart. “But…but I’m not your girlfriend.”

  “You are.”

  “Am not,” she argued.

  He broke into a huge smile and touched his forehead to hers. “Do you have any idea how cute you are when your little forehead wrinkles?”

  She pinned one brow higher than the other. “Did anyone ever tell you how exasperating you can be?”

  “No, only you, but you can give me a tongue lashing any time you want.” He bit down on a smirk. The remote host buzzed in Drake’s pocket telling them their table was ready. She cranked her head to see the convertible Mercedes with Heather’s friends pulling out of the parking lot, and all three of the girls were on their phones.

  As they followed the waiter to their table, Drake’s phone rang. He took a look and then put it back on his belt. With a hand on her back, Drake walked beside her down the steps onto a small lawn with tables sprinkled next to the beach. The waiter placed the menus on the table and Drake pulled the chair for her. “Thank you.”

  He brushed her cheek with his as she sat. “You’re welcome.”

  Drake’s phone rang again and she peered over the menu. “Drake, if you don’t talk to her, she’s going to get in her car and come here. If that happens I’m outta here. Not dealing with her melodramatics.”

  He sighed and put the phone to his ear and lay back in the chair looking upward. Twila couldn’t hear the entire conversation, but she heard the wailing every so often, interrupted by a shrill comment. So far Drake hadn’t said a word. He listened. He rubbed his left brow. A short nod, then silence.

  “Are ya done? Because I sure am. There’s no more discussion required, Heather. I explained myself last night.” A long pause followed. “No, I’m not coming over. Say good bye like a grown up, Heather.” He released the call and a second later it was ringing again. This time, he turned his phone off.

  Chapter Twelve

  Residents cheered and called out to their friends who were shuffling, skipping or halfway running a relay. Drake grinned seeing the old timers giving it all they had. His mom had told him about the event, which was held every six months, but he’d never caught one before on a visit. Lawn chairs and people lined the golf green between holes one and two. The park residents loved any excuse to rally together. Old men standing in groups, gripping a beer, talked and laughed at each other’s stories, which they’d probably heard a dozen times already. The ladies wore their colorful outfits and crazy hats. Drake liked the fact that as women grew older they became colorblind. Polyester was a favorite and showed their aging forms, but they were all past the point of vanity.

  Drake offered his services to help out as muscle today. His mom was one of the event coordinators, and as soon as her feet stepped on the green, the sergeant came out, and she was ready for battle. Picnic tables herded together by the sprier residents with his mother gesturing a finger, made him grin until his eyes stopped on Twila, tugging on the end of a table by herself.

  “Don’t stand there, help her,” his mom ordered, seeing where he looked.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He jogged across the course, circling around behind her. “Need a hand?”

  Twila kept tugging. “No, thanks, I’m good,” she said, pulling the heavy table a few inches.

  “Sure about that?” he asked.

  He chuckled and picked up the other end. Twila didn’t look at him, but muttered, “Thanks.”

  When they had settled it where she wanted, he said, “I’m here as the hired help. What can I do?”

  Twila wore her hair in a single ponytail and it showed off her pretty oval shaped face. “You better ask your mom, she’s in charge.”

  She strayed a look across the green, but not at him. After he’d dropped her off from breakfast, she’d seemed a little dazed. He’d kept the conversation light this morning, but not the world’s longest kiss he’d given any woman in his life when they arrived back at her trailer. She’d chastised him, but only half-heartedly, once he’d released her. He chuckled to himself, her wary glance making him wonder if she thought he would attack her in front of the entire park.

  A truck pulled up. The bed filled with coolers. “I have to help unload,” she said.

  “I’ll give you a hand.”

  They wandered down the incline and reached the truck as one of the younger retirees, younger being his late fifties, dropped the tailgate.

  “Morning, Twila.” The gentlemen said, hitching his pants over a pot belly and adjusting the ballcap on his balding head.

  “Morning, Mr. Hellier.”

  “Who’s this strapping lad? Hope you’re going to say you finally got yourself a boyfriend.”

  Twila blushed instantly. “No, this is Drake Addison. Becka and Gordon’s oldest son.”

  Mr. Hellier threw out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Drake.”

  “You too, Mr. Hellier, and not that I want to confuse the issue, but yes, I am her boyfriend.”

  Twila gave him a stern look.

  Mr. Hellier, being wizened through his years, darted a look between them, then said, “These coolers are filled with ice, and they’re pretty heavy.”

  Twila gripped both handles and heaved, her arms straining with the weight.

  Drake quickly gripped the bottom and pulled it from her. “Hey, why don’t you pull t
hem closer, and I’ll do the pack mule thing.”

  Without a word she scrambled onto the truck and gripped one handle dragging it across the floor of the pickup. He had a great view of her ass in her baby blue shorts. He swallowed, not able to ignore the heavy thump in his chest.

  Mr. Hellier cocked a knowing look. “Think Becka wants those over there. Follow me, Drake,” he said.

  Twila slid the last cooler across the bed of the pickup when he returned from his eighth trip. He joined her and placed a hand on her back. “Let me get that.”

  She ignored him and finished dragging it to the tailgate. “I’m good. Thanks for your help, Drake.” She heaved the cooler to her body and down to the ground. “This one has wheels.”

  He watched her for a moment and shook his head.

  “She’s a hard worker, that one,” Mr. Hellier said.

  “Little stubborn too,” he muttered. After breakfast Twila’s parting words stung a bit, but he could understand them. I’m not your girlfriend, Drake. We’re friends. She leaned back as if afraid he’d kiss her again. You’re just visiting, and we should keep it that way. He’d disagreed, but he’d won this round. He knew it and she knew it.

  The sky warned of impending rain with towering cumulus clouds blocking out the sun. He blinked when a large rain drop hit his cheek in answer. In true Floridian fashion, the clouds released their heavy load and a shower gushed from the sky. A unified flash of umbrellas made him laugh, popping up like mushrooms in a field. The ladies were prepared with a rainbow of colors. Most of the old guys ignored it, wearing ballcaps or fishing hats with a few glinty lures pinned to the sides.

  He searched the crowd and saw Twila opening a beach umbrella over a woman in a wheelchair. Running, he snagged her around the waist and pulled her with him to the cover of a huge oak that a couple others had rushed under to get out of the downpour.

  “It won’t last long,” Twila said, when they reached the tree.

  Her T-shirt, soaked through, highlighted her beautiful breasts. The shower pounded down and even the hearty men sauntered for shelter.

  “Shouldn’t last long,” he murmured. The rain had settled in her hair, and he watched a drop roll down her cheek. Twila’s gaze rose to the heavens and then flitted toward him. “Why do you always do that?”

  She looked uncomfortable. “Do what?”

  Am I really going to ask her why she can’t look at me for more than a split second? Gazing at her had a strange effect on him. It was like an invisible dome lowered around them and shut everything else out. He opened his mouth to say something stupid, but she saved him by walking away. She gathered up an armful of dishes from the food table where the women had brought their trailer cuisine for a buffet. He chased after her, not quite sure why the invisible line between them kept tightening every time he saw her. Sweeping up an armful of paper and plastic platters, he followed her to a table under the eve of the swimming pool area.

  The rain continued to ratta-tat-tat from the sky onto the cement deck. Twila took a minute to offer the heavens a little scowl, but even her scowls were pretty cute. “Don’t think that’s going to make it stop,” he teased.

  “I checked the weather this morning. Jimmy, the asshat Human Barometer, said periodic showers.”

  The dark sky loomed ominously with an as-far-as-the-eye-could-see party stopping blanket above them. “Doesn’t look like it’s gonna let up.” He chuckled. “Guess the asshat should find new employment.”

  “Maybe we should move as much of this as we can inside, but it’s gonna put a real damper on things.”

  “What does the sergeant want?” he asked.

  Twila turned on him with a half-smile. “Are you talkin’ about your mom?”

  “Who else? The bossy old bird always has a backup plan.”

  Becka appeared with a look of determination. “How long would it take to get some tents?”

  “Mom, it would take a few hours just to rent and erect them. Maybe you should fall back on this one.”

  “Guess we can move into the auditorium if this doesn’t clear in fifteen minutes. Let’s give it that long.” She tsked. “What a shame. Why don’t you two take a break?”

  “Good, idea,” he said, and without a second thought gripped Twila’s hand, and pulled her out into the rain.

  “What are you doing?” she cried, stopping in her tracks.

  “Showering together,” he said, seeing a waver in her wall of I’m-going-to-ignore-you-exist.

  The warm drops turned them into a soggy pair, but she didn’t release his hand, and he had no intention of letting her get away from him either. He guided her through the path lined with evergreens out front of the activity center.

  “Stop, Drake. Seriously, where are you going?”

  He turned, still walking and gripped her other hand. He ignored her resistance, but he couldn’t ignore the drum of his pulse. “How many times have you walked in the rain, Twila, just for the fun of it?”

  “Never,” she said, staring at him like he was a little nuts.

  He probably was, but it didn’t stop him. “Neither have I.” Water dripped from the tip of her ponytail and little blots of water covered her cheeks. Her white T-shirt clung to her body and the exquisite buds of her nipples drove his pulse higher to the point of throwing her over his shoulder and running away like a caveman who’d found his mate. “Then it’s a first for both of us.”

  “You have a girlfriend to walk in the rain with, Drake.”

  He snorted. “I do, and she’s right beside me.” A lone standing Cypress sprouted an idea in his head. He backed her up to it. “And how many times have you been kissed under a rain shower?” He leaned over, but didn’t touch her, just close enough to feel her warm breath on his cheek.

  “Never,” she whispered.

  He smiled, feeling his cheeks tighten. “Me either. Think it’s about time we did.”

  Warm acceptance waited for him. The Cypress didn’t give them much cover, and the enormous droplets cascaded down on them. Her lips were slick, and he drank her in. His arms wrapped around her warm body, drawing her as tight as he could. A crest of excitement filled his heart when her palms rested against his back, tender at first, but as if giving in, she pressed them snugly to hold him close.

  “What’s this?” he heard his dad say from behind him, followed by a chuckle.

  “Gordon, get your old ass over here,” his mother hissed.

  Twila and he both looked up, and she tried to step away, her cheeks blushing rosy pink. Wasn’t happening, and he kept his arms securely around her.

  “Never mind us,” his mom said, and waved her arm hurriedly at his father.

  Twila made a move to leave. “I’m coming, Becka.”

  “Don’t need you. You either, Drake. Go,” she ordered. “And don’t come back till much later. I’ve got this all in hand.”

  “But—”

  “Only butt I wanna see is yours, walking away.” His mother made a sweep with her arm. “A no Twila or Drake zone. Can’t cross. You’re just going to have to think of something else to do. Bye then.” She turned, gripped his dad by the arm, mustering him away.

  He laughed out loud.

  “What’s so funny? That was embarrassing,” Twila squeaked.

  “At least she didn’t catch us between the sheets. That would be embarrassing.”

  Twila’s shoulders stiffened. “You’ve got high hopes.”

  He laughed again. He certainly did, and he would have voiced them, but Twila was a southern lady, and although she wasn’t a prude, he imagined she would draw the line if his mouth ran off with what his mind envisioned. “Let’s grab my car and head down to the marina.” The clouds were already breaking up.

  “Work on the Rebecca?” she asked.

  “You want to go for a cruise?”

  She shrugged. “There’s work to be done here, Drake.”

  He had a great idea. “Why don’t we grab a little thirty-five footer and do a crawl?”

  Twi
la plucked at her wet T-shirt. “What’s a crawl?”

  “We crawl the waterfront. Have a drink. Have something to eat and move on to the next. Come on.”

  “It’s a shame you don’t make boats for people who can’t afford the luxury yachts. I’m sure people would love to have your workmanship, but don’t have the bank accounts to match.”

  The shower finally ended, and he looked into the sky. “What did you just say?”

  Clasping her hands, she looked nervously at him. “That wasn’t an insult. I just mean...”

  A flash of brilliance! He’d had a shitload of people who came to him, but turned away because of the price tag. People who had heard about his reputation. Twila’s suggestion turned on a light bulb. “Holy shit, you’re right. My head’s been in the sand hanging out with Heather’s crowd. I’ve turned away plenty of people. There’s nothing stopping me from creating an affordable line.” He swooped in to kiss her for her genius. “You know what I’m going to call the series of affordable craft?”

  Her eyes were wide. “Noooo,” she said, taken back.

  He righted her from the Hollywood dip in his arms. “The Twilight series.”

  Her face exploded with a grin. “No way.”

  “Definitely, way.”

  “Wait, you can’t do that!”

  “Why not?”

  “The name’s kinda attached to those books.”

  “Achh, you’re right. How about the Addison Carmicheal series?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Too long.”

  He flicked his fingers. “Got it. The Twila-lite series, in fact I love the sound of that. Don’t you? It feels good.”

  Her pretty eyes sparkled, and she swayed her shoulders. “Kinda.”

  “It’s perfect.” Was he talking about the idea or her? Aw man, it was her.

  “I’m honored,” she said, bobbing her head. “I also need to get back in there and help.”

  “What?” Happy moment over. “I heard Mom say you’re not welcome.”