by Faver, JD
He would have to get over her. There was no choice. It wasn’t like he could go chasing after her. He would if he could, but he had no idea where to start.
He drove into town to buy essentials and he stopped for a burger at Greta’s. He sat at the counter and stared at the basket Vangie placed in front of him. He’d just gathered the burger and bitten into it when Barton Haynes, his best friend from school, slid onto the stool beside him. Helmut had seen Barton sitting in a booth, finishing his meal when he entered the restaurant, but hadn’t felt like company. He still didn’t.
Barton grinned mischievously. “So, where’s your little hottie?”
Helmut ignored him. Feeling churlish, he chewed in silence.
“C’mon, man. What’s the scoop?”
“She is gone,” Helmut said shortly.
“Where did she go? When’s she coming back?”
Helmut heaved a sigh. “I do not know exactly. She is just gone.”
Barton raised his brows knowingly. “Ah, a lover’s spat. Don’t worry. She’ll come around.”
Helmut turned to glare down at Barton. “We did not spat. She just left. She went back to the city.”
Barton shrugged. “It looked like the two of you were pretty tight. The whole town is speculating about her.”
“They need to stop. It is done.” Helmut turned back to his food, though it wasn’t as appetizing as it had been a few moments before. He took a huge bite to preclude any further conversation.
Barton shook his head. “Never took you for a quitter.”
Helmut favored him with a fierce glare.
“I mean, a fine-looking little sweetie like that doesn’t come along every day. If I were you, I’d at least make an effort to get her back.”
Helmut swallowed with difficulty, his throat tight with some emotion he couldn’t name. “I do not know how to find her.”
Barton grinned. “But you do know her name?”
Helmut made an impatient, scoffing sound. “Of course I know her name.”
Barton slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t blow your top, big guy. I’d be pissed too, if I let someone like that slip through my fingers. We’ll find her. Eat up and come by my office.”
Helmut stared at him, disbelieving. “You can find her?”
Barton got off the stool and gave it a spin with his finger. “Piece of cake.”
Helmut’s heart did a double somersault in his chest. He paid for his meal and followed Barton to his office in one of the vintage buildings lining the main street. Haynes Realty assisted with most of the transactions involving land or housing in the valley.
Barton removed the ‘Closed’ sign from the front window and led Helmut to his old wooden desk in the corner. He clicked a few keys on his computer and turned to Helmut. “What is the name of the delectable little dish?”
“Mel. Her name is Melanie Hannigan.”
“Any idea what she does for a living?”
Helmut nodded, recalling the camera that seemed to be a part of her anatomy. “She takes pictures.”
Barton typed in the information. He grinned broadly and turned the monitor to face Helmut. “There she is. Right at your fingertips.”
Helmut stared at the page of listings. “What are these things?”
“Let’s open them up and find out about your girl, shall we?” Barton clicked on the first one and it proved to be the website for Mel Hannigan, Commercial Photographer. He browsed through the page showing some of Mel’s work and giving contact information for her.
Helmut’s breath caught in his throat. Right there. She was right there in front of him, yet he felt frozen, not sure what to do with the information.
Barton printed it out and handed him the page. “Let’s see what else your girl is up to. He scrolled down the listings. “New York Times...This looks interesting.”
Helmut gazed at a picture of Mel in a slim-fitting dress standing between two men. One man had his hand resting at Mel’s waist. Helmut felt his gut seize. He knew he hadn’t been the first man in her life, but he didn’t like to be presented with the reality.
Barton frowned at the screen. “The social pages. Your girl’s got class and she likes to see and be seen. She attends lots of art openings, the opera and theatre productions. And galas. She gets invited to those.”
“What is a gala?”
“Great big fancy party. Fancy people. Look at this guy. He’s a big fashion designer; Alain St. Croix. It looks like he and the cutie pie are an item.”
Helmut’s stomach clenched. His breathing became light and shallow. This was the man standing with Mel in some of the pictures. Is she a couple with someone else? Did Mel cheat on this man when she wrapped her legs around Helmut and allowed him to enter her body?
“Easy, big guy. These pictures don’t tell the whole story. A lot of those fashion guys are gay, y’know what I mean?”
Helmut tried to unclench his jaw. Couldn’t.
“And she’s got a picture book out. On the best seller list.” Barton gave out a low whistle. “Man, when you go for a girl you go for the best.”
“Mel is the best,” he agreed.
“Well, are you going to call her, or what?”
Helmut frowned at him.
Barton punched the numbers in his phone. “She’s probably at work now. I’ll dial the number. Just talk to her.” He handed the receiver to Helmut. “It couldn’t hurt.” Barton grinned and stepped out onto the sidewalk to light a cigarette and allow Helmut some privacy.
Fear roiled up from Helmut’s gut as he heard the telephone ringing in his ear. What would he say to her?
“Good Afternoon. You’ve reached Mel Shotz. This is Janissa. How can I help you?”
“Shotz? I thought her name was Hannigan.”
The female on the other end of the line giggled. “It is, but her business is called Mel Shotz. You know, like photo shoots?”
“Is she there?” Helmut swallowed, his throat dry as parchment. “Is Mel there?”
“No, baby. Mel stepped out.” There was a pause. “You’re her guy, aren’t you?”
Helmut felt his scalp tingle at the base of his neck. “Her guy?” His voice broke like an adolescent boy.
“The weekend? The farmer?”
“I am a farmer.”
The woman exhaled. “Wow! Can I take a message for Mel? She should be back soon. She’s meeting with St. Croix. You know, the designer?”
Helmut frowned. “No message.” He disconnected.
Confusion roiled in his head. The woman, Janissa, had called him ‘her guy’ and had known about their weekend. Was their lovemaking a topic of casual conversation? And Mel was meeting with the designer; the one who had his arm around her in the newspaper photographs. What were they doing together?
The hamburger he’d hurriedly bolted churned in his stomach. He felt hot. He couldn’t breathe. He must have fresh air.
Helmut stepped out onto the covered walkway where Barton was finishing his smoke. He tossed the cigarette onto the sidewalk and ground it beneath his shoe. “How did it go?”
Helmut frowned. “She was in a meeting.”
Barton made a fist and punched Helmut on the arm. “Too bad. Try again later.”
Helmut nodded. “Thank you for the use of the telephone. I will be going home now.”
He stepped from the curb and headed for his truck. When he climbed inside and turned on the ignition, Barton was still staring at him.
#
Mel got off the elevator and stomped to her studio.
If I’m to be convicted of murder, please let it be Alain St. Croix.
After two hours of planning for his super secret spring collection fashion shoot, set to take place in Cabo San Lucas, his super secret location, he had badgered her to the point of insanity as to the identity of her new lover. He wanted her to use her feminine charms to inveigle the blonde mystery man into signing an exclusive contract for his services.
Mel had remained adamant, refusing to reve
al Helmut’s name or anything else about him.
She pushed open the door of Mel Shotz, Inc. and stepped inside, seeking sanctuary from Alain.
“It was him!” Janissa squealed, grabbing Mel’s arm. “The farmer. He called.”
Mel’s stomach clenched. He called? “It couldn’t have been him. He doesn’t have a phone.”
“Somebody does. It was him.”
Mel shook her head, trying to capture the herd of butterflies set loose in her belly. “He doesn’t have the number.”
“It was him.” Janissa grinned, nodding her head, her dreads dancing.
Mel narrowed her gaze. “What makes you so sure?”
Janissa sighed. “It was the biggest, deepest, bluest-eyed voice I’ve ever heard.”
Mel gulped. She reached for her stool with a shaky hand. “Very articulate with a trace of an accent?”
“Yes. No contractions.”
“Oh, god! He called.” Mel sank onto the stool. The man with no phone had called her while she was fighting with Alain. “How did he sound?”
Janissa giggled. “Big. He sounded big and gorgeous and totally pissed when I told him you were out.”
Mel drew an uneasy breath. “He sounded mad?”
Janissa considered. “Not exactly mad. He was probably just disappointed that he missed you.”
Mel felt a wave of longing wash over her. It had been eleven days since she’d seen him; since she’d been surrounded by him. She moistened her lips, remembering his hungry kisses. “Did he leave a message?”
“Nope.”
“No call back number?” Her voice broke.
“No problem,” Janissa said. “We have caller ID.” She retrieved the number and wrote it on a sticky note. “You can reach out and touch him. You know you want to.”
Mel’s fingers closed around the slip of paper. “Thanks.” She stared at the neon-pink square for a full five minutes before ducking into her private office to punch the numbers into her cell phone.
“Barton Haynes Realty,” a man’s voice sang out.
Mel felt tongue-tied. “Uh, is Helmut Engle there?”
There was a long pause. “He’s not here now. Is there a message?”
“Uh, no. I guess not.”
“He’ll be real sorry to have missed you.”
“Really?” She hated that she sounded so desperate. “Well, thank you.”
“Helmut is a great guy, Miss Hannigan. I hope you know that.”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” She wondered how he knew her name. Caller ID, maybe?
“I’ve known Helmut since kindergarten and I’d hate to see him get hurt.”
Mel breathed out a sigh. “Me too.”
She hung up and gathered her things.
“Janissa, I want you to clear my calendar for tomorrow. I’m going to be out of town.”
Janissa cocked her head to one side, her brown eyes like melted chocolate. “But tomorrow’s Friday. “Barf Babe is making an appearance.”
“Screw Barfy. I’m going to the farm.”
#
Helmut was washing the grease off his hands when she drove up. He’d been clean and dressed and waiting for her last Saturday and she hadn’t shown up. Now, on Thursday, when he hadn’t shaved and he smelled like grease and diesel and sweat; after he’d just finished giving the tractor a tune-up, now she drives up looking clean and cool and untouchable.
He swallowed hard, reached for a rag to dry his hands, casting a glance at the silver sedan she’d rented. Guess the sporty one is still in the shop. He took care to dry his hands, not wanting to appear too eager, though his heart pounded like thunder against his ribs.
He heard the car door slam and looked up again. His heart leapt into his throat when he saw her grin.
She was running towards him with her arms open.
Helmut dropped the rag and took a wide stance as she ran into his arms. He scooped her up and crushed her to his chest.
She embraced him with her arms and legs gripped tight around him.
Waves of emotion swept over him. He blinked away the tears that stung his eyes; swallowed against the ache in his throat. She came back.
She pressed her face against his damp shirt, ran her tongue over the side of his neck, found his mouth with her lips. She tasted tangy like his sweat, only sweeter.
Lacing his fingers through her dark cap of curls, he held the back of her head and gazed into the laughing green eyes before taking possession of her mouth, capturing her soft lips, enticing her tongue.
She kissed him hungrily, matching his ardor. She pressed her breasts against him, stoking his fires with her passion.
He squeezed her buttocks, squashing her against him.“I’m dirty,” he gasped.
She took his face in both her hands and spoke softly against his lips. “Get me dirty.”
#
Mel buried her face against his neck, tasted the salt of his skin, grazed his pulses with her lips.
She hadn’t known what she would say to him. She’d rehearsed various scenarios on the drive and had almost turned back more than once. But when she got out of the car, she hadn’t been able to control her feet. They had gone running straight into his arms, her heart growing lighter with each step.
His expression tore at her heart. She’d seen his longing and his elation at her return. She heard the anguish in his voice when he’d gasped out her name.
He was walking now; carrying her toward the house.
She unbuttoned his shirt and shoved it back to expose his powerful shoulders.
Grinning, he expelled a sharp breath when she scraped her short nails over his nipple. He stopped on the porch and pressed her onto the wall while he shrugged out of the shirt, letting it fall. He pinned her hips against the house while he pulled her knit top off over her head. He fingered the lacy material of her bra, then unhooked it and added it to the pile.
Mel arched against his chest, rubbing her nipples on the soft blonde chest hair.
In seconds they were in his bedroom, leaving a heap of discarded clothing by the front door. He placed her on the bed, stripping her panties off.
He stepped out of his jeans and stood beside the bed for a moment, staring at her.
Mel felt her color rise as he gazed at her intently. She reached out with her foot and stroked it over his chest and ridged abdomen.
Helmut took her foot in both his hands and kissed her instep, his unshaven face prickling the tender skin. She giggled as he propped her foot on his shoulder and stroked his fingers down her leg, sending a rush of passion to her core. He pushed her legs apart and shifted his gaze to the clutch of dark curly hair at the juncture.
Spirals of heat swirled through her organs; rose from her gut; washed over her in a wave of passion. Now! Take me now.
Helmut splayed the fingers of both hands around the inside of her thighs and spread them apart, then leaned slowly in to graze his mouth over her mound.
He chuckled when he heard her draw in a sharp breath, then applied himself to his task. His tongue caressed her clitoris, flicking the nub over and over until he brought her to a gasping climax.
Orgasmic waves of passion washed over her leaving her pulses throbbing in her ears. How did a farm boy learn to make a woman dissolve like that?
When he climbed on top of her, Mel threaded her fingers through his hair and drew him to her lips. She tasted herself in his mouth, groaning as he entered her, stretched her, filled her up with all the Helmut she could handle.
Mel sighed as she gave up. Gave up hope of ever being in charge of anything again as Helmut took over her body, commanded her pleasure. Surrender. Sweet surrender.
Her mind went numb as her senses came alive. She blossomed at his touch, hungered for his taste, roused by his scent, delighted in the sound of her own name as whispered by the man on top of her.
But mostly, as a photographer, as an artist, as a visual person, Helmut appealed to her eyes. Her brain collected images of Helmut. His every look. His every expressio
n. His every mood. All captured in the lens of Mel’s camera-like eyes and stored in the memory card of her brain.
She closed her eyes, letting her body rise on the crest of another orgasm as her lover lifted her hips to grind against her while he throbbed to his climax.
When she opened her eyes, Helmut was gazing down at her. Breathing hard, he rolled to his side and carried her with him. Stroking her hair, he drew her closer.
Mel stretched her arms over head and then wound them around his neck, nestling her cheek against his shoulder.
He nuzzled her temple, pressing kisses against the side of her face. “What now?”
She pulled away to stare up at him. “Now?”
He nodded, held her gaze. “Now.”
“I don’t know.” She rubbed her face against the warm skin on his chest. “You matter to me.” It was almost a whisper when she said it.
He raked his fingers through her hair and kissed the top of her head. “You matter to me. I do not want to go so long without you in my life.”
She swallowed. “In my life,” she echoed. He’s in my life. In my mind, in my heart and in my life.
He inhaled deeply and breathed out against her temple. “You can stay with me. I will take care of you, Mel.”
She jerked her head up, staring wide-eyed into the deep blue ocean of his eyes. “Here?”
“Here. I will build you a fancy bathroom with a make-up mirror.”
Mel laughed. “That sounds lovely, but I can’t stay here. I have a job. I have a business. I have an apartment and friends in the city. You know I have to go back.”
He nodded. “I know. I was only telling you how I feel.”
She stroked the side of his prickly face, found his lips. “Thank you for caring about me. I care about you, but I don’t have any idea how we can make this work.”
Something flickered in his eyes. “Are you saying to me that you just want this and nothing more?”
Mel swallowed. She had never before dealt with such candor. “I really hadn’t thought about it.”
A muscle in the side of his jaw twitched. “Think about it. Are you content to drive up here for occasional sex and then drive away alone?”