Bless Your Heart

by Kimbra Swain

  “I can’t go back there tonight,” he said. “I’ve got a room down at the Cahaba Motel.”

  “Then go to your room and sleep,” I suggested. He took my concern as an open door.

  “Come with me,” he breathed in my ear again.

  “No,” I said. “I respect you too much for that Dylan.” I surprised myself saying it, but it was true. He deserved better than a one-night stand which was all I could provide for him.

  “Now who’s being lame,” he teased, shaking off the desperation. “I have an idea.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A friendly wager,” he said.

  “I do not bet on sex, Dylan,” I replied.

  “No, not like that. Let’s play pool. If you beat me, I give you something. If I beat you, you kiss me,” he said.

  “No, this is stupid,” I replied. “I don’t want you to give me anything.”

  “How about I cut your grass for a month?” he said.

  “You already cut my grass,” I said.

  “I know, but I’ll do it for free,” he offered. “And if I win, I swear, all I want is a kiss.”

  “This is stupid, Dylan. If you think that one kiss from you would make me want to sleep with you, then you are wrong,” I replied.

  “I don’t think that at all,” he said, leaning in to my lips. A flash of panic shot through me realizing how close he’d moved to my eager mouth. Pausing just before they touched, he said, “I just want to taste you.”

  “Fuckedy fuck,” I swore at him, pushing him away. The guys over at the pool table laughed. “All of you shut up. This doesn’t concern you.” Several of them were in the department with him.

  “That’s fine. I understand. You are afraid that you can’t beat me,” he said challenging me.

  “I’m not falling for this bullshit, Dylan Riggs,” I protested and turned to the bar. Nestor kept my credit card on file, so I didn’t have to bring a purse with me. “Charge my card, Ness.”

  Nestor watched the exchanged closely with a smirk on his face. He nodded at Dylan as if he were giving his approval.

  “Don’t encourage him, Nestor,” I said. Nestor laughed at me.

  Dylan leaned on the bar next to me. I cut my eyes to him, and he flashed that grin at me again. Darn it.

  “I never considered you to be a chicken,” he said.

  “That’s not going to work either,” I said, as I signed the credit card slip that Nestor gave me.

  I turned, facing him to see if he had anything else. I drummed my bright red fingernails on the bar waiting for his next attempt to keep me here. His forehead wrinkled, and he couldn’t think of any other way to motivate me. I sighed heading toward the door.

  “Damn,” he muttered. “It’s your fault, and you owe me.” I could hear the desperation in his voice. He didn’t mean it, but my heart sank. I teased him to death about it this afternoon. He finally struck the nerve inside of me that mattered. I wasn’t cruel or completely superficial. I had needs that’s all there was to it. But I’d lived with humans for a long time, and I liked them. I liked Dylan Riggs. I put my hand on the door, pausing to fight my desire to leave no matter what he said. He laid on another layer of guilt, “She would still be here if it weren’t for you.”

  “Damn it, Dylan!” I shouted. He laughed, walking up behind me as he slid his hands around my waist.

  “I figured it out, Gracie. I just had to play on your heart,” he said in my ear.

  “I don’t have a heart,” I protested.

  “Yes, you do. Now, come play pool with me,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me over to the table. “Nestor, get her two more shots.”

  “Sheriff, I think you are trying to get me drunk,” I said for the whole bar to hear. If he was going to make a scene, I would too.

  “I’ve seen you play; it’s the only way I win,” he said.

  Nestor poured two more tequilas, leaving them sitting on the end bar near the pool table. He had the nerve to wink at me as he turned back to drying his already dry glasses. I liked Nestor. He was the perfect bartender. He had listened to all my sad stories and fed me drinks as I talked. However, tonight he seemed to be a little more involved than normal.

  If Dylan Riggs wanted to play games, I’d show him how it was done. I sauntered past the guys sitting on stools around the pool table. I touched each one along the way. The first one I barely brushed his knee with my hip. The next one I ran my finger over his hand. The third guy I leaned into his ear and whispered. “Watch this. It's going to be fun.” He shivered as my breath touched his ear.

  Dylan stared like a possessive animal. “You go ahead and break, Dylan. I’ll give you a head start, because once I get the table. You won’t get it back,” I taunted.

  The guys laughed at him as I leaned back with my elbows on the bar pushing my chest out for better viewing. The first stool guy openly gawked until Dylan batted him with the pool cue. He turned away embarrassed.

  Turning his attention back to me, Dylan grinned like the devil as one of the guys racked the balls for him. He didn’t look at the cue ball, striking it solid. The pyramid of balls broke, and he sank two. “Looks like it’s stripes, boys,” he called to them, and they made a loud ruckus of cheering him on. I downed one of the tequilas, then leaned with my back on the bar watching him.

  I twirled my necklace around my finger, drawing his attention to my bare skin each time the ends flapped and brushed the edges of my bare breasts. The distraction did not work, because one by one, he methodically sank every stripe. All of my solids and the eight-ball remained.

  “Well, I declare, Dylan Riggs, I didn’t know you were a shark,” I called to him. He looked up from his aimed shot and winked at me. I was going to have to kiss the mother fucker. I had to give him points for style though. A little quick kiss wouldn't hurt. It might make him feel better, then I could go home.

  He took aim striking the cue ball with finesse. It tapped the eight which rolled to the corner pocket and paused on the edge of the green felt. The whole room held their breath including me. It did not fall.

  “Damn,” he said. “It’s your turn, Grace.” I was pretty sure he missed the shot on purpose, but no one is that good, especially when they are drinking. If he did it on purpose, I underestimated him. That occurred to me to be the entire problem with this whole encounter, I’d always underestimated Dylan’s ability to be anything other than Officer Friendly.

  I turned to the last tequila, and just before picking it up, he put his hand over mine. “You know you are doing this wrong,” he said pressing his warm body to mine.

  “I am not. I don’t need some sissy chaser,” I replied.

  “No, honey, it’s the salt,” he said, pulling my wrist to his mouth. He licked my wrist, and I tried to wiggle away from him. By this point, I lost all my swagger. He’d enticed my poor depraved body to the point I had to fight jumping him right here in the bar. He saw the wild look in my eye and laughed.

  “You let go of me. Get your nasty tongue off my wrist,” I said.

  “Grace, watch,” he said patiently, pouring salt over where he licked it. “Lick it.”

  The crowd was in full participation mode now, “Yeah, Grace lick it. We dare you.”

  “The lot of you need to hush your mouths,” I said, and they laughed at me. After licking it, I quickly downed the tequila. Then I realized that he did it for nothing more than amusement. There was no punch line. He just let the tension build up for nothing. “Fuck you, Dylan.”

  He laughed. “I wish you would.”

  At that point, I actually blushed. No man makes me blush. I was mad now because this was my game and he was winning it. “Give me that stick,” I said.

  “Which one?”

  “I only see one,” I spouted at him as he grabbed his belt, “Don’t you dare!” I added quickly, as all of them laughed like a pack of hyenas. The heat of frustration warmed my cheeks. Sexual frustration. Dylan Riggs was a fucking tease. Who knew?!

  As long as
I’d known him, he was just a nice, good man. He flirted from time to time, but this was way beyond idle flirting. Little by little, I lost control of the horny fairy inside me. Somebody was getting fucked tonight.

  I had no chance of sinking all the balls and winning if I didn't calm down. Not to mention the eight was on the edge, I had to be careful not to jostle the table. Shit.

  I lined up my shots carefully. A couple of times my vision waivered from the tequila. One by one, I matched his drops, and it came down to the eight ball. All I had to do was just tap it.

  Leaning over the table, I decided to give him a second look down my shirt since that was all he’d get out of this wager. He leered at them without remorse and grinned. I waggled my ass for the stool boys, causing them to whoop and holler.

  Holding my breath as I drew back the cue, I motioned smoothly with my elbow. Just before I struck the cue ball, the bar door slammed, and I didn’t hit it solid. It missed the eight completely.

  “Mother fucker!” I yelled. “Who slammed that door?” The crowd in the bar erupted in laughter, even the old biddies calling me names were amused. I stomped to the door, swinging it open, but no one was there. I felt a small hint of magic. “What the hell?”

  “Come back over here, Grace. You should watch this. No excuses. You missed,” Dylan said playfully.

  I spun on my heel, and he looked guilty. Gritting my teeth, I stomped back over to the table, folding my arms in front of me. “Go ahead, Dylan. Get it over with before I cut out of here,” I said.

  “A deal is a deal, Grace,” he scolded.

  “Shut up and hit the damn ball,” I said.

  In a quick motion, he tapped the cue, and it brushed the eight ball which fell into the pocket. I looked at the table with my magical sight, seeing nothing, but when I looked at the door, I saw the faint buzzing of a cantrip spell. How the hell did he do that?

  He walked over and handed Nestor some cash. The guys cheered him on as he approached me. “Just do it, Dylan,” I said. He wrapped me up in his arms, as their cheers grew louder. Bunch of voyeuristic hounds. Once again before his lips touched mine, he flashed that grin, letting me go. I stumbled away from him confused.

  “Come on, Grace. I’ll walk you home,” he said. They all moaned. He knew I walked home from the bar on the nights that I didn’t find a partner to share nocturnal activities. It was only a few blocks, and no matter how much I had to drink I knew a sheriff who was diligent about busting drunk drivers.

  “Why don’t you do it?” I asked quietly. “Is it because you cheated?”

  “I didn’t cheat. The door slammed. How is that my fault?” he said.

  “Because I can see the residual,” I said.

  “It wasn’t me, Grace,” he said. “I swear. Let me walk you home.”

  The crowd became restless because they hadn’t received their pay-off. They jeered him, and the comments descended into vulgarities that weren’t playful. At least if we got to the parking lot, he could kiss me without the leering crowd, then it would be over. He hurried me out the door as the taunting continued.

  We walked into the early fall air, and he put his leather jacket around me. “Um, thanks.”

  “You hate me?” he asked soberly.

  “What? No, it was kind of fun,” I said. “At least it got your mind off things.”

  “Yes, and onto others,” he said.

  “Dylan, don’t walk me home. If you think that you can walk me home and get a kiss at my door I’ll automatically let you in, you are sadly mistaken, buck-o,” I said as I poked him in the chest.

  “I’m not going to kiss you, Grace,” he said taking my hand. He pulled me, and we walked toward my trailer.

  “Wasn’t that the point?”

  “No,” he replied.

  “Then why did you do that?” I asked. “Is it because you didn’t want me seducing one of those idiots and taking him home with me?”

  “No, Grace. Walk with me,” he said.

  I huffed, continuing to walk along as he practically dragged me home. The game made me tired, and I just wanted my bed. “It’s because I had too much to drink,” I said.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “Aw, come on, it’s just a kiss,” I said stopping to look at him.

  “If it’s the only one I ever get from you, forgive me if I don’t want it to be a half-drunk kiss,” he said.

  “Foolish romantic notion,” I said, jerking my hand away from him. I stomped off toward the trailer park, and he followed me. “You don’t have to walk me home, Dylan. I can get there on my own,” I said.

  He didn’t respond, but continued to follow.

  I muttered obscenities at him and myself all the way to my lot. By the time, I reached the edge of my tiny lawn, I was madder than a yellow jacket nest run over by a lawnmower.

  “I don’t know what the hell kind of bull shit that was back there, Dylan Riggs, but you steer clear of me! I wished you would just kiss me and go,” I said.

  He quirked a smile at me and in the dark, the street lights reflected in his blue eyes. “Now you want me to kiss you?” he asked.

  “Yes, I want you to do it,” I said.

  “Earlier you explicitly said you didn’t want me to kiss you while we danced. Now you want me to. How do I know that isn’t just the alcohol talking?” he teased as he edged closer to me.

  “It takes a lot to get me drunk, Dylan. I might feel the tequila, but I assure you I’m in control. Just kiss me,” I said.

  “Now you are begging me,” he pointed out.

  I growled at him. He wanted me to want him to kiss me. “It’s not like you think,” I replied.

  “What do I think, Grace?” he moved closer. He must have known that smile was my weakness because it never left his face.

  “That it means something,” I said.

  “It does to me,” he said.

  “Well, it doesn’t to me,” I replied as my resolve weakened. He traced my cheek with his hand and goose bumps erupted down my arm again.

  “Dylan, don’t do this,” I said.

  “I have no delusions, Grace. I know you won’t give your heart to me. Forgive me, if I just want you to want to kiss me,” he said cupping my cheek with his calloused hand. It was warm, and I longed to lean into him. He was getting exactly what he wanted, yet my stubborn fool self still tried to fight it.

  “Okay,” I muttered. I couldn’t believe it came out of my mouth.

  I sucked in a small breath as his lips touched mine. They were soft compared to his hands which cupped both sides of my face now. He moved his lips slowly against mine, and I whimpered as the desire in me that came from being a fairy wanted to turn loose on him. I pressed my lips harder to his, but he pulled back, “No.” I shivered with anticipation of him continuing to kiss me, but he waited. His face so close to mine as we shared the small amount of oxygen between us. I realized he held my face to keep his body from touching mine. It was maddening. Every bone and muscle in my body wanted his right then.

  He leaned in continuing the kiss, and I reached for his body clasping his shirt in my hands. But he resisted my pull, his soft lips worked with mine. I tried to slow my pace to his, but I wanted to melt into him. I wanted his tongue in my mouth, and mine wrapped around his.

  He pulled away with his forehead resting on mine. My breaths were quick and raspy. He breathed heavily, but not so desperately as me.

  “Please,” I begged softly.

  “No, Grace, I said a kiss. Just one kiss,” he stood firm, but then I felt his resolve waiver, too.

  “One more,” I begged. Once again, his lips met mine, and I pulled him hard to me. His hands left my face when our bodies crashed into each other. He had one hand on my neck into my hair, and the other sliding down my hip. I groaned pressing my hips into him. Finally, I felt his tongue circle around mine. Moaning with pleasure, I latched my right-hand fingers into his belt loop holding his body to me. Then he pushed me away, leaving me hungry and trembling.

  “St
op,” he said, breathing hard. He lifted the back of his hand to his mouth as if it hurt from my touch. His fist shook as he held it in front of his mouth with his eyes closed tightly.

  “Isn’t this what you wanted?” I asked. “Isn’t this what you need?”

  “No, it’s not. I don’t want a mad rush of passion, and it be over,” he said. “You said that in the bar. You were right, because it’s not what I want.”

  “You need to know that you are still worth something to a woman. I can do that for you for one night, and you will face tomorrow with a whole new perspective. She’s held you captive for five years. Let me show you that she was wrong to leave you,” I said appealing to his base needs.

  “No, Grace, go inside,” he said turning away from me.

  “I don’t understand,” I whined. “What was all of that at the bar? You are here now, and you are walking away?”

  “Please, don’t torture me, just go inside,” he said again.

  I shook my head in disbelief. Never in all of my life had I gotten to this point with a man to have him turn away from me. I didn’t understand. “Did I do something wrong?” I asked.

  “No, you did everything right, Grace. I just can’t,” he said.

  “Oh, okay,” I said, bewildered at being rejected. Gathering my composure, I walked across the grass to the door of the double-wide. I could hear Rufus whining inside. With a wave of my hand and a touch of magic, I unlocked the door rushing inside to put him out of my mind. As I closed the door behind me, I caught his desperate blue eyes staring back at me.

  Throwing his jacket on the back of the couch, I sat down, unzipping the long boots. Rufus nuzzled next to me, and I scratched his head.

  “Looks like it’s just us, Roofie,” I told him as he followed me to the bedroom. I looked at myself in the mirror in the dark. My hair was out of place from his hands being wrapped up in it. My cheeks were flushed with passion, or was it rejection? I groaned again, collapsing on the bed in frustration and exhaustion. “What the hell, Dylan Riggs?”

  Sitting back up on the bed, I reached behind my head and started the zipper downward. When I got to the stopping point, there was a knock at the door. “I swear to God,” I muttered holding my dress up stomping to the door.