by T. L. Haddix
“I did both. Army brat until I was ten, and then when I was sixteen, I moved to Clay County. My mom’s family was from there, so I’d spent some time down there before, especially during the summers.”
“And between ten and sixteen?”
His demeanor changed. He forked up another bite of cheesecake, but didn’t eat it. “I spent those years in the foster care system.” When Stacy stared at him in shock, he shrugged. “I was very, very lucky. I was placed with a great family. When I was sixteen, the system sent me back home.”
“Somehow, I’m not getting the impression that was a good thing,” she commented softly. She traded her plate for the coffee, wrapping her hands around its warmth.
“It wasn’t all bad, but I would have preferred to stay with my foster family. I didn’t get a say in that, though. It hardly matters now. It worked out in the end. That’s all that matters.” He neatly turned the tables on her. “So what about you?”
Stacy laughed. “I would hardly know where to start. The short version—my dad left when I was four, my mother raised me alone, and it wasn’t good. I’ve not seen her or talked to her since I was seventeen, and I’m fine with that. Better than fine, actually.” She rubbed her neck, wincing when her fingers hit a sore spot. “I think I moved wrong yesterday and flared up the muscle strain from the wreck. Physical therapy today was loads of fun.”
Gordon straightened and put his plate aside, then held out his hand. “Come here. Sit on the floor in front of me.”
Stacy eyed his hand and swallowed. Moving slowly, she set down her coffee and reached for his hand. She felt ridiculous, being so timid, but she couldn’t help it. Gordon didn’t mention her hesitancy. He just waited patiently. He gave a gentle tug as their fingers touched.
“You’ve been rubbing your neck all evening. Sit here, and I’ll see if I can help.”
Thinking she might as well get the misery and ultimate rejection out of the way, she sat. His jean-clad legs framed her, and she waited to see what he would do. When he removed her hair clip, she jerked.
“Sorry.”
“For what?” he asked. “Do you mind redoing this? The way your hair was, I might accidentally pull it. That’s not conducive to helping you relax.”
Stacy redid the twist, anchoring it on the crown of her head instead of her nape. He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders.
“Any time you get uncomfortable or want me to stop, tell me. Okay?”
She nodded and closed her eyes, disgusted by her fear. “Okay.”
While her heart hammered in her throat, she bit her lip and waited for the revulsion and anxiety to start. If Lauren was right, this would be the telling moment. You can do this, she told herself.
To her amazement, when his hands touched her bare neck and shoulders, her skin didn’t crawl. As he gently kneaded her tense muscles, she started to relax. She released the breath she’d been holding, and her breathing evened out.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” He spoke softly, the words falling with delicacy between them.
“No, go ahead.”
“Why is it that you don’t like to be touched?”
She’d been asked this question in the past. However, she had never answered the query before and had never wanted to. As far as that went, perhaps ‘wanted’ was the wrong word. But she’d never been tempted to share the truth. She didn’t quite know what to think about her change of heart with Gordon, and she didn’t look at it too closely.
“Like I said earlier, my mother raised me alone. She wasn’t—she had issues. And she wasn’t very affectionate. So I wasn’t used to being touched by anyone growing up, really. When I was seventeen, there was… an incident. It left some scars, and I guess I learned to associate touch with hurt. And to be very honest, I can’t stand it when most people touch me. It makes me very uncomfortable.”
He paused, and she made a small protesting whimper. When he spoke, his voice was low. “Do you want me to stop? I will.”
Stacy shook her head. “No, I don’t. You’re not… I’m not, um. I’m fine. Please don’t stop.” She hadn’t realized how tense he had gotten until she answered, and his hands briefly tightened on her shoulders before resuming the massage.
“So how do you get through physical therapy?”
“It isn’t easy,” she admitted. She moaned when he hit a particularly tender spot, and he focused on the area as she continued. “Gus saw pretty quickly, and he let one of his assistants take over. Pauline’s her name, and she’s wonderful. Still, it’s hard.”
He worked his way across her shoulders and down between her shoulder blades. As he approached the muscles under her bra, Stacy could tell the obstacle was getting in the way.
Deciding to see how far she could go without freaking out, she turned her head toward him a little. “If you need to, you can undo the dress and bra.”
Even without looking at him, she could tell she’d surprised him. “I don’t want to cause you discomfort.”
“I’m a big girl. I know how to speak up for myself.”
“Promise you will?”
“Yes.” She laughed nervously. “I trust you.” Then more softly as it occurred to her that she really did, she repeated the words. “I trust you. Maybe that’s why you’re different.”
His breath caressed the back of her neck, and he rested his cheek against her hair. “Do you know that you undo me?” he murmured. Then louder, he said, “Scoot forward some.”
Stacy complied, and he sat behind her on the floor. He was much closer than he had been, but he wasn’t quite embracing her. She thought he was going out of his way to avoid that, and his carefulness and awareness of her anxiety touched her deeply and reminded her of what Lauren had said about Charlie. Stacy swallowed against the emotion that clogged her throat.
“Remember, one word and I’ll stop.” He unzipped her dress to her waist. “Last chance before I undo it,” he warned.
Stacy laughed. “Would you go ahead? It isn’t like we’re… It’s just a back rub.”
“No, it isn’t just a back rub,” he argued softly, but he undid her bra. When he touched her skin, she sucked in a breath, and he froze.
“I’m fine,” she hurried to assure him. “That wasn’t a protest.”
For a long while, the only sound in the room was the chirp of spring crickets from outside the house. The day had been warm, and the windows were cracked, letting in fresh air and the sounds from outside. Stacy didn’t realize how relaxed she was until Gordon’s arms carefully came around her waist. He pulled her back to rest against his chest, and without speaking, he simply held her. She covered his hands and laced their fingers together. He squeezed his hold a little, but that was all. The intimacy was startling and intense, and it made Stacy’s heart ache.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this? To hold you?” he whispered.
Stacy couldn’t answer him, so she shook her head.
“Suffice it to say, it’s been a while.”
She didn’t know how long they would have stayed there if his phone hadn’t rang. Gordon cursed under his breath and pulled it off his belt.
“It’s Chase. Probably calling to check on the demon.”
“You’d better answer it, then.” Stacy got to her feet without waiting for his response. She squeezed his hand and headed for the bathroom while he answered the call. Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against the counter. She was positively giddy. She let out a soft laugh, and she hardly recognized the woman looking back at her from the mirror above the sink.
Her bra was undone, her dress was sliding down her shoulders, and she wasn’t freaking out. A man had touched her and held her, and she wasn’t having an anxiety attack. It had been a very chaste touch, but the contact had been sexual. It hadn’t been overt, as it had with Andre or others like him, but even Stacy wasn’t so inexperienced that she didn’t recognize the feel of a fully aroused male.
She refastened her bra and dress and took
down her hair. When she came back out of the bathroom, toying nervously with the hair clip, Gordon was standing, leaning against the back of the couch, ankles crossed as he finished up his call.
“Hey. How are Chase and Annie?”
“From the sounds of things, having a blast. And probably laughing themselves silly right now, thanks to Murphy. You look like you’re getting ready to run out the door.”
She stopped next to him and stood facing out over the couch. “It’s late, and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. I was thinking I’d better go.”
He studied her quietly for a minute. “You don’t have to.”
Stacy touched the back of his hand that was braced on the back of the couch. “Tonight, I do. Besides, Chloe will be getting hungry soon. You do realize it’s after ten o’clock?”
“Yes. It’s hard to argue with a hungry cat, especially one as sweet as Chloe,” he conceded, but Stacy thought he was also disappointed. “I’ll walk you out.”
The walkway leading to the driveway was lit by low-voltage landscape lights, and Gordon didn’t turn on the porch light. Between the landscape lights and the moon, the night was bright enough to see to walk.
“Don’t forget to change that bandage, and make sure you wash the scratches with antibacterial soap,” Stacy told him as they walked. “Cat scratches can turn nasty fast.”
“I won’t forget. I guess I’ll see you around nine?” he asked as she unlocked her car.
“That’s the plan. I think we’ll be able to get most of the patching done on the walls and the ceiling, and then the real fun will start.”
“I don’t know. I think the real fun already has started.” The heated look in his eyes warmed Stacy from the inside out, and when he gently traced the curve of her lips, she completely lost focus. He didn’t kiss her on the lips, though. Instead, he let his fingers trail down her arm to her hand, then lifted it to his mouth. The contact was brief, the whisper of sensation across her skin. “Drive safely. Call if you need me.”
Stacy nodded. “Um, yes. Of course.” She fumbled with the door, but managed to get it open without too much fanfare. Sinking into the driver’s seat, she tried to remember how to start the car. Gordon closed the door and stood back, hands in his pockets. She shook herself and the warm daze faded. Figuring she had better get out of there before he thought she was a complete idiot, she started the car. With a smile and a wave, she turned the car around and headed out.
CHAPTER 9
AS MAGICAL AS THE EVENING had been, the night didn’t go as well after Stacy got home. She fed Chloe and headed downstairs to throw the load of wet laundry from earlier in the day in the dryer. Knowing the statistics on dryer fires, she hadn’t wanted to start it and leave it unattended. When she opened the washer to make the switch, though, she was shocked to find the tub empty.
“What? Where are my clothes?” Her mouth open, she looked around the utility room. Nothing was out of place, but the damp clothes were gone. She rushed to the dryer and opened the door, expecting it to be empty. It wasn’t. The clothes that should have been in the washer were there, and when she reached in to feel them to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating, she was shocked that they were still slightly warm.
“Oh, God. I’m really losing my mind,” she whispered. She closed the dryer, then the washer and slumped against the table between them. Lost in thought, she jumped when Chloe rubbed against her legs. She didn’t realize she was crying until she bent down to pick up the cat and tears splashed onto Chloe’s fur.
The cat in her arms, Stacy headed upstairs, turning off lights as she went. She knew as well as she knew her own name that she hadn’t put the laundry in the dryer. Gordon’s theory of the malicious prankster whispered through her mind, but Stacy couldn’t believe that was the case. Besides, Chloe hadn’t seemed upset when Stacy had come in, and she really thought the cat would be if someone strange had been in the house.
“You’d tell me if someone had been here, wouldn’t you?” she asked the cat as she got ready for bed.
Disheartened, she climbed between the sheets, sniffling back tears as Chloe snuggled into the small of her back. The touch and warmth reminded Stacy of Gordon and everything that had happened earlier, and she stifled a sobbing laugh.
“How ironic is it that I finally find a man whose touch doesn’t repulse me, and I’m losing my mind?”
As soon as he arrived the next morning, Gordon knew something was wrong. Stacy was somber and quiet. He asked her about it, but she brushed him off.
“Please don’t do that. Talk to me. Are you upset about last night?” She was clearly miserable, and Gordon’s stomach sank.
“No! That’s not—I had a rough night after I got home. I don’t particularly want to talk about it. It’s not you, though. I promise.” Although she was visibly upset, she met his eyes.
Gordon saw that she was telling the truth, and he backed off. “I’m here if you want to talk.”
That caused her to smile, if only briefly. “I know. Thank you. Now let’s see if we can get some of this mess knocked out.”
Gordon spent the morning gently teasing and coaxing Stacy into a lighter mood, and several times, he got her to laugh. She was on a stepladder, patching a hole in the drywall that was hidden by the cabinets, and Gordon moved to stand behind her.
“Looks good from where I’m at.”
Stacy glanced at him over her shoulder, and Gordon slowly lifted his gaze from the seat of her pants, taking his time so that she knew what he’d been looking at. Her eyes widened.
“You keep your eyes on the walls, mister,” she chided, her voice choked with laughter.
“Do I have to?”
“Yes, you do.” She handed him the container of drywall mud and wiped her hands on the rag draped over the back of the ladder. Gordon set aside the container and watched her descend. On the next to the last step, she stumbled, and he caught her.
His arms around her waist, he steadied her. “I have you.”
Stacy let out a shaky breath. “Thanks. That was close.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I didn’t sleep well last night. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.” She had stopped on the last step of the ladder, and the added height brought her to nearly eye level with Gordon. “Um, you can let go now. I’m fine.”
Instead, he tightened his arms. “I don’t want to let go.” He buried his face in the curve of her neck.
After a minute, the tension left her body, and she brought her hands up to rest on his arms. “Okay. You don’t have to.”
“I have another confession.”
Stacy tugged at his arms, and he loosened his hold, but kept his hands on her hips. She turned to face him, and when she rested her hands lightly on his shoulders, Gordon had to force himself to focus on the conversation.
“I’m listening.”
“I don’t really need a study partner. I’m fairly confident that I’ll ace the bar.”
Her eyebrows shot up, and the surprise was plain to read on her face. “That’s not what I was expecting. Why did you pretend you did, then?”
He had to clear his throat, and his cheeks heated with embarrassment. “Because I didn’t think I’d be able to get you to spend time with me without an excuse, and I wasn’t about to ask and give you a chance to shoot me down.”
“So when Maria asked you about this,” she gestured around the kitchen, “and you told her you needed a study partner? You made that up?”
“Yes? Sort of. Chase and I had been joking around earlier that day about getting me a study partner, and it was the first thing that came to mind.”
She was frowning, and Gordon could almost feel her withdrawing from him. He hurried to explain his motivations. “I know you’re shy around men, and I’m not used to this whole dating thing, and I didn’t think. I didn’t mean to use this as an excuse or a deception. And then it just was, and I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you ever since. I’m sorry.”
“Y
ou could have told me all this last night, you know.”
“I know.”
“Why are you telling me now? You didn’t have to.”
He looked down, trying to find the words. “Because we’re getting closer, and I don’t want to start building whatever it is between us on a lie.”
“What makes you think there’s anything between us?” she asked softly.
Gordon drew in a breath and met her eyes. “I want there to be. And I guess I’m hoping there is.”
Her smile was sad. “I’m not a good bet right now.”
He pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and cupped her head in his hand. “I’m not afraid of a little risk.” When tears appeared in her eyes, he was stunned. He wiped away the wetness with his thumbs. “Please don’t cry.”
“I’m losing my mind, and you’re calling that ‘a little risk’? Oh, Gordon.” Stacy slid her arms around his shoulders and hid her face in his shoulder.
Shocked, he returned the embrace. “What happened last night? Please, talk to me. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” He pulled back to see her face. He could feel the whisper of her breath on his skin, and he touched her cheek with his fingers. All thoughts of conversation fled, and throwing caution to the wind, he lowered his head. As their lips touched, a knock sounded at the front door, startling them both.
Gordon cursed. “Whoever that is, I’m going to shoot them,” he growled as he stepped back so that Stacy could get off the ladder. The view of the front of the house and the storm door was obscured by the heavy plastic sheeting they’d hung to keep dust out of the rest of the house during the construction, but he could see the wavy outline of someone standing on the porch.
“Who in the world?” Stacy pulled aside the plastic. “Looks like a delivery man.”