by Tina DeSalvo
“Then don’t.” He reached down, unbuttoned his jeans. She kneeled over him, hooked her hand over the waistband of his jeans and underwear and with a lot of effort and laughing from both of them in the tight quarters, slid both down, freeing him.
“Tell me what to do,” she pleaded.
“Wallet. Back pocket,” he managed.
Reaching in, Jewell pulled out his wallet, found the condom and handed it to him. Tearing it open with his teeth, he slid it on quickly, distracted as he watched her slip out of her thong. Gripping her hips, he slid her down onto him. They both sucked in a breath. Looked at each other. Her orgasm started seconds before his.
There’s a peace when you stop fighting, when you know you have no power. God had decided my mind should relax and rest. I decided I should do the same. Then I found the grace I didn’t expect…or at least I don’t think I expected, since I can’t remember if I expected it or not. The thing is this. You think that because you can’t remember very much of anything anymore, that each day you will have to wake up and have to learn peace and acceptance all over again…but you don’t. That’s the grace…the gift. You do it once, and it is done.
I just wish that my granddaughter will learn acceptance and peace enough to welcome true love into her heart so she doesn’t have to wake up each day, over and over again, not knowing that gift.
***
Beau parked in the front of his home. It was country dark. There were no lights from neighboring homes or subdivision streets to brighten the night. Only the amber glow of the full moon and the headlights from Tante Izzy’s truck hinted that there was a very large home hidden within in a grove of majestic oak trees. He tapped an icon on his mobile phone and the house was hidden no more. It appeared that every light inside and outside of the modern glass and steel home instantly turned on.
“Wow,” she gasped. “It’s stunning. And, exactly as I would expect your home to be.” New. Modern. Sleek. Expensive.
“I know it’s not like the plantation and old homes you like,” he began, with a shrug. “But it’s home.”
Jewell found it endearing that he seemed to be both proud and apologetic for his modern home. “It’s lovely, Beau. Beautiful. It looks like a piece of art.”
She meant it. Her tastes always had been to the historical homes. Rarely did she find pleasure in the clean lines of a contemporary home, but she had to admit, Beau’s home looked right nestled in the ancient trees and set along the bayou side. Its peaks, curves and angles blended harmoniously with the peaks of the adjacent ancient cypresses and oaks, the curves of the slow moving bayou and the angles of meadows and fields nearby.
“I’m glad you like it.” He slid his arm over the back of the seat and drew her tighter against his side. He turned to look at his house, and Jewell took the moment to steal a lover’s glance at him.
He was a beautiful, disheveled sexy mess. His hair was tousled where her eager fingers had raked through the silken waves. His shirt was untucked, half unbuttoned, and wrinkled from her tugging on it so she could get to the hard muscle and smooth flesh of his back and abdomen. His dark, tight jeans were still unbuttoned, the fly folded open to reveal his gray boxer briefs that rode provocatively low. This man who was devastatingly handsome in his tidy classic clothes was even more so half undressed in the front seat of an old truck.
“You know,” he began, sounding a little less sure of himself than he usually did. “I can’t say why, but I wanted you to like my house.” He looked at her, making a dismissive, carefree expression. “Hell, maybe…” he hesitated, his eyes looking young, vulnerable. “I may have been a little nervous about you seeing it.” Then he laughed, his accent got heavier, his tone lighter. “I figured maybe you’d give me an opinion if my home was going to be as good as an antique plantation two hundred years from now.” He was joking, but Jewell wasn’t fooled by the dodge. This confident, self-assured man’s eyes didn’t hide that he really cared what she thought about his home.
Jewell reached up, kissing him gently on his cheek.
He sucked in his breath as if her kiss had touched him in some profound way. Tears filled her eyes, but she fought to keep them contained. “We have to make sure you have a grand title for your home so when it is on the historic register, it will be quite the thing.” Her heart beat a little faster knowing her opinion mattered that much to him. It felt important. Like his tender words and understanding had to her in the truck earlier before they had made love.
Or maybe she was just imagining it.
Was she just acting like her mother did with men? Transferring her hopes and thoughts and applying it to the situation when all they really had was great sex, a physical connection that left her feeling so wonderful because of endorphins? God, she was losing it, thinking it was more than that. She suddenly felt pathetic. Vulnerable.
She slid to her side of the truck and opened the door. “Are you going to feed me or not?” she said, laughing on the surface while she was crying on the inside.
“I have a home-cooked, spectacular meal planned for you that will knock you off your feet and into my bed, chère.” He grinned. “You know, we’re going to do it right next time.”
Jewell had thought it was pretty darn right the first time.
“First, Nancy needs to get out of her carrier and go outside,” he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the front entrance. He gave her a construction lesson along the way. “The house was built with steel and concrete, but you mostly see the stonework and glass,” he told her pointing to the gray and brown tones of the exterior house beams and frame. “It’s low maintenance. And, the hurricane glass and the other materials are more resistant to mold, termites and all of the things that we have to deal with down here.”
“The colors mimic nature beautifully,” she said, appreciating the artistic beauty of the house. “All those windows let you see this beautiful land.” In the daytime, she imagined, his views would be exceptional. “Now I understand why you were so good at cleaning the barn windows that first day I was working in there,” she laughed. “Lots of practice.”
He laughed. “Nah. I have a window washing system on the house. “
They walked up three short levels of stairs over three separate terraces, to reach the first floor, which actually was on the second floor. Beau again said that extra elevation was the practical thing to do when hurricane season was half the year and you lived close to the gulf coast. Jewell understood after living though Katrina.
Beau unlocked the front door with another tap on his phone and opened the huge steel door. They entered and were greeted by a grandiose hall and the wood treads and glass rail of the winding staircase leading to the open living and kitchen area with panoramic windows from floor to ceiling facing the bayou at the rear of the house. Moths and other insects flew in and out of the beams of the outside lights that shone on the path leading to the bayou behind the house.
Jewell turned in a circle in the main living room, slipping a little on the blond maple floors. “This is incredible. There’s so much volume in this room with the soaring ceilings…and the barnwood beams are so huge. I feel so tiny in here.”
“I think once I have it furnished, it’ll feel less like a shopping mall.” He smiled. “I just have the sofa and chair.” He pointed toward the floor-to-ceiling fireplace on the far end of the room where a deep-seated white leather sofa and chair rested. For the third time, he tapped on his phone. This time the fireplace ignited with a soft whoosh and glowing flame.
“Let me look at that,” she teased, reaching for his phone. He hid it behind his back. “What else can it do? It’s like a magic wand.”
He lifted a brow and grinned. “Oh, I have some extra special features on this thing that I can show you in my bedroom. Want to see?”
She laughed. “I think we need to let Nancy out of her carrier.”
“So that means we can play with my apps afterwards?”
Her stomach did the same flippy thing that it had do
ne when she first met him. She was saved from answering him as he grabbed her hand and led her through the maple wood and white kitchen to the mudroom behind it. Nancy was barking her sweet high-pitched puppy bark, excited to see them. They let her out of her crate, and she greeted them with happy tail wagging and enthusiastic jumping. Beau swept her into his arms. He settled the sweet, anxious boxer puppy as he carried her outside where Jewell joined him. Nancy took care of business quickly and returned to Beau for praise and loving.
When they returned inside, they walked into the mudroom-slash-laundry room where they tossed their shoes off. When Beau noticed she was wearing the white tube socks Mimi had been darning, he laughed, knelt in front of her and slipped them off.
“I never, ever thought that white tube socks could be as sexy as they are right now.” He stroked the tops of her feet, stood and kissed her so deeply and passionately that she didn’t think they’d make it to the bedroom to play with his phone. When Nancy started to whine and scratch Beau’s leg for her usual post-potty treat, he took Jewell’s hand and they walked into the kitchen, barefoot, with him constantly sneaking looks at her feet. It excited Jewell to see that he could be so aroused by something as simple as her long, skinny feet.
Beau refused to let her go into the rest of the house until they had eaten, saying if she did, she’d be too distracted to eat, and he’d be too distracted by her to care about eating too.
They sat at an old round walnut table that looked like it was a hand-me-down. It wasn’t modern at all, but the lines were simple enough to work in the space. It gave Jewell some ideas about some of the pieces of found furniture she had in New Orleans.
“You know, Beau, I’m not sure how you plan to decorate your home, but you may consider an eclectic style. Mixed pieces. Older, warmer pieces that are restored but with clean lines.” She picked up Nancy and cuddled her.
“Honestly, I’m not good at decorating,” he admitted. “I knew what kind of home I wanted, but the pieces to put it in it…” he shrugged. “I don’t know. I figured, I’d know it when I see it.”
“I have the perfect table for your dining room area,” she said. “It’s in my warehouse. I’d love for you to see it.” She walked into the space imagining it there. “It’s a beautiful antique Danish dining table. Beautiful. It’s quite unusual in that it seats fourteen. Maybe a couple more if you want to squeeze in a bit for those big family dinners.” She smiled, thinking of Big John having to scoot over closer to Ruby and eat with his elbows tucked in. “It would suit this house. You. It’s elegant, but not fanciful. It’s formal but not stuffy.” She looked at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to try to furnish your house.”
He came up to her, lifted her chin and gave her a gentle, simple, but what felt like an intentioned kiss. “The dining table sounds like exactly what I envisioned for the room.” He tapped his index finger on her nose, took Nancy from her and cradled her so her head rested in the bend of his elbow.
“I’m going to look through my inventory and see if there are other pieces you may like. I’ll show you pictures of what I find.” The pleasure she felt thinking about finding furniture to place in his modern home was fleeting, however, when she realized she had no business planning things in the future. Not when she had an upcoming trial that could erase her future. Jewell’s stomach suddenly tightened into a knot of stress and worry. She tried to think of happier things to replace the fear of a guilty verdict and what that would mean in her life. It didn’t work.
“I’d like to see what you recommend, Jewell. Thank you,” he said, as he opened a bottle of chilled Chardonnay for their dinner. She accepted a glass, pretending all was right with the world.
The wine turned out to be much finer than their meal, but not as endearing. His spectacular home-cooked dinner consisted of scrambled eggs that were highly seasoned with Louisiana Hot Sauce, undercooked turkey bacon, and burned multigrain toast. Once finished, Jewell jumped up and walked down a wide hallway on the same level, not waiting for his permission. When she opened the first door on her left, she found a fairly large half bath. It was unadorned, but had a very nice, oversized marble sink and tall arcing faucets. “I have a great turquoise Turkish rug that would be great in there,” she said, as she was closing the door and heading to the only other room down the hall.
She glanced at Beau over her shoulder. He was smiling at her, holding Nancy and leaning against the wall. She opened the door, waved to him and stepped inside the room. She gasped. It was a glass room. Floor-to-ceiling walls of glass on two sides of the room and most of the ceiling above it. “This is spectacular.” She moved so close to the glass that she saw her breath fog into a small spot on it.
Jewell saw Beau’s reflection in the glass as he came into the room and sat on the corner of the bed. “This is incredible, Beau. Incredible.” She spoke staring out into the dark night, beyond where the outside lights illuminated the yard and bayou side. “Good thing you don’t have neighbors, or you wouldn’t have any privacy.”
“I own all the land around here.”
“Small town lawyers do well, then.”
“Good ones who invest well do.” He put Nancy on the ground and she trotted to Jewell, the tags on her collar jingling as she did. Jewell bent down and petted her.
“I’m happy for you. “ She looked at him. “You know, you really don’t need much furniture in here. It’s so beautiful. Why clutter it?”
“I’ve got a king-sized bed so my feet don’t hang off the end.” He laughed, waving to the bed that looked a full size smaller because of the enormous space of the room. “A good, comfortable mattress. A smart TV. What else do I need?”
Jewell looked around. “You’re all set. You even painted the room a soft ecru, making it nice and tranquil.”
“Is ecru beige?”
Jewell laughed. “Yes.”
“I thought I had painted it white, until Ruby said it was off-white. Tante Izzy said it was cream. That’s when I thought it might be beige.” He shrugged. “I told you, I’m not a decorator.”
She laughed. “That was a conversation I would’ve enjoyed hearing.” He might not be a decorator, but he had style. She’d seen it in his clothes, cars, sunglasses and now in his home.
He patted the bed next to him. “Have a seat.”
Jewell’s stomach did a somersault that had nothing to do with bad thoughts of her legal mess and everything to do with the sexy man inviting her in his bed. Wanting a man to invite her to his bed as much as she did now was a brand new experience for her.
She walked to him with her heart racing and sat a little away from him, feeling nervous and shy. His earthy, clean, sensual scent wrapped around her as much as his unique style signature did in his home. Masculine. Sophisticated. Complicated. Yet simple.
Nancy trotted to a black and gray woven pillow at the foot of his bed, where after making three circles on it, she went to sleep. Beau leaned back onto his elbows.
“You smell good,” she said, her voice timid, awkward. It embarrassed her that it was.
Beau didn’t smile. His pupils dilated. His eyelids seemed to get heavy. “It’s not from bug repellent, I can assure you,” he joked.
She smiled, looked toward one of the nightstands next to his bed. There was a TV remote there, an iPad, a charger cord for his phone, a chrome lamp and four-inch stack of files. His personal things were all on the left side. His side. She didn’t have a side. Her bed was too small for sides.
Knowing which side of the bed he preferred seemed so intimate. Not that having sex with him wasn’t. Both things were confusing to Jewell since he’d established himself as the tyrant border guard with her not so very long ago. He probably still felt that way, even though they’d physically crossed the formidable barricade. He’d let her over to his side, but she had to remember that he would toss her back and shut the barricade again.
Still, right now, in this special domain of his, she was allowed to see who he really was. She saw it as much as when he wa
s laughing and advising and loving his family. Dare she allow herself to just accept this visit to his side? Savor it? Or should she not set herself up for the pain she might feel when she was locked out again?
Or locked up if her trial went badly and she was convicted?
If she understood this night for what it was, why should there be any pain at all? She was logical. Reasonable. She didn’t have to be emotional. Why shouldn’t she capture a really solid, wonderful memory to take with her? Wasn’t it better to have the amazing memory of a real experience than to regret never having it?
“Is that the painting of Emile, François and his son that Tante Izzy spoke of?” she asked, pointing to the large, colorful oil painting hanging on the wall near the door. Jewell got up and went to examine it. She recognized the older man as François from photos she’d seen of him in her research. He was standing in the center. The other older man on the right must’ve been his brother Emile, and the younger man on the left had to be François’s only surviving child, Aguste. The boy he had with his second wife, Caroline Cecile. All three men had their arms hanging loosely over each other’s shoulders in a friendly, jovial pose. Their grins were huge, eyes twinkling. They looked happy under the huge oak with its moss-draped branches. The plantation was in the background behind them.
The men in the painting could’ve been Beau with the men he was closest to…Jackson and Ben, she thought. She let herself enjoy that idea, blurring all of the details of the painting she hadn’t yet examined.
“Yes. She gave it to me as a housewarming gift,” Beau answered, now standing next to her. She hadn’t heard him approach. He leaned against the wall next to the painting, his eyes focused on her. She’d seen him look just like this so many times before. Seemingly relaxed, carefree, with his arms folded over his chest. Not a care in the world, although his eyes told a different story. He seemed like a man ready to pounce. To protect or take what he wanted. The dangerous tiger.