Roots and Wings (City Limits #1)
Page 9
He didn’t take the easy path, which led to teasing me for practically saying I’d love to be around for breakfast—or at least that’s what I’d secretly meant, but I didn’t actually want to say it.
Vaughn tried to hide his amusement, but the gleam in his eyes told me he was enjoying the whole situation.
“I do, too.”
“Okay, what time are you picking me up then?”
“What time will you be done with work?”
“Four-thirty or five, maybe a little after. Just depends.”
“And how long will it take you to be ready?”
“I don’t know—half hour or so?” I looked up into the rafters as if the correct answer was hiding up there. Whatever time I had, surely it wouldn’t ever be enough to make myself look like someone he would be with. Then my anxiety bloomed, but it was overpowered by anticipation and excitement.
“All right, I’ll be here at six.”
Crap. I should have said I needed more time, but who was I kidding? I couldn’t wait. And let’s face it, he knew what I looked like.
Unless, maybe he wanted the date to start early so it could end early? I hated feeling so insecure. It was completely new to me. I never had a reason to feel like this.
It was scary.
“Well, I interrupted you, so I’ll let you get back to it.” He glanced at my bench where I was working on a new spinner.
“You’ll have to show me how you do that sometime. I don’t know much about them, but that looks tricky.”
“They are tricky,” I said, following his eyes to the shaggy skirt I was attaching to the head of the one I was working on, thinking about how, at the moment, everything felt that way. Tricky.
I held it up for him to inspect.
“They’re pretty, but they can get ‘cha if you’re not watching it. Gotta take your time with them.”
His face sobered. “That sounds like good advice for lots of things. Take your time and be careful.”
He picked it up out of my hand, spun it around, and then placed it back on the workbench. I swallowed a lump of anxiousness, still a little insecure when he was that close. All of my flaws, or plainness in plain sight.
Our eyes locked, and something in his gaze reminded me that he’d just been through a breakup. And even though he said he was fine with the way things ended with him and Rachelle, it still had to hurt.
I might have been green when it came to relationships, but maybe that was better than experiencing such a terrible one. He didn’t seem sad, but my heart still thought of his in that moment.
I cleared my throat and tried to finish what we were talking about. Better yet, I tried to chase away my crazy thoughts, but it was difficult when his blue eyes looked like they were asking so many questions.
“I’m always careful and I have plenty of time.”
I stood up, and the space between us shrunk even further. Vaughn didn’t move, and in that moment I considered telling him my name and then grabbing his face and kissing him mad.
Then again, I had just told him I was fine with taking my time. That may have been a lie.
“Kimberly?” he asked quietly.
God, how I wished that was my name.
I shook my head, feeling my ponytail swing behind me. “Want me to tell you?”
He shook his head, then he squinted and some of his playfulness came back. “You know I don’t kiss women when I don’t know their name, but I didn’t explain myself. I just don’t kiss them on the mouth.”
I swallowed and my damn legs about failed me. I sat back down on the bar stool so I wouldn’t hit the dirt floor.
He stepped closer like he was going to catch me, but I only fell an inch or two back to the stool.
His hand came up to brace me, but when he realized I’d only sat, it gently touched my face. It was tender and maybe the first time anyone had ever touched me like that.
My eyes fluttered, feeling his hand on my skin, and my lips parted to let out the air that had warmed and expanded in my lungs.
Vaughn leaned in and, like before, his face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath lick across my flesh.
“I want to kiss your lips—so bad—but I want more than that is to know who you are. It’s important to me.” His fingers moved behind my neck as his nose ran along my ear. “So maybe I’ll just kiss you somewhere else.”
As I watched him lean in, not daring to stop him or even move, I fixated on his chest moving in and out before me. My eyes closed and my head rolled ever so slightly to the side, inviting him to place his lips wherever the hell he wanted. He moved closer still, until our legs were touching, and his other arm wrapped possessively around my waist.
I didn’t know what to do with my hands and I was having a hard time focusing, so they just hung limply at my sides. I was in a trance.
His lips moved against my neck as he spoke slowly, “Maybe I should kiss you here? On your sweet neck?”
He moved unhurriedly to my jaw, still not kissing really, but touching me nonetheless, and I thought I was going to combust. The sensation of him in my space, in my shed. The smell of his clean shirt. How his voice deepened and vibrated against my skin.
“Or your jaw here? But that’s so close to your pretty lips. It’s too tempting.”
I think I whimpered, or whined, or groaned. I can’t be sure. I’d never heard that sound come from me. I’m not sure my ears were even working correctly, because the things he was saying sounded like some sort of script from a movie. I didn’t know how to process any of it and I sure as hell didn’t know how to react.
He must have thought I was mentally deficient, and he wouldn’t have been too wrong at the moment.
Then his nearness left and my eyes blinked open to find him looking into me. Like all the way into me.
“I’ll figure out your name, O’Fallon. Then I’m going to kiss your pretty little face off. So be ready for it.” After he spoke, he pressed his lips against my forehead and lifted my chin so that our eyes met again.
His pupils were dilated, only a fraction of that watery blue visible.
“I’ll be here at six tomorrow. Good night,” he said, and then he quickly kissed the top of my head and left.
I was frozen to my seat.
Any words I may have tried to say wedged in my throat.
I’d never been an emotional person. I’d always prided myself on handling things with a level head.
Vaughn had, in a few short weeks, changed all that. I was feeling things, emotional things. Massive, unfamiliar things.
I sat out there by myself for a while longer and thought.
I wasn’t sure if he’d still be interested in me after he got to know me better. I knew I wasn’t likely going to change much, but maybe changing a little wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
For the first time, I wanted to impress a man. Not because I wanted his business, or simply to warm my bed, but I wanted a man to desire me, and even if I hated to admit it, I wanted to be treated like I was special. Like I was beautiful.
And, there in that garage, he’d done just that.
I felt, more than anything, that he desired me—all of me—and I craved more of it.
I could have just called. Really, all I wanted to know was what she wanted for dinner.
Who was I kidding?
I wanted to see her. After only knowing her for a few short weeks, I missed her.
I was with Rachelle for almost two years and I didn’t miss her, at least not like I did O’Fallon, and she was just down the street.
But you know what?
Life is short.
Did I feel strange starting a relationship so soon after Rachelle, moving, and everything that happened? Yes.
But, on the other hand, I didn’t.
I wanted O’Fallon.
I wanted to touch her.
I wanted her to touch me.
I wanted to kiss her and tell her how beautiful I thought she was, and that the time we spent tog
ether was never enough.
Something told me she was just as surprised by it as I was. From what she’d told me, she had never been in a relationship. At least not like the one I wanted with her.
I had to figure out her name. Between the look on her face each time we’d almost kissed and the way she reacted to me, it was all I thought about.
I could ask someone in town what her name was, but that would be cheating. Like going behind her back. If she wanted me to know, she’d tell me. I think she liked the game. And, in a way, I did, too.
It was a paradox. I wanted to know, but only on our terms.
As I drove back to my house, after showing up in her barn that night, I imagined what it would be like when it finally happened.
Two things were possible.
One. It would be just as good, if not better, than I imagined.
Two. It was possible that when we kissed she wouldn’t feel it like I did.
Something happens to your ego when a woman you love, or think you love, leaves you for someone else. Someone with whom she had already started a relationship with.
It made me think about how she must have compared us. And, the fact was, she hadn’t chosen me. There was a little voice inside my head that hinted maybe I wasn’t good enough. Maybe I didn’t make her happy enough. Maybe I pushed too hard, or came on too strong.
Even though Rachelle said none of those things were the case and that it just happened, a man’s head would play tricks on him. What if these feelings I was having for O’Fallon were just my way of regaining some of the pride I lost?
I was uncertain. Or maybe I was just nervous. All of this was so different. Thrilling and fun. Learning about her and telling her about myself was gratifying. I didn’t feel like there was anything I couldn’t tell her.
She was amusing and spirited. Outgoing and one of the most authentic women—hell, people—I’d ever had the pleasure of meeting.
Sometimes when you meet people you wonder: how are they going to change my life?
And sometimes when you meet the right person, all you can think is what a privilege it would be to change theirs.
I didn’t want to change her, per se. I wouldn’t change anything about her, but, rather, how I could make her life better. How I could make her happy.
I pulled in my drive and, unlike when I lived in Cleveland, I didn’t second-guess the need to lock my SUV. I honestly didn’t need to. No one there even locked their houses when they went out of town. It was the strangest thing.
We didn’t really nail down what I’d make for dinner, the only logical reason I’d gone to her house, but at least I had a handle on what she wouldn’t like.
As I looked through my refrigerator, I made a mental list of the things I’d need, choosing to not go with breakfast. Maybe another night … or morning.
I also decided that I’d go in a little early, and leave a little early, the next day from work. I was only taking a few patients in the mornings, and then helping with overflow in the afternoons if there was an emergency, so it wouldn’t be a problem.
The staff in Dr. Carver’s office was great. The receptionist, Julie, was a mom of three and married to her high school sweetheart. There were also a few dental assistants, Cindy and Valerie, who were best friends and kept the atmosphere in the office energetic and full of laughter.
I was a good fit for the practice. Not to brag, but I was kind of a hot commodity in the small town dentistry community. When I began looking for a practice to either join or buy into, like I had with Dr. Carver’s, I found that someone with my skills wasn’t all that easy to come by.
I was top of my class at the University of Michigan, and extended my education into orthodontics and oral surgery. The kicker was I had experience working with implants, prosthetics, and things of that nature, which made me stand out from your typical general dentist.
I’m not usually cocky, but I kind of had a lot working for me, with respect to my profession.
Finding a place that would feel like home was a more difficult task.
I’d received many great offers, but it had come down to finding the right house in the right town. As it turned out, I loved the bungalow, and the town was turning out to be a great place to live.
The people were friendly and, regardless of their motives, genuinely interested in what was going on in your life. There weren’t many, but Wynne had just enough businesses that you really didn’t have to leave for much. People waved as you drove by and called you by name when you passed them on the street.
And O’Fallon was there.
Funny how things worked out.
The next morning flew by and I found myself checking the clock almost constantly. I was glad time was on my side and the minutes peeled off at record pace.
“I told Dr. Carver and Julie I’m heading out a little early this afternoon,” I said to Cindy and Valerie in the break room, where I found them taking their lunch break together. “I hope that doesn’t cause any issue for you guys.”
They looked at each other and laughed a little. I wondered what it was like to have a friendship that had lasted as long as theirs.
I had one good friend growing up, a friend or two from high school that I used to run into every now and then, and a few more from college, but other than that, I was solo.
“Whatcha got going on tonight, Dr. Renfro? Hot date?” teased Cindy.
I wasn’t sure what to say.
Yes, I did have a hot date, but it felt too personal telling them. It was practically our first official date and I didn’t want things getting all over town before O’Fallon was comfortable with it.
Shit, especially until I knew her first fucking name.
Then I realized they probably knew what it was. It was my chance. I could find out and then pretend to guess it sooner than later tonight.
But I couldn’t do it.
“I have plans,” I said, not going into detail. “I just wanted to make sure you knew and that someone would be here to lock up.” I’d been locking up on most nights, since I was trying to get into the groove of the office procedures.
They shared a conspiratorial look and a unison, “mmm-hmm,” and then went back to their lunches and conversation.
Just like the morning, the afternoon flew by much the same. Before long, it was three thirty and I was driving to the store.
For as small as Willard’s was, surprisingly, they had most everything. The produce was fresh and the meat counter had a great selection. It was just funny that there were only about a dozen parking spots. I smiled to myself as I watched one of the guys who worked there carrying out an elderly lady’s bags, just like a Norman Rockwell postcard.
This was a good place to live.
I grabbed a few vegetables, a nice—for Wynne—bottle of red, though I wasn’t sure if O’Fallon liked wine. I also picked up Newcastle, which I was sure was a good alternative, just in case.
I found two really nice New York Strips, and was walking down a few of the aisles, checking things out since I had the time. I was glad to find they had deodorant and shaving stuff, and just about anything a man would need. They had general medicines and I was shocked to see they actually carried condoms.
Good to know, but who wanted to buy a box of condoms there?
Plus, I doubted I’d need them. At least not that night. I wasn’t in any hurry to get that physical with O’Fallon, but it did remind me when—and if—things did progress that way, I’d need to think about it.
I checked out at one of the two registers they had and grabbed a cold drink out of the cooler nearby.
“So you think you’ll be sticking around then?” asked the lady who was ringing me up.
We’d talked briefly last time I was in and she tried to convince me to move back to Cleveland, that Wynne had nothing to offer a handsome, young doctor like myself. I most certainly was staying, but she was completely wrong. Wynne had a lot to offer.
“Of course I’m staying. I like it here.”
“Yeah, sounded good.”
“You got two steaks in here?”
These people and their fishing for gossip. They knew just how to dig for information without coming right out and saying, “What are you doing and who are you doing it with?”
“They both looked good,” I said, evading her probing question.
“You drink Newcastle? Need a bag of ice?”
That wasn’t a bad idea, so I replied, “Yes, please.” I ignored the Newcastle question.
She put all of my items in bags. Then I saw the same candy bar O’Fallon brought me and grabbed one, adding to my total at the last minute. Judging by the lady’s face, it was a move that was a major pain in her ass.
“Will that be all?” she said sarcastically, but giving me a grin to counteract her tone.
“Think so.”
“Big plans this weekend? You need help out?”
“I think I’m just going to enjoy the weather, maybe listen to the ball game on Sunday. I think I can manage.”
“I’m sure you can, sweetie,” she added as I looped the handles of the bags and headed for the automatic doors.
“Come back now,” she shouted after me.
I noticed that O’Fallon’s truck was missing from the lot at her dad’s garage as I drove past. Had she taken off early, too? That thought excited me.
When I got home, I did a quick run through the house. It was easy to keep clean, mainly because I’d spent most of my time outside, working on the landscaping. I’d even pulled out a few bushes in the back that were overgrown, and, frankly, a pain in the ass to mow around.
I took a shower and gave my face a clean shave. Then, for the first time in my life, I stood in front of my closet—in my boxers—trying to decide what to wear.
What in the hell?
In the city, when I’d take a girl out, I’d wear nice pants and a button up shirt. Here it was all different. We weren’t really going out. I’d look stupid if I dressed like that to cook on the grill and drive around on dirt roads.