by Dara Girard
“The menu. I can’t…” She didn’t want to say ‘read it’.
Dylan looked at her menu then frowned. “Did the maitre d give that to you?”
“No, your sister—”
He snatched it away. “It’s in Spanish,” he said, glaring at Gwen.
She giggled. “I’m surprised it took her so long to notice. Don’t look at me like that. It was a little harmless fun.”
Dylan nodded then said something in Spanish to her that she didn’t find funny at all before he returned his attention back to Jodi. “You can look at my menu. I know what I want.”
“His last girlfriend spoke three languages.” Gwen lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I guess a man’s standards can’t always be high.”
Dylan narrowed his eyes; Malcolm shot his wife a look.
“Actually, that was my girlfriend,” Josh said in a soft voice.
“Was it?” Gwen said with little interest.
Jodi continued to study the menu not daring to look up.
“Try the plancha-grilled calamari,” Josh said, “you won’t be disappointed.”
“Don’t be mean,” Gwen said. “I doubt she knows what ‘plancha’ means.”
Dylan lifted a brow. “She doesn’t need to know what it means to enjoy the food.”
“Plancha is basically a metal or cast iron plate,” Josh said. “And the calamari is doused in lemon. It’s delicious.”
Jodi smiled at him. “Sounds good.”
“But what will you have it with?” Gwen asked.
Jodi gripped the menu unsure.
“I could order for you if…” Josh stopped and looked at his brother for how to proceed. Dylan gave a subtle nod. “You’d like,” he finished.
Jodi closed the menu. “Yes, please.”
And she wasn’t disappointed when the food arrived. She loved Josh’s selection, but the dinner went downhill from there. Malcolm and Josh tried to keep the conversation light, while Gwen continued to make pointed catty remarks, and Jodi tried her best to shrug them off until Dylan set his knife and fork down and said, “One.”
They all looked at him startled, then Gwen said with a nervous laugh. “What are you doing?”
“Two.”
“Dylan, you don’t really think that I would—”
“Three.”
Jodi touched his sleeve. “What are you doing?”
He kept his hard gaze on his sister. “Four.”
“It was a silly game we used to play as children,” Josh said, his gaze darting between his siblings. “Dylan used to have a terrible temper when he was younger so our mother taught him to count to ten.”
“Five.”
“And it was supposed to calm him down. But sometimes he didn’t.”
“Six.”
Gwen held up her hands. “Okay, okay. I’m done.”
He waved at her. “Goodbye.”
“But I haven’t finished eating,” she said.
“Seven.”
Malcolm stood. “We’d better go.”
Gwen snatched her arm away and opened her mouth to say something.
Dylan held up his hand in warning. “Say one word and I’ll jump to ten.”
She grabbed her purse and stormed away. Malcolm made his apologizes then followed.
Josh sighed. “Does this mean no dessert?”
“I’ll send you two deliveries on me,” Dylan said.
His brother smiled and stood. “It was nice meeting you Jodi.”
“Same.”
He left.
Dylan lifted his utensils and began eating again.
Jodi watched them leave the restaurant then turned back to him. “Well your sister hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you; she’s just…that way. But she was extra moody today. I’m sorry.”
Jodi playfully hit him on the arm. “That’s what you get for not warning me.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference. Did you like Josh?”
“Of course I liked him. What’s not to like?”
He scooped up some rice, looking pleased.
“What did Gwen think would happen if you reached ten?”
He smiled, but didn’t respond.
“Dylan, you have to tell me. What was she afraid you would do?”
“Someone’s been asking about you.”
Jodi paused, adjusting to the change in topic. “Me?”
He nodded.
“Who?”
“Gus. Would you like to see him?”
“I’d love to, but first tell me what—”
“I’ll tell you another time.” He gave her a light kiss then said, “Now finish up, Gus is waiting.”
22
“What is wrong with you?” Malcolm demanded once he and Gwen were alone in the car.
“Nothing.”
“If you didn’t want to come you should have said something.”
“I wanted to get him back for upsetting my friend.”
“Annette can take care of herself. And why take it out on Jodi? Why did you have to pick on her like that?”
“What’s the big deal? I don’t understand why he’s seeing her anyway. Does he really think we’d have anything in common with her?”
“She’s funny.”
“So is a seal.”
He glanced at her then back at the road. “That’s nasty even for you.”
“I saw you looking at her.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not that again.”
“You think she’s pretty.”
“I think she’s beautiful.” When his wife looked at him astonished he said, “Do you expect me to lie?”
“She’s not beautiful. Don’t exaggerate. You just said that to make me angry.”
“You’re already angry.”
“I’m not angry, I’m annoyed.”
Malcolm shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
“You were flirting with her.”
“I wasn’t flirting.”
“You’re interested.”
“Not in that way.”
Gwen watched a car speed past them. “I wish I could believe you.”
“Are you crazy? Do you think I’m dumb enough to hit on Dylan’s woman?”
“I think you’re smart enough for him not to know. My brother can be dense sometimes.”
Malcolm turned on some reggaeton music. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Turn that off.”
“No.”
“I saw you two looking cozy at Annette’s party as if you’ve met before.”
“I don’t know her.”
She clicked the music off. “You gave her your card.”
He pounded the steering wheel. “Because I liked her banana fritters!” Silence fell between them. Malcolm shook his head in regret. “There’s nothing more to it. I realize I made a mistake once. I told you I was sorry.”
Gwen turned to look out the window, welcoming the silence in the car.
She hated reggaeton music but she hated his lies even more. The bastard thought he was so clever. Did he really think he could fool her? He used to be more discreet, but now he was getting sloppy. She didn’t like sloppy. She knew he was seeing someone from By Your Side. It was his way. But Jodi Durant had surprised her. She wasn’t his usual type, but maybe he was changing with age.
She had proof of what he was up to—the phone calls, the notes with her initials in his phone. And Jodi even had the gall to wear the same raincoat she’d worn the night Gwen had followed them from the office. She’d had her head covered then. But Gwen had seen them kissing in the car. This car. Brazenly. And now this woman was going to make a fool out of her brother. She would take her time, she wouldn’t strike yet, but she would not see her brother get hurt.
Malcolm sat on the side of his four-poster bed, the lights dim. He rested his head in his hands. He didn’t know what had gotten into her. Gwen could be rude and moody, but she’d never been like this before. He
liked to stay on Dylan’s good side because his brother-in-law always proved useful. Navigating the Flynn clan was always a test of wills.
He glanced down when his cell phone rang. He noticed the number then looked towards the bathroom door where he heard Gwen showering. He quietly walked into the hallway and answered.
“I won’t be able to see you tomorrow,” he said. “I have to deal with a situation.”
“Do you think she’s getting suspicious?” his lover asked.
Yes. “You don’t need to worry about anything.”
“Are you sure?”
He saw the door open down the hall and his five year old daughter came out rubbing her eyes. “Give me some time,” he said in a low voice. He covered the phone then said, “Can’t sleep?”
His daughter shook her head.
“Malcolm?” he heard his lover say.
He silently swore wishing she’d know when to be quiet. “Go back to bed, baby,” he told his daughter. “I’ll be right there to tuck you in. Okay?”
She smiled and nodded then disappeared back into her room.
His lover’s voice grew more insistent. “Are you still there?”
“Yes,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“When will you leave her?”
“You know I have to wait for the right time.” He opened his bedroom door and realized the shower had stopped. Gwen would be out soon and expect to see him in bed, plus he had to go see his daughter.
“I just want to be with you,” his lover said.
“I have to go.”
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too,” he replied, although he didn’t mean it. He knew it was what kept her in line. He had two women in his life and he had to handle them both well or he could lose it all.
23
Gus was smiling.
Jodi almost couldn’t believe it. He still had a hangdog expression, but he looked happy when he and his two companions came to greet her in the foyer of Dylan’s sandstone, contemporary style house. She knelt down to pet him.
“Oh my goodness, Gus. Look at you!” she said pleased to see his uplifted demeanor and wagging tail. “And hello,” she said, petting the other two dogs.
“That’s Rosie and Merchant.” Dylan said.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Jodi stood and the happy trio walked down the hall and into another room. “You really are a miracle worker,” she said.
“It doesn’t take much,” he said, leading her into the living room. “Would you like anything to drink?”
She shook her head and took a seat on the grey custom sectional, sinking comfortably into the cushions. “I’m stuffed. Thanks.” She glanced around at the faux-finished smoke colored walls surprised that the color gave the room a warm feeling rather than a cold one.
“I have a patio. We could sit there and—”
“I’m so comfortable I don’t feel like moving.” She sighed. “I wish my place felt like this. Even though I know the house is mine now, it doesn’t feel that way. I’ve moved some things to the main level, but my parents still prefer the basement.”
“You could sell it.”
She shook her head. “No, I told you that my mother doesn’t like change.” She closed her eyes and rested her head back. “I see why Gus is so happy. It’s so peaceful here. I feel like all my worries are chased away. I wish I could stay here.”
“You can.”
She opened her eyes and stared at him. “I wasn’t inviting myself.”
“I know,” he said in a deep, smooth tone. “I’m inviting you to stay the night.”
She glanced at the three dogs. “What will the children think?”
“They’ll be fine.” He pulled her to her feet. “And I won’t let you use them as an excuse this time.”
Her heart jolted at the heated look in his eyes. “It wasn’t an excuse,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “I was worried about Gus’s wellbeing.”
“As you can see he’s fine now.”
“Yes.” She swallowed feeling suddenly breathless. “You’ve taken good care of him.”
He swept her into his arms. “Now let me take good care of you.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, anticipation making her heart race. “It’s about time.”
And time was what he took. Dylan didn’t do anything fast. He took his time taking off her clothes one item at a time; pulling down the bed sheets and drawing her close. He was in no rush as he explored her breasts, her thighs and her center—first with his fingers then with his tongue—the warm, wet tip causing her to writhe in ecstasy, her body melting into a liquid heat, causing her to tighten.
“Careful,” he said with a deep, laugh. “You nearly took my head off,”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said before reaching for something beside his bed. “Give me a minute to take care of something.”
“Need help?” she asked as he opened a condom packet.
He shook his head and quickly covered himself before he pushed her legs apart. “Are you ready for me?”
“I’ve been ready.”
“Sorry to make you wait,” he said. He slowly slid inside her. “I’ll make it worth it. Go ahead.”
She looked up at him alarmed. “What?”
A quick grin touched his mouth. “You can tighten around me now.”
Which she did, welcoming him deeper inside her, his hard body hot against her skin. And for the first time in her life she didn’t feel like an outsider. She didn’t feel like it was the first time with him, she felt a recognition, a long-lasting bond, as if she’d been waiting for him all her life.
“You make me feel at home,” Jodi breathed, “like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
Dylan kissed her then said, “Because it’s true. You’re meant to be with me.”
And he showed her how much, hoping she would feel the same about him. Hoping that as he felt the tips of her fingers skim across his back that she wanted to hold him as tight as he wanted to hold her. Possession hadn’t been his goal, he’d meant only to persuade her that he was her man. But as her soft sighs mingled with the sound of shifting sheets, the sweet scent of her apple spiced lotion drifted towards him, and a raw feeling of possession gripped him.
His desire for her aroused his hunger for more and he feared he could never get enough.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered in a soft voice he’d never used before.
Jodi looked up at him. “I won’t,” she said and then she smiled, a smile that wrapped him in a warmth he’d never known, one he wanted to hold forever and within seconds he was lost.
“Could you do me a favor,” Jodi said a little shy. She leaned back against him as she smoothed down the hair on his arm, which he had wrapped around her waist. They lay in bed together in the dimly lit room.
“What?”
“Call me ‘Honey’.”
“Honey?”
“Yes, I’ve always wanted someone to call me that. You know, something sweet.”
He slid his hand down her leg. “Why not ‘Syrup’?”
She playfully nudged him in the chest. “That’s not the same.”
He pressed his lips behind her ear. “I could call you ‘Sugar’ or ‘Strawberry’.”
“Dylan.”
“Or ‘Tangerine’. Or ‘Peaches’. No wait, ‘Honeysuckle’.” He drew her close and gently squeezed one of her breasts. “I love honeysuckle.”
“Just call me ‘Honey’.”
He toyed with one hard nipple, his voice husky. “Nice, round and juicy.”
“That’s honeydew.” She turned to face him. “I said call me ‘Honey’.”
He grinned. “I’ll try to remember.”
“And what should I call you?”
“You know what to call me.”
“I’ll call you Dee.”
He shook his head. “I don’t like nicknames. If you want me to answer, you’ll cal
l me by my given name.”
She drew the shape of a heart on his chest.
“That’s cheating.”
“I know.”
“Write something.”
She flattened her hand on his chest. “I don’t know what to write.”
“You can write my name.”
She hesitated.
Dylan closed his eyes. “Go on.”
Jodi began then flopped back on the bed. “This is so stupid. I can’t even spell my boyfriend’s name.”
“You haven’t even tried.” He grabbed her hand and placed it on his chest. “Come on.”
She wrote ‘Dillan’.
“Close.”
“But wrong,” she said with a sigh.
He rested on his elbow and began to draw on her stomach. “You got the d right, but my name doesn’t have the little man,” he said referring to how she remembered the lowercased ‘i’, “it has the kite,” he said writing a ‘y’. “And only one ‘l’ then an ‘a’ and ‘n’. Five simple letters.”
“Let me call you Dee.”
“No.”
“Big Dee?”
“No.”
She lifted the blanket and looked at his penis. “Little Dee?”
He snatched the sheet away and covered himself. “Absolutely not.”
“I wasn’t referring to its size or anything.”
“I don’t care.”
She reached for the sheets. “You’re very well proportioned.”
He pushed her hand away. “I don’t want a nickname.”
“Come on. I want to give you a special name.”
He stood and pulled on his underwear.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked, watching him tug on a pair of jeans.
“No, you just reminded me of something.” He left the room then came back moments later holding a slender, square, brown wrapped object.
“I got you something.”
She unwrapped it. “A kid’s cookbook?”
“Yes, I want you to make me something special.”
“But—”
“The recipes are simple you can do it.”
Jodi flipped through the pages then hung her head thinking of the more detailed and expensive versions at her place. She thought of the instructions from the Black Stockings Society. She doubted they meant her to wear stockings making something like ‘happy faced pancakes’. She set the book down and pushed it away.