I sighed going back to chopping the veggies. “You’ve got to stop bringing these women home. It’s…gross.”
“I know.”
My head shot up from my chopping. “Really?”
He pulled a glass from the cabinet and went to the fridge pouring a glass of milk. “Krystal looked good.”
Yes! Maybe he was coming to his senses!
“Yeah,” I replied as nonchalantly as I could, turning back to the onion and celery and employing major self-control as I tried to keep from jumping up and down and clapping my hands. For some reason, I thought if I showed any enthusiasm it would jinx it all. Weird, I know, but I wasn’t about to do anything that might screw things up for them.
“She seeing anyone?”
I was so giddy it was all I could do to remain calm. “No one special,” I answered.
“Huh.” He finished his milk, setting his glass in the sink then leaned a hip against the counter facing me. “Think she’d be willing to talk?”
I honestly didn’t know. But I did know something. “You might give it a week. Or two. I mean, you did just have a…sleepover.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Hey, I haven’t told you but I’ve been taking a couple online classes.”
I looked at him in surprise. “You have?”
“Yeah. If I’m gonna do this bar thing, might as well work toward becoming a manager. Maybe even an owner someday.” Pushing off the counter with his hip, he said, “Going to Jeff’s for a bit. When will that be ready?” He nodded at the roast.
“Couple hours.”
“Be back,” he answered pulling on a jacket.
He went out the back door as I threw in the vegetables, arranging them strategically around the meat before seasoning it. Placing the pan in the oven, I realized I wore a huge smile on my face.
Chapter 11
I’d given up by the time I went to bed Sunday night.
Drake hadn’t texted back and I didn’t figure he would.
~*~*~*~*~
Betsy again drove like a dream to class Monday morning which made me think of Drake.
And how I hadn’t heard from him.
During class I decided that after work, I’d go by Powers Automotive and apologize to him personally. Not that it’d change things, but it’d make me feel better.
Or worse if he decided he didn’t want to talk to me again. Ever.
Just thinking about it made me apprehensive while I drove to Colonial Manor after class as I went through all the scenarios:
1. Drake would smile when he saw me, apologizing for not texting and we’d ride off on a white stallion together. Yeah, yeah. Big fat eye roll.
2. When he saw me, he’d frown then tell me to get the fuck out of there.
3. He’d be making out with that Dina chick and laugh at me, then they’d ride off on the stallion together, Dina’s giggling trailing behind them.
4. He’d refuse to talk to me altogether, ignoring my presence entirely—as he had the entire week.
5. I’d be cool, he’d be cool, I’d apologize, he’d apologize, then I’d leave never to see him again.
Well, those all sounded fabulous. Ugh.
At work, I clocked in, checked the charts then made a few rounds, checking on the east wing to see if anyone needed new bedding or whatever might’ve come up during the day. Just before dinner, and an hour before I’d leave, I started setting up the med cups. As soon as I filled them all, I made my rounds, thanking my lucky stars for the millionth time at getting to see the patients this way.
Mrs. Johnson was in an uncommonly good mood, smiling at me when I pushed the cart into her room.
“Holly! You’re looking lovely today!” she said.
“Thank you, Aunt Greta. You’re looking quite lovely yourself,” I told her as I picked up her cup and handed it to her.
“Did Robert take you back? He’s a fool if he didn’t. Look how beautiful you are today!”
Wow. I wondered if someone’s Prozac had accidentally rolled under her door and she’d taken it thinking it was a mint or something.
“Thank you,” I answered, waiting for the imminent judgment she always had waiting below the surface to come forth.
But it didn’t. She took her meds then smiled, telling me to have a good evening. As I left her room, a surprised smile formed on my face.
Huh. Miracles could actually happen. Shock.
I next wheeled the cart to Mr. Avery’s—whoops—Oswald’s, room. Friday he’d told me he was going to play basketball against his granddaughter over the weekend, so I couldn’t wait to hear how it’d gone.
“Hey, Oswald! How’d the one-on-one game—” I began but pulled up short when I saw that his room was empty, as in all his things were gone.
My hand covered my mouth as my heart began beating rapidly, my breathing speeding up as tears burned the backs of my eyes.
“No,” I whispered, telling myself to calm down.
He was staying at his daughter’s. Yes, that was it. She’d finally taken time off work so he could live with them for a while. That’s what’d happened. He’d told me his granddaughters were so excited about his moving in with them.
I stood in his doorway for a moment longer, convincing myself that, yes, that was what was going on. Then nodding, I wiped a random tear from my cheek that had slipped by and went to finish dispensing meds.
~*~*~*~*~
After work, I sat in Betsy in the nursing home parking lot staring out the windshield as tears streamed down my face.
Susan, the nursing director, had found me outside the last room on my rounds and told me Mr. Avery had passed away over the weekend. She’d apologized all over herself for not getting to me beforehand but she’d been in a meeting. She’d gone on to say that he’d been at his daughter’s and had gone peacefully in his sleep, of which I was glad. I’d thanked her for telling me, and after clocking out, I’d hardly been able to hold in my sobs until I got to my truck.
The thought of never seeing Mr. Avery again had my tears coming hard, and I covered my face with my hands as I cried. When someone suddenly knocked at my side window, I jumped then turned to see Drake leaning down looking concernedly at me. I got out of the truck and grabbed him in a hug, my sobs coming anew.
“Shhh,” he whispered, rubbing a hand up and down my back.
“I—I didn’t…get to…say…goodbye,” I said through my tears, the ambiguity of the statement hitting me hard.
“It’s okay, baby,” he consoled quietly. “He knew you cared about him.”
“H-how do you know wh-who I’m t-talking about?” I asked, keeping the side of my head against his chest again sensing the double meaning in our comments.
His hand stilled on my back as he explained, “I went inside to find you. They told me you were upset, so I came out here hoping to catch you.”
I buried my face in his soft leather jacket, the feel of his arms around me and the earthy smell of him comforting me more than anything. Crying softly as he held me, my sadness for Mr. Avery and my relief that Drake was there became a dichotomy of confusion in my head.
I pulled back and looked up at him, his face so beautiful in the dim lights of the lot. “Wh-why are you here?”
“Needed to talk to you.”
I sniffled and ran my fingers under my eyes waiting to hear what he had to say.
“You going home?”
I nodded.
“Can I follow you back to your place?”
I nodded again watching his eyes roam over my face as if he hadn’t seen me in years or maybe he was trying to memorize my features. I didn’t know. Then he leaned in slowly, his golden eyes on mine, seeking permission it seemed. When I didn’t move away, he touched his lips to mine.
“I’ll be right behind you,” he promised, opening the truck door for me to get in.
~*~*~*~*~
“I’m sorry for what happened last Tuesday,” I apologized, placing a plate with a brownie on it in front of Drake who sat at the table.
We were in my kitchen where I felt most comfortable because if he was going to tell me things wouldn’t work out with us, at least I was in a place I liked. But then I semi-panicked thinking I’d hate the kitchen forever if that happened.
Great.
I handed him a bottle of beer—because beer with something sweet always tastes better—then sat across from him, my own brownie and beer in front of me. I was still weepy, of course, but that couldn’t be helped. I’d loved Mr. Avery and knew I’d miss him terribly.
“Stop apologizing,” Drake said quietly. Then taking a bite from his fork—these were my double chocolate Hershey’s syrup brownies that required a fork—he let out a groan. “Fucking amazing, Honor.”
“Thanks.” I took my own bite and had to agree. They were pretty good.
“What’d you do all week?” he asked a little sheepishly.
I told him about the roast I’d made then my classes, finishing up with yesterday when Tiffany had called me a cunt. “Between her and Jeremiah, I guess March is gonna be Call Honor Any Name but Her Own month,” I pointed out with an annoyed shrug.
“C’mere,” he said, scooting his chair out a bit from the table.
My brow creased for a moment, then I got up and went to him where he pulled me down to sit sideways in his lap.
“I thought a lot about what happened Tuesday.” He pulled the band from my ponytail letting my hair spill down over my shoulders as he ran his hand through it. He tilted his head as he looked at me. “I’m not gonna apologize for how I reacted.” When I frowned and turned away, he took my chin in his fingers pulling me back to face him. “But I will tell you I’m sorry how it made you feel.” His eyes searched mine and he let my chin go. “Does that make sense?”
“Yes, but if you’d just told me…”
He nodded. “I’ll try, Honor. It’s just that I protect what’s…mine.”
I blinked. Then I blinked again. Was he saying I was his? I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that. I mean, on the one hand, it was kinda awesome. But on the other, were we even there yet since he was keeping things from me and telling me he had to be careful who he let in his life?
“Oh,” was all I could think to say.
He smiled. “Fuckin’ cute.” His fingers dribbled through my hair as he murmured, “Testing me, babe.” Then he shook his head.
“I guess I’m gonna have to learn Drake-speak because half the things you say make no sense to me,” I revealed.
At that, he threw his head back and laughed which made me smile. “Like I said, fuckin’ cute,” he repeated, then sliding a hand under my hair at the back of my head, he pulled me in for a kiss.
And, dear God, what a kiss it was. By the end of it, I was panting and moaning into his mouth, one hand gripping his shoulder so tightly I was probably leaving nail marks, the other clinched hard in the hair at the back of his neck.
“We good?” he pulled back and asked, his eyes full of mirth at the now-sloppy state I was in. Jeez.
I nodded and he gently pushed me to stand as he did the same. He took his plate to the sink where he rinsed it and his fork, finished what was left of his beer and finding the trashcan in the cabinet under the sink, threw it away.
“Walk me out, babe.” He held his hand out to me and taking mine led me to the front door where he asked, “Can I see you Wednesday night?”
“Um, yes,” I answered.
“How about I bring a pizza and a movie here?”
I twisted my mouth and teased, “You’re not gonna bring one of those blow-‘em-up-then-chop-‘em-to-pieces-guy movies, are you?”
He chuckled. “Well, I am a guy.”
“How about I pick the movie? I promise it’ll be something we’ll both like,” I assured.
“Horror?”
“Comedy.”
He raised an eyebrow and warned, “Just want you to know, I judge people by their taste in movies. This could make or break us.” Well, crap. Now I was a little nervous. He went on to explain, “Zane pulled up Zombeavers on Netflix last year saying it was hilarious and I haven’t spoken to him since.”
Nervousness gone, I started giggling and couldn’t stop.
“It’s really not that funny, Honor,” he stated all serious, which made me laugh even harder. “Worst hour of my fuckin’ life.”
Oh, God. I was crying.
“Laugh all you want, baby. Won’t be funny when I’m giving you the silent treatment,” he said with a grin so I knew he was playing. He wrapped his arms around my waist smiling down at me. “Doubt I could stay mad at you for long, though.”
I wanted to say that he had for a week, but stopped myself. Instead I said, “I want to thank you.”
“For?”
“For making my bad day better.”
“Ditto.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine, whispered a goodnight, and after ordering me to lock the door, at which I rolled my eyes, he was gone.
Chapter 12
“Your father was my favorite.” My voice caught for a moment. “A-and I loved him like he was my own,” I told Mr. Avery’s daughter after the funeral.
“You must be Honor,” she replied with a sad smile. “He talked so highly of you.”
“I’ll miss him so much,” I said with a sniff.
“Thank you for taking such good care of him,” she said, wiping a tear away as I did the same.
“Of course.”
“Oh, he wanted you to have this.” She pulled something from the pocket of her dress then looking down at it, gave a bewildered smile before handing it to me.
Gazing at what she’d given me, I saw it was the knight from his chess set and I choked out a sob.
“I’m not sure what it means,” she said. “He just said you’d get it.”
“I do,” I answered with a nod. “Thank you.”
I left the church and drove home, and in my bedroom, placed the knight on my dresser where I knew I’d always see it.
~*~*~*~*~
“Not bad,” Drake said Wednesday night when the credits of the movie rolled.
He’d called the night before to make sure I was okay, knowing I’d gone to Mr. Avery’s funeral, and we’d ended up talking for several hours. I’d told him about the knight, which he thought was awesome, and I’d learned that he was the oldest of his five brothers—yeesh, his poor mom.
I’d found out that Kase was twenty-four and a computer security analyst at a local well-known computer company; Zane was twenty-three and had just gotten a job as a police officer; Blaze was twenty-one, like me, and finishing up his degree in finance along with playing football; Wilder, at twenty-one was lead singer and guitarist in a band; and Titus had just turned nineteen and was taking classes in auto-body at a technical school, planning to work as a mechanic for Drake someday but eventually helping him add a body shop to the garage.
Good grief. So many to keep up with!
“I’m gonna need to write all this down,” I’d replied with a chuckle.
Now we sat on the couch after watching the movie I’d picked. I glanced at him, looking so hot in his blue, plaid button up that was half tucked in over a black t-shirt.
We’d watched Nothing to Lose, an older movie which I’d always thought was hysterical and starred Martin Lawrence.
Drawing my legs up and putting my bare feet on the couch, I wrapped my arms around my legs and rested the side of my head on my knees looking at him. “You liked it?”
He nodded. “Best part?” he said. When I raised my eyebrows, he continued. “Well, other than the spider scene, you sittin’ here on the couch next to me.”
I smiled. “I think under all your badass exterior, you’re really a softy at heart,” I teased which got me narrowed eyes and made me giggle.
I felt really good about where we were right then in the relationship, having weathered a small storm and come out stronger. We’d talked a lot over pizza, with Drake sharing a lot more about himself and his family and also telling me more of what h
e wanted for his future. I was getting to know him a lot better and I liked everything I was learning about him.
After my comment, he turned fast, tackling me to where I now lay with my back to the sofa with him on top.
“Nothing soft about me, babe,” he rumbled before his lips suddenly crashed down on mine.
And I was ready. I’d waited long enough. God, I wanted him so badly.
I moaned into his mouth, my hips involuntarily rising to meet his, amping up everything which was awesome. His hands were now everywhere, one under my shirt, grasping my breast over my bra where he rolled my nipple between his thumb and finger making me cry out. His other hand slid down between us, over my belly and into my jeans, down inside my panties where he glided his fingers through my folds.
“Oh, God, yes,” I breathed as he paid particular attention to my clitoris, his fingers on either side, moving with purpose, extracting whimpers and mewls and other incoherent sounds to issue from my mouth.
When he dipped a finger inside, curling it and pressing it into me, gliding it over that secret spot, I threw my head back, arching up off the couch, my mouth open as I breathed out an Oh fuck! as I came hard, every muscle tensing, shaking, as white hot bolts of energy slammed through me.
Holy hell. He’d barely touched me and I’d orgasmed. Just. Like. That.
Shit!
“Jesus,” I heard him murmur from above me.
Opening my eyes and breathing hard, I looked up at him in awe, just as surprised as he was at my response to his touch.
Damn, the man was good.
“Make love to me, Drake,” I uttered between breaths.
Then I watched as he sucked in a breath and went still.
Crap!
He hesitated!
God, had I read him wrong? He’d made it clear a couple times—or so I’d thought—that he wanted me, but now I guessed I was mistaken.
Our eyes held for a moment, his full of indecision—why was he so guarded?—and I started to sit up.
“It’s okay. We don’t—” I began when he suddenly scooped me up bridal style standing and carrying me down the hall quickly. I guess he did want me after all?
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