Madness

by J. L. Vallance

  “I know very well who you are, Francesca. Just as well as you know who I am, you can stop playing now,” he replied, dragging a hand through his unruly brown hair. My face fell, the façade crumbling. The jig was up. “You know, your brother-in-law is awfully protective of you.”

  “How’s that?” I managed to sputter. You’re such a fucking loser, Winters.

  “I’ve been begging him for your number for months, and he refused to give it to me. He said I needed to set my sights on someone else, that you were ‘off limits.’ But then he talked about you and the vineyards and how passionate you were about them.”

  “So, you hunted me down?” I asked, my words coming out a lot stronger than I’d thought they would.

  “It wasn’t that difficult. You are Elise’s sister, Miss Winters. And this here,” he said, turning in a wide circle, his arms spread wide around him, “this is all yours.”

  “We have the how, let’s try the why?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “You’ve not called about the truck. There is also the little fact that you have my license, remember?”

  “Do I? I completely forgot about that,” I lied. I lied so hard. I stared at that license every God-forsaken day.

  “No you haven’t,” he answered, calling my bluff. “You were mental about the damages done to your truck. What, did you just decide it wasn’t important?”

  “It was very important, thank you,” I ground out, my initial anger with his reckless driving resurfacing. “I took care of the repairs myself.”

  “Did you?” he questioned, furrowing a brow. “You have your boyfriend fix it for you?”

  “Don’t have one, Mr. O’Neill. I fixed them myself. With my brother’s help. But I did most of the work.”

  “You’re a girl that likes to get dirty, huh?” His words dripped with innuendo.

  “For the right reasons, I like a little bit of everything. My dad and I did the original bodywork. I’ve been tooling with that stuff since I was a kid.”

  “Interesting,” he smirked. “What do I owe you for the parts and labor?”

  “I don’t want your money.”

  “Let me take you to dinner then.”

  “I have plans.”

  “Maybe some other time?”

  “I’ll have plans.”

  “When won’t you have plans?”

  “Uh, not anytime in the near future,” I replied. “I’ll mail your license.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Great,” I smiled. “Well thanks for stopping in, but it’s closing time, so. . .”

  “I’ve been thinking about you—only you, since their wedding,” Rory said.

  “Look, Colin’s right. I’m not worth the trouble. Maybe you should find someone else to hunt down at their place of employment. Maybe there is another girl whose car you fucked up with your imperfect driving?”

  “I don’t want anyone else, Francesca. Do you have any idea how devastated I was when I woke up that Sunday morning, and you were gone?”

  All my alarms were sounding. This is why you should never go out, get shit-faced, and do stupid, stupid things. They come back to bite you right in the ass. Not that I would mind him biting me on the ass or anywhere else. . .

  “I’m not that girl. I don’t do dressing up or drinking, and I certainly don’t do one-night stands,” I replied, stepping back to distance myself from him, feeling the same shame I’d felt the Sunday morning he spoke of. The word anymore was echoing in my mind.

  “Why did you leave?”

  “Because I shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” I replied.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I really do, Rory,” I replied, fidgeting with my hands. I’d known him for one evening. I let innocent flirting get way out of hand, turning into my own guilt for weeks to follow.

  “You and I—we could have a good time together,” he reminded me, following my step until he stood flush against the bar.

  “I like alone; I like having a meal in silence. I like picking out my own movie and watching it by myself. I like enjoying a carton of ice cream with good old me. I don’t do relationships. Not now, not ever.”

  “We shared an amazing night, Francesca. Think of what else we could have.” He ran the back of his fingers down my arm and an involuntary shudder rippled through my body. I know what we could share, I dreamed about it more than I should. Didn’t mean I was going to be signing up for it anytime soon.

  “Perhaps you aren’t as amazing as you give yourself credit for.”

  “Oh I have heard the pleasured cries of many women that would disagree,” he replied leaning heavy forearms over the bar. “Including yours.”

  I allowed those words to wash over me as I was assaulted with a vivid flashback.

  “You like this Francesca?” Rory asked, pushing inside of my body hard and deep.

  “Yes,” I rasped.

  “Louder!” he demanded, pressing harder.

  “Yes!” I cried. “Don’t stop! Please, don’t stop!”

  My cheeks flushed. He had been a pro at what he did. Fuck if I’d ever admit it to him. I steadied my hands, schooled my features, and squared my shoulders.

  “Maybe you aren’t very good at telling the difference between real and fake,” I replied, staring straight into his eyes.

  “Tell me that you’ve not thought of me since that night,” Rory demanded, his face inches from mine.

  “Not even once,” I replied, praying that the lie didn’t show in my expression.

  “Liar,” he whispered across my lips, and I swallowed hard. “I know damn well you’ve thought of me just as much as I’ve thought of you. It was written all over your beautiful face the moment you stood up and looked in my eyes.”

  He remained on the other side of the bar, leaning so close I could smell peppermint on his breath as his lips hovered just above my mouth. And in spite of myself, I prayed that he’d kiss me, that he’d wrap his arms around me, pull me across the bar and into his lap and kiss me senseless.

  “You got under my skin that night, Miss Winters, and whether you like it or not, I will pursue you. And eventually, you will give in, because you want me just as I want you.”

  He leaned in farther, his lips barely brushing mine before he backed away, looking at me across the bar with a look of triumph.

  “If I don’t hear from you soon, I’ll be back. And Francesca?”

  “Yeah?” I managed.

  “I will have you beneath me again. But this time, I’ll keep you there.” There was conviction in his words and promise in his eyes, before he finally turned and walked back out into the storm.

  I remained where he’d left me, unable to move, unable to believe what happened. Rory O’Neill searched for and found me. He came to me with a promise to return. And fuck me if I didn’t want that more than I wanted warm caramel drizzled over ice cream.

  **

  I opened the door in a rush and looked out into the near empty street. My eyes settled on Karleigh, and I grabbed her wrist, pulling her inside, and shutting the door. I leaned back against it, closed my eyes, and took a deep, calming breath.

  “Are ninja assassins chasing you or something?” Karleigh asked.

  I opened my eyes and walked past her as she peeled her coat, hat, and scarf off, toward the kitchen. I walked up to the counter, grabbing Rory’s license, and turned back, almost walking into her.

  “Crap, I didn’t realize you followed me,” I said, putting a hand to my forehead.

  “What the hell is going on with you, Frank?” she asked, pushing her bangs out of her face. “Lukas been making you watch the scaries again?”

  “This, this is what the hell is going on with me,” I said, shoving the ID toward her.

  She took it reluctantly, studying it for a few seconds, before realization struck her. She looked up at me, pointing down at the card in her hand, her lips shaped into a perfect O.

  “Is this Rory, like hot and sexy, screwed yo
ur brains out, and continues to haunt your naughty dreams, Rory?” Her words came out in an excited rush.

  “Your tact, as always, is superb,” I replied, returning to the counter, grabbing a bottle of pinot noir that I decided I needed more than the ice cream, pouring a glass, and emptying it in two massive gulps. Fuck not drinking. “But, yes, that Rory.”

  “Holy shit, so this is the reason for the freak out?” she asked, placing her purse on the counter.

  “He showed up at the winery today, Karleigh! He may as well have laid me out on the cold tile and—” I paused, pouring another glass of wine, only taking one sip. “He was all smooth, and suave, and master of seduction.”

  “I am not seeing the problem here,” she replied, pouring herself a glass of wine.

  “The problem is I don’t want him here! Why would he bother coming back?”

  “Probably because that night is on replay in his mind, just as it is in yours,” she replied, eyeing me with a duh look.

  “And right there, you have the problem.”

  I grabbed my glass of wine and walked out into the living room, sitting on the couch. I circled the rim of the glass with my middle finger, images of my night with Rory blazing through my mind. My body hummed, and my mind nearly split in two.

  “I’m sorry, I still fail to see the problem,” Karleigh sighed sitting on the other end of the couch.

  “While I replay that night in my mind more often than I should, I regret it equally as often. It was one night where I slipped up; I allowed things to get out of control.”

  “Was it the best idea to hop in the sheets with some rando-stranger? Probably not. But you shouldn’t feel ashamed. I know you, Frank. I know that deep down, you would not have gone through with things had you not felt a little something.”

  “Yes, of course I felt something. It’s called tequila. And lots of it,” I replied, taking another sip of wine. Of course that wasn’t entirely true. I identified with Rory. In some way, on some level, I identified with whatever struggle he harbored. And that was why I couldn’t get him off my mind or out of my veins. “Obviously this man is a bad influence. He comes back into my life after two months and I’m slurping wine like it’s the nectar of life.”

  “I call bullshit. First of all, you remember almost every sinfully delicious detail of that night. If Señor Patrón made you do it, you would be missing more than what’s remaining. And second, you wouldn’t be this worked up if it simply meant nothing. Frankie Winters doesn’t do emotional outbursts. At least not in the presence of others.”

  “I don’t do feelings, Karls! Period!” I shouted, beginning to feel smothered by the situation.

  “Maybe it’s time for you to start doing feelings. Perhaps, I mean, this is just a wild theory, but maybe you haven’t ever done feelings because you hadn’t met someone you really wanted to take that leap with. Look, I’ve made it more than clear that I think your little ‘arrangement’ with Lukas is a tragedy in the making. Maybe Rory can be the solution.”

  “Or, maybe change is horrific and unnecessary. My life is simple. It’s uncomplicated right now, and him coming around, it scares me.” My words were soft, the weight of them sinking in.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “That one night with him, I became so lost in him. I lived and breathed for his touch, for his attentions, for anything he’d give me. Rory O’Neill is a dangerous man for me to be around. He could easily become a bad habit—one that will leave me battered and broken.”

  “You have always been so focused on being alone and not needing anyone. Even Lukas, the man that is by your side, protecting you, and loving you. You only take from him what you are willing to own. What if it’s time to let that go?”

  “And what if it’s really not?” I countered. Anxiety was clawing at my insides like a rabid spider monkey. Lukas was my comfort, my safety zone. Rory was a wild card. He was a great, big, fat unknown. It was fucking frightening.

  “What are you so afraid of? What do you have against love and romance?”

  “Romance is for girls, love is for the weak.”

  “Last I knew, beneath that rough exterior, you’re a chick. And I know damn well you came from a tight, loving family. You know all too well what love feels like—to give and receive. Love isn’t for the weak, it’s for those brave enough to risk it all.”

  “Karls, I’m barely brave enough to pick Cream of Wheat over the old and reliable standby, oatmeal.”

  “You better find some bravery, somewhere. And I’m telling you right now, it won’t be found at the bottom of a bottle of pinot. Not that you didn’t already know that. But take the time to explore this thing with Mr. SexyPants, and set Lukas free.”

  “Lukas is free. He knows that. I’ve told him many times that I can’t ever give him a future; at least not one outside of sex.”

  “He’ll never walk away from you. It has to be the other way around,” Karleigh replied, leveling me with her most intense I’m really serious, so listen the fuck up look. “You are holding him back, Frankie. The future Mrs. Lukas Pope could be out there, just waiting for him to find her, but he never will if he’s too wrapped up in you. I love you like a sister but it’s time for you to think of what’s best for him. It’s what’s best for you too.”

  I hated that she was right. No matter how many times Lukas and I spoke of the terms of our agreement, or I explained to him just what I wasn’t able to give, he would still be there. He’d always come when I called, always be there to break my fall. He was an amazing man that deserved a whole hell of a lot more than I could ever offer.

  “So, I’ll talk to Lukas. I’ll set him free as you say,” I mumbled, emptying my wine glass. “That doesn’t mean that I’ll call Rory back or give into the pursuit he’s promised.”

  “Oh, Frank,” she sighed. “You will eventually. It’s written all over your face.”

  Chapter 10

  “So you’re not over your tantrum?”

  “It wasn’t a tantrum, and my decision has nothing to do with that,” I replied, looking around the busy coffee house. The brick walls with local scenery didn’t contain enough pizzazz to hold my attention. That was brought back to Lukas with the sound of disgust rattling around in the back of his throat.

  “This is Karleigh’s doing, isn’t it?”

  For not being one to do emotions or feelings, I was going through a mountain of them as Lukas stared at me over his steaming mug of coffee. His eyes held confusion and a mixture of hurt and anger. It killed me; made me want to laugh and say, “Gotcha! Just kidding!” I knew better. This was the right thing to do. Even if it sucked.

  “It’s my doing, Luka. It’s what’s best for both of us.”

  “It’s not what’s best for you, Frankie!” he snapped, slamming an open palm down on the table. “Men are vultures. They prey on the unsuspecting.”

  “I guess I’m safe then. I’m always suspecting.” I did my best to dismiss his words, though they struck a deep nerve. I hated change. It was frightening and left room for too many unknown variables.

  “Frankie.”

  “Lukas.”

  “We have talked about this. I know very well what is best for me. I care for you, love you as deeply as one friend can love another. I protect you. Don’t push me away.”

  “I know all of those things already, Lukas. I swear I do. But what I’ve been doing is unfair to you. I ask so much yet give so little. You deserve a happily ever after with a great, normal girl. I’ll still be here, still love you like nobody’s business. But no more sex. It’s time for us to explore the things that are out in the world waiting for us.”

  “Happily ever after is for princesses.”

  I laughed, taking a sip of tea. Wasn’t that always my motto? “And extremely attractive, hardworking, well-endowed, heavily inked gentlemen.”

  “Is this about that guy from the wedding?” he countered, not even gracing me with a ghost of a smile. My own fell instantly.

  “I don’
t want it to be.”

  “That’s a yes then?” he asked, settling back into the chair that he seemed to swallow.

  “That’s a this is a really complicated mess that I wanted—no, want—to avoid but it apparently doesn’t want to avoid me.”

  “What does all that mean, Frankie?”

  I let go of a heavy sigh, feeling no relief. This is exactly why drinking and boys are little more than a fucking nightmare. They make you do and face things that are better left locked deep inside. And if I were any other girl, they’d bring about bouts of ugly crying. Luckily, I don’t play that game.

  “It means that I am confused. I had one really crazy night a few months ago, and I’ve been running from it since. The thing is, you can’t run from your mistakes. They chase after you and eventually catch you when you least expect it.”

  “What are you saying—that dick has been bothering you? Do I need to take care of him?”

  “Take care of him? Take care of him?!” I sputtered. “Christ, Lukas, are you Mister Mafioso now?”

  “Mafioso? You read too many books, Frankie. I’m saying that if this punk is harassing you—”

  “He’s not,” I interrupted. “He came into the winery. . . once.”

  “But you feel something for him? After one night? I give you years of. . . I’ve given you everything.”

  “And that is the problem, Luka. You give everything, and I take without giving in return. I—”

  “Not true. You give me plenty.”

  “I don’t give you what I should. I just can’t.”

  “You think you can give it to him?”

  “No, I don’t. And I have every intention on telling him that very same thing.”

  “He will fuck you and forget you. That’s what guys do. I know because I am one, it’s what I do. I’m not quite the saint you paint me to be, Frankie.” His words burned. No doubt that was his intent.

  “I can take care of myself,” I responded, crossing my arms over my chest, feeling defensive. “I’m not looking for anything, at all. I’m just giving you freedom to settle into a life. You can’t ever have that with me.”