by Tina Ness
“Strapping, yes, but outdoorsy is a far cry from the penthouse suite. I’m just a little surprised.” I squeeze his hand. “Pleasantly,” I add before we both exit the truck. “What would you have done if I had told you I hated camping?” I ask.
“The picture on your dresser was enough for me to take my chances.”
The picture on my dresser is of my dad holding Rose and me, one of us in each arm. He had just threatened to throw us both into the water headfirst, and we were laughing hysterically. Our bright yellow tent and Rainy Lake are in the background. It is one of my favorite family trips and my most cherished childhood picture. It melts my heart that Marshall paid that much attention.
Marshall opens the tailgate and lifts up the truck bed topper. The bed is filled with camping gear, all of which appears to be brand new. Boxes, stickers, and tags are everywhere.
“Marshall,” I slap his arm, “did you just buy all this?”
He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. “Can’t get much more PG than camping, right?” His breath on my neck causes thrill bumps to pop up on every inch of my skin. I lean back closer into him and rest my head against his shoulder. Light kisses brush all over my neck, and I give him more of my weight as my knees give way to his tender gesture.
“This is too much,” I whisper.
“Kissing your neck is PG,” he says, still dancing kisses over my neck.
I laugh, loving that he has committed to our little game. “I mean all this stuff, Marshall. Did you just buy all this? It must have cost a small fortune.” Realizing I must sound like my father, worrying about the cost, makes me clench my jaw.
“I made the two guys at the sporting goods store in Duluth very happy. And, Beth, if you’re happy about this, it’s worth every cent.”
I turn to face him. “Yes, I’m happy, Marshall.” I go up on my toes and kiss his lips. “I’m always happy when I’m with you.”
Marshall runs his fingers into my hair and tips my head back. “Good,” he says. And before I even think, I start to rub my belly up against the hard bulge that has formed in those lucky cotton briefs.
His gaze travels down to my belly rocking against him. “That is hardly PG, Beth.” He looks back up at me. “I guess this puts me in the lead.”
Although I could debate it, I give it to him. It was worth it to see his eyes begin to darken with the desire I was causing.
We set up camp, brushing up against each other whenever we can. I use the many moments I feel his eyes on me to bend over, rocking my hips to the music coming from my phone attached to the speaker dock he had purchased, or to lick and bite at my lips.
I watch the solid muscles in his arms flex effortlessly as he pulls the cooler off the truck bed before he turns to set it down, giving me a view of his magnificent ass. I keep watching as he starts to dig around in the cooler. He stills when he finds whatever he’s looking for, and just as he does, the song “Butterfly” by Crazy Town comes on. I know he feels me watching, because he starts to shake his ass side to side, just like I did. He stands, keeping his back to me and adding in a few over-the-top hip thrusts.
I immediately laugh at his entertaining display, but it’s when he peeks back at me and slaps his own ass that I’m doubled over. Of course it doesn’t end here. He turns toward me and bites his lower lip. Now I’m in tears. His display is anything but sexy, but the fact that he was willing to make a complete fool of himself for a laugh is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. Gavin was always so worried about what everyone thought of him. I never knew fun and silly could be so sexy.
“Why are you laughing, Beth? Didn’t my sweet moves get you all hot and bothered?”
I can’t quit laughing. “Hot and bothered wouldn’t be the words I’d use.” Tears continue to stream down my face as I bring my fingers to my ear and mouth to form a phone. “Hello, Adam Levine? I found your man. He’s got moves like Jagger.”
This is as far as we get being PG. Marshall scoops me up.
“You win. I can’t resist that beautiful mouth—seeing you laugh like that—and I know I can’t stop at your mouth,” he says as he carries me to our tent.
He is soft, slow, and tender. I play off the tear that escapes my eye as a leftover one from my laughter. I even try to kid myself into believing it. It feels like what I’d imagine making love to feel like, only there is no way Marshall could be in love with me. Tanner couldn’t love me and even after four years Gavin couldn’t love me or fell out of love with me. I can’t say the same for me. I can love. It’s official. I’ve fallen hard. I should call it quits now before the heartbreak I’m bound to feel when he leaves me is more than I can handle.
Chapter 23
The falls are even more magnificent than I recall. Having Marshall next to me—touching me every chance he can, watching me take it all in—and being able to watch him while he takes it all in makes the whole experience the best day of my life. I hold back the thrill I feel as he takes a selfie of us, then asks a couple passing by to take a picture of us with his phone as we stand near the falls. I ask Marshall to send them to me so I’ll have an image to look at next week when he’s back in Minneapolis and the inevitable happens and we are over, so I can look back to a time when I felt happy, even if I know this will only torture me that much more.
As the night gets darker, I begin to worry. Being in the dark woods with the sounds of the falls is way too close to the dream I had in the hospital. I need to keep this from Marshall. If he knew about my dream, knew how close the woods elements are to the fears they trigger, he would be devastated.
I’m thankful that Marshall offers to walk me to the bathroom so I can get ready for bed. I twist my hair up in a bun, wash my face, and brush my teeth. That walk all alone would have me in a panic. I find myself holding him tightly on the way back and even periodically closing my eyes and following his lead. He can’t know I’m afraid. He can’t know how truly weak I am.
As we nestle down under the covers, Marshall notices I’m shaking. I convince him that I just got chilled, and he pulls me in tight to warm me. I lie awake and listen to every sound, see every flashlight and campfire flicker until I know Marshall is sound asleep. I reach for my purse and pull out my phone and earbuds to drown out the sounds and cover my head with the blankets. The soothing music and the feel of Marshall beside me fitting so perfectly into my contours creates a lump in my throat that I cannot swallow back this time. I don’t want to be without him. He’s like my drug, my medicine, my addiction. My life would be a mess without him.
***
Friday, June 25
Friday night is dinner with Marshall’s best friend and co-owner of the Abberline Distillery, Parker, and his date—his flavor of the month from what Marshall tells me. Apparently, Parker’s somewhat of a playboy. And Marshall insisted I invite Krystal. She declined to bring a date but said she’s cool with being a fifth wheel for the night. I got to decide on the location and couldn’t resist Blackwater Lounge. I have been craving one of those hobnobs Marshall introduced me to.
We pick up Krystal and get there by seven. Parker and his date are cozied up in a booth, one that looks to be comfy for four, but not five. Marshall makes the introductions, and Parker introduces us to Gloria. I try not to make a judgment based on her appearance. She could be quite pretty if she would hold back big time on the makeup and leave the big hair back in the eighties. When she opens her mouth, though, my decision is made.
“Oh, my God. Are you, like, totally a natural ginger?”
Did this chick just say “like, totally”? My vivid imagination has me flinging myself across the table and grabbing her by the neck for being so dense. Seems a bit overboard, but being a redhead—yep, all of my twenty-seven years—these comments get quite old. People don’t go asking brunettes if they’re natural brunettes. Where did Parker find this throwback?
“You want to follow her to the bathroom and see if the carpet does, in fact, match the drapes?” Krystal snaps.
/> Gloria hardly reacts. She snuggles into Parker’s arm, making her even more annoying. Parker moves in closer to the wall, squishing Gloria against it.
“We’ve got plenty of room here.” Parker pats the bench seat, offering Krystal a spot next to him.
Krystal swoops right in without batting an eye. I’m sure she’ll call Parker a pretty boy and hardly even notice him, but he clearly notices her. Marshall takes the seat across from Gloria, most likely to keep me from her or I guess maybe to let me sit closer to Krystal. Either way, I’m thankful. If Gloria starts smacking her gum, I may just lose it.
Krystal and I order hobnobs while the guys order an absinthe drip. Gloria sticks with her water since she “can’t find a thing to drink on the menu.” She was craving a piña colada.
“So, Parker, Marshall tells me you guys have been great friend since you were kids,” I say, ready to get some good dirt on Marshall. Who knows more than a best friend, right?
“Guilty. He’s had to put up with me for a long time. Still surprises me that he wanted to go into business with me.” Parker nods at Marshall.
“Well, you must have some good stories to tell,” I say and nudge Marshall. “Marshall here doesn’t seem big on telling stories.”
Parker leans forward and rubs two fingers on his chin. “Hmm, which story do I tell about Marsh here? … How about the night we snuck out and stole my old man’s car.” He looks over at Marshall, perhaps looking for approval. “He was drunk—hell, my pops was always drunk.” He laughs, but I’m not buying that he finds it funny. “We were only fourteen, and I had to work like hell to get Mr. Follow-All-the-Rules here to agree to come with.”
Marshall just shakes his head at Parker with a tight-lipped grin.
“We drove that old run-down Thunderbird to the Mall of America, planning to spend the money we’d made doing landscaping for Marshall’s dad that weekend. Marshall here had been eyeing up some chick from our gym class. Believe it or not, Marshall was somewhat of a chick magnet back in the day.”
Unfortunately, I’d just taken a sip of my cocktail, and I choke on the liquid, causing me to cough like mad for several seconds.
Marshall nudges me. “Thanks, Beth, for the vote of confidence.”
Little does he know, I only laughed because he’s still a chick magnet. He doesn’t even seem to notice the heads he turns. I watched a girl around my age rubbernecking to get a longer look and trip over the rug on our way into the restaurant. I can’t blame any of them for looking, and at least for a few more days, I get to look all I want.
Parker continues, “Well, turns out the only reason he agreed to go was to see her. I wondered why he suddenly had an interest in hitting the food court instead of hitting the rides. So long story short, your boy here wound up going toe-to-toe with the girl’s boyfriend—who was at least a foot taller than he was—because the clown had his hands all over her and she didn’t appear to be enjoying it.”
I take a long look at the knight in shining armor sitting next to me, and arousal heats in my belly.
“Marshall here laid him out, and we took off in a run with security after us. Those guys ran faster than I’d imagined they could. Our timing couldn’t have been better, because as we rounded the corner, a janitor had just stepped out of the janitor closet and pushed the door shut, but it hadn’t clicked yet, so I reached out to grab it. We disappeared into the closet and evaded security. But the kicker of it is, the handle was busted. We were locked in the closet … all night.”
I was wise not to take another sip of my drink, because again, I’m laughing.
“Let me guess,” I say. “It was dark, cold, and damp, so the two of you had to snuggle together for body heat all night to stay alive.”
Even Gloria chuckles a bit at that one.
“Well, needless to say,” says Parker, “it was one of the longer nights I’ve ever had in my life. We didn’t dare bang on the door, or we’d likely be busted. It wasn’t until seven in the morning that we were sprung free. You should have seen the look on the janitor’s face when he opened the door. We raced home and were lucky enough to sneak into my room, and my old man was none the wiser.”
Krystal is looking intently at Parker, listening to his story, leaning her head on her hand.
Parker’s attention turns to Krystal. “We were quite the rebels back in the day.”
Krystal laughs, “Yeah, sounds like it. Spending the night in a janitor’s closet snuggling with your buddy is pretty wild.”
Parker looks thoroughly amused. “You got something better?” he challenges.
“I’ve got stories alright, but I’m not about to share any of them with strangers.”
“Well, once we become more than strangers will you share?” Parker asks.
Krystal just laughs and shakes her head.
Gloria is glaring at Parker, but he doesn’t appear to notice. She asks to be released from her squashed corner of the booth. Neither Parker nor Krystal hesitate to oblige. She snatches up her purse in a huff before trudging off toward the restroom—or maybe the exit, same direction.
Parker sits down with a chuckle, sliding over to give Krystal room. “Sorry, guys. Met her last night at the club. It was dark, and I could hardly hear her. You think she left?”
“You’re rarely ever that lucky, brother.” Marshall laughs. “A little coyote ugly for you this morning?”
Parker puts his hands up in defense. “Hell no. Never went there, dude. Drove separate. Met her here only minutes before you guys got here, and she immediately acted like we have something going. That’s what I get for being nice.”
I laugh when Gloria comes back and I see Krystal roll her eyes. I’ve never seen her not in total control of a situation before. Parker continues ignoring Gloria, and for a moment, I actually feel bad for her. We just finish ordering our food when Gloria speaks, and my moment of feeling sorry for her is over.
“Why did you even ask me here if you’re just going to ignore me and just talk to—well, her?” She nods her head toward Krystal.
Krystal and I look at each other, and I can’t help but grin.
“What are you smiling about?” Gloria snaps.
I put my hands up. “Leave me out of this. I’m going to go use the bathroom. Krystal, you care to join me?”
I stand and so does Krystal. As we walk away, I mouth, “I’m sorry,” to Marshall. He just smiles. He is most likely used to the drama that comes with being best friends with Parker.
Gloria is gone when we get back. Parker assures us that he let her go politely, and Marshall just nods in agreement. Our night finishes up later than I’d imagined. The conversation was great, and I decide I definitely like Parker Whitaker and can see why Marshall has been friends with him for most of his life. Marshall has let me into another part of his life, and before bed, he asks me if I would come stay at his place next weekend and meet his family. It’s then I decide that I can’t let him go yet, that maybe there is hope, maybe I can learn to be loveable. I need to stick this out a bit longer.
Chapter 24
Monday, June 28
The week ahead of me is both daunting and exciting. I’m training Krystal as the new guest service manager. Marshall is back in Minneapolis, where I will be visiting him for the weekend after my last day at Beacon on Friday. I have only nine more days to finish up my design ideas for the new club. Max has been working on a few Photoshop design elements for me to add to my presentation. Colorful cocktails are the core element of my design, an idea I’d gotten on my first date with Marshall at Blackwater when the big group toasted in the high-back booth. Max thought it was a great idea and couldn’t wait to tackle the lighting techniques involved in my visions.
After a long day at work, a lame dinner of chicken breast and steamed broccoli, and an episode of House Hunters International, I get up from the sofa, ready for a long hot bath and to get cozy for an early night of much-needed rest when I hear a car door slam out front. I instantaneously question whether or not I lock
ed my front door. I all but run to the door to check the lock. The tap of footsteps outside my door has me reaching for the deadbolt to turn it, even though I can tell by its upright position it’s locked. Then two knocks pound in my ears. I go over to the window and see a police car stationed in front of my house. My heartbeat thunders in my ears. It must be news about my attacker. What if my horror doesn’t end with the attack? What if they came to tell me that creep made bail? What if he hunts me down? I was assured that if my attacker—a man whose name I would rather forget, but it’s hard to forget a name like Francis Ray Moe—got out, I would be notified.
“Hello,” I say, as I open the door—my voice unsteady.
“Hello, ma’am. I’m Detective Damico from the Duluth Police department. I’m looking for a Ms. Elizabeth Rose Murphy.”
“Yes, that’s me. I’m Elizabeth.”
“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we are investigating a criminal, and you may have some information that could help us. I’m sure you’ve seen the article in the paper.” My heartbeat begins to thunders even louder in my ears, as I recall the picture flashing on my computer screen that I have been working hard to convince myself I never saw. Using Marshall to try and help me ignore my horrid new reality, the one that has me scared to be alone, has me infatuated with my deadbolt and has turned my comforter into a cocoon.
“Please come in.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
We head into the kitchen to have a seat.
“I know you have already been questioned, but I’m hoping you will go back over all the details you gave us that day. There is a good chance he is involved in those other two cases we are investigating.”
Other two cases? I feel like a fool for not knowing this, for turning a blind eye. What the hell was I thinking?
“Ms. Murphy, will you go over every encounter you’ve had with Francis Ray Moe? And give me as much detail as possible?”
I go over every detail I gave the police at the hospital: the bar incident when I first saw him, the red truck, the dance floor, the attack, and his words, “You need to pay for what you did, just like that girl from high school had to pay.”