My Kinda Kisses

by Lacey Black

  “Yeah, I’ve heard about that place. Never been there, but I’ve heard great things.”

  “Well, the lady who runs it, Jasmine, we, umm, got to talking. Turns out, her assistant is leaving town, and she’s going to need someone to help her with the center and some of the activities.”

  Payton smiles at me. My heartbeat instantly drops to a more normal rate as I take in her relaxed demeanor. “That’s wonderful, Jay. You’re going to work at Addie’s Place?”

  “Yeah,” I tell her confidently, a wide smile cresting my face.

  “That’s awesome! And I can see it in your eyes that you’re super excited about it.”

  “I am.”

  “Good. I’ve been waiting for this moment. I knew floral arrangements wasn’t your thing,” she says as she steps towards me.

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Mad? Why would I be mad at you for finding what you want to do with your life?” she asks, those lines back between her manicured eyebrows.

  “I don’t know, I guess I just thought you’d be mad that I left you shorthanded.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about me,” she says with the wave of her hand. “I have a stack of applications in the office that I can pull out. I’m just excited for you! When do you start?”

  “A week from Monday.” I pause before continuing. “I’m a little scared, Pay. I feel like I’ve been drifting for so long, not really knowing what I want to do, but finally I have purpose. I feel like, for the first time in my life, I have something new, something that’s mine. Does that make sense?”

  “Of course it does. For so many years, you were a Stepford Wife in training. It wasn’t who you were deep down. This is your first major step at finding who the real Jaime Summer is.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And I bet Ryan is going to be excited for you,” she adds, eyes sparkling.

  “You think?”

  “I know. Because if that boy has any feelings for you, it’s love. He’ll be excited because you’re excited. Trust me.”

  My heart flutters as the word love radiates through the room like the first ray of sunlight after the darkest of nights. An uncontrollable smile spreads across my lips, and my heart rate kicks back up again. Love. Does Ryan really love me? I’ve been ignoring it, denying those feelings that keep warming my body, because I’m afraid that they might not be reciprocated.

  Sure, Ryan has told me he cares about me, but caring and loving are two different things. I care about a lot of things, but I only love a select few.

  But I’m also unable to deny it any longer. I can tell my head over and over again that I don’t feel that way about him, but my heart won’t let me deny it. I feel it settle in my soul, warming my entire being from the inside out, wrapping around me warmly and completely.

  I’m in love with Ryan.

  ***

  I can’t fight the excitement I feel as I head towards Ryan’s condo. We have plans for dinner at six, but I just can’t wait to see him. Instead of being nervous and scared of my revelation, I’m embracing it. For the first time since my mess of a relationship with Gavin ended, I’ve allowed myself to feel something beautiful, something great.

  Pulling into his half of the driveway at barely five-thirty, I get out and run to his door. After my insistent knocking goes unanswered, I finally stop and look around. Ryan’s truck isn’t in his driveway. Usually when he gets home, he leaves his garage door open while he helps Mrs. Hanson with any yard chores. Glancing back around front, I realize the door is still closed.

  I am thirty minutes early, but I can’t help but feel a bit disappointed that I won’t be able to share my news with him right away. Making my way around back, I decide to sit at the patio and enjoy a little bit of the evening July warmth. When I step around the side of the house, I’m greeted by the smiling face of Mrs. Hanson.

  “Good evening, child. I haven’t seen Ryan yet today,” she says as she walks towards me.

  “I’m a bit early for dinner. I hope you don’t mind me coming back here and hanging out,” I tell her as I follow her towards Ryan’s stairs.

  “It’s not entirely my backyard, sweetie. Ryan will be happy to see you here with he arrives home,” she says. The warm smile she gives me causes my lips to mirror hers. “You don’t mind if I keep you company for a bit, do you?”

  “Of course not. Do you want something to drink? Lemonade?” I ask, then instantly realizing that I don’t have access to Ryan’s house. The doors are locked, and until he comes home, I don’t have any of the lemonade I just offered.

  “Actually, I have a pitcher of sweet tea that just finished brewing on the counter. Would you mind going over to my place and grabbing it for us?” Mrs. Hanson offers.

  “Of course,” I respond, standing up and walking towards her door.

  “Grab the tray of cookies beside it, as well,” she hollers just as I reach the back door.

  Mrs. Hanson’s condo is just as I’d picture it. Floral prints and decorative knick-knacks as far as the eye can see, and it smells like home. Warm cinnamon and baked bread fills the air. And right where she said it would be, a pitcher of cool tea sits beside a small tray of homemade oatmeal raisin cookies. Stuffing two glasses beneath my arm and grabbing the other items, I head back outside to where I left Ryan’s neighbor.

  “Oh, bless you, child,” she says as I deposit the pitcher and tray on the tabletop. Mrs. Hanson holds the two glasses so that I can pour the fresh tea. “I hope you like a hint of raspberry. My grandma used to always add fresh mint leaves or raspberries to her tea when she brewed it.”

  “I’ve never had it this way,” I say before taking a sip. The tartness of the tea, mixed with the sweet and fruitiness of the raspberries is delicious and incites my taste buds.

  “Good, right?” she asks, her kind, warm eyes sparkling.

  “I think your grandma was on to something,” I confirm.

  “This is her recipe, too,” she says, offering me the tray of cookies.

  It’s still warm as I take a bite, the cinnamon and sugar dissolving on my tongue. “Oh my God,” I groan moments before stuffing the rest of the cookie in my mouth in a very unladylike fashion. “It’s a good thing I don’t live next to you, Mrs. Hanson. I’d weigh over three hundred pounds.”

  Besides a brief chuckle, we’re both quiet for several minutes. The breeze is starting to cool as the sun begins to descend. Birds chirp and the air is fragrant with the scent of Mrs. Hanson’s flowers. It’s a perfect little spot to enjoy the evening. Maybe when Ryan gets home from work we can sit outside for a bit.

  I smile a bit to myself at the thought of Ryan and me enjoying this patio more often, maybe even every night. That one little thought sparks a thousand more just like it. The two of us sharing a place of our own. Us sitting on a deck similar to this one as we watch a child run and play in the yard. Those thoughts consume me, but don’t scare me. Instead, they ground me.

  “Have you told him?” Mrs. Hanson asks, pulling me away from my thoughts of Ryan.

  “Told him what?” I ask curiously.

  “That you’re in love with him,” she states matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, I’m…well, it’s not really…” I start, but then stop. “No.”

  Her smile is the same knowing smile my grandma gives me often. “You should. I bet he’d love to hear you say it.”

  “You think?” I ask both excited and inquisitively.

  “I know, child. Tell him,” she says, glancing down at the watch adorning her dainty wrist. “I’m sure Ryan will be along any moment. I’m going to slip inside. It’s almost time for Wheel of Fortune,” she says.

  “Take the tea and cookies inside with you when he gets home,” she adds while turning and walking to her door.

  “Thank you,” I holler before she slips inside.

  Instead of a reply, she gives me a knowing nod and steps through the door.

  I’m lost in thought, running through my
afternoon one more time when I realize it’s surely been a while and Ryan still isn’t home. Grabbing my cell phone, I confirm my suspicions and realize it’s already quarter til seven. No messages and no missed calls. A sliver of worry slips down my back, causing goose bumps to pepper my arms.

  I quickly dial his number, but it goes straight to voice mail. “You’ve reached Ryan Elson. Please leave a message after the beep, and I’ll call you back.”

  Beep.

  “Hey, Ryan, it’s me. I’m at your place, and I thought you’d be here by now. I was just checking to see how long you’d be. Let me know. ‘Kay, Bye.” I hang up and wonder how dumb that message is going to sound to his ears.

  I sit another fifteen minutes, but don’t get a return call. I pull up my messages, wondering if maybe my phone is acting up. But when I’m greeted with “No New Messages” on the screen, I start to get a little worried.

  Standing up, I start to pace. I walk from one end of the deck to the other. It doesn’t take long. When I finish what is probably lap number one thousand, I grab my phone again.

  Nothing.

  I pull up the text message screen again.

  Me: Is everything ok? I thought you’d be home by now.

  Send.

  Five minutes later, it goes unanswered.

  Panic starts to set in. What if he had an accident at work? What if he had an accident while on his way home? Who would they call in case of an emergency? Ryan doesn’t have any family around here. Would they call his family in? Or Sara?

  That thought sends my stomach straight into my shoes.

  I contemplate my next move. I can go over and get Mrs. Hanson, but I don’t want to worry her if he’s just working late. I could call all the hospitals, but I’m not family so they won’t give me any information. I could drive around and look for him like some crazy, stalker ex-girlfriend, but that thought just makes me feel sad and depressed.

  Surely this isn’t Ryan’s way of moving on, is it? He wouldn’t drop me like this without so much as a word of goodbye, right? Everything I’ve discovered, everything I know of this man is that he is nothing–and I mean, nothing–like Gavin. Ryan has given me no reason to distrust him, so I’m not about to start now.

  Pushing thoughts of Ryan leaving me high and dry as far out of my mind as possible, I focus on the theory that something is wrong. I spend another thirty minutes coming up with my game plan, which is essentially nothing. I don’t know where to look for him, and I don’t know what to do. I make several laps around the front of the house, just to check the driveway, and still come up empty.

  When the clock hits eight, I’m beyond worried. I’m terrified.

  Not even noticing that the sun has almost disappeared and that I’m cold in my fitted tee and capris, I grab my keys and purse. I have no idea where I’m going, I just know that I can’t stay here. If something has happened, I need to find out what. Sitting here isn’t doing anything but sending me into panic attacks.

  As I slip into the driver’s seat, my phone starts to ring. My hand shakes as I pull it up and see the name. Relief sweeps through me as I fight the onslaught of tears threatening to fall.

  “Ryan!” I practically yell into the device.

  “Is this Jaime?” I hear my name, but the voice doesn’t register.

  “Yes,” I whisper, barely audible.

  “This is Danny, and I work for Ryan. We’ve got a little problem.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Ryan

  When I glance out the dusty window, it looks as if the sun was setting, but that can’t be right. The guys and I just got here a bit ago, an hour maybe. Two tops.

  “You all right, boss?” Danny asks, his eyes full of concern.

  “Yep. Feelin’ greaaaaaaaat,” I slur, drawing out the vowels as if it were a thirty letter word.

  “I can see that. Hey, I went ahead and called Jaime for you, okay?” he asks, setting a glass of clear liquid in front of me.

  “I’m not mixing vodka with my tequila, Dan-Oooooooo. And why would you call Jaime? I’m supposed to meet her for dinner in a bit. Let me know when it’s five so I can head home and clean up.”

  “Yeah, it was five about three hours ago,” he says with a firm slap on my back.

  “Bullshhhhhhhhit,” I grumble and grab my phone. The numbers on the clock dance before my eyes as if they’re suddenly on the move. As steady as I try to hold it, the damn numbers just keep shaking. “Why’d ya call my girl?”

  “Because someone needs to come help you home. I’d do it, but I’m not as pretty as she is to wake up next to,” he laughs. “Besides, you’re not really my type,” he adds.

  “She’s fuckinnnn’ beautiful, isn’t she? Like, I can’t breathe whenever she’s around. I want to fall to my knees and thank God every time she smiles at me,” I mumble. “But then I think ‘bout Orlandooooooo and he’s at home crying ‘cause he lost his wife, his whole world. I don’t want to lose my wife, man.”

  “You gotta have a wife to lose one,” he says matter-of-factly.

  “I want one. I want her to be my wife. Will she be my wife?”

  “You’re asking the wrong person, man. If you want to marry her, you should ask her,” he says, throwing a twenty down on the bar as a tip. “But you should probably wait and ask her when you’re sober.”

  “I am so-burrrrrr,” I tell him.

  “As sober as a fish swimming in a barrel of Jim Beam,” he smarts off. Mr. Smarty Pants can kiss my...

  I remember telling the bartender that drinks were on me, but I have no clue if I’ve paid anything yet or not. The rest of the crew all left throughout the course of the evening, but I didn’t feel like going home alone. Instead, I decided to drink my problems away, lost in the despair I witnessed first hand when we went to see Orlando. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

  Thoughts of someday losing a spouse have sent me spiraling into a bottle of whiskey. In every scene, I picture a gorgeous woman with long brown hair and light green eyes. The idea of one day waking up and finding her gone has left me troubled and scared. Suddenly, the life I want so damn bad with Jaime is looking more like a death sentence. I mean, why the fuck would I want to dive headfirst into a long term relationship just to be left gutted and heartbroken in the end?

  I don’t want that.

  But I want Jaime.

  But I can’t have her without one day losing her.

  But if it happens now, maybe it won’t hurt as bad as it will later.

  My brain hurts as alcohol-induced thoughts bounce from one extreme to the other. Closing my eyes, I take several deep, calming breaths just to try to settle my stomach. The booze I consumed threatens to make a reappearance, and my head pounds as if a drummer took up residence between my ears.

  “Look who’s here,” Danny says as he slaps a hand on my back and stands up.

  My goddess walks in, her eyes filled with concern. I’m finally able to breathe again. For the first time since I walked into Orlando’s house, my lungs fill with air.

  “Hi,” she says stepping up to me.

  Her hair is pulled back in a loose knot behind her head. My fingers twitch to dive in, freeing those sexy-as-fuck locks from captivity.

  “Come ‘er,” I mumble, extending my hand towards her.

  “You got him?” Danny asks.

  “Yeah, we’re good,” she says without taking her eyes off mine.

  Jaime steps forward, and I pull her flush against me. Her lips are parted, her breath coming out in little pants against my face. I need a taste; one final taste before I cut the cord and let her go.

  I press my lips against hers, my body filling with desire. Suddenly, the thought of never tasting these lips again, never kissing her goodnight or seeing her sleepy, morning smile, isn’t an option. It’s the worst possible scenario there is.

  As my lips urge her mouth open, I slip my tongue inside of her sweet mouth. She tastes like whisk
ey and fire; or that could be me. Jaime moans, my dick responding the only way it knows how. I’m hard and hungry for her. Only her.

  She grips the back of my t-shirt, and suddenly, I’m trapped between a drunk that is fueled by whiskey and an intoxication that is pure Jaime. Both leave my head swimming and warmth spreading through my blood stream.

  There’s something soothing about her kisses, like a salve for my soul. They’re sensual. They’re potent. They’re invigorating. They’re all I can think about. Her lips are magical.

  My cock is trying to burst through my jeans to get to her. I need to be inside of her like a need air. She’s my lifeline. Jaime rubs herself against the strain in my pants, and I’m lost. I’m adrift in a world where only she and I exist. Pulling her closer yet, I feel the swell of her tits smash against my chest, her nipples tight little pebbles within her bra. Even through layers of material, I can feel them. My mouth waters to lick and tease until she’s withering and begging for mercy.

  “I need you to go home with me,” I tell her without removing my lips.

  “I am going home with you. I’m your ride.”

  “No, I need to be inside of you so bad. I need to feel your tight body wrap around my cock. It’s the best feeling in the whole world. I don’t want to feel that with anyone else ever again. Only. You.”

  Jaime gasps before I can resume the kiss. Her eyes tear up, and I wonder how in the fuck I messed it up already. She’s only been here for a few minutes, and I’ve already made her cry.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Don’t cry, baby. It breaks my heart to see you about to cry. Ignore me. I’ve been drinking and I don’t know what I’m saying, and I -” I start, but stop when a small smile plays on her lips.

  “No, they’re not bad tears. They’re the good ones.”

  “Women are so damn confusing sometimes.”

  “I know. How about we head back to your place?”

  Grabbing my wallet, I pull the first plastic card I can find and throw it on the bar. The man who has served my employees and me all evening grabs it and swipes it through his machine. Without even looking at the total, I sign something that resembles my name and grab the card, jamming it back in wherever it will fit.