My bedroom for the week was rather large. Initially, since we all assumed there’d be three of us sharing the space, everyone agreed that I should have the biggest bedroom. Once we arrived today and I remembered the arrangements, I tried to get someone else to take the room, insisting I didn’t need so much space, but everyone refused.
This was a sure sign that the pity-party had begun. Clearly they felt so bad at my lone status, they thought I should have whatever pleasures I could find.
The king sized bed was so large; it made me feel child-like when I was on it. The bathroom was oversized as well. It housed a wide mist shower and a sunken bathtub that I guessed could seat five comfortably. Everywhere I looked were massive structures designed for the comfort of two. It was a constant reminder that I was alone.
Feeling dejected and miserable, I settled on my bed and rummaged through my purse for the phone.
“Hi,” I said when Dev picked up.
“Kitten! So you got there safe. Glad to hear it.”
“You sound good.”
“Yeah. I’m thinking about selling my truck and getting an Infiniti FX. I’m dragging Jake to a dealer tomorrow.”
“Is that right?” I let him talk for a few minutes, listening for signs of fatigue. I also figured that sooner or later he’d tell me when he’d begun to feel better. Unfortunately, no such information was forthcoming. He rambled on and on about going to do a test-drive in the morning.
Momentarily confused by the jovial tone of Dev’s voice I asked, “So you’re feeling better?”
“Better?”
“Yeah, better? Jake said you had a fever.”
The recovery would have been flawless, if not for the momentary pause. “Yeah. Broke this morning. I’m feeling much better.”
“So you’re coming then?”
“Coming where?”
I wanted to scream in frustration. “Here. To the Outer Banks. Jake said when you felt better you’d come.”
“Did he?” He exhaled heavily. “I don’t know, kitten.”
A ball of dread began to form in the pit of my stomach as the ramifications of this conversation began to dawn on me. Dev was lying to me. Further, Jake had lied to me this morning. I’d be a monkey’s uncle if Dev’s temperature had been anything but normal when I left.
Never one to play games and beat around the bush, I decided to get to the heart of the matter. “What’s going on, Dev? Why are you lying to me?”
“Baby, I’m not lying.”
“Bullshit!” Growing ire giving me a surge of energy, I leapt to my feet and began to pace around the room. “You weren’t sick this morning. Don’t lie to me. If you didn’t want to come here all you had to do was tell me.”
“Hold on.”
As I waited, I could hear Dev moving around. A moment later I heard the unmistakable sound of a door closing and a bathroom fan turning on.
Dear God, he was hiding from Jake.
“You still there?” he asked in a whisper.
“Damn right I’m still here.”
“Okay. I’m gonna be straight with you. But you can’t get mad.”
Which of course was a clear indicator that I was about to be royally pissed off!
“You still listening, Stella? I can hear you breathing but you’re not saying anything.”
“Go on, Dev.”
“Baby, I don’t want you to get mad. Tell me you won’t get mad.”
“Just spit it out.”
Dev sighed. I could almost see him running his fingers through his chocolate locks—he dyed his hair back to its original color last week. “Jake knows we slept together last month.”
Knowing Jake as well as I did, Dev didn’t have to explain the ramifications of this. Jake was a very domineering man who liked to fancy himself in control of everything and everyone around him. Last month’s edict that I not have sex for two weeks had been ridiculous in the extreme. There was no way Jake could enforce such a command. And I hadn’t been the only one who felt that way.
The day Dev and I shared had been wonderful. Amazing. It had been the first time Dev and I had been together without Jake. Though I loved Jake’s dominant personality, it had been refreshing to be with Dev without Jake there to choreograph our every move. If Jake had learned what Dev and I had done—which was what Dev was telling me—he’d have gone through the roof.
I made a path over the floor, my bare feet slapping the wood as I progressed back and forth. “How did he find out?”
“It slipped out. I was describing the outfits I got for you at the mall, telling him how sexy you looked in the baby doll dress and Mary Jane’s. I don’t know…guess I got caught up in the memory. Next thing I knew I was telling him how good you looked on your knees in that dress, sucking my toes. He could pretty much put two and two together after that.”
I stopped walking and stood near the open windows, gazing out at the ocean. As I waited for Dev to begin again, I breathed in the moist ocean air and listened to the sound of waves crashing. The moon hung low and vibrant in the sky, glowing bright amid a canvas of twinkling stars. It was a beautiful night.
“He thinks we need time apart,” Dev said, finally.
“By we, I assume you mean, you and Jake away from me.”
Dev didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. His silence spoke volumes.
“And you’re okay with this?”
“What do you think, Stella?”
“Considering you let me drive hundreds of miles away thinking things were fine between us, I’d say you must be.”
“Well I’m not. Jake said he’d tell you—”
The more we talked, the more I could feel my rage cresting, rising to the point of no return. “Over the phone. Couldn’t one of you be a man and tell me this to my face?”
“You’re not being fair. This wasn’t my choice.”
“Yet you’re going along with it.”
“What am I supposed to do? Jake is terrified that we’re planning to run off without him.”
“Run off? Where the hell are we going to run? I have a business, you know.”
“Figure of speech, Stella.”
I rested my head against the screen and fought for control. My treacherous eyes had begun to well with tears but I refused to make a fool of myself and cry while I was on the phone. There was plenty of time to do it once I was off, because clearly, I was being dumped.
Unwilling to let him get the final words out before me, I sucked in a bitter breath. “Fuck you Dev. And fuck Jake.”
“Don’t do that, Stella.”
My finger was poised over the disconnect button, but I waited. “I’m not doing anything, you and Jake are.”
“So you can discard me like a piece of trash? Tell me to fuck off and move on with your life?”
“Don’t try to turn things around on me. I’m not the dumper here, I’m the dumpee.”
“Nobody is dumping anybody.”
“Look Dev, you may be happy to sit around the rest of your life and let Jake make all your decisions for you, but I’m not. He tells you to do something and you’re ready to jump. Well I’m not Jake’s plaything. I’m a person and I have my own feelings and I like to make my own decisions.”
“Stella, don’t do this.”
“And I’m sorry if it’s inconvenient for you, but I’m not going to wait around until Jake isn’t pissed at me anymore. He wants time away from me, fine, he can have all the time he wants.”
“What are you saying, Stella?”
I choked down a sob and forced out the two words I didn’t really want to say. “Goodbye Dev.”
“Kitten,” he said before I could disconnect. “I’m falling in love with you. Don’t do this to me Stella.” I could hear the desperation in his voice, and it broke my heart. “I need time. Jake needs time. He comes off as overbearing but that’s only because he’s insecure. Just give him another week to get over it. Things will be back to normal in no time, I promise. Stella?”
There was nothin
g else to say, so I gently depressed disconnect, then in the manner of Hollywood starlets throughout decades, promptly crumpled to the floor in a flood of tears.
Not precisely my proudest moment. Nor was I able to indulge in a good cry. Along with my vacation, Dev had ruined what was to be a good fit of crying as well. He called me back almost immediately. I picked up then hung on him.
Dev and I then commenced with a ridiculous call/hang up cellular wrestling match that continued until I finally wised up and turned my phone off. By then I was too exhausted to cry anymore, too tired to do anything save tramp to my bed and fall asleep.
Chapter Three
4/10/05 5:03 a.m.
“Stella!”
Argh!
“Stella!”
A loud series of raps and bangs greeted this second bid for my attention.
I rolled onto my stomach, placed a fat pillow over my head, and ignored them.
“Ready or not, I’m coming in,” the annoying person said a moment before they shoved my bedroom door open and padded across the bedroom.
It couldn’t be time to get up. Not already. I felt like I’d just gotten to sleep.
I grunted when a body threw itself onto the bed beside me. The aroma of Perry Ellis 360 wafted up from this new presence, as did Pantene shampoo. With these unwelcome scents filling my nostrils, I didn’t have to sit up to know who the intruder was.
“Go away, Katarina.” I mumbled into the mattress.
“Come on. We’re going out to watch the sunrise.”
Did she say sunrise? As in, the sun is not up yet, sunrise, so we’re going out to go see it happen? “Go away.”
“Come on, Stella. Get up.” She found my hip and gave it a shake. “What could be better than watching the sun rise on the beach?”
“Sleeping.”
“You’re such a spoiled sport. Have it your way. But we’re gonna cruise into Nags Head afterwards. Do you want us to come and get you before we leave?”
“No.” I didn’t feel like doing anything, least of all being social. I didn’t want to make nice and pretend everything was okay. Everything wasn’t okay. All I wanted to do was stay in my room and feel sorry for myself. I was dumped.
“Bring home beer,” I thought to add when I felt Katarina’s weight lift from the bed.
“Sam Adams?”
“Yeah. I’ll go out with you guys later tonight,” I added, feeling just a little guilty.
“Are you all right, Stella?”
“I’m peachy.”
I listened silently as Katarina’s steps receded and she left the room.
I fell back to sleep.
10:27 a.m.
Still mired in self-pity, I showered, made a half-hearted attempt at brushing my hair, and then swiped some lip-gloss onto my lips. I took another second to throw on eyeliner.
Jake was a rotten bastard, I thought as I went through my clothes for something to wear. A dirty, rotten bastard. And Dev was no better. Was Dev a man or a puppet? Didn’t he know how to make his own decisions? Why should Jake dictate whether or not we saw each other? The rotten bastard.
Well that’s all she wrote. I am so through with men it ain’t funny. No more waiting around for some man to call me. No more taking hours to figure out what to wear just so I can keep some man happy. No more torturing myself with stupid three-inch high heels and short skirts. No more bullshit!
“I’m mad as hell, and I’m not gonna take it anymore!”
I kicked my dresser to emphasize this sentiment, then swore heartily as a jolt of pain ran from my toes up my leg.
Once the pain receded, I found a pair of Old Navy Capri pants, a knit sweater, and a pair of comfortable flip-flops. Hell, I may be freshly dumped but that was no reason to waste away the weekend inside. I’d go out to the beach and enjoy myself…or at the very least I’d try.
I walked purposefully from the bedroom and descended the stairs at a trot, deciding on the spot that now was as good a time as any to renew my New Year’s resolution.
The vacation from men was on. No more losers.
Men were jerks. They were lying, cheating, narcissistic bastards. Who needed them?
“Not this girl,” I told myself, confidently.
Telling myself I was feeling better, I strolled into the kitchen, then stopped cold in my tracks and stared.
I gurgle spilled from the gaping O of my mouth and an all too familiar tightening between my legs had me taking an eager step forward.
I couldn’t see the man’s face. Not when he was bent over, head buried within the cool confines of the refrigerator. What I could see, though, was his body, and oh what a body it was. His tight, jean-clad ass was in the air and his naked, sun-bronzed back, glowed beautifully under the bright sunlight streaming in through the kitchen windows. A stream of honey-blonde hair flowed over his shoulders. The strands were long and straight as a pin. Touches of platinum and gold glimmered from his tresses, making him seem otherworldly.
Already I knew he’d be the best piece of eye candy this side the Mason-Dixon. That’s how my luck was going in 2005.
For years I’d patrolled the clubs with my girlfriends, always on the lookout for that one man who was so good looking that the mere sight of him would get my juices flowing. But when I reached thirty and hadn’t seen hide or hair of the elusive creature, I figured such a man didn’t exist. Had I only known the true key to finding him was to tell myself I was through with men, and really mean it. I could have met scores of attractive and successful men sooner. Seemed there was no better way to make sure the next man to cross my path would be such a man.
Having heard my gurgling and gasping, Mr. Sexy backed out of the fridge, shoved the door shut with his hip, then turned to face me.
Oh. My. Gorgeous!
Had I said I was giving up men? Surely the being before me couldn’t be heaped into such a general category. This wasn’t a man. This was a living, breathing wet dream.
With a face that more than delivered on the promises made by his body, this was the kind of man women had clawed each other’s eyes out for. He was a one hundred percent, no frills male. From the enticing aroma of Zest soap emanating from him to the unshaven stubble shadowing his cheeks, this man had the kind of masculine good looks that I was sure had made stronger women than me weak in the knees. His jaw line was firm. Despite a small dimple, it was so perfectly formed it could have been chiseled from granite. He was shirtless, shoeless, and his jeans were hanging so low on his hips, I was tempted to give them a tug to see what other treasures I could find.
He studied me for a moment, his full lips pursed, as he seemed to consider my presence. His eyes were sky blue; his thick brows matched his hair in color. Briefly I wondered if said color was the same as the hair…
The creature folded forearms over a massive, deliciously tone chest, and reclined against the closed door.
With some surprise, I realized he’d retreated from the fridge holding a two-liter bottle of soda. My Diet Coke with Lime.
He glanced down at his watch, raised an eyebrow as if disturbed by the time, then looked at me and shook his head. “Half ten, or should I say, ten-thirty?”
He had a perfect voice. It was a rich, darkly erotic baritone with a pronounced British accent. Dear God, and me such a sucker for accents.
Even as I had that thought, the reality of the situation began to make its way through my lust-muddled mind. Who in the hell was this man and what was he doing in the house?
Forcing my mouth shut, I made myself glare at the stranger as I placed fisted hands on my hips. Endeavoring to sound as menacing as possible, I demanded, “Who are you?”
Unimpressed, he raised the bottle of Coke Lime, unscrewed the cap, and took a series of hungry gulps.
I watched in silent astonishment as he casually drank soda he’d stolen from the refrigerator. And of all things to steal, why had he chosen my Coke Lime? He was downing it as if he hadn’t drunk anything in a week. And he did it not five steps away from m
e. “Put that down. Who said you could drink my soda?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed feverishly as he continued to drink. Despite his inhumanly good looks, I had to quash a sudden urge to kick him in the shin.
Deciding I had to act, I sprinted across the room to the utensil drawer and pulled it open. I set my hand around the wooden handle of a steak knife and pulled it free, gaining confidence by the airy lisping sound the blade made as it brushed against the oak edge of the drawer. Whirling to face the intruder I demanded yet again, “Who are you?”
He pulled the soda from his lips. Our eyes met for a moment, then he let his gaze glide the length of my body, a slight grin touching the edge of his lips. “I’m Nigel Browning. And you must be Stella Rice.”
He pushed away from the fridge and started toward me. Least I thought he was coming my way. He veered off at the last moment. Instead of approaching me, he continued out of the kitchen, through the open door and onto the back deck. And he was still holding my Coke.
With the knife clutched tight in my hand, I followed. “And what are you doing here?”
He gazed out at the ocean for a few moments, seemed to take in the miles of empty beach beyond the house and the crashing waves. A light breeze whipped his hair off his shoulders as he stood. The whole scene was very picturesque.
I was getting horny again, damn it.
“Wonderful view.” He settled himself comfortably on a chaise lounge—the nicest one on the deck—crossed his ankles, and inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of the ocean, don’t you?” When I didn’t respond, he glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “I wish you wouldn’t leer at me like that. It makes me uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable? I wake up and find a perfect stranger in my house and you expect me to give a damn if I’m making you feel uncomfortable?”
“I suppose when put like that, you do have a small point.” He turned and dazzled me with a smile. “If it will make you feel better, I’ve been waiting for you out here on the deck. I only went in to get a drink. I was inside for a total of two minutes.”
THE CHRONICLES OF STELLA RICE: APRIL Page 2