Little Conversations

by Matilde, Sibylla

  Oh yeah, this girl could really get to him…

  Her head was throbbing. Her throat felt like it was going to crack. Devin opened one eye, then the other. Where the fuck was she?

  She closed her eyes to think back, otherwise remaining motionless.

  Ronin. She remembered leaning against Ronin out in the kitchen. She remembered studying the plaid pattern of his shirt. Her eyes popped opened again and she lifted an arm. Ronin’s shirt. She was wearing Ronin’s shirt. Flashbacks of the night before began to permeate her brain. Kissing Ronin. The feel and smell and taste of his bare chest. A ripple of heat coursed through her as she remembered nibbling at his collar bone and the way he groaned and gripped her in response. His hands on her skin as he undressed her. God, she’d been naked! Completely bare-ass naked! His lips devouring her as he undressed himself. And the moment—the moment she stopped it.

  Oh sweet Jesus.

  She felt like a trampy lush.

  She looked around the room for her clothes, and saw her dress hanging from a hook by the door. She gingerly climbed from Ronin’s bed and slid it up her body underneath Ronin’s shirt. God only knows where her bra was, but, even with the right undergarments, the tight little dress had two things against it—there was a definite chill in the early morning air, and it showed way more skin than she felt comfortable revealing in the light of day, especially with the way she acted to Ronin last night. The shirt was a major help on both those points since the flannel was soft and warm against her skin. Even better, the shirt practically came to her knees, covering the skimpy little number underneath. Devin took a fortifying breath, grabbed her heeled peep-toe shoes, and prepared herself for her walk of shame.

  Peeking through the open door, she quietly stepped out of Ronin’s room in her bare feet. Ronin stood leaning against the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in his hand. He wore soft sleep pants and a gray T-shirt that stretched across his chest. His chest…

  “Hi,” he said softly.

  “Hi,” Devin replied, immediately dropping her eyes to intently contemplate the pattern of the tile floor, shy and more than a little ashamed of her slutty behavior the night before.

  “Feeling okay?” Ronin asked as he took another sip.

  “Not too bad, I guess. Thirsty, though.” Devin said softly, her eyes wandering around the mess from the night before. More than anything, she was not looking at Ronin. “Jeez,” she murmured, “your house kinda got trashed, Ronin.”

  Ronin chuckled. “Usually does.” He opened the fridge with his free hand and grabbed Devin a bottle of PowerAde, pushing the door closed again with his elbow. He set his coffee down to open the plastic bottle which he handed to her. Picking up his coffee again, he took another sip.

  “I take it your landlord is rather lenient when it comes to the parties, huh?” she asked.

  “I own the place, honey. Was left to me by my gramma.”

  Devin took a long drink, feeling an enormous sense of relief as the cool, sweet liquid soothed her parched throat. She took a few more sips, again avoiding his gaze and looking all around the messy room. Yet, she could feel his eyes on her. She could sense the half smile on his face. He knew exactly what she was doing. The whole thing… the not looking at him. The not really saying anything significant.

  Devin’s discomfort grew as time seemed to stop. Ronin stood there, leaning against the counter, slowly taking sips of his coffee, smiling at her over his mug. But not talking. And the lack of talking, especially after what had happened last night, was absolutely killing her. Devin needed something to do to occupy her mind, or at the very least, her hands. “Do you have a garbage bag? I’ll help you clean up.”

  “Dev?”

  Her gaze flittered up to his before she even realized it, and she found herself trapped by the gentleness and understanding in his hazel eyes.

  “It’s okay,”

  Devin bit her lip and quickly looked away again, knowing he wasn’t talking about her offer to help.

  She looked back up at him, and smiled timidly. “Just give me a fuckin’ bag, Ronin.”

  The corners of Ronin’s mouth rose in an amused smirk. “Under the sink, babe,” he chuckled lightly.

  Chapter 4 – Little White Towel

  Dammit! Devin thought to herself. Dammit dammit dammit. ARGH! DAMMIT!!!!

  Devin turned the key again and only heard the telltale tic-tic-tic of a dead battery. She had promised Joanie and Amy that she’d supply the liquor, and, as an eighteen-year-old who wasn’t legal to buy, that meant she’d get the buyer. Amy generally got her brother Shane to buy, but he had driven to a nearby town for a booty call. So, the girls all figured Ronin was her best bet. He lived fairly close to her, and he might even invite a bunch of people over for a full-fledged party.

  The only worry was that he might be out on a job. She hadn’t seen him in a few days, and, if Ronin was gone on a job, Joe would be too. The two of them and Shane pretty much consisted of her list of potential buyers. Normally, Ronin would be home to eat lunch about now, so long as they were working in or near town.

  It was summer, though, and construction was in full-swing. Ronin had worked for a local builder since he graduated from high school, and had become a rather skilled carpenter. Over the years, his knowledge and skills had increased to earn him the title of foreman. A few years back, Joe and Shane had joined his team. They generally worked close to home, but, on occasion, they had jobs a ways out in the mountains. Rather than driving the rough and tumble mountain roads back and forth every day, they would camp out there during the week, returning to town, generally having a raucous party, on Friday. And today was Tuesday dammit!

  Devin reached into her purse to grab her cell phone and dialed his cell number. It rang… and rang… and then…

  “This is Ronin. Leave a message.”

  Dammit! She jabbed the end button harshly. On the brighter side, because it rang a few times and didn’t go directly to voicemail, he probably was in cell range and not somewhere out in the sticks. She rested her head on the steering wheel, contemplating her next move. Maybe Ronin was just outside. Or maybe he was even in between jobs and just taking a nap to be fresh as a daisy for the night’s carousal. His house was only about nine or ten blocks away from hers, maybe a mile tops. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what she’d do if she couldn’t reach him. Finding the buyer was kind of a big deal, and Devin couldn’t really think of anyone else.

  She climbed out of her Volkswagen Jetta, slamming the door as hard as she could in her frustration. She loved her little car, but sort of hated it at the moment. A kick to the already dented fender helped her vent a bit, and she huffed and groused for the mile or so to Ronin’s house.

  Thank God! His truck was there.

  Reenergized, she hopped up his front steps and knocked. Nothing. Feeling a little disgruntled, she knocked again. And nothing. Once more, one last time, she knocked. Okay, she pounded. Beat the ever-loving hell out of the door.

  “Just a sec,” she heard Ronin call faintly.

  Yay! The door swung open and… Ooooohhhhh!

  Standing a step or two down from Ronin, her eyes first hit the small white towel wrapped around his waist. The faint scent of masculine soap enveloped her senses as her eyes traveled down to his bare feet, and back up. Yep, that’s really only just a little white towel. With an embarrassingly audible gulping sound, her vision slowly traveled up to his bare chest. It was mouthwatering… broad with a light dusting of hair over his pectorals. Firm and solid, lightly tanned muscles of a physical, hard-working man. A little higher and she saw the reason for his undressed state. Shaving cream spread across the lower half of his face. Somehow, the shaving cream made his hazel eyes appear to glow, and her fingers tingled with the desire to smooth the white foamy layer along his strong jaw.

  “Um, sweetheart? Did you need something?” Ronin asked, a slight grin appearing beneath the soapy layer.

  “I… um… car ticking… and… not starting…” she stuttered, unable to
form a single coherent thought.

  Ronin wasn’t helping, either, just standing there with a half-smile and waiting for her to spit out something… anything. Finally, she just had to forcefully rip her eyes away. Focus on the truck. You need liquor, and he can go get it in his truck.

  “Could I, um… Amy, Joanie, and I need some booze. Would, um, would you be willing to run to the liquor store for me?” She could barely look at the guy, and her voice practically squeaked when she talked. What the hell was wrong with her?

  Ronin seemed to enjoy her discomfort, his eyes narrowing a bit. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned up against the doorframe totally relaxed with his near nudity. As he crossed one foot in front of the other, the motion pulled slightly at the bottom of the towel to reveal an upside-down V of skin which drew her eyes back to the scant covering. Devin realized her jaw was hanging open, and she snapped it closed, glancing up to see his smile had broadened. Damn.

  After what seemed like forever, Ronin finally had a little pity for her flustered state. “Just a sec, honey. Let me finish up, and I’d love to get you whatever you need. Come on in.”

  He stepped back a foot or so, and she slipped past him, quickly becoming very interested in the details of Ronin’s ceiling, Ronin’s walls, Ronin’s floor. Anything to not look at Ronin himself. “Make yourself comfortable,” he chuckled as he strolled, towel and all, down the hallway.

  Until that moment, she didn’t realize she was practically holding her breath. Exhaling seemed to pull her spine right out of her back as she slid down the wall, sitting on the floor and gasping for breath. On her way down, she dropped her purse, and the contents scattered across the hardwood. For a moment, Devin could barely function.

  Holy smokes!

  It had been dark in his room the other night, so she’d felt more than she’d seen. And she’d been sloppy drunk on top of that. Ohmygod! Who knew Ronin had such a nice fuckin’ body? Thinking about baseball was supposed to help. She’d heard it a million times. Baseball. Think about baseball. Devin mentally repeated the mantra as she began scooping the lip glosses, sunglasses, ibuprofen—condoms, which she scooped up really, really quickly.

  Baseball… baseball…

  Unfortunately, not knowing shit about baseball, it didn’t really do much good to remove the image of Ronin’s strong, bare, broad chest from her mind. It did nothing to erase the well-defined ridges of his torso or the little white towel wrapped low around his hips. The light aroma of shaving cream lingering in the air made forgetting veritably impossible.

  Devin touched her fingers to her cheeks, feeling the flush on them as she tried to catch her breath and calm her racing heart. If Joanie could see her now, she’d never let Devin hear the end of it. Joanie… Argh, dammit! Joanie and Amy would be at her house soon, and this whole booze-buying thing was taking way longer than she had anticipated. Text… send them a text. She looked through her purse for her phone. Fuck! Where was her phone? Crawling around on her hands and knees, she scanned the room.

  At that moment, Ronin stepped back into the living room, clothed, thank God. Well, mostly. Kneeling on the floor before him, Devin watched him fascinated as he fastened the buttons of his plaid flannel shirt, thankfully covering that fucking beautiful chest. He left the top two buttons at his neck open. Frozen, she stared as his hands slipped down to tuck the shirt into his jeans before he fastened the fly and buckled his belt. Her fingers itched as she imagined the warmth and hardness of his hips, the deep contour of muscle low on his stomach.

  Ooooohhhhh!

  Realizing where her thoughts were headed, her gaze lifted to see him smirking at her knowingly. The silence in the room became painful as her cheeks flushed, and Devin began to gnaw on her lower lip.

  “Ready, honey?” Ronin asked, still grinning.

  “Um… I, um…” Devin cleared her throat and tried again. “I dropped my purse and… stuff scattered. My phone. Can’t find my phone.”

  Ronin’s smile grew. “Dropped your purse?”

  “Yeah. I think I’ve got most everything, but my iPhone is, um… I can’t find it now.”

  “You sure you had it?”

  Devin thought for a minute, contemplating this as she chewed on her lip. Had she left it in her Jetta? “Honestly, I’m not sure.” Still reeling from the embarrassment at being caught totally staring at him, she studiously ignored him and continued to search for her phone, shuffling the items around in her purse.

  Ronin raised his brow, and pulled his own iPhone out of his shirt pocket. “Awe, look, Devin called.” He smiled as he touched the screen a few times. “Okay, listen. It should be ringing.”

  “Well, actually,” Devin said sheepishly, “it probably would be if the ringer was turned up. I always turn it way down to nothing at work and then forget to change it back after. You could be standing with it in your pocket and not hear it.”

  “You should still be able to hear it vibrate.”

  “Um, I don’t have it set to vibrate. This is my second iPhone. The first was sitting on my sink while I was brushing my teeth once, and it vibrated right into the water. Killed the damn thing.”

  “Why do you even have a phone if you never answer it?” Ronin crooked a smile at her timorous expression.

  “I listen to music with it. I, um… text,” Devin nervously stammered. “I take pictures. Stuff like that. I actually rarely use it as a phone. But, I lose it all the time. So, I ended up downloading the ‘Find My iPhone’ app on my laptop, and I’ll bet I use it once or twice a week. I’ve lost it in my couch, under my bed, behind my washing machine, in the fridge. God, once it fell in between the boards on my back porch, even. I had to crawl through all kinds of nasty spider webs to get it.” Devin realized she was rambling and quickly closed her mouth.

  Ronin fiddled with his phone for a minute or two. Once again, the nerve-wracking silence caused butterflies to swirl in Devin’s stomach. “What’s your Apple ID and password, honey?” Ronin finally asked, not eyes still on his phone.

  “DevinM, and the ‘D’ and ‘M’ are capitalized. The password is, uh… RainbowConnection. And then 69,” Devin replied self-consciously. “Capitals for the ‘R’ and the ‘C.’”

  Ronin looked at her for a second, a little heat mixed with the amusement in his eyes. “69?” he asked. Devin’s cheeks flared scarlet as she nodded. “And rainbow connection? Like, as in, Kermit and the Muppets and all that shit?” he laughed.

  Devin pursed her lips tartly and narrowed her eyes defiantly. “Don’t judge me. Besides, I love Kermit. I love that song.”

  Ronin chuckled a few more times as he swiped across the screen. A few minutes later, a beeping resonated from under his couch. The couch sat on very short legs, with barely an inch or so between the frame and the floor, so Ronin walked over to it and lifted one end to allow Devin to reach under it and grab her phone.

  “Thanks,” Devin muttered.

  “Turn up your ringer, baby.” Ronin smiled.

  Devin nodded and stood before turning to make a beeline, completely mortified, out the door to Ronin’s pickup. If she hadn’t needed a drink before, she really needed a drink now.

  “I’m not even sure I want to know what you are making. Cream soda, lemon juice, strawberries. And, what the fuck is Red Velvet ZING?”

  Ronin pulled the ingredients out of the paper bag and set them on her kitchen counter.

  Devin giggled as she grabbed the strawberries to rinse them in the sink. “It’s a kind of vodka. I’m making a drink recipe I found in Cosmo. It’s called Red Velvet Shortcake.”

  “Oh sweet jeez,” Ronin chuckled as he removed the cream soda from the plastic six-pack rings and placed them in the fridge.

  “You need to cut that up,” Devin said over her shoulder.

  “Um, what?” Ronin asked.

  Devin set the strawberries down to drain and walked over to him, taking the plastic thingy away from him. She held it up and waved it in his face. “I hate these things. There’s got to be a bet
ter way to hold together a six-pack of pop than to have all these plastic loops that can hurt birds.” She reached around him in the small space to grab a pair of scissors from the container by her phone, trying to ignore the tingling sensation that erupted as her breast brushed against his forearm. Moving quickly away again, she started cutting the circles into pieces.

  Ronin laughed. “You fuckin’ hippie.” His hand held his stomach as he tried to stem his obvious amusement.

  Devin fought a chuckle at his statement. “Seriously!” she cried, struggling to keep a straight face. “Pelicans get these stuck on their beaks and then can’t swallow. They starve to death! Or animals get them caught around their necks and, as they grow, they get strangled. Didn’t you watch Happy Feet!?” Devin feigned complete outrage and shock.

  Ronin cracked a half-smile. “I must have missed that one, honey.”

  The door opened and Amy and Joanie walked in like they owned the place.

  “Okay, girlfriend, the party’s here!” Joanie called out.

  “Dude, Ronin,” Amy said to her older brother’s friend. “I know you and Dev are suddenly like all buddies and everything, and we loooooooooove that you bought the booze for us, but this is a girly night. No boys allowed!”

  Ronin ruffled her hair, which never ceased to annoy Shane’s bratty little redheaded sister. “Luckily for you, small fry, I have no desire to drink your fruity little frou-frou drink.” Ronin chuckled and headed for the door. “You girls be careful and give me a call if you need anything.” With a wink, he was gone.

  The call came four hours later.

  Chapter 5 – Hero

  Ronin was hitting the hay a bit earlier than usual. The guys had to leave at the crack of dawn to get to the job site. Hopefully Shane was getting a little sleep and not just knockin’ boots all night. He could be quite a bear when he was tired. Although, getting laid generally made his disposition a little better, so he might not be all that bad tomorrow with no sleep.