by Gina Watson
He thought she looked so young considering she had a daughter in her twenties. Maybe she was well preserved, as they say. He realized he was staring at her when she moved aside and hung her head. He moved to walk past, but the color in her cheeks beckoned to him and his index finger lifted her chin. “Mirabelle, you’re beautiful.” He kissed her nose.
Gabe was thirty-three and knew Mirabelle had to be well into her thirties to account for her daughter, but to look at her high blush and youthful face it seemed unlikely she was a day over thirty. “This is highly irregular and I realize rude for a man to ask, but I’m overly curious…how old are you?”
She smiled shyly and there was that blush across her cheeks. “I just turned thirty-eight.”
He leaned in and gently placed a kiss on her suckable lips. When he released her, her head dipped. They both stood in towels with wet hair and high color; his from a cock as stiff as a wet towel left out over night in a freeze; Mirabelle’s from her recent climax.
Was she not going to take care of him then?
He caressed her arm, “I still want you?”
She looked up at him with widened eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” She bolted from the bathroom so fast it was as if she’d stood on thumbtacks.
Cautiously he rounded the doorway to her room. He stood for a moment and took in the scene. She didn’t seem to be in her bedroom. He walked to the chair where he’d neatly folded his clothes. The floor creaked somewhere behind him and he turned to find her exiting a closet wearing a simple yellow knit dress. He sighed and dropped his towel to dress. Feminine throat clearing had his ears on high alert—nothing good ever came out of a woman’s mouth after she completed a series of well-timed throat clears.
“Gabriel, I will sit for you so that you can complete your project, but I can’t sleep with you. I want to, but I just can’t.” He fastened his jeans and then turned toward her. Her convictions were so heavy and deep that they could have been scrawled across her face in black ink. The wrinkle on her forehead and the sting in her eyes screamed I’m conflicted!
He cupped her cheek. “It’s okay, Mirabelle.”
“It’s not okay that I led you on. I do want to be with you in that way, but recently I made a promise to myself and to my daughter that I wouldn’t be so self-destructive. Thank goodness I made that pact because if I hadn’t we’d both be on our backs”—she glanced at the bed—“recovering from a hard bout of sex.”
He glanced at the bed, “Yes, thank goodness you made that promise.”
He frowned and she giggled.
Chapter Five
After she’d sent Gabriel on his way, Mirabelle became awash in embarrassment. She sat on the couch with her face in her hands and rocked to relieve her humiliation. She’d always been a fool for a nice looking man. It’s how she got pregnant so young. But then she couldn’t fault her actions because the outcome had been Cara.
The doorbell rang. She stood, wondering if Gabriel had ever left. She walked to the door and took a deep breath before pulling it open.
Large pink sunglasses with silver rhinestones and glitter wings on the hinges shimmered at her and rivaled the spirit of the woman who wore them.
“Julie.”
“Cara called and said I needed to get over here stat.”
Mirabelle poked her head out and looked to the right to ensure Gabriel had in fact left the premises.
Julie hunkered down slightly and asked, “Who are we looking for? As long as his cock is hard and he doesn’t pick his nose, I’m game.”
Belle laughed boisterously. There was a feeling that came with the first cold snap of the season. Winter coats got hauled out and sometimes in the pocket, from the season before, was a wad of twenties or maybe even a one hundred dollar bill. Being near Julie was akin to finding a forgotten one hundred dollar bill in the pocket of a winter coat. She made everything better.
“I’ve got purse wine.” She patted her Texas-sized bag.
Belle pulled her friend into the house by her hand. “I have a few”—Belle tossed some verbs around in her head—“updates.”
“Good updates or we better open the wine updates?”
Belle sighed, “We better open the wine.”
They sipped a deep French red and snacked on tangy blue cheese while Belle regaled her friend with the tale of two Lotharios.
“The Victor thing I get. And Cara’s right, you need to cut him loose. He always brings you down. What I would really like to know is what superpower you harnessed in order to let that fine young David slice go without a test drive.” Julie fanned her face with her hand. “You did say he got completely naked and hard?”
“Yeah, on my bed. He was so cocky in his relaxed pose.” Belle imitated Gabriel by lacing her fingers behind her head. “Can you imagine what it’s going to be like to model for him?”
“Whew, it’s warm in here.”
“I just thought about Cara. She worries about me since she’s away, and I made her a promise that I wouldn’t be so reckless.”
“Will you be able to model for his paintings without succumbing to his sexual potency?”
“I haven’t quite figured that one out.” They both were silent as they sipped their wine and thought of the masculine form.
“I have a confession,” Julie announced.
“Let’s hear it.”
Julie stroked her neck with her sculpted hot pink fingernails. “Since it didn’t seem like you were into Mr. Barrilleaux, I sort of tapped that.”
Mirabelle was ready to have a little fun at her friend’s expense. She twisted her lips and asked, “How does one sort of tap?”
“I guess one doesn’t. I fucked him, okay,” Julie huffed.
Mirabelle winced at her friend’s harsh words. “Problems in paradise?”
“Yeah there’s a problem…a tiny one.” Julie held her thumb and forefinger up wide and slowly narrowed them until almost together.
Mirabelle’s nose scrunched. “Ew.”
“Serious pencil dick. He’s got stamina, but for what?” Julie gulped the last of her wine. Her cheeks puffed until she audibly swallowed. “The good news is, I caught up on my correspondence while he was tending the back forty.”
Mirabelle lost two drops of the wine currently in her mouth. She held her hand to her lips and dabbed the drops away. Laughing she said, “Oh, my God. Why did you let him finish?”
“In the end I was kinda rooting for the guy. He’d been going at it for forty minutes! I wanted him to claim his prize.”
“We could both use a deal.”
“What deal?”
Mirabelle crossed her legs and held her wineglass next to her knees. “I’m thinking.”
“Don’t think too hard or you’ll wrinkle.” Julie massaged with her thumb between Belle’s eyes.
“How about a no-sex pact?”
“But we like sex,” Julie answered, incredulous.
“But it’s not good for us to be so haphazard.”
“So if it’s not haphazard we can do it?” Julie asked, hopeful.
“Who’ll decide if it’s haphazard?”
“Cara,” they answered in unison.
Belle stood, “So you’ll agree to it?”
“Well, I could have not done what I did last night. Wait, what does the winner get?”
“The satisfaction that comes with keeping the pact.”
Julie slipped off her heeled sandals and rubbed the spine of her foot. “Snooze. If you want to spice it up a notch why not have the wager involve something close to both our hearts?”
“And what would that be?”
“Dance.”
“I’m listening.”
“Loser has to strip, and I do mean a total strip, on stage out of a wedding dress to Madonna’s Like A Virgin.”
Julie and Belle had a history of wagers. They could get competitive. In fact, one time Belle had felt the sting to win so strong that she had sabotaged her health in order to do so when they couldn’t decide who could outdrink whom. Belle had
won.
“Done.” They shook hands vigorously, each already convinced she’d bested the other.
Her phone buzzed away on the coffee table. Picking it up she saw Gabe’s name. “When did he get hold of my number?” she mumbled.
Busy 2nite? I wanna start on some sketches. Adrenaline’s been pumping. Can’t sit still.
“What are you grinding about over there?”
“Gabe texted me.”
“I’ll cover for you tonight. You don’t wanna lose that commish. And tell him if he’s got any friends I’ll model for practically nothing.”
“You just want me to lose the bet.”
“Come now Belle, are you saying your backbone’s not stiff enough to clamp down on the cockbox when necessary?”
She picked up her phone to compose a text and ignored her friend’s vulgarity.
“Seriously Belle, are you going to say no to that kind of money? You could finally get a new vehicle.”
She did need a new car. Plus, she could save the rest of the money to help Cara whenever Max left. And he would leave, because that’s what men did. They left. Her throat burned with acid at the thought of her daughter enduring that kind of pain.
Her friend’s hand came down over hers. “Belle, you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do.”
“I’ll do it.” She typed her reply:
Come over whenever you’re ready.
“I’ll make my exit after he arrives so I can get a look at the goods.”
When the doorbell rang they both locked eyes, their postures frozen. “That’s a hell of a tailwind. He must have already been parked in the drive.” Julie leaned forward, “May I?”
Belle nodded and nervously cleared the wineglasses and plates from the living room. Her insides were sparking and her hands were shaking as if she were sixteen years old again. She smiled, but quickly shook her head. No! That’s how you got into trouble the first time. She smiled anyway, thinking once again of Cara.
When she heard the male voice she immediately knew it wasn’t Gabe’s. Julie stood next to Belle in the kitchen and said, “I’m gonna take off.” When Belle made eye contact with Victor she saw sadness in his eyes.
“Okay, are you really wanting my shift tonight?”
“I could use it, if you’re busy.”
Belle nodded, “Thank you, Jules.” They hugged and then Julie exited.
Belle went to Victor who stood in the living room with his head hung. He wore a solid black suit that she’d never seen. “Victor?”
“From the grave, Belle.”
“What?”
“He can hate me from the grave,” he whispered.
Grasping his hands, Belle pulled him over to the couch. She sat next to him and massaged the hard tendons in his hands.
“What happened? Why didn’t you let me go with you?”
His eyes met hers and the soullessness she saw sent chills down her spine. “I don’t deserve you by my side. I haven’t given you anything, why should I expect anything?”
Her nature was to nurture, but his words were true. “I know we don’t share our lives together, but I do care about you, Victor.”
His hand cupped her cheek. “He left letters for me. There seems to be one corresponding to every time I let him down.”
She didn’t know the details of their relationship, but she herself was a parent and could never be so cruel to her child. “Throw them away. I wouldn’t even read them.”
“Unfortunately I’ve already started.”
There was one aspect of Victor she knew quite well and the sizzling look in his eyes and the way he kept licking his lips spoke the words for him.
“Belle, let’s order from that Thai place down the street and eat it with expensive wine. Then we’ll undress each other on the living room floor while we listen to Elvis Costello.”
It was their favorite way to spend time together. She inhaled a fortifying breath. A hand caressed her shoulder while the other one started a slow glide up her thigh.
She stood and paced the small area around the coffee table. “Victor, I can’t.”
His arms stretched across either side of the loveseat. He stretched his back against the seat. “I know. But I do need to ask you for a favor.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to stay at Dad’s estate and I don’t want to be alone in a hotel room. Will you let me take Cara’s old room?”
“How long are you going to be in town?”
“Four weeks should cover it.”
Oh, God. Four weeks. She couldn’t do it. They’d be in bed together by tonight. His sadness was her undoing and she wanted to make him happy, and using her body she knew she could. Anything to bring back the lighthearted man she knew and liked. But then she thought about her promise. “Um…I would, but I’m renting the room.”
He laughed, and for a moment his old sparkle shone in his eyes. “Belle, you’ve always been a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying. They’ll be here soon. I just had to wash the linens you know.”
He stood and walked behind her. With his lips by her ear he whispered, “Wash the linens?”
“The um…the bedding.” Belle pointed toward Cara’s room.
The doorbell rang and Belle was glad because it meant she’d been saved. And then her stomach sank when she realized who it would be. “I’ll just get the door.” She pushed Victor into the loveseat that luckily faced away from the door. As she’d predicted, Gabe stood at the threshold. Before he could speak she raised a finger to her lips letting him know to keep quiet. He had leather bags in each hand and a sketchpad and canvas under his arm. She leaned in next to his ear and whispered, “Follow my lead.” His green eyes narrowed at her and she had no way of knowing if he’d let her use him in her lie or not, but she hoped he would.
* * *
Follow my lead. Gabriel had to admit this was the most peculiar female he’d ever met. He was intrigued to know what she was hiding. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Victor, this is Gabriel. He’s an artist. Gabriel, meet Victor. He’s an investor.”
Gabe nodded. Victor did the same as he sat stretched across her small sofa.
“Gabriel is the renter I was telling you about,” Belle announced.
Victor’s forehead bubbled as he took in the sight of Gabriel and his bags, sketchpad, and canvas. “I see. He won’t have much room to paint.”
Gabe didn’t like Victor talking to Mirabelle about him when he was standing right before him. It was an act of dismissal. “I’m sketching for the foreseeable future,” Gabe spoke with authority.
Victor cocked his head toward Gabe and offered a confident grin. “I see. Well, I hope you like aqua and pink.”
“Aqua and pink round out my signature palette.”
“Well then I think you’ll feel right at home.” Belle led him to the room for rent. “You’ll want to unpack,” she said loud enough for Victor to benefit.
She pulled the door closed and he heard her shuffle off. He didn’t know if she was in fact serious about renting the room but if she weren’t then the joke was on her. Since he could no longer stay at Max’s, and since the situation had presented itself, he did in fact plan to rent the little room. Actually, he’d planned on renting a condo but this would be better, and it would ensure that his project took precedence over everything else.
Gabe shot a text off to Zach, hoping he’d hurry to fulfill the request.
He started unloading his supplies from the bags. Mostly colored pencils and paints. He needed to figure out the color of her skin. He’d also brought a few high efficacy, true light lamps he preferred.
Once he had everything out of the bags, Mirabelle had returned. He felt her watching him from the door, but he didn’t look up from his work. He had two of the three lamps connected. The third he thought he’d place in the living room in case he might sketch her there.
“What are you doing?”
His eyes connected with hers as he he
ld the lamp in his hands. “Unpacking.”
He walked toward her and she stepped aside to let him by. She followed him to the living room and stood by his side while he pondered the best setting for his lamp.
“Unpacking?”
“The rest of my stuff should be here shortly.”
“The rest of it?” Belle rubbed her upper arms with her hands as if she were cold.
“I only brought my sketching pencils and a few paints. Zach’s on his way with my toiletries and clothes.”
“Actually Gabriel, the room isn’t for rent.”
He bent to plug the lamp into the wall. When he straightened from the task he turned toward her. Her arms were crossed and she nervously chewed at her bottom lip. “I’ve already made provisions. And I’m on board with the color scheme. You remember.”
“I know, but”—
She’d been cut off by the ringing of the doorbell. Her stiff movements as she unfolded her arms would rival any Mr. Roboto competitor in a dance-off contest. She tossed her head back and mumbled.
They made it to the door at the same time and she held her arm out, gesturing that he should open the door.
His brother’s smiling face was a welcome sight. In his hands he carried some of Gabe’s clothing and a leather bag. “Zach, have you met Cara’s mother, Mirabelle?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure.” He bowed in front of her. Then he held his hand out. She seemed perplexed, but offered her hand to him in spite of it. “It’s a delight to meet you. May I say I can see what all the fuss is about?” Zach winked at her.
Gabe chuckled. She pulled her hand free. “You’re brothers? How many of you are there?”
“Five,” Gabe answered.
“Well, come in Zach. Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“I’m not having anything.”
“Let’s remedy that, shall we?”
Wherever he went, Zach lightened the mood. Gabe could mark the moment when Mirabelle had given into his charms. Her posture became more natural and her smile returned. “I guess I could open a bottle of wine.”
Moments later he heard the cork pop on a bottle of wine and hoped it meant he’d solidified rental of the room.