by Claire Adams
I shrugged. “Well, I think. I mean, it’s a lot to take in, but I think she’s doing okay with it.”
“How are you taking it?” he asked, worry coloring his tone. “You haven’t talked about it all that much.”
I met his gaze and the tension in his shoulders relaxed, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips at whatever he saw in my eyes. “I feel good, actually. Great. Like a shiny new toy.”
Tugger laughed, slapping me on the back again, wagging his eyebrows at me. “I don’t want to think about your toy, but you look like a new man. Won’t lie to you: it’s great to see you looking happy again. For a while there, I was wondering if we were going to get you back.”
“Throwing me a ‘welcome home’ party?” I smiled, but I was grateful to see him looking at me like anything other than a ticking time bomb for once.
He flipped me off, laughing as he picked up his hedge cutter and got to work next to me. “Nope, throwing myself an ‘end of suicide watch’ party though. You should come.”
The words gave me pause, sobering me up as I looked back at the last few years with a clarity I had lacked before. “Was I really that bad?”
He shrugged, but the darkness returned to his eyes. “Nah, never thought you’d go through with it, but the hole you crawled into once you got back was pretty fucking dark, and you gotta admit, the self-destructive habits you picked up were—”
“Pretty destructive?” I finished for him.
He ran a hand over his hair, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “Yes. I didn’t know how many more skirts you were gonna try to find May under before something bad happened or you finally let the guilt over doing it bury you.”
We trimmed in silence for a while, before I muttered, “Thanks for bringing me back, Tug.”
“I didn’t. She did. Maybe we should throw her a party instead. You seeing her again?”
“Hoping so. Our relationship is still very much in the fledgling stage, but I’m hoping it’ll turn into something more permanent.”
“Me too, brother,” Tugger said. “Me too.”
Finished with the hedge, we went our separate ways to perform our routine maintenance of the client’s garden. Mrs. Brooks appeared in her screen door again an hour or so later, shooting me that same come hither look that ended in a pretty decent blowjob for me last time.
Tugger noticed from where he was watering the herb garden, giving me a long, worried look, especially when she tugged down on her shirt to expose the tops of her creamy breasts and lacy beginnings of a bright red bra. Strangely, despite the fact that I knew how good she was with her mouth, I had absolutely no interest in going inside.
The only person I wanted to fuck was Juliana. She also happened to be the only person I wanted to think about fucking. My dick didn’t react to Mrs. Brooks in the slightest; he wasn’t interested either. It was not familiar territory for me, but I was okay with it. Instead of walking toward her, I gave her a friendly wave and went about my business without another look in her direction.
With Juliana in mind, I finished up clearing out the beds—our last task for the Brooks house—and pulled my phone out of my back pocket. While it rang, I started collecting our equipment and loading it up. I was about to lose hope that she was going to answer when her chirpy voice came over the line, flooding me with sweet, pure relief.
“Hey, you,” she said.
“Hey. How’s your day going?”
She sighed softly, “Long; the clock is part of this conspiracy against me.”
I laughed. “Really? How’d you figure?”
“It stands still while I’m looking at it. How’s yours?” I glanced toward the house, where Mrs. Brooks had taken to lounging by the pool in a string bikini that I previously would’ve taken off with my teeth. Still, I had zero urge to fuck her.
Interesting.
“Boring. The only thing keeping it interesting is thinking about you.”
There was slight pause. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“What were you thinking?” Nothing I was getting into while standing next to my truck with Tugger within earshot.
“You have any plans for tonight?” I asked, trying to pull my mind out of the gutter. Unfortunately, it clung to that bad boy like a parasite and memories of how she tasted when she came on my tongue jumped to mind.
Christ. I had to get my brain under control or I was going to pop a boner in a client’s yard. Not cool.
“I was actually considering cooking dinner for a certain handsome ex-SEAL. You know any?”
I laughed, glancing at Tugger, who was shamelessly eavesdropping. “The only one I know in town has an ugly mug. And he’s married.”
“So, more your type than mine, then?” she quipped and giggled.
“Touché, baby.” I couldn’t change the past, but I could joke with her about it if that helped her come to terms with it. “You were saying something about dinner?”
“Yes. Wanna come over? Wait, before you say anything, I should warn you that I’m an awful cook. My culinary skills leave everything to be desired.”
“I’m still in.” The only thing I desired was her anyway. “What time will you be done?”
“I should be home just after 5; can you come over around 6?”
“I’ll be there,” I promised. “With bells and whistles on.”
“Oooooh, how’d you know I have an elf fantasy?” she joked, but of course my gutter mind still went right where it shouldn’t, picturing her at Christmastime wearing nothing but—
No, Christmas was months off. I couldn’t go there, even in my mind. Not until I knew where she was standing on the whole May thing.
“I didn’t, but I’m game if you are,” I told her honestly. Hell, if it meant I got to keep her for at least a little while, I’d go buy the outfit right now.
Juliana laughed, the light, happy sound causing the glow that had been in my chest since I woke up that morning—after a surprisingly good night’s sleep—to crank to nuclear levels.
“Calm down there, cowboy. Or Elfie,” she giggled. “See you at 6?”
“Can’t wait!” That was 100 percent true. My attraction to Juliana surpassed even what I’d felt with May, and thus far, it seemed like the feeling was mutual.
The rest of the afternoon dragged, and I made a mental note to tell Juliana my watch had joined the clock’s conspiracy, but I was finally in the shower and would be heading over to her house in less than an hour.
I’d set the water to a cool temperature, lathering myself up with soap, still unable to stop thinking about Juliana. As I washed, my mind drifted to what it felt like when she touched me, to how her pussy clenched me like a vise when she came. I imagined her being in the shower with me, what her body would look like wet and glistening.
Taking my cock in hand, I started stroking and imagined that it was her hand on me. The need I’d felt for her all day was relentless, trying not to think about her was torture, and now that my imagination had finally run away with me, my dick was throbbing fucking hard in my hand.
I needed to come so badly that my knees shook slightly from it. My balls were tight and achy. I gripped my cock harder, tension starting to tingle in the base of my spine. Then I realized what the hell I was doing and let go of myself completely.
My body protested, and a loud groan escaped from my lungs, but no. I punched the wall and flipped the water to freezing cold to stave off my very imminent orgasm. I was saving everything I had for Juliana.
Chapter 28
Juliana
My boss, Mr. Henderson, looked up when I knocked on his open door, motioning for me to come inside. He was a balding, chubby man with red cheeks and cheap suits, but he was kind enough. He smiled as I entered. “What can I do for you, Juliana?”
“I was wondering if I could take off a little bit early today?” I asked, hoping against all hope that he said yes. I’d never asked to leave early, but I was eager to get supplies for my date with Pacey.
Mr. Henderson nodded, then noted something down on the calendar that covered his desk. “Sure, everything okay?”
“It’s fine. I just need to get to the store before it closes.” I’d decided to try making a quiche, since I figured that it couldn’t be that much harder than cooking regular eggs. I knew that I could’ve gotten everything I needed from just about any store, but I wanted to give myself enough time to experiment.
“Okay. See you tomorrow, Juliana.”
“See you.” I waved at Mr. Henderson and practically skipped to my car.
My heart had started pounding like a drum when Pacey called earlier, and I was super excited to see him. Despite my doubts and misgivings about both of our situations, I couldn’t control my body’s reaction to him, and I didn’t really want to.
He made me feel things that I’d never felt before and stirred something warm and fuzzy in my heart. I dug out the keys to the Jeep and barely stuck to the speed limit on the way to the store.
Wind streamed in through my open window, tugging at my high ponytail, cooling me down. There was a good beat to the music playing on the radio, and I was on my way to pick up supplies for a date with the hottest guy ever who I thought I might be falling for. All things considered, I was happy, excited and for the first time in a long time, the future seemed alive with possibility.
The last couple of months with Scott had been a mistake. I was realizing that more with each day that passed without him. That knowledge eased my worry about being with Pacey and giving things with him a real shot so soon after the breakup.
After all, he was the first man that made me wonder about the future beyond a few months or weeks, and I thought that he felt the same way.
Bubbles of joy floated through my veins at the thought that he could actually, really, maybe be the one. By the time I got to the store, my excitement had reached unprecedented levels and it felt like I was floating on cloud nine as I moved from aisle to aisle.
I carefully selected the ingredients that the recipe I saved on my phone told me I would need, then paid for my purchases, and positively buzzing, headed home. It felt like I was standing right at the very edge of something amazing, something life-changing.
As soon as I got home, I threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top and headed back to the Jeep to collect my groceries, carrying it all to the kitchen in one go.
“Right,” I muttered to myself. “Where do I start?”
I pulled up the saved recipe again, set the onions I was supposed to start dicing on the counter, and started packing away the rest of the stuff for the time being when there was a knock at my door.
Turning my wrist to check the time on my watch, I frowned a little. There was still about an hour and a half before Pacey was supposed to be here. Whoever it was knocked again.
Amber. It had to be her. A frisson of irritation ran through me, but I pushed it down. I’d asked her for space the last time she’d been here, but if she was here because she was in trouble, I wouldn’t turn her away.
Not immediately, anyway. I sighed and called out. “Be right there.”
I padded out of the kitchen after making sure that the pastry I bought was sitting out to continue defrosting while I dealt with whoever was interrupting my preparations. Of all the days for a surprise visit, this was not the one I wanted any distractions for.
Since I wasn’t even supposed to home yet, I also failed to understand why anyone would bother to look for me here instead of at work. I swung the door open and scowled at the dreadlocked man who’d been here with Scott all those weeks ago.
“He’s not here,” I told Dreadlocks coldly, then started to close the door in his face. He placed his palm on the door though and pushed his way inside.
“I know your boyfriend isn’t here,” he told me in a tone that made my blood run cold. I backed away from him. Alarm bells started blaring in my mind to get away from him, to get out of the house.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I started, but then my eyes grew wide, and my heart froze when he pulled a rag from his pocket.
I spun on my heel to make a run for it, but I wasn’t fast enough. Dreadlocks caught my wrist and shoved me against the wall by my shoulder. Pain shot through my back from the harsh impact, but I couldn’t focus on that.
His breath was acrid on my face, his pupil’s only pinpricks, and his face contorted with malice as he grimaced down at me, sneering, “Don’t fight me; you’ll only make this harder on yourself if you do.”
One of his forearms came up and pushed against my neck, restricting my airway, keeping me pinned to the wall. The next thing I knew he produced the rag and slammed it over my nose and mouth. My vision started blurring almost immediately, and I sagged, my knees not able to hold me up anymore. Blackness crept in, and it felt like I was falling. Dreadlocks caught me by the shoulders and gave me a blood-chilling grin, saying. “Nighty-night, bitch.”
Then the blackness won out, and I collapsed.
The first thing I became aware of when I woke up was that I was on something springy and that my head felt like someone had smashed it against a wall. My throat was dry, and my mouth tasted terrible. I managed to crack open an eye and saw that I was in a car.
Ah, that’s why it feels like I’m moving.
The car had brown seats and smelled like stale ass, mixed with old tobacco and a pungent, sweet smell that I couldn’t quite place. Dreadlocks was in the front seat, his back turned to me, while another guy that I’d never seen before drove.
Shit.
This was very, very bad. It became infinitely worse when I became aware of the fact that my ankles and wrists were secured by cable ties. I felt dizzy and faint.
I’m being kidnapped. Why the hell would they kidnap me?
It was insane. Panic gripped at my insides and fear wrapped around my heart like tentacles with those little suction cups on them. I tried to think back to every movie I’d ever watched where someone got kidnapped, but nothing useful for my situation came to mind.
My stomach turned as we went over a bump, but the jolt reminded me that I knew this town like the back of my hand. If I could figure out where I was, maybe I could start coming up with a plan to escape from wherever they ended up taking me. I knew a lot of people around town; surely, I would be able to run to someone’s house.
Escape plan? Don’t be ridiculous.
I pushed the snide voice in my head away and popped my head up, straining my neck to catch a glimpse of where we were. Unfortunately, the movement caught Dreadlocks’s eye, and he spun in his seat, waving a finger at me.
“Where are we going?” I croaked, my throat scratchy.
Dreadlocks reached back and shoved my head down, banging it on the armrest on the way down. A scream ripped from my throat, but his other hand clamped over my mouth.
“Somewhere no one will hear you scream,” he told me menacingly, then grabbed the rag and shoved it into my mouth.
I tried to struggle, to fight him off, but my limbs became numb, and the black spots started clouding my vision again. It was useless to try to blink them away. I couldn’t fight it. Soon, the blackness was winning over my lame attempt to fight it back, and I passed out. Again.
Chapter 29
Pacey
Jogging up the steps to Juliana’s place at exactly 6 o’clock, I couldn’t help noticing small things that I’d gone years without really noticing, like birds singing in the tall trees on her street and the smell of rain in the air. She was bringing me back to life; Tugger was right about that.
There was a big, goofy grin on my face when I reached her door and knocked, surprised when it creaked open a bit under the light pressure of my knuckles. It wasn’t latched.
A tendril of fear crept up on my insides, and the grin dropped.
“Juliana,” I called out. It was possible that she simply hadn’t locked her door, in which case we were having a safety talk later. After I either kissed her senseless or shook her by the shoulders for scaring me.
&nbs
p; There was no answer, so I used my elbow to push the door open more, calling out again. “Baby, are you here?”
I was met with nothing but silence. Stepping into her house, I surveyed her small entrance hall, but there was no sign of a disturbance, other than a bowl lying on the floor a short distance away from a wooden side table with keys lying next to it.
Exactly as it would be lying if someone had swept at it in a struggle. The tendril crept higher, tightening my stomach and kicking every sense into gear. I darted into her kitchen just off the entryway. It was empty, but there were grocery bags unpacked on the counter, and two rolls of pastry sweating next to them. Several of her cupboards were hanging open like she was in the middle of unpacking the groceries.
So where the hell is she?
Very real worry was setting in fast, and I started running from room to room, yelling her name over and over again. “Juliana!”
Still no answer. I dashed into her living room, empty. As was her dining room, office, second bedroom, her bedroom. All empty.
In her bedroom, her work clothes were in the hamper, and her purse was on her bed.
I checked it. Her wallet was still inside, but the Jeep was in the driveway anyway, so it wasn’t like she’d popped out for something last minute. My gut twisted, my entire body tensed. Fear iced my veins, paralyzed my lungs.
Fuck. No. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
I couldn’t lose Juliana. Not now. Not like this. Frantic, I pulled my phone from my pocket and called the police. She couldn’t be gone. They had to find her.
“911. What is your emergency?” A relaxed-sounding dispatcher chirped.
“I’d like to report an abduction,” I told her, struggling to keep my voice under control. I rattled off Juliana’s address and was told to sit tight and wait for the police to arrive.
I couldn’t sit still, though; I couldn’t just do nothing.
I have to keep her safe. I can’t fail again. I couldn’t lose the peace she brought, her arms, everything she was. Not again.