The place is set in the French Quarter and has a storefront filled with all kinds of crystals. I don’t know a dang thing about crystals or their supposed powers, but some of them are absolutely beautiful. I pick up a book on the art of reading tea leaves. “Tasseography,” I say. “Such a fancy name.”
“Sterling, you can’t believe any of this stuff.”
Ignoring him, we head to the back of the store and ask if I can get my leaves read. They explain an appointment is usually required, but someone didn’t show, so they have a slot for me. Rorke rolls his eyes, assuming they’re already pulling a fast one on me.
We’re led to a tiny room where a little table sits between us and the psychic. He’s older, wearing long chains with crosses and crystals. His hair is gray, and his clothes are tailored, fitting him perfectly. We sit across from each other, and he asks our first names. Rorke is quick to inform the master of ceremonies that only I’m getting the reading.
The seer, that’s what they call themselves, places an oversized mug with a piece of cardboard over the top in front of me, asking me to flip it over. I do as I’m told, and then he lifts the mug up, pulling out a mound of tea leaves and discarding them.
“Now, turn the cup three times counter-clockwise.”
Slowly, I turn it, counting the rotations. Smiling, he picks up the cup and looks down inside. “A pile of wealth,” he says.
Rorke glances at me, his eyes telling me not to confirm that. But I wonder how the seer knew that. I’m not dressed in anything designer, not even my shoes or handbag. The only jewelry I’m wearing is the ring from my garden. He had to see it in the leaves, unless they just tell everyone that they’re going to be rich.
“But,” the seer says, peering down deeper into the cup. “Solitude and loneliness. In the past, I see sadness.”
I nod my head. “Yes.”
He continues, “This is strange. Death and love are mixed together.”
My eyes dart to Rorke. There is no way this man could know something like that.
“Another death,” the seer says, but he glances at Rorke.
Rorke rolls his eyes. “I’m not dying.”
“No, not you,” he says.
“Who?” I ask.
“Someone close to you both.”
“What else?” I ask.
“A bad decision,” he says. “You’ll face a crossroads and go the wrong way.”
“Is there anything happy in that cup?” Rorke asks snidely.
The seer smiles. “A move and a shift in your career. All for the good.”
The move I could see, but not the shift, unless a new toy counts as a shift.
“Anything you’d like to know?” he asks.
Grinning, I glance at Rorke. “How many kids will I have and when?”
The seer smiles. “I see a line of twins, possibly triplets.”
Our mouths both drop open. “Rorke is a twin,” I say.
“Hmm, but this looks like you’ll have your own set. Twin boys and then a little girl. Or triplets, with two boys and a girl. Hard to tell.”
Rorke shakes his head. “The gene from twins comes from the mother’s side, not the father’s.”
The seer simply raises his eyebrow, grinning, almost like a little dare. He must be used to skeptics. I reach over, placing my hand on top of Rorke’s, resting on the table.
The seer looks down at the ring on my finger, his forehead wrinkled. “You’re not married.”
“No,” I say, sitting up taller, wondering how he knew that. The ring on my finger would indicate otherwise. And the fact that Rorke isn’t wearing a matching band doesn’t mean anything. Lots of married men don’t wear rings. A fact I despise, by the way.
“Marriage is coming soon,” he says.
I look over at Rorke, who’s giving me a promising little smirk, like he’s a complete believer now. “How do you know that?” I ask.
“It’s destined,” he says. “The ring on your finger. It’s almost blessed or divine.”
“But I don’t know who it even belongs to. I just found it.”
“The universe wants you to have it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
RORKE
We’re driving back home, and her head’s in my lap again, but she’s sound asleep this time. She’s been out almost the entire ride. I can only blame myself. Exploring every inch of her body took me most of the night.
Our little trip to New Orleans went better than I could ever imagine. Off the charts sex, her saying she loves me, a plan for us to stay together, the psychic forecasting marriage. It doesn’t get much better than that.
As soon as my tires hit the gravel road of my family’s farm, Sterling lifts her head, yawning. “I’m poor company. Sorry.”
Keeping my eyes on the road, I wrap my arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer and kissing the side of her head. “Figured now you’re rested, and we can . . .”
She points out my windshield to my mother waving at me from their porch. Good God, I really need to move, or at least make an alternate road to my house, so I don’t have to pass their place. I wave back, and Sterling lightly smacks me. “She wants you to stop.”
Groaning, I turn the wheel, veering towards my parents’ house, seeing the smile on my mom’s face. I know my parents are used to seeing me a lot more than they have lately. And they haven’t seen Sterling in weeks, since a few days after her parents’ party. So as much as I don’t want to, I exhale and park the car to go inside.
Walking around to get her door, I take Sterling’s hand. “How was your trip?” my mom yells. “I’ve got some lunch cooking.”
No wonder I was heavy as a child. The woman always has something cooking, but it’s how she loves. “It was great,” I say. “Think I might be able to start building sooner than we thought.”
My mom doesn’t respond, her eyes suddenly glued to our hands locked together. “The ring,” Sterling whispers to me, covering up her hand.
“Don’t worry, Mom. We didn’t get married.”
“Where’d you get that?” my mom asks, taking Sterling’s hand from mine.
“Mom?” I reach for Sterling’s hand, but my mom angles her body to stop me.
“Where’d you get that?” she asks again.
Sterling looks up at me, confused. “Mom, I told you we didn’t elope. Calm down.”
“That’s your brother’s ring!” she cries.
“No, it can’t be,” I say. “Sterling, didn’t you find it in your parents’ backyard?”
She nods, trying to pull it off again, but my mom takes her hand. “When you called asking if I was missing a ring, I never imagined it was this ring. You never described it, but I’d know that ring anywhere. Levi and I passed by this flea market one day after we’d left the doctor. He saw this ring laying in a box of old knobs, jewelry, nuts, and bolts. It was ten dollars.”
Sterling and I flash each other a look as my mom goes on, describing how adamant Levi was about buying it himself.
“He said he wanted to buy a ring for a girl before he died,” she says, her voice cracking. “He made me promise not to tell you, Rorke. He said he didn’t want it on his list of firsts. He said he’d make sure you knew about it when the time was right.”
Sterling wipes a few tears from her cheeks, twisting and pulling on the ring. “You should have it. But it won’t budge.” My mom places a gentle hand on top of hers.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “How’d it end up in Sterling’s yard?”
“Your brother put it there,” my mom says, smiling and looking up into the sky, then back to me and Sterling. “Guess he figured the time was right.”
*
If there’s anything guaranteed to put me in a bad mood, it’s visiting my brother’s grave. I’m okay thinking about him, talking about him, remembering, but this place zaps all the energy from my body. I’m not sure if it’s knowing that his body is buried underneath all that dirt or the fact that this place represents the end. It’s hard to
remember the good times when you’re out here. Instead, my mind fills with the way he suffered, the pain, the meds, the struggle.
I stand back a little, watching my mom and dad, who are sitting on opposite sides of the tombstone, almost like they’re hugging it. My mom’s hands stroke the earth like it’s Levi’s hair, back when he had it. My dad’s hand rests on top of the grave marker, like it’s rested on my shoulder so many times.
This is a sight that could make any person think twice about having kids. Even after all these years, the torment and torture of losing a child vibrates off them like the aftershocks of a massive earthquake.
It hurt to lose my brother. I’d say it was devastating, but the grief of a parent is entirely different. I’ve always known that. They’re saying their goodbyes now, always with a kiss to their fingers, then to either the ground or his headstone. It’s my turn. We pass each other, and my mom gently touches my hand. Then my dad takes hers.
It’s not often we visit Levi together. Sterling wearing that ring prompted this. I still can’t believe it belonged to Levi. My mom would have me believe he designed this from up above. That it’s his angel leading me and Sterling together. I’m glad Sterling went home before my mom shared that little bit of lunacy. I’m sure Sterling was freaked out enough by the whole ring thing already. Dad suggested perhaps Levi buried it before he died, knowing how I felt about Sterling. That doesn’t seem plausible, either. And I’m glad Sterling didn’t hear it.
But the fact remains that it was Levi’s, and somehow, whether divine intervention or happenstance, it’s on Sterling’s finger.
My parents head to the car and leave me with Levi. I stop about six feet from the tombstone, the same spot every time. It’s where I imagine his body ends, always having been bothered when I see people trampling around cemeteries. Don’t they realize they are walking on the dead?
I shove my hands in my pockets, the Alabama heat beating down on me. Mom and Dad are much better at this than I am. “Hey, big brother.”
Levi always enjoyed telling everyone he was two minutes older than I am, making him the “big” brother, which was hilarious because I always taller and heavier.
“No offense, but I hate coming here. It’s harder to feel you with me here.”
I look up, shuffling my feet, almost like this is a lull in a conversation, and I’m waiting for the other person to answer.
“God, you’d hate me talking to you like this,” I say, kneeling. “Let’s see, what would you want to know?” I blow out a deep breath and start talking about his favorite sports teams, some town gossip. “I’m boring the shit out of you.” I shake my head, glancing back at my parents waiting by the car.
I can almost hear Levi telling me to get to the good stuff. The tree leaves rustle a little, a warm summer breeze blowing in.
“Sterling Jamison,” I say. “Yeah, you always liked her.” Smiling, I close my eyes, remembering coming to this exact spot after sleeping with Sterling the first time. It seemed like the natural thing to do. We always talked about everything. And this was huge. I’d told Levi all about it. And it hits me. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. That night. The night Levi made me knock on Sterling’s door. That had to be when he buried the ring. “What are you thinking with that ring? She can’t get it off.”
The tree leaves rustle harder, sounding like a child’s laugh.
“I finally told her how I feel about her. Finally got her in my bed again.”
The wind stops. There’s not a single sound, no movement.
“Got your attention now,” I say, picking at some blades of grass.
*
STERLING
Rorke’s with his parents, so I take the opportunity to prepare for mine to return home. They’ll be back tomorrow. In addition to unpacking from our trip to New Orleans, I straighten up the house, go through the mail, and make sure there are no signs that Rorke’s been staying here. It doesn’t matter that I’m almost thirty or that my dad is retired from the ministry, or that orgasms are my livelihood, discretion is always best. It’s why my product comes packed in a cute, very discreet package. It also comes fully charged. I mean, did you ever get a Christmas present, and you had to wait until it charged to play with it? That’s no fun!
I blast Meghan Trainor through the whole house—she’s my girl jam. She’s all about booty, boys, and being strong. What’s not to love? I lower the air conditioner. There is nothing worse than sweat dripping between your boobs. And mine are so tiny, it just collects in my belly button. Gross! I hate wearing a bra, but wearing one in the dead of summer is torture. I unhook it, pulling it out of the armhole of my shirt and tossing it aside. New summer goal—to wear a bra as little as possible.
My boobs actually look a little bigger today. That can only mean one thing: my period’s about to start. My breasts increasing a half-cup size is the only good thing about this time of the month. Of course, with the increase in size, they usually hurt, but you’ve got to take the good with the bad, I suppose.
And my period coming right now is terrible timing. Rorke and I just got started. What is it about that man that drives me so crazy? I can’t even blame it on his hard abs, or ripped arms. He didn’t have all that when we were kids. But there’s something about the way a man holds you. No, something about the way the right man holds you. A woman can tell everything she needs to know about how he feels about her right there in his arms.
Is it strong? Or weak? Does he release you quick? Or hold on for dear life? Do his hands wander? Or stay still? Does his heart beat in rhythm with yours? But the most important question is whether you can still feel his support, his love, his hold, even when he’s not there.
I hear a car pulling into the drive and know it’s him, recognizing the sound of his engine, the strength he uses to close the door to his Jeep. Walking to meet him on the back porch, his whole body is slumped with sadness, a sadness I’ll never understand. I’ve got no siblings, have never really lost anyone except Levi, and it’s not even close to the same thing.
His eyes aren’t swollen, his nose isn’t red. There’s no sign he’s been crying. I guess most men don’t cry. But he’s carrying the grief like a load on his back. Why’d I have to find this ring? It’s brought back so many memories for Rorke and his parents, and not happy ones.
Time to cheer him up! I figure I’ve got limited time before my period puts a damper on things, so I need to take advantage. Wiggling my hips, I push my shorts and panties down. “Sterling!” Rorke cries, his eyes darting around. The truth is, no one can see us from the road. Now, if a boater comes by, that’s a different story. But they’d have to be pretty close or have some good binoculars.
Smiling, I run down the porch steps, tossing my panties in his face as I pass him. A huge grin covers his face. Shedding my shirt, I leap off the deck into the cool bay water. I go under for a second and touch the bottom. It’s not very deep, but deep enough that I can’t stand. When I surface, Rorke’s on the deck looking down at me. I can’t quite make out his emotion—a little pissed I’m naked in public, a little happy I’m naked in public. But from the size of his bulge when he strips off his shorts, I’d say he’s mostly horny. Works for me.
Sad to horny in five seconds flat, that’s better results than even my toy can deliver.
He’s in the water with his arms around me even faster. And I can feel everything I need to know right there. His arms coil around me, almost doubling me, his muscles flexing underneath my hands. His hold is strong. His hands aren’t wandering but gripping me, and it doesn’t end until he places a very soft, gentle kiss on my shoulder.
His forehead resting on mine, my legs cinched around his waist, he moves us around in the water. Lifting my left hand out of the water, he lightly touches the ring before he laces our fingers together.
“Marry me?” he whispers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
RORKE
The words came out before I even decided to say them. That’s the best
kind of truth, the kind that is so real, you don’t have to struggle with what to say, the perfect timing, or the right situation. Granted, skinny-dipping probably isn’t the most popular way to propose to a woman.
She slips out of my arms, swimming to the ladder of the dock. The list of reasons why I want to marry her runs through my mind, along with all the ways to convince her. “Where are you going?”
She flashes me a smile over her shoulder. “Water sex is overrated, so I want to be on dry land when I give you my answer.”
Busting into a huge smile, I’m at the ladder in one stroke. She squeals, trying to climb up before I catch her. Facing each other on the dock, the sun shimmers off the water, streaming down her body. She already has the ring on, but I fall to one knee anyway, taking her hands in mine. “I don’t have another ring to give you. I don’t have an over-the-top proposal planned. But I’ve got two arms that will always hold and protect you. Two eyes that will always see you as the most beautiful woman in the world. Two legs that will work hard to give you the life you deserve. And one heart that has and will always love you. Marry me?”
Tears streaming down her face, she cries out, “Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you.” She cups my face, pulling me to my feet, and kissing me hard. She leans back and laughs, “You forgot your dick. What promise is he making me?”
*
My fingers lightly play with a few strands of her long brown hair. Her head rests on my chest, her fingers tracing the edges of my abs. She’s greatly reducing my recovery time with that one little stroke. I managed to get her inside before my dick took over, but just barely. Currently, we’re on the floor just off the back porch.
She looks up, her chin resting on my chest. “Momma and Daddy will be back tomorrow. We won’t be able to lay around like this anymore.”
“There’s always my place,” I say, knowing that’s not entirely true. Her parents won’t approve of her sleeping over at my place, engaged or not. Hopefully, they remember how old we are and don’t raise too much hell about it.
Toying With Her Page 15