by Drea Stein
“It’s true. You don’t have to be in love, though I’ve found that the love part makes the sex much more enjoyable,” Phoebe said.
“You know you don’t have to know someone forever to know they might be the one,” Lynn said, her romantic side showing.
“I don’t think there’s any such thing as the one,” Tory said, looking around. The florist shop was quiet and Gracie, the owner, was in the back, but still she wasn’t ready for anyone else to hear what she didn’t want to admit to herself.
“There’s a reason it’s called ‘the one’. You’ve never met the one before, and now you’re totally freaked out about it.”
“Just because I had a nice weekend with someone, doesn’t mean he’s the one.”
“What does it mean?”
Tory sighed. “That I like being with him, and the sex was great, and he looks hot in a leather jacket. That’s all it means.”
Lynn shook her head. “You have to learn to trust yourself again. Open yourself up.”
“Being open didn’t get me very far. Being practical and grown-up about relationships has. And it looks pretty good from where I’m sitting, so I don’t think I need to get all concerned about ‘love’. I mean, look at my parents. Trust me, I don’t think they have ever used the word love to describe their relationship.”
Lynn shrugged. “My parents are in love. Over thirty years and still going strong. I mean, if you don’t call before you come over, you’re likely to see something you’d rather forget.”
“Ugh,” Tory said, “too much information.”
“I’m just saying. Love doesn’t have to make sense. Sometimes it just happens.”
“I just don’t like to be tied down,” Tory said.
Lynn snickered. “Unless it’s consensual.”
“Lynn, what’s gotten into you?” Tory said, though she couldn’t quite keep herself from laughing. She didn’t know why she was feeling so gun-shy with Colby. Perhaps it was because he did get her knickers all in a twist and it was freaking her out just a little, she decided. Not that she was ready to admit that to her friends.
“Ok, have you made any decisions yet?” Gracie returned from the back room, holding a bunch of flowers in her hands. Tory shot Lynn a look to be quiet, and all three of them turned their attention to the flowers.
Chapter 3 4
“Hi, Dad,” Tory said as she pushed open the door to her father’s office. He looked up from his computer screen and blinked as if trying to figure out who she was. Then his face lit up with a smile, and he waved her in.
“What are you doing here?” he half got up, but she told him to take his seat, and he sunk back down into it with a groan.
“Sorry, I know you’re busy, but I thought I’d bring you something for dinner,” she said, holding up the takeout she’d picked up from Salsa Salsa, the town’s only Mexican restaurant. She had decided to surprise him with dinner because her mother was out again, and she hadn’t seen him in a while.
“Quesadillas?” her father asked, a hopeful tone in his voice.
“And enchiladas. I thought about getting fried ice cream, but it would have melted before I got here.” Fried ice cream was one of her father’s few weaknesses.
“Wow, you are a lifesaver. I was just about to hit the vending machine for another diet soda and chocolate bar.”
She studied her dad as she set up the food on the small conference table in the corner of the office. He’d built his accounting firm from the ground up and, true to his frugal nature, he’d refused to spend the money on new furniture. It was the same stuff she remembered all through her childhood.
He was still hunched over his desk, and she could see that he looked tired, as if he had been sitting in front of his computer all day, which she guessed he had. His hair, still more blonde than gray, was unruly, as if he had been shoving his hand through it, which was probably the case as well. He had brown eyes, darker than hers, but the color was hard to see in the office light. He finally hit a button on his keyboard and looked up, smiling.
“The food smells delicious. I feel like it’s been weeks since I’ve eaten a real meal.”
“Tax season seems like it doesn’t end,” Tory said carefully.
“That’s corporate clients for you. Tax season is year-round for them.” He had risen from his seat, and he took a moment to straighten himself, holding his back as if it hurt.
Slowly he came over to the table and moved some file folders off to the floor, cleared away an empty coffee cup and made some more room.
“I can go to the breakroom and get some plates, napkins,” Tory said, because she had forgotten to ask the restaurant for those.
“Don’t worry, I have it all right here,” he said, sliding open a drawer and produced the plates and utensils.
Tory unpacked everything quickly, the chips and salsa, the two bottles of water and the boxes containing her father’s favorite chicken quesadilla and her green enchilada.
“Extra guacamole,” he said with a smile as he saw the small container emerge from the paper bag.
“I remembered,” Tory said.
“You’re too good to me.”
“Mom said you’ve been working late,” Tory said. “I mean, more so than usual.”
“True. One of my big clients is a nightmare. Seems like things get more and more complicated very year,” he said as he sat down with a sigh. She took her own seat and pushed a bottle of water toward him.
“Mom told me about your big promotion. Sorry I couldn’t make dinner. She said it was a last-minute thing, and I had a meeting.”
Tory smiled at him. Her dad had never really looked like a nerdy accountant. He’d seemed more like a basketball player—which he had been, at least until college, when he realized that his talent lay with math and not layups. Still, he played in a lawyer and accountant league most weeks and that, as well as his frequent runs, kept him pretty fit. He was tall and lean without a hint of the middle-aged paunch. Still, he wore his reading glasses much more frequently now, and she was pretty certain that the hair on his forehead started a bit further back than she remembered.
He had a good sense of humor and, though he’d been reasonably strict, she had always thought of him as the more easygoing of her two parents. He, for one, had enjoyed just hanging out and watching a movie, drinking soda and eating popcorn. They hadn’t always agreed on what to watch, of course, but his love of slapstick comedies and action flicks had definitely rubbed off on her.
She looked around the office.
“I don’t think this place has changed in ten years. You still have the picture from when I won the Academic Olympics up.”
“It was a great day,” he said.
She wrinkled her nose. She hated that picture. She considered it a pre picture. Before she had gotten wise in the basic tenets of flattering clothes, the magic of good highlights and the ease of contacts. She had on her nerd girl glasses and was wearing a t-shirt, probably with a message of something clever like, “The truth is out there” and a picture of a flying saucer. Not that she was totally ready to give up on her belief in intelligent life out there, but now she reserved those t-shirts for the gym or some other place where cameras weren’t welcome.
“I could give you my college graduation picture. I could get you a copy, put it in a frame—or, better yet, I just had a professional one done for the company website. Maybe you could put that up instead.”
Her dad laughed. “I kind of like remembering how you were then. Don’t get me wrong, I love this version of you, too, but there was something very endearing about the hacker Tory.”
“I never hacked, Dad,” she said.
He looked at her knowingly.
“Ok, maybe once, but I learned my lesson. And that was just the school library’s computer.”
He shook his head. “Of all the places to hack into.”
She shrugged, as if it had been no big deal. “I got to erase a whole bunch of fines.”
“Which I only
had to pay later. You were lucky, young lady.”
“I told you I learned my lesson. And that means that you really don’t need to check up on me,” she said pointedly.
There was a pause, and her dad looked just a little bit sheepish as he took a sip of water.
“Jake was just doing me a favor, and I feel better knowing you’re not all alone there in that apartment building.”
“The building is perfectly safe. I’m a grown woman, with a career, a car and an apartment. Just because I live in the same town doesn’t mean you can call out the Neighborhood Watch on me. I mean, what would you do if I had moved to New York or Boston?”
“Hidden cameras? GPS phone tracking? You’d have to tell me, since that’s more your area of expertise. You’re my girl, Tory. You can’t expect me to forget that just because you’re all grown up. Someday, when you’re ready, you’ll understand that you don’t ever stop being a parent.”
She paused, torn between annoyance and love. She knew that her father had taken on a lot when he was young. His own father had died before her dad had been a teenager, and he’d had to take care of his mother and younger brother and sister. Her mom had once said that it had been Tory’s father who had paid for them all to go to college. She knew that taking care of others, being responsible for them, was ingrained in her dad, but still.
“Dad, that’s sweet, but … no more meddling,” she prompted, hoping that Jake had kept his mouth shut about her and Colby. Her father had stayed mum when she and Stevie had broken up, but overprotective didn’t begin to cover her father’s feelings toward her dating again.
“You’ll always be my little girl,” he said with a sigh, “but I guess you’ve grown up and I didn’t even realize it. Sometimes we have to learn the hard way – sad but true – but no dad likes to see it happen to his little girl.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she said and then, because she could keep it in no longer, she decided to ask.
“Is everything ok between you and mom?” she asked.
Her father’s fork stopped midway between the enchilada and his mouth.
“Of course,” he said and then put his fork into his mouth and chewed deliberately.
She waited a moment, knowing that sometimes, in the silence, the truth would come out.
“We’ve been married a long time, the two of us,” he said carefully as he reached for the bottle of water and took a sip.
“Almost thirty years.” Tory nodded. It was something her father was proud of, something he set store by.
“It’s a long time,” was all he said. She waited to see if there was more, but her father asked what she thought about the Red Sox’s chances, and that was it.
Chapter 3 5
It was late. She checked her watch. She had thought about heading home, to her bed, after seeing her dad for dinner but she had had a text from Colby, just a simple one. MISS YOU. SEE YOU LATER?
So she texted back, “SURE” and tried not to think about what it meant that she was excited and happy at the thought of seeing him, unexpected and unscheduled. She pushed the thoughts away as she set her car in the direction of the water, her windows open, twilight and salty air pouring in. She pulled up at his house behind the Mustang, killed the engine. The house windows were dark, but the doors of the garage were open, and she could see lights spilling out onto the gravel.
She walked toward it, heard the loud music and Colby’s voice singing along to the words. He was so intent on the hunk of metal in front of him that he didn’t notice her at first.
“So, this is a carburetor?” Tory held up a part.
“Fuel pump,” he said with a laugh.
“I bet you don’t know what a motherboard looks like?” she threw back as she put the pump down on the blanket Colby had spread out, with various auto parts lined up on it like surgical instruments.
“You got me there.” He grinned up at her.
“So, what are you fixing up?” Tory asked, heaving herself onto the workbench, her legs dangling. He wore ripped jeans, cowboy boots and an old gray t-shirt that clung nicely to his shoulders and arms as he worked. She had taken a moment to admire the view before saying anything.
“Circa 1950s Victory.”
“What’s that?” Tory asked.
“A motorcycle,” Colby said, looking up from the frame he was applying a wrench to.
“I can see that. Why is it so special? And don’t you have one already?”
Colby emerged from behind the frame. His hair was a little wild, as if he had run his hands through it. He was looking at her, and she looked around, nervous.
“Is there something wrong?” she said, checking her ponytail to see if the ride over with the windows open had messed it up.
“Wrong?” Colby came closer to her, an intent look on his face. He smelled like motor oil and soap, with a hint of spicy aftershave. It was a heady combination of smells, and the breeze, a tang of salt on it, blew in through the open garage doors. His blue eyes were dark and clouded, and she swallowed as he wedged himself in between her legs as she sat on the bench.
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with you.” He leaned in and breathed. “You smell like lemons, fresh air, and…,” he said with a smile, “salsa.”
Tory laughed, and Colby snaked in a little closer to her, his arms wrapping around her and his lips brushing her neck. She leaned back just enough so that he could nuzzle the length of it. She closed her eyes, and a tingling sensation shot along her skin.
His bulk was in front of her, and she was dimly aware that he had stripped off the rubber gloves that he’d been wearing while he worked on the bike. One hand was in her hair, pulling it out of its ponytail and fisting around it.
“I feel pretty lucky to have a girl like you wander into my garage,” he whispered into her ear, and she felt a hot surge of excitement zip through her. He was excited, too, and hissed when her hand pressed lightly over the fly of his jeans.
His hand cupped her breast, his finger finding and applying just enough pressure so that she shuddered at the feel of it and arched her back. His lips dropped, brushing her skin at the base of her neck, and she wrapped her arms tightly around him.
“Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish,” she said fiercely. Both his hands reached around, cupping her behind and pulling her toward him. She was vaguely aware that some sort of tool slid to the ground with a clang, but it didn’t stop the kisses he was giving her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and back, feeling the play of muscles underneath the soft, worn fabric of his t-shirt.
He went in lower, and his teeth scraped against her breast. She jumped at the sensation. She opened her eyes for a moment and saw that his were clouded with lust. She felt that she, too, must have all of her feelings written on her face because he gave her a sexy half-smile, and she nodded.
He reached over and slowly opened the buttons of her sweater, revealing the thin cotton of her camisole. She shivered, as much from the cool air as from his touch. She glanced over at Princess, who was out cold, sleeping half on her back with one leg pointed straight up in the air. The door to the garage was half-open, and she could hear the water lapping at the sand on the beach and the cry of a gull.
“Cold? We could go inside,” he whispered, and she felt desire sear though her as he touched the inside of her thigh.
“I bet you could warm me up right here,” she said, and that was all the invitation he needed before Colby’s hands—large, warm, capable—were all over her, easing her out of her camisole and her bra, slowing pulling down the waistband of her pants, peeling her out of them as his hands slid underneath the thin fabric of her panties and she yelped in surprise.
He had her leaning back, her legs opened wide as his fingers did things to her that had her moaning his name and holding on to the edge of the bench for dear life. Gently, slowly and then faster he pushed her higher and higher until she could hold on no longer and felt the shock of pleasure reverberate through her.
Her b
ody convulsed and shuddered, and she opened one eye to see him looking sexy and handsome and very pleased with himself. She wrapped her legs around him and drew him close, felt his desire through the stiff fabric of his jeans. He had entirely too much on, she thought as she grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head.
Her hands reached around and gripped his back, loving the feel of his muscles, hard and tight underneath her touch.
He stifled a groan as she drew her hands downward and smoothly divested him of his jeans. She felt him kick off his boots, shrug out of his underwear, and in one swift move, he was in her and they were moving together. Nothing mattered now but the moment, and Tory gave herself over to it, letting their bodies ride together, moving higher and higher until they reached the peak and tumbled down together.
He stood there, his head heavy on her shoulder as she leaned back, boneless against the hard surface of the workbench. There was something, probably a wrench, digging into her back, but she didn’t really care. She was thoroughly and completely relaxed so that it took a moment before she realized that Colby had draped a sweatshirt over her and that her skin was crisscrossed with goosebumps from the ever-stronger breeze that was coming in through the window.
Princess whimpered, rolled over, blinked at the state of undress she saw the two of them in, and then rolled back over to sleep. Tory sighed with relief. She liked Princess, but even a doggy witness to what had just happened would have been a bit much.
“That was quite the enjoyable break,” Colby breathed against her neck, his voice low.
“Happy to oblige. I hear fixing things is hard work,” she answered, watching as Colby pulled his jeans back on and handed her various items of her clothing. He put his t-shirt back on in one smooth movement, and he grinned at her slow and sexy, his hair tousled. She reached over and ran her hands through it, re-arranging it.