If that was possible.
Chapter 9
Selena rushed over to my little apartment the moment I let her know I was home. I had my hot shower and made myself a cup of tea and sat down to hammer out the story of the Huntington Four at my laptop, but things hadn’t gone as well as I’d hoped.
Those damned four cowboys were in my head, and I couldn’t help but replay that kiss with Charlie over and over again until I could barely concentrate on the keyboard in front of me.
I’d given in and texted Selena, and, as mentioned, she’d shot over here in record time.
“Tell. Me. Every. Damn. Thing,” she demanded as she slipped out of her jacket, kicked off her shoes and joined me in the kitchen. I poured us each a glass of wine and smiled broadly.
“Well, it didn’t go as well as I expected,” I replied in a mysterious tone. “The guys were freaking hot, though, let me show you pics.”
I set my wine glass down and pulled out my phone. I’d taken photos for the article and smiled smugly to myself when Selena grabbed the phone and scrolled through the images with her mouth hanging open.
“I don’t know which one is hotter. It’s like ‘damn, this guy is perfect’ but you scroll and find the next one is just as amazing. How did you not just rip your clothes off and ride them all right there at the interview?”
I laughed. “I was too scared.”
“Ah yes, Miss Prim and Proper. I can tell you I’d be climbing those boys like a spider monkey.”
“Not just that, the storm. It was horrible out there, lightning and thunder crashing all around us, and then my car got stuck. You know how I get.”
“I know you turn into a total mess, I’m sorry,” she replied and looked at one photo with all four men intently. “Still, it seems a shame to not bang at least one of them.”
“Well, as you know, Charlie and Clive—” I pointed them out on the phone. “—turned me down last night. I drank a whole bottle of wine, though, I was so out of it.”
“Yeah, your texts were pretty funny,” Selena laughed. “I thought you were still in control of your brain, though, or else I would have told you to avoid sex with any of them. I just want you to know that.”
“It’s okay; I didn’t fully realize how drunk I was, but they did. They tucked me into bed and let me sleep. Then this morning Charlie made me breakfast and kissed me harder than I’ve ever been kissed. So at least there’s that.”
“Oh my god, you did get some action. Thank god, I was starting to worry about you. When are you going to see him again?”
“Probably never. He invited me out to the ranch again, but let’s face it, I’m not the kind of girl who drives that far to spend time in the middle of nowhere.”
“With a guy like that on the other end, why wouldn’t you be?”
I didn’t know how to answer that, so I took my phone back, sipped my wine and asked her about her hot date the night before.
She’d been much more successful at the sex thing than I was, so I listened to her wild night in place of having one of my own.
I had a feeling that, if I didn’t watch myself, that was going to end up being my fate. I would become a lonely old cat lady dependent on my friend for stories of what sex with a man was like.
I didn’t want that, though, I wanted to love and I wanted a family who loved me, unlike my own. I did want more, but I didn’t know how to get it.
And starting a long distance thing with a gorgeous cowboy didn’t seem like a good way to start. Especially when I thought the other three were equally appealing.
Chapter 10
Sunday morning went a little more smoothly than Saturday. I managed to peck out my copy, decided on a photo of the group, and sent them off to Mr. Monty. I hoped he approved and my article was on the front page Monday morning. Even though I had my little car, I commuted to work downtown because of parking. As I’d mentioned, there was something addictive about seeing your story on the cover of every newspaper on the train.
Every time it happened, I wanted to jump up and tell every single person that it’s my baby they’re reading.
But I maintained my composure and kept my pride to myself.
Dinner with my parents always helped keep me in line too. It was hard to feel proud of your accomplishments when nothing you did was good enough for them.
So Sunday evening was a bit of a bumpy ride, Mom greeted me at the door with a dish towel in her hand. “Honey, come on in. Your brother just got here with his new girlfriend.” She leaned in close to me and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “She says she’s a model, but I don’t know who would pay her to pose if you know what I mean.”
“I’m sure she’s nice, and as long as Eric likes her, that’s all that matters,” I said pointedly.
“Oh pooh, you’re a killjoy,” she snarked and walked back to the kitchen. She was the quintessential wannabe fifties housewife, complete with her Sunday uniform of a pert little dress and a cute pink frilly apron.
My dad taught philosophy and ethics at the community college; it was a weird match. He always encouraged my mom to get out and do things, make friends and have fun, but my mom preferred her insular little world that consisted of plastic coating all her furniture and vacuuming the formal living room’s shag carpet in a special pattern so she would rage if you walked across it.
It had been tough growing up with her; I’d inherited my dad’s red hair and that itself had always seemed to offend her sensibilities.
“Men don’t marry redheads, Morgan,” she would tell me almost weekly while braiding my hair so tightly it brought tears to my eyes. “Men have affairs with redheads, but they don’t marry them. You latch onto the first guy who offers, and you hang onto him for dear life.”
And that, my friends, is how I ended up staying with Miles much longer than I should have. And that is how, in spite of everyone forever telling me how pretty I was, I had the ugly monkey of ‘not good enough’ riding my back and driving my insecurities and anxieties to pathological proportions, especially when I was home again.
I walked behind her and wondered what she would do if I brought four hot cowboys home for dinner and announced that I was dating each and every one of them.
I smiled to myself at the image of my mom’s horrified and scandalized face and my dad’s smug approval.
He approved of me doing anything unconventional, and sometimes I thought that way his was of sticking it to my mom without hurting her or confronting her.
Eric was sitting at the dining table nervously tapping his fork on his glass, and a gorgeous, willowy blonde girl was sitting next to him, looking just as nervous.
I sat down across from them, smiled and said, “Hi, I’m Morgan, Eric’s sister.”
She smiled with relief at a friendly face and replied, “I’m Sarah. Eric’s…well, his girlfriend.”
“Ah yes, Mom was just filling me in on that.”
“I’m sure she told you only amazing things about Sarah,” Eric said, shooting me a look that told me to keep my mouth shut about our toxic mother or he’d kill me.
“Only because Sarah is clearly amazing,” I grinned. “Now how the heck did you end up with my loser brother?”
She giggled and told me the tale of their meeting at the bus stop in the rain. He’d offered up his umbrella, the bus had been late, and the rest was history. They’d been dating for four months already, and none of us had heard of her.
That wasn’t unusual in my family though; everyone who knows her was more than familiar with my mother’s love of harsh criticism. If Eric was bringing her for Sunday dinner, it meant he was serious about her. That was a good thing, he was closing in on thirty and had been a confirmed bachelor long enough that it was past cute.
Dinner went well enough; I ran go-between for Sarah and Eric. Every time I could tell Mom was starting to rant or get hostile, I would throw something outrageous in there to deflect her attention off Sarah.
Dad got pleasantly drunk, as usual, and told off
-color jokes about philosophers and academics that nobody really got.
I made it home just past nine and found an email from Mr. Monty waiting for me.
He loved the piece; he’d changed a few small things, but overall it was solid. It was being pushed out for the early morning edition, and I was to go into his office first thing for my next assignment.
Every week I felt as if we were barely scraping by and I might get the word that the newspaper was shutting down at any moment.
I supposed I could go digital and write for a news blog, but there was something endearing about a good old fashioned paper. It made me feel more authentic somehow, I mean every kid and their dog ran a news blog these days.
It was stressful work, but I loved it. It paid me just enough to get by, and gave me an outlet for my passion…writing.
But it did get exhausting, the constant worry that this week might be your last week of work.
I decided to be grateful I had another assignment in the morning, close my eyes and let myself sleep.
I was hunched over my desk the next day when I heard a commotion in the front foyer. Selena’s laughter wafted out across the office, and I inwardly cringed.
It was her horny, playful laugh and I assumed she must be chatting up some water delivery guy or courier. She was very obvious when she was interested in somebody, and it generally led to her sitting on the edge of my desk talking a mile a minute about the new love of her life.
I heard footsteps coming through the office, between our wall to wall cubicles, and I hunched farther over to hopefully avoid being seen by Selena and whatever new boy toy she was flirting with.
“And there she is,” Selena announced brightly. I sat up and swung around on the office chair to find her standing next to a familiar tall drink of water in tight Wranglers and a cowboy hat tipped up off his forehead.
“Charlie,” I gasped. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“I’m taking you for lunch, darlin’,” he said with a lazy smile.
“Oh, I don’t know, I, uh have to do some research…” My voice trailed off, and Selena stood just behind him mouthing, “Go, oh my god he’s hot, just go,” at me.
I sighed and looked at the website I’d been reading. Mr. Monty had assigned me the task of looking into some missing city funds on a new development in the east part of the city, the area notorious for criminal activities and gangs.
“How about we make it a working lunch?” I asked and gathered my things. It would help if I was going into the worst part of town to take photos of a warehouse and had a tall, imposing cowboy on my side.
“Anything you want,” he said. “I’m at your command.”
Selena faked clapping her hands at that, mouthed a series of words that I couldn’t keep up with, but I got the gist. They were all related to riding the hot cowboy and making me scream.
She wasn’t exactly the most subtle woman in the world, but she did make me laugh.
We walked through the office, I checked out one of the good cameras, and we headed to the elevators.
Once inside I turned to Charlie and frowned. “Now come clean, why did you really show up at my work?”
“I wanted to see you again, Morgan,” he said in a deep, breathy voice. “I couldn’t stop thinking about ya, darlin’, kissing ya and feeling you on my lap, in my arms. Tell me I’m crazy, tell me you don’t feel the same way.”
“I, uh,” I stammered in response, fully prepared to outline the million and one reasons why this wouldn’t work, but I couldn’t find the words in the face of such a stunning and sincere man. I looked up into his deep, soulful eyes and lost myself there again.
“I didn’t think so,” he said with a small, smug smile and dipped down to kiss me.
I reached behind me and hit the elevator alarm button, stopping it somewhere between the fourth and third floors, and let him kiss me again.
I dropped my purse and camera bag slowly to the floor, let myself explore his hard, muscled body under his shirt, and let him touch me all over.
There wasn’t any way to tell him no, I found myself helpless with this man, and for the first time in my life, it didn’t concern me.
I wanted to dive into his world, and I wanted to experience it all.
I just didn’t know what to do about the other three men who had been haunting my fantasies. Letting myself fall for Charlie felt so right, but turning my back on them felt so wrong.
Chapter 11
I didn’t know how long we had kissed before I started to hear angry voices from people above us and below us. It was lunchtime and the other elevator was the unreliable one, so people trying to get out to eat were being forced to wait or use the stairs and they weren’t happy about it.
Charlie’s tongue snaked around mine and I hated pulling away from him, it almost physically hurt to separate myself from him.
“People need the elevator,” I whispered and licked my lips, tasting him.
“Fuck them, I need you,” he replied, his voice low and thick with his obvious lust.
“I can’t, this is where I work,” I said, using every ounce of willpower I possessed to not strip down and ride this cowboy like a mustang.
“Damn,” he said and held me close so I heard his heart pounding in his chest and felt the hard ridge of his cock pressed against me. “I knew I should have asked you to dinner so we could have ordered in from your place. We should be fucking by now, darlin’.”
I reached behind me and hit the emergency button again, releasing the elevator so we slipped down to the next floor. “I know,” I murmured against his chest and stepped back. I adjusted my skirt, smoothed my hair and picked up my purse and camera bag before the door slid open and people flowed in.
I backed up against him to let the crowd join us, he put his arms around me from behind and held me with such casual possessiveness that my heart fluttered and my body warmed like liquid in his fingers.
In a city of commitment phobic men, it was nice to find a guy who claimed you as his and marked his territory right off the bat. It was nice to be wanted.
We reached the main floor and I asked Charlie, “Where did you park?”
“Across the street in the lot,” he replied. “You want me to drive?”
“Sure, my car is at home. I always take transit to work,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting to need it today.”
“Then it’s a good thing I came along,” he said and gave me a lazy smile full of promise. We looked at each other; basically eye fucking right out there on the corner, until the light changed and we realized we were almost missing the crosswalk signal.
I spotted Charlie’s truck across the lot and smiled to myself. It was a huge beast, a Dodge Ram that could tow a loaded trailer full of cows I was sure, but it was him through and through. It didn’t fit in here, just like him.
But Charlie did fit in, he might be a country boy but he seemed at home wherever he was.
He helped me into the passenger seat, climbed into the driver’s side, gave me a crooked smile and said, “Where to, ma’am?”
I explained where we needed to go and he left the parking lot, easing his truck into the heavy city traffic as if he’d done it a hundred times before.
“You’re good at this,” I said, “where did you go to school?”
“Here in the city,” he smiled and turned down a street I’d never used. “Six years total, I lived just a few blocks west of here.”
“I can’t picture you in some student loft,” I laughed. “In fact I can’t picture you doing anything but riding horses and living on your ranch.”
He grinned again. “My gramps always thought a rancher should have a back up plan. In my case I decided on biology, I could apply what I learned to raising cattle and crops and if all else failed, I could teach high school or something to get by.”
“You’re resourceful too,” I replied. “I still can’t picture it though.”
“I know what I’m picturing,” he said and turned dow
n another street I’d never used.
“Oh really?” I asked with my eyebrow raised. “And what’s that?”
“You,” he said and kept his eyes on the road, navigating the crazy city traffic. “I think naked, legs spread on my bed, opening yourself to me, darlin’.”
I felt my face flush hot and red in embarrassment, but I was curious. I wanted to reply but seemed to have lost my voice.
“Does that shock you?” he asked with an amused tone.
“No,” I said, my throat dry and clenched. “It doesn’t shock me at all.”
“What does it do? Alarm you?”
“No,” I replied. “It…it turns me on.”
“Really, darlin’?” he teased with a cocky grin. “What turns you on about it?”
“You,” I replied and glanced over at him. We were at a red light and our eyes locked; the heat and tension seemed to thicken the air between us until I could hardly breathe.
“Then you’re in luck,” he replied, licking his lips. I wanted him to kiss me again; I needed him to kiss me. “You’ve got me, darlin’. And as far as I can figure, I’ve got you.”
“You might have me,” I said, finding my voice at last and deciding to play along with his teasing, “but only time will tell.”
Our eyes didn’t waver from one another; our unspoken need lay heavy in the cab of the truck.
A horn blaring behind us broke the spell; he jumped, looked at the green light and hit the gas. We both laughed at our obvious sexual attraction, and I couldn’t help but wonder when we were going to relieve ourselves of it and finally go all the way.
Chapter 12
I got out of the truck and slipped down to the sidewalk. “I think this is the building I’m investigating right up here on the left,” I told Charlie as we walked.
“What’s the story you’re after?” he asked.
“Apparently one of the city’s developers was caught using substandard building materials. He bought off the city inspectors and got the building approved,” I told him. “I want to start at the apartment tower to interview residents and check out the foundation.”
Rough Stock, the Novel Page 4