by Tl Mayhew
I almost fall out of my seat when she gives her arm a quick jerk, freeing it from my grasp. My brows crinkle in frustration. “No! We’re not going to talk to him. And we’re not going to confront him. He could be dangerous, Tracy.”
She drops in the seat next to me and crosses her arms. “Pfft, dangerous. Well, maybe you should call the police.”
I consider what she says. Maybe I should call the police, but then shake the thought from my head as I think of how stupid it would sound. “I want to report a guy staring at me and buying me drinks.” They would either laugh or tell me there’s nothing they can do. “Really…he’s not doing anything different than any other guy would be when we go to the club. Guys stare and buy us drinks all the time.” My gaze meets hers and I shrug off the suggestion.
“Yeah…I guess…we just never noticed they could be stalkers because we were always so drunk,” she adds, and we both laugh.
For the next hour, the flow of drinks is steady, and the conversation is much lighter, both of which I appreciate.
“S-So…what does he look like?” There’s a slight slur in her words.
My face scrunches in confusion as I ask, “Who?”
“Duh…the mystery guy.”
“Oh…” My cackling laugh echoes through the near empty room. The few people scattered throughout the restaurant look our way and I duck my head. Once their gazes retreat, I lower my voice. “Well, I haven’t actually seen his face. It seems like he’s always in a place where it’s hidden, but the parts I could see are…well, just wow. His biceps are the size of fucking coffee cans, and I bet the material of his shirt screams every time his muscles flex.” The back of my hand moves across the corner of my mouth as I wipe away a droplet of drool. “And that’s just above the table. I can’t even begin to imagine what’s under the table.”
She fans herself dramatically, and her response is as Southern as a native Georgian. “Well, darlin’, he sounds hot!”
We finish up the last of our drinks, and the sour waiter boxes up our food, then places the receipt on the table. My sister signs on the dotted line, tucks her copy in her purse, then we weave through the restaurant.
Holding myself like a five-year-old, I tug on Tracy’s dress and point in the direction of the restroom. “You go watch for the cab. I’ll be right out.” I sway while walking away, and she giggles.
“Are you sure you don’t need help? Maybe we can find that mystery man to take you…” She pauses, letting her words sink in, then belts out a laugh. “Take you…get it?”
When laughter wracks my body, I bend over and hold my midsection. Any attempt at being serious is now a lost cause. “Don’t make me laugh!!” I say, giving her a playful shove as I waddle past then flick a quick glance at the table where he sat earlier. My eyes meet an empty seat, and I voice my disappointment a little louder than expected. “Why should I care? I don’t even know the guy.”
I step out of the stall, check myself in the mirror, then splash water on my face and let the shock of the cold water sober me a little. “I’ll definitely be feeling this in the morning.”
When I push my way through the door, I’ve only taken but a few steps when my gaze meets a very large, muscular man. His long strides have him down the hall in seconds, and my breath hitches at his commanding presence when he stops only inches from me.
Not taking the chance of meeting his eyes, my gaze is level with his defined pecs, and I attempt to widen the gap between us by taking a few steps back. My effort is for not when he matches my steps and my back firmly hits the wall. He’s close enough that the heat radiating from his body warms my skin, yet we’re still inches from touching.
He places a hand on the wall next to me, and my pulse quickens as he leans in. The unusual scent of leather and the beach saturates my senses. When I think of his lips on mine my body to stiffens, and I begin to lose all sanity as he closes in. It’s not until I feel the warm breath on my ear that I realize he’s not going to kiss me.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” His intense stare pebbles my skin as he waits for my response.
There’s enough alcohol coursing through my veins that my confidence teeters on the edge of stupidity. I straighten my back, lift my chin, and challenge the large man standing before me. “No, should I?”
Without saying a word, his hand reaches for mine. When our skin connects, I feel it—the heat, the energy, the spark. I haven’t felt this since… A gasp escapes my lips and I pull my hand away, searching his eyes for some hint of confirmation. The light from the bar catches a glint of gold flecks in his stare and the mesmerizing hazel returns from so long ago. “Clayton?”
His lips curve into a grin as his eyes roam my body. “Lacy, you’ve grown into quite the lovely woman.”
Heat warms my cheeks, and I look away, unsure what else to say other than, “Thank you.”
The energy flows through his fingers as he lightly grasps my chin, turning my face toward his. Our eyes meet. “As lovely as that pink color is on your cheeks, you should never feel embarrassed or look away when someone compliments you. You are a beautiful woman, and you should be proud of that.”
Nodding, I shift on my feet, my nerves strung like a too tight string on a guitar.
He releases my chin, then adds, “Check the receipt the waiter gave you. I’m only in town for a couple days. If you’re interested in grabbing a drink, a cup of coffee, or…” his eyes roam over me once again, “anything else, give me a call.” And just like that, he’s gone.
When I’m outside, I bump Tracy’s shoulder, and she jumps. “What took you so long?”
I brush past her and step to the curb, scanning the line of cabs, town cars, and black SUV’s, looking for Clayton. When our cab approaches and I don’t see any sign of him, I grab her arm. “Just get in. I’ll tell you in the cab.”
As the door shuts and the vehicle lurches forward, Tracy asks, “So, what’s going on?”
“Do you still have the receipt for dinner?”
She looks confused. “Yeah, why?”
“Let me see it.”
She holds it up, and I pluck it from her hands. The folds in the thin paper hide the information I’m after, but as I smooth it out, the clean, masculine print of his name and number appear. A slow grin spreads across my face.
She pushes me on the arm. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”
I glance in her direction, my gaze distant as I begin to explain. “So, on my way out of the bathroom, this big guy starts walking toward me. He steps within inches of me, then asks if I remembered him.” I pause, waiting for her reaction.
Her blue eyes go wide. “Seriously? Was it the guy from the bar? He waited for you and it’s someone you know?”
I nod, smiling. “Remember the hot guy I told you I interviewed when I was in college?”
“You mean the guy you fantasized about for the rest of your senior year? It’s him?” She turns in her seat to face me.
“One in the same.” If it were possible for someone’s face to split in two from smiling, that would be what mine is doing this very moment.
“Wow! Talk about a small world. What’s he doing in Savannah? Does he live here?”
“I don’t know. I was kind of shell-shocked, so I didn’t say much. He did give us his number, though.” I flash the receipt in her direction. She tries to grab it from me, but I pull my hand back. “Uh-uh. You are not getting your hands on his number.”
She sits back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I just wanted to see it.”
“No way! You would end up calling him and telling him something horrible about me or talk him into setting a wedding date or something else ridiculous. If he gets a call, the first call will be from me.”
Her smile fades. “What do you mean if? You will be calling him, and it will be tonight.”
Chapter 6
Lacy
The cab drops me off at my apartment, and I pull my sister into a hug. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
> Her response comes at the end of a dramatic yawn. “Okay. Make sure you call that mystery man. I will expect details tomorrow.”
A grin curves the corners of my mouth as I exit the cab, wave goodbye and head to my apartment.
After changing, I make a cup of decaf coffee and plop down on the couch. My mind drifts to Clayton and what he’s doing in Savannah—better yet, what he was doing at Magnolia Woods.
The last time I saw him was during the interview, and at the time, he was a detective. I can’t imagine it would be work-related since they have jurisdictions and such. Maybe it’s as simple as him knowing a patient there, but if that were the case, why would he hide? As I wrap my hands around my cup, the intense heat stings my skin and I concentrate on the sensation. I’m hopeful my thoughts stay on Clayton and don’t drift to where I know they are headed—my mother. But it’s no use. I can’t stop it and the memories come flooding back.
The mere mention of the facility is bittersweet. Not only is it a reminder of the direction my life has taken. and the satisfaction I get from caring for others, but it also tugs on the memories of my mother and her last days.
Her obsession with alcohol didn’t really take hold until after my father passed. There was the frequent social drinking, dinner with friends, a party here or there, but it wasn’t really until after that her drinking became severe. After several stents in the hospital, we knew she needed help. The day she was admitted to Magnolia Woods was the hardest day of my life. I knew it was the last straw—either she would get through or she wouldn’t.
Tears well in my eyes at the images of her on the last day.
Her skin, pale with dark circles under her striking blue eyes, is sunken in, emphasizing the bones of her cheeks. Her thin, skeletal body is barely able to manage the slightest intake of air. The beeps from the machines…
When Adele’s “Hello” fills the room, I shake my head and laugh yet the tears still fall. “I need to change that damn ringtone.” I wipe my cheeks with the sleeve of my shirt and sniffle as I answer. “Hey, Tracy.”
“Are you okay? Did something happen?” The familiarity and concern in her tone almost brings me to tears again.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I was just thinking about Mom. It’s been a really long day and a lot of things have happened. I think my emotions, and possibly exhaustion, are starting to catch up with me.”
“I know it all happened so fast that we really didn’t get a chance to talk about any of it. You and Mom were a lot closer than she and I were, but I feel like I’m just realizing that now. Working as a nurse for fifteen years, I’ve been around death and families that have lost loved ones, and I guess I didn’t really think of how much more you were impacted.” The line goes quiet, but sniffles filter through the phone before she continues. “Lacy, I’m sorry I didn’t take more time to talk with you and make sure you were dealing with things okay.”
“Well, I won’t lie, it’s been hard. I think about her all the time, and sometimes it hurts so bad; I feel ill, but I never wanted to bother you with any of it. I mean, hell, she was your mother too. I know you were going through stuff.” I head to the kitchen and pour more coffee. “I’m really not sure how to handle these feelings.”
“Please don’t ever feel like you can’t talk to me. No matter what I’m going through. We’re the only family we’ve got, and we need to stick together.” Her tone is firm yet motherly. “There is something else I would like to suggest. It’s probably not something you’ll want to do, but please hear me out before you say no.”
“Okay…”
“Have you ever thought about setting up an appointment with Dr. Ackerman? I had a couple thirty-minute sessions with him and it seemed to really help.”
“Are you talking about the psychiatrist at work? Isn’t that weird airing your dirty laundry to someone you work with and see every day?” My voice raises an octave at her suggestion.
“No, it’s not really that weird. He knows the story because he treated Mom, so it’s not airing anything. Besides, since he has his own practice now, he’s only at the Woods a couple days a week. You won’t see him every day.”
Scrunching my nose, I consider what she’s saying. “I’ll think about it. If anything, maybe he can help me move past the vivid images of her last day. I want to remember the fun, happy times we had, not the skeleton of a person I remember now.”
“Great. Let me know once you decide to set it up. Maybe we can do a couple’s session once you feel comfortable.” The laugh at her own joke is infectious, and the corners of my lips raise. “Enough of this somber shit. I actually called to see if you had talked to the mystery man yet. I want the gossip, girl!”
“No, I haven’t called him yet. I wanted to relax before I got up the nerve to call, then the whole crying thing started.”
“Girl, you get off this phone right now, get cleaned up, and you call that massive hunk of a man I haven’t seen or met yet.”
My small laugh sounds more like clearing my throat. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’ll let you know what happened tomorrow. Thanks for cheering me up, sis.”
Once I disconnect the call, I jump up and head to the bedroom, both eager and nervous to call him. Stripping down to only a tank top and panties, I climb on my bed and dial Clayton’s number. But I don’t hit send. Setting the phone down and dropping my head back against the headboard, I think of the many days that followed the first time we met. He was the object of my fantasies.
There were nights when I would lay in bed and allow the memories from the interview to flood my mind.
When he extends his hand in greeting, I take it, place it on my cheek, then slowly guide our hands down my neck, stopping over my racing heartbeat.
The gold flecks of his intense hazel eyes become a single shade and his masculine scent wafts from him as he moves his hand over my breast. Then drops it to grab the hem of my shirt, pull it over my head and toss it to the floor.
My nipples harden instantly when the cool air breezes over my thin lace bra.
He pulls me to his chest and lowers his mouth to mine, but his soft lips give no indication of the bruising intensity I experience. When his tongue slides across the seam of my lips, I open, willingly allowing him to explore.
Lost in his kiss, I don’t notice that he unhooks my bra until it’s sliding down my arms and drops to the floor. Before I have a chance to cover myself, his mouth is on a nipple, and I’m arching my back, pulling his head closer. When he moves his hands to the button of my jeans…
A loud thud on the wall pulls me from my daydream, but doesn’t lessen the heat building between my legs. When I lower my gaze, I find my hand restrained by the elastic of my panties. The thought of speaking to Clayton post orgasm sends a flush of heat to my cheeks. I pull my hand from my underwear and scoot up until my back is against the headboard. I tug on my hair and let out a heavy sigh. “Just call him already!”
When I yank my phone from the bed, I hear the distinctive ring through the speaker and panic. “Shit… shit…shit!” As I place it against my ear, the ringing stops, and his deep, gravelly voice bounces off my eardrum while a multitude of chills spread across my body.
“Lacy, I’ve been waiting for your call.”
Chapter 7
Clayton
Her voice comes out in a whisper. “Hi, Clayton.”
“I take it you made it home okay?”
“We did.”
“We?” My questioning tone isn’t necessary. I saw her get into a cab with a woman, who I can only assume is her sister. But I’m missing that confidence she’d shown me earlier, and I feel the only way to get it back is to press her a little.
There’s a huff of breath then her curt tone. “Yeah, we. My sister and I.”
And there it is. I smirk at her response then clear my throat and lower my voice to avoid any humor coming through. “That must have been who’s dress you were tugging on before you headed to the restrooms.”
“What? You saw me?”
“I did. You both looked like you were having a great time. I only wish I had been close enough to hear whatever it was you were talking about. Any topic that can light up your face like that is well worth discussing.”
She coughs nervously into the phone.
Not wanting to embarrass her any further, I turn the conversation to earlier in the day. “When I saw you at Magnolia Woods, I’ll admit, I didn’t recognize you at first, but the longer I stared, the more I thought there was something that seemed familiar.” I don’t mention that I have information on her from her license plate when I add, “It was later when I realized I knew you from the interview.”
After a few moments of no response, she finally speaks again. “Well, you had the advantage then. I didn’t know who or what you were, and I have to admit, I was concerned.”
“What do you mean what I was?” My tone deepens, and I sit up in the bed, eager to hear about her first impression of me.
“I just mean I thought you might be a stalker, or who knows…a murderer.” Her tone lacks any emotion.
Unable to hold it in, laughter rumbles my chest. “So, that’s what you thought of me? That I was some bad guy, who wanted to scare or hurt you? Well, I hope now that you know who I am; your perception has changed. I’m neither of those things. Although…the stalking part kind of intrigues me. If that means following you everywhere and staring at you for hours, I’m in.”
The timid squeak of her laugh fills my ears. “I don’t know. My life is pretty boring. Stalking me would be like watching paint dry.”
“I highly doubt anything about your life is boring. The fact that we’ve encountered one another twice in one day is definitely not boring and should account for something. Speaking of which…what did you decide?”
“Decide?” Her voice is so innocent.