Fifteen Minutes of Summer

by Wardell, Heather

  “Have a seat,” he said again, his eyes locked to my face.

  I stood frozen a second, then turned and made my way to the loveseat, on which I sat in the exact middle so he wouldn’t be able to join me.

  He laughed. “You’re always so difficult, Summer. I like that in a woman.” He sat on the couch, across from me, and my heart began to settle down since he wasn’t forcing me to move.

  “So, your Angel Dove thing. Really nice.”

  My happiness and pride set my chest glowing inside and pushed the obviously unnecessary nervous feelings further away. “Thank you.”

  “Really, I mean it.” He leaned forward. “You’re really got a bright future here.”

  “I hope so. I want one.” I’d rather have one with Peter, but I’d take a future whenever I could get one.

  He leaned back and laid both his arms along the top of the couch’s back, stretching them out so he took up maximum space. “I’m glad to hear that. It’ll make our problem easier to solve.”

  “Our... sorry? We have a problem?”

  He studied me, his mouth pulling to one side. “We do. I’m not comfortable with this whole McKent wedding thing. We have unprecedented access to the celeb wedding of the century and-- no, actually, we should have that access but you’re not giving it to us.”

  Horror swept me at the idea of giving him even more access than I already had, but I raised my chin and said, “What are you talking about? You’re going to have camera crews at the wedding and the honeymoon. Two for the honeymoon. Isn’t that enough?”

  His slow headshake didn’t stop him keeping his eyes locked to my face. “We could, and should, have a crew inside the church, or at least someone with a hidden camera. And you said I’ll have crews on the honeymoon but we both know that’s not true. They’re seeing McKent arrive but not the honeymoon itself.” He dropped his arms to his sides and leaned forward. “And you know the public would love to see that. Your Angel profile has to have made that clear to you.”

  Since what the audience had adored was getting to see never-before-released photos of Angel, I knew he was right. But I couldn’t allow it. “We made a deal, Simon, and I won’t do anything to change it.”

  “Ah.” The creepiest half-smile quirked his mouth. “Well, that’s too bad. I was hoping you would... sweeten the deal, let’s say. So that I wouldn’t feel the need to correct things myself.”

  “And how would I--” I cut myself off, horrified, as it all came together at once. The cologne, the unbuttoned shirt, the secret back room with a couch, two doors closed between us and the rest of the staff... “No,” I said, trying to sound like it was amusingly ridiculous instead of disgusting. “Not going to happen. I don’t work that way.”

  His smile widened. “Really? So you’re okay with me doing exactly what I want with the wedding and honeymoon?”

  Not even close. But...

  “Half an hour on the couch,” he said, running his hand over the material, “guarantees I leave McKent alone. Hardly slave labor, Summer. You’d even enjoy it.”

  If I wouldn’t sleep with Aaron, who I genuinely liked, how could I ever let Simon... “It’s not,” I lied, hoping to hell this wouldn’t turn out to encourage him, “exactly the right time of the month for that.”

  He touched his couch’s beige fabric again and grimaced. “Figures. Well, another time then.”

  I gave a twitch of a nod, because I couldn’t speak for the relief rushing through me, and got to my feet. “I should get going.”

  He let me get all the way to putting my hand on the doorknob before saying, “Wait.”

  I froze. Somehow, in that one word, he’d made clear exactly what was going to happen, so I wasn’t surprised when he added, “There are other things you can do. Come back here and let’s see what they are.”

  I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to.”

  He laughed. “Don’t make it sound so horrible, Summer. There are women who’ve done it voluntarily, you know.”

  I couldn’t imagine how they could.

  I heard him push up from the couch and walk toward me. Longing to leave, I didn’t, because I couldn’t. I had to save the wedding. I owed it to Kent and MC to fix things.

  Simon came up behind me and said softly into my ear, “Hand or mouth. I’ll give you the choice. And I promise after that I won’t interfere with the wedding at all. Just those telephoto shots. Nobody will know we’re there. And I’ll pull the crews from Jamaica and the Portland airport.”

  This additional bonus made me force myself to say, “Hand.” I’d never touched another man but Kent with either hand or mouth in the way I knew Simon wanted, and if I had to do one or the other I didn’t want to let Simon anywhere near my mouth.

  “Deal,” he said, then turned away. I stood staring at the door for a moment, wondering if I had the nerve to run, then slowly swung around to look. He sat on the loveseat where I’d been, legs spread wide, his pants button and zipper undone but mercifully nothing hanging out.

  My legs shaking so badly I could hardly move, I forced myself to walk to him then sink onto the carpet in front of him. “Simon...”

  “Do it,” he said, a revolting anticipation in his voice. “Do it, and you’ll get everything you’ve ever wanted.”

  Hating myself, I reached out my hand.

  He’d claimed we’d spend half an hour on the couch, but it couldn’t have been more than two horrible minutes before he gave a low groan and I felt him jerk against my fingers. He was only the second man I’d ever made reach orgasm and I hated him as much as I’d loved Kent.

  “Don’t stop,” he snapped when I began to pull away, so I kept going for another few seconds until he said, “Okay, that’s enough.”

  I brought my hand to my side, careful not to touch my skirt, and he said, “Summer, you’re all right. Like I said, I see great things for you. Now get out of here and have a great day.”

  I fled the awful room, and the only great thing about my day was that Mimi wasn’t in the office and so I wasn’t seen as I raced to the bathroom to scrub my hands.

  Chapter Eighteen

  As I hung up my purse, Aaron flopped down on my couch and said, “Okay, I know I’m a guy and not supposed to say this, but those are gorgeous shoes, Summer.”

  I looked down at my feet in the hot pink suede platform heels I’d bought at the airport leaving Vegas in a desperate attempt to make myself feel better after my encounter with Simon. “Thanks. I like them.”

  Aaron winked at me, then said in an over-the-top-flirty voice, “They’d look better on the floor beside your bed.”

  I laughed, because I knew he was joking, and then in an instant it wasn’t funny any more. Why was I holding out? I’d done a sex act to keep my job yesterday. How was sleeping with Aaron even close to as bad as that?

  Not to mention that sleeping with him would give me new memories to replace the awful ones of Simon.

  “Let’s find out,” I said quietly.

  He laughed again, then his eyes widened. “You’re... no, you’re not serious.”

  “Maybe I am.” I walked toward him in my sexy shoes, swaying my hips, feeling a spark of excitement shooting down my spine when I saw him notice, thinking that maybe I’d bought these shoes so this would happen. “You don’t want to?”

  He reached for me as I neared him. “Oh, I do. If you do.”

  I leaned in and kissed him, and he pulled me down beside him, and the amazing sensations I always felt with him rushed over me even more strongly than before. Our kisses got hungrier and harder, and my hands dug into his back while his tangled themselves in my hair, and in moments both of our shirts had hit the floor and I was under him on the couch.

  Pressing kisses along my skin above the top edge of my bra, he murmured, “You’re gorgeous. You know that?”

  I shivered beneath him. “That’s you, buddy.”

  He nipped me lightly, making me gasp. “Nope. You.” Then he slid up my body and kissed my mouth again, and for a lon
g amazing time we didn’t speak.

  I didn’t protest when he pushed up my skirt, or when his hand found its way underneath to caress my bare thigh, unless moaning counted as a protest. It had been years since anyone touched me this way and I’d missed it so much. His fingers on my so-long-untouched body felt amazing. Perfect.

  Almost.

  If we’d been married it would have been perfect, but though my body loved it my heart was becoming increasingly upset.

  “We were going to wait. Weren’t we? Why is this happening?”

  Because he was gorgeous and knew exactly how to make me crazy and his hand was slowly sliding up toward where I desperately wanted it to be?

  All true, but as I grew hotter and hotter for him I also grew more and more sure I didn’t want it like this.

  When his fingers slipped into my underwear, I took a breath to tell him to stop then gasped instead as his touch drove me instantly wild.

  “Good?”

  “Yes... yes, please...”

  He kissed my neck and his hand moved on me and I was so close to the edge...

  And then I knew for sure that I didn’t want to go over that edge. Not with him. Not like this.

  Though I couldn’t believe I was doing it, I took another breath to tell him to stop.

  As I did, he withdrew his hand.

  Unable to control myself, I whimpered at the loss of the amazing feelings, then said, “Sorry. Ignore that. I can’t.”

  He pushed up on his elbow, his dark eyes searching my face. The hunger in his expression made me long to grab him and pull him to me and finish what we’d started, but when he wasn’t touching me I could think more clearly and I knew I didn’t want to.

  What surprised me was his words. “Me either. I had to stop.”

  I pulled in a deep breath to calm myself. “Really? You didn’t want to...”

  He pressed a sweet kiss to my forehead. “Gorgeous, I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anyone more. But it... means something to you, and I can’t do it when... it doesn’t...”

  Mean the same thing to him. I nodded, touched. “Thank you.” My eyes filled with tears and I gave in to them. “Thank you so much, Aaron. You’re so sweet.”

  He gathered me into his arms as I began to sob. “Aw, honey, it’s okay. Come on. It’s only sex.”

  The ridiculousness of this given our situation made me laugh through my tears, and he squeezed me tighter and said, “Sorry, it’s not only sex. You know what I mean. I’m not... mad, or anything.” He grunted in disgust. “I can’t say anything right. But you know what I mean, I hope.”

  “I do.” I snuggled in close to him, still crying because everything else in my life was so wrong but smiling because at least he and I were still right.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ron sighed. “Crazy busy today. I’m sorry I had to change our day. Tomorrow would have been so much better.”

  I shrugged, then moved closer to him as yet another swimmer entered our lane. “We’ve been at it half an hour. Maybe that’s enough?”

  He dodged a swimmer doing a flailing flip turn. “Yeah, let’s get out before we get killed. And let’s never come back on a Sunday.”

  We scrambled out of the pool and he looked up at the big wall clock. “Since we’ve out early... the movie theater down the road is showing ‘Hot Fuzz’ at three. Have you seen it?”

  I shook my head, and he said, “You have to. Awesome movie. A couple years old but still awesome. Want to come with me?”

  “Now?” I said, but as his cheeks turned red and he took a breath to respond I said, “Actually, I’d like that. MC’s dress is coming along great so I can take some time off from that.” And time off from everything else in my life, although I didn’t say that.

  He smiled. “Great. I’ll meet you out front after we shower.”

  I got ready quickly, wishing I had something a little nicer to wear than jeans and a plain black sweater and also thinking I was being stupid. This wasn’t a date. Not even close. Ron wanted to go see a movie he liked and I happened to be around. Nothing more.

  I had trouble remembering that, though, when he drove us to the movie and insisted on buying my ticket. I got us popcorn and drinks, and we sat in the darkened theater awaiting the start of the movie and chatting away about anything and everything. We’d known each other for so long that we were perfectly comfortable with each other, and yet the time we’d spent apart after my divorce from Kent meant we were building a bit of a different relationship than we’d had before. I liked being with him.

  We didn’t talk at all during the movie, and I approved because I’d gone to one with Aaron and he wouldn’t keep his yap shut. He’d been surprised I cared since I was a talker too, but I knew better than to mouth off at movies.

  Afterward Ron turned to me and said, “So, what now?”

  The twinkle in his eye told me what I was supposed to say, so I said, “Pub?” as the characters frequently did in the movie.

  Ron laughed. “Nice. And sure. Not sure I’m ready for dinner yet but I wouldn’t mind a beer. You?”

  I hadn’t thought he’d take me seriously, but I surprised myself by how much I liked the idea of staying with him.

  Good thing, because at ten that night we were still together. We’d gone to the closest thing to a pub we could find, a burger-and-wings place down the road from the theater, and after hanging out for a while with our beer we did have dinner, and dessert, and then we went to a coffee shop and spent ages sipping and laughing.

  I’d always liked being with him, but this was a whole new level. Before he’d been Kent’s brother to me first and Ron second, but he was just Ron now. And I was realizing how strongly I connected with ‘just Ron’.

  Toward the end of the evening a group of four people came into the coffee shop and looked around, and as they did I realized we were the only duo at a four-person table and several small tables were now open.

  They began to try to move two tables together, but there weren’t any small ones next to each other. Ron, noticing this, said to me, “Should we give them our table?”

  I nodded, knowing he was right but feeling sad it would end our time together.

  He waved them over and we vacated the chairs, then stood awkwardly for a moment.

  “Do you--”

  “We could--”

  We laughed. “You first,” he said.

  “No, you,” I said, wondering if he’d been going to say the same thing.

  “We could get another drink,” he said. “If you wanted to.”

  I smiled, feeling happier than I probably should have. “I was going to ask if you wanted to.”

  He smiled at me. “I do. Another latte?”

  He fetched the drinks while I settled into a chair at a small table off in the corner. When he returned, he set the drinks down and said as he took his seat, “I’m really enjoying this, Summer. Thanks for keeping me here and--” He blinked. “Thanks.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What were you going to say?”

  “I wasn’t...” He shook his head. “Oh, of course I was. I can’t lie to you. I have some stuff at home I don’t want to do so I’m glad I don’t have to do it now.”

  A little cloud came over the brightness of our time together. He was only with me to avoid doing his stuff?

  He rolled his eyes. “Nice way to put that, idiot. I would be having fun with you even if I didn’t have stuff to avoid. I...” His hand moved toward his latte, but he stopped and said, “I like spending time with you, you know,” in a voice half shy and half surprised.

  I looked down into my own cup. “Same to you,” I said, feeling like something was beginning to bloom that I’d never have expected could grow between us. It was weird, and hard to believe, but I felt like it was happening. And I liked it.

  We sat in an awkward but happy silence for a moment before he said, “Well. Anyhow. Yeah, I... can you keep a secret?”

  I gave a half-laugh. “Um, yeah. Definitely.”

 
“I’m applying to go back to school.”

  “Really? Cool. I’d do that but I barely survived school the first time. For what?”

  He looked at me then took a deep breath. “I want to be a teacher.”

  The intensity in his voice and eyes silenced me, and he said, “That’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. But it’s true. The web design stuff is fine but it’s not what I want. I’ve wanted to be a teacher forever and it’s time to go after it. But I have to write a personal essay for the application and the words just won’t come out right.” He shook his head. “I know why I want to do it but it’s hard to spell it out.”

  “When’s it due?”

  “Friday. And I have about fifteen half-drafts and nothing I can send in.” He leaned forward. “Hey, you’re not a writer, are you?”

  I laughed. “I can talk about what Courtney’s up to, but to write a thing like that? Sorry, but I’d be no help. I’m only good at reporting what people say to me.”

  He nodded, then his neck reddened. “Would you?”

  “Would I what?”

  “Report what I say? Maybe if I tell you and you write it down, it’ll work better. At least to get a draft done.”

  I dug a pen and notebook out of my purse, happy that I now carried them everywhere for work because it meant I could seem organized in front of Ron. “Okay. Go.”

  “Now?”

  “We’ve got time. And lattes. Go for it.”

  He chuckled. “Okay.”

  For the next fifteen minutes he told me about why he wanted to be a teacher, how clearly he remembered a few of his teachers who’d made a huge difference in his life and how much he wanted to do that for a student. He explained how he knew it’d be a challenge, especially as an older student, but he also told me how he’d been working to arrange his life so it’d be a doable challenge.

  My heart skipped a beat when he said he’d applied to schools outside of Portland and would leave if he only got accepted there, but I tried to hide my sadness at the idea of him being gone and just made a note about his determination to succeed at any cost.

  When he ran out of words, I said, “Give me a second,” and read through my notes. As I’d done to write my Courtney and Angel Dove articles, I picked through my point-form notes and assigned each a number to put them into a good order. When I’d finished, I read the notes to myself in that order, switched a few around, then passed him the notebook. “Can you write it from this?”