The trip to her house was curiously silent. Something had changed between them. They’d forged some kind of psychic connection she couldn’t explain. Mikey pulled the truck into her driveway and killed the engine. Breathless with anticipation, she waited in the dark for something, some sign that she wasn’t the only one feeling it.
But all he did was open the door and walk around to her side of the truck. Ever the perfect gentleman, he held the door for her, then walked her in silence to the house.
They stood awkwardly on the steps. Maybe she’d been wrong about the connection. She would have sworn he felt it, too, but maybe that was wishful thinking. “Thanks,” she said. “That was amazing.”
Instead of speaking, he reached out and touched her hair in an achingly intimate gesture. While her heart beat double-time, he wrapped a single golden curl around his index finger. Paige wet her lips. Opened them and took a breath.
And he said, “I have to go. See you around, kid.”
In disbelief, she watched him turn and walk back to his truck. The driver’s door creaked a protest when he opened it. He stepped up onto the running board, slid into the driver’s seat, and closed the door. Started the engine. And while she stood there watching, he backed the truck around, headed down the driveway, and made his escape.
As she watched him drive out of sight, a tiny crack appeared in the hard wall she’d built around her heart.
Casey
The phone dragged her out of sleep. She rolled over, snatched it up, and fumbled it to her ear. The bedside clock read 3:23 a.m. “Hey,” she said groggily.
“Hey,” her husband said. “Whatcha doing?”
“At 3:23 in the morning? Oh, you know, the usual. Feeding the chickens, slopping the hogs…”
“Hah. We don’t have any hogs. I jus’ called to say—” He paused, the open line humming between them. “—I love you.”
A hard little bud of tender emotion unfurled inside her, tickling her insides as it opened like the soft petals on a rose. She said, “Channeling your inner Stevie Wonder, are you?”
“What? Oh. Hah.”
“Have you been drinking, MacKenzie?”
“Maybe. Jus’ a little.”
“Or maybe a lot. What’s with that?”
He let out a soft little belch. “Sorry. Iss a celebration. The tour’s over. Finis. Sayonara. I’m coming home. T’morrow. Leavin’ on a jet plane.”
“And yet another song title. We’re just brimming with lyricism tonight, aren’t we?”
“I’m coming home to you, baby. Is that a song title? Wait, I got a better one. Daddy’s Home. Almost.”
“You are very drunk, my love.”
“Am I? Really?”
“Without question. Totally wasted.”
“Not that. Am I your love?”
“Absolutely. Even totally wasted.”
“Miss you so much. Miss your snarky mouth. And that sof’ skin. You have the softes’ skin. Love to touch you. Makes me all shaky inside.”
That tender thing blossoming inside her grew larger and more insistent. “It’s a good thing you’re coming home,” she said, “because all those hot young guys at the bowling alley are starting to look really, really good. Those shirts. Those shoes. Those—”
“Hah. You’re a one-woman comedy act.” He paused, uttered another soft belch. “I’ll have you know, I have been SO damn good. Girls everywhere. Hot women. Weeks an’ weeks of hot women. But not for this boy. Oh, no. You are the only one. I am ud…udderly and completely blind to all of ‘em. You. Are. THE. Only woman. In the world. Jus’ you. My baby, with the sof’ skin and the magic hands and that hot li’l bod.”
Dryly, she said, “Good to know.”
“And you know what? Iss always been just you. Always. Years an’ years an’ years. All those other girls? Di’nt count. Nope. None of ‘em. But you jus’ di’nt see me.” He grew melancholy. “All you could see was—” He hiccupped. And said flatly, “Him.”
“I see you now,” she said fiercely. “I see you so clearly now.”
“All those girls. All of ‘em. Subst’tutes. Because you. Were not.” Hiccup. “Available.”
“I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
“Of course, I promise. What’s gotten into you? Besides beer?”
“Bourbon. It was bourbon that got into me.”
“I see. That explains a little.”
“It’s jus’ that…I am so nuts about you. And if you lef’ me, I’d die.”
Her insides melted like an ice cream cone on a hot sidewalk. “Babe?” she said. “There is less than zero chance that I will ever leave you.”
“You sure ‘bout that?”
“Trust me, you sweet, drunken fool, I am not going anywhere. Listen, where are you?”
“Li’l Rock.”
“That’s not what I meant. Are you in for the night?”
“I am. In my motel room. Motel, hah! Rat hole’s more like it.”
“Listen, sweetheart, I think you should hang up the phone, get some sleep, and call me tomorrow when you’re sober.”
“You think?”
“I do.”
“And when I get home, we are gonna party. Jus’ you and me. We are gonna get naked and have us some of that old folks sex.”
“I’m breathless with anticipation. Go to sleep now. We’ll talk tomorrow. Okay?”
“Okay.” And before she could say good-night, he hung up the phone and left her holding a dead receiver.
***
It was mid-afternoon the next day before he called again. “Hey, hot stuff,” she said. “A little hung over, are we?”
“No hangover, but I slept three hours later than I planned.” He paused. Said tentatively, “I’m sorry about last night. I was so frigging wasted. Tell me I didn’t say anything embarrassing.”
“I wasn’t aware that you possessed the capacity for embarrassment.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny. Last night’s pretty much a blank. But I have this sinking feeling that I stepped over the line into purple prose.”
“Let me be sure I have this straight. In the world according to MacKenzie, phone sex is a perfectly acceptable leisure time activity. But a declaration of love—to your wife, no less—is an embarrassment? Damn, Flash, sometimes you are such a guy.”
“In the words of that great philosopher Popeye, I am what I am. I can’t help it.”
“Go ahead, blame it on that Y chromosome. That’s so much easier than taking responsibility for your own actions. Well, fine. I promise not to hold it against you. Any of it.”
He groaned. “Was I that bad?”
“You were actually very sweet. And very, very drunk. What the hell were you thinking? I’ve never seen you wasted like that. You’re always so good at holding your liquor.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time. Hanging with the guys, letting go of all the tensions of the last six weeks. Kind of a grand finale after all those weeks of hell.”
“I’m disappointed in you, MacKenzie. You’re far too old to start bowing to peer pressure.”
“Was I really sweet?”
“You seemed quite intent on assuring me of your exemplary behavior in the face of a constant onslaught of female pulchritude.”
“Shit.”
“And you laid on the lovey-dovey talk pretty thick.”
“See what I mean? Diarrhea of the mouth.”
“Are you deliberately looking for a way to take the romance right out of it? Because if you are, you’re succeeding quite nicely.”
“I’m not sure how you can find anything romantic in the pathetic bleatings of a drunken Irishman. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“You should be. That lovey-dovey talk made quite an impression on me. Oh, and you also made sure to remind me that we have a hot date when you get home.”
“That should go without saying. We’ve been apart for six frigging weeks. Does the term climbing the walls mean anythin
g to you?”
“Oh, trust me, it does. Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder.”
He uttered a soft, snorting laugh. “You should have that engraved on a big wooden plaque. One of those kitschy, homespun things. We could hang it over the fireplace. See what kind of response we get out of people.”
“That would go over really well when your mother came to visit.”
“I’m not sure that Mom understands the concept of abstinence. We’re talking about a woman who gave birth to nine kids.”
“If your father, in his heyday, was anything like his son, the poor woman never stood a chance.”
“I haven’t heard any complaints from you so far.”
“And you’re not likely to be hearing any in the future.”
“Good to know. Listen, babe, I have to roll. The taxi’s here. My flight comes into Portland at 9:15. Be there?”
“I’ll be there. Have a safe flight.”
***
She stood impatiently in the airport waiting area, her coat draped over one folded arm, needles of anticipation dancing in her stomach. And then she saw him, moving steadily in her direction while talking animatedly to some stranger. Her carry-on was slung over one shoulder, the duffel bag—undoubtedly full of dirty laundry—over the other, a guitar case swinging from each hand. Hadn’t he left with just one guitar? He wore a faded Aerosmith tee shirt he’d owned for at least a decade, and over the tee, unbuttoned, tails hanging loose, a wrinkled, olive-green Army shirt she’d never seen before. Knowing him, he’d probably picked it up at Goodwill. Tired and rumpled and scruffy, with a two-day growth of reddish beard, he was still the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
He glanced up and saw her standing there, and without so much as a good-bye to his traveling companion, he came to an abrupt halt. She straightened her shoulders and watched his face as he drank her in, from the top of her head down past her bare shoulders to the strapless bodice of the frothy little summer dress, white with splotchy red and pink flowers, that draped loosely over her breasts and gathered at the waist. It ended in a full, flowing skirt that stopped several inches above her knees. His gaze continued down her bare legs to her feet, encased in a pair of shiny pumps with four-inch stiletto heels, in a screaming shade of red to match the dress.
His attention returned to her face, and his hand went to his heart in an unmistakable gesture of admiration. Then he flashed her one of those zillion-megawatt smiles, the kind that had stolen the hearts of women from Alberta to Zimbabwe. The impact was like slamming head-first into a concrete wall. Something burst wide open inside her, and she began trembling all over, and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t form a coherent thought. Goose bumps popped up on her skin as he began walking toward her. Everything and everybody else faded away to pure white noise, and he was the only thing she could see, and this tidal wave of emotion made the way she’d felt about Danny seem like a grade-school crush.
How long had her feelings run this deep? How long had she been this much in love with the man who’d been her best friend for her entire adult life? Her thudding heart refused to answer, and she just stared at him in stupefaction as he moved through all that white noise toward her, bringing with him the realization that every day, every hour, every second of her thirty-five years of living had been leading up to this moment.
He reached her, set down both guitars and the carry-on bag, let the duffel slide off his shoulder to the floor. “Such a serious face,” he said.
She opened her mouth to respond, but her tongue had gone too dry to form words. Instead, she reached up a hand, brushed her palm over the whisker stubble on his cheek, moved it around to the back of his neck, and watched as his eyes, fixed on her face, went from green to gray. She reached up her free hand to touch his other cheek. Her coat slid loose from the crook of her elbow, and she let it fall to the floor. He lowered his head, kissed first her wrist, then her forearm, then the corner of her mouth. Worked his way down her neck as she circled both arms around him and buried her face in that wild tangle of hair.
His mouth found her bare shoulder, and she shuddered. Against her skin, he said, “That is some dress, Fiore.”
She wet her lips, found her voice, and said inanely, “I bought it on sale.”
“And you wore it for me,” he said, taking a gentle bite from her shoulder, “because you knew what it would do to my libido.”
Of course she’d worn it for him. What other excuse could there be for wearing a strapless summer dress in October? Primly, she said, “Your libido doesn’t need any extra help.”
He laughed and said, “That’s true enough.” Nuzzled her ear. “I feel like a war hero, just back from the front lines.”
“You’ve been on a rock tour,” she said breathlessly. “In my book, that qualifies as front lines.”
“Remind me to tell you my war stories. Later. After we take care of business.” He ran his knuckles down her bare arm, turning her insides to molten lava. “You remind me of a cupcake. All white and fluffy and delicious, with pink icing and little red candies on top. And I want to swallow you up, one—” He pressed a kiss to her neck, just behind her ear. “—crumb—” Another kiss, this one to the underside of her jaw, and she let her head roll back limply. “—at a time.” She gasped as the third kiss came dangerously close to where the little red and white dress displayed cleavage that was nothing much to write home about.
He paused there, his breath hot against the swell of her breasts. Amazing and wonderful man that he was, he didn’t seem to mind that they were woefully inadequate, had always accorded them the same attention and admiration that other men would have given to a pair of 38DDs. It had been a long six weeks, and she wanted his hands on them. On her. Wanted her hands on him. Wanted to rip his clothes off and have her way with him, right here, right now.
But sanity told her that somewhere beyond the edges of that white noise, they had an audience. She pressed her cheek to his, reveling in the scrape of whiskers against her skin. Peeled free a strand of her hair that had caught in his beard. Took a step back to regain equilibrium and said, “I think we should go home.”
“Before we land on the front page of the National Enquirer? Probably not a bad idea.”
Once they were on the highway, he switched on the radio, fiddled with the dial until he found something to his liking, a seventies rock station where Mick and the boys were declaring that they were nobody’s beast of burden. In classic MacKenzie style, he began singing along with Mick, a little too loud, a little off-key—deliberately, of course—adding the occasional dramatic flourish just because he could.
Tuning out his impromptu duet with Mick, she studied his face. Something had changed between them, with such devious subtlety that she’d completely missed it until now. He was the same person he’d always been. Playful, funny, a little to the left of center. Tender, caring, generous. Easygoing, laid back, until he was crossed, and then that hot Irish temper would ignite, and God help anybody who got in his way. No surprises there. With Rob MacKenzie, it had always been what-you-see-is-what-you-get.
It was she who was different.
And there it lay, the thorny issue she was having trouble dealing with. She’d lost herself so completely with Danny, had been so desperately in love that she’d allowed him to steamroll right over her until she was little more than a pale imitation of her former self. That kind of self-effacement—or maybe self-erasement would be a more accurate term—was a character trait she didn’t much like, and she’d been naïvely certain that it would never resurface.
Now, her certainty was shaken. Of course she knew that Rob MacKenzie and Danny Fiore were two very different men. Of course she knew that Rob wasn’t the kind of man to take advantage of a woman’s most vulnerable and intimate emotions. He wasn’t self-involved like Danny. He didn’t have tunnel vision like Danny. He wasn’t broken like Danny. But knowing she was capable of such self-destructive tendencies, knowing the possibility existed that she could lose herself that wa
y with another man, was terrifying.
He stopped mid-lyric, leaving Mick to fend for himself, and said, “What?”
She looked at him blankly. “What, what?”
“Why do you keep staring at me like I’m some kind of space alien? Do I have body odor? Spinach between my teeth? Or is it my singing? It’s my singing, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I try so hard to color inside the lines, but it just never seems to work out for me.”
Even when she was at her most fragile, he could still make her laugh. “Don’t you know,” she said, “that your utter inability to color inside the lines is one of the things I find the most charming about you?”
“What is it, then? I’m starting to feel like some kind of specimen under glass.”
“Can’t I admire my husband without getting the third degree? I’m just so glad you’re home, that’s all.”
He turned his head and stared at her. “Why am I not believing you?”
“I just cannot imagine. I suppose you’ll simply have to trust that I’d have no reason to lie to you.”
“Fifteen minutes I’ve been on the ground, Fiore, and already you’re getting all pissy with me. What’s that all about?”
“You know, MacKenzie, it’s a real shame that you couldn’t be a little nicer to me. I had such plans for tonight. Mind-blowing plans. All of them involving you. And nakedness. Lots of nakedness.” She shook her head in disappointment. “If only you could learn to keep your mouth shut.”
“Permanently? Because, you know, I just want to make sure I’m clear on exactly what the ground rules are. So I can, um…participate…in those plans you made.”
“It’s like shooting fish in a barrel, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“Men. You’re all alike. We offer you sexual favors, and you just roll over and play dead.”
He grinned. “Is that what you were doing? Offering me sexual favors?”
“If you’d been a little nicer, you might’ve found out the answer to that question. But I guess we’ll never know now, will we?”
“Hah! Keep on dreaming, babydoll.”
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