by K. S. Thomas
He’s chewing. And thinking. “What was the conversation about?”
“Oh, you know. The usual. She wants to run my life for me. And that apparently now includes finding me the perfect man.” I squirt the contents of a ketchup packet into the corner of my box. “So, naturally, I have a date tomorrow night.”
I purposely pretend to be extra focused on the French fry I’m swirling around in my ketchup, but I can tell he’s surprised by the news.
“A date? With who?” He sounds casual. Like we’re just making small talk.
“Some guy Nate works with. Carson Winn.” I shrug. I haven’t had a chance to google yet, so that’s all I know.
Riker stops mid bite and does a weird thing with his jaw like he wants to say something, but then he changes his mind and just keeps chewing.
“What? You know him?”
He leans over his box to keep from dripping burger grease onto his pants. “Sort of. Went to school with his older brother Derek.”
Clearly, there’s more. “And?”
“And...I don’t know. Derek was one of those popular kids. You know, like high school was his shining moment in life. Prom king. Football player. Dated all the pretty cheerleaders and still had time to make the honor roll.” He laughs, mockingly. I guess those things wouldn’t mean much to a guy like Riker. “Anyway, Carson seemed to always have a chip on his shoulder. Not that I blame him. Sucks being stuck under someone else’s shadow everywhere you go.”
I drop a fry back into the Styrofoam container. “Damn. And here I was hoping Kirsten was onto something with this find me a man business.” I bite back a smile because it would ruin my faux disappointment.
Riker eyes me skeptically, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Why does that make me want to jump out of my own skin and into his? His perfect lips thin out when he presses them together and I’m tempted to lean in and kiss them just to see them fill out again.
“Since when are you in the market for a man? I thought you were all anti-relationships and feelings and shit.”
I nod. “Oh, I am, but I know Kirsten. Once she locks in on a target, there’s no avoiding that missile. And right now, she’s aiming that shit directly at me and my lacking love life, so, you know, I’m thinking I could make this work for me.” I brush my hands off and put them behind me to lean into them. “Obviously, getting involved with someone seriously is out of the question, but in lieu of one man with expectations and demands I have no desire to meet, maybe I could use several. You know, play a little game of build-a-man using only the parts I want and leaving out all the parts I don’t.”
Riker lays back against the chaise, running his hands over his face several times. “What now?”
“Well,” I lift my leg, rubbing it over his thigh, “I mean, I’ve already got a good thing going here with you. But, I wouldn’t mind eating something every once in a while that didn’t come out of a to-go box or Kirsten’s kitchen. So, maybe finding a guy to provide an occasional grown up dinner and entertaining conversation wouldn’t be a bad thing. And after that, I’ll have my sister keep an eye out for someone with a spare credit card and the inexplicable need to spoil me with lavish gifts from time to time.” I add that last bit just in case he hasn’t figured out yet that I’m screwing with him.
He takes both boxes and moves them down to the ground, eliminating the Styrofoam barrier between us. “You know, if meals are so important to you, I’m sure I could arrange for something other than take out from time to time. I’m not about to promise any kind of conversation, but I could probably come up with some alternative ways to entertain you...other than the way I already entertain you. Maybe a movie or something along those lines? I mean, if that would help slim down the list of men you need to acquire.”
I can feel my brow crinkle. I’m not sure I like where this is going. “Why would you do that?”
He comes in toward me until our lips are touching. “Well, for personal reasons, I’d prefer you didn’t start a collection.”
Without moving away even the slightest little bit, I whisper back, “You’re not supposed to have those.”
He’s still not kissing me, just sweeping his mouth over mine while he continues to explain in his steady, deep voice, “They’re very selfish personal reasons. I like having you. All to myself. All the time.” His hands come up and reach around the back of my neck and head, tenderly massaging me and somehow managing to bring me even closer to him without fully connecting us. “But if you think you’ll have more fun with some suit wearing douchebag like Carson, eating pretentious food from porcelain plates and using actual silverware while he drones on and on about his exciting life as a junior accountant than you do here with me, where we wear nothing but skin and devour only each other while uttering words so filthy I bet you can’t say one right now without blushing, then by all means, go out with him and any other man you think can be of some use to you. I don’t want to get in the way of your needs being met.”
My hands reach for the buckle of his belt as I bite down on his bottom lip and briefly suck on it. “You make a very compelling argument. Now shut the fuck up and take off your clothes. I’m ready to be entertained.” I move in to kiss him, then stop, “And make it good. I have a boring dinner to suffer through tomorrow.”
There’s a flash of his wicked smile again right before his mouth comes for mine. And I know this kiss is different. It’s like I’ve awakened a primal need within him to stake his claim on me. It’s intense and wild and passionate. And unwavering. And for the first time in a long time, I wish I wasn’t too dead inside to feel what it would mean to be his.
By the time I get back to Kirsten’s the next morning, she’s sitting on my bed, waiting. Impatiently, I might add.
“The sun is barely even up. What time did you leave?” She gets up and tosses me the water bottle she’s been cradling in her lap. It’s still cold so she hasn’t been down here too long.
“I took off around seven thirty.” It’s sort of true. That’s what time I left Riker’s place. “I’m sorry. Did we have some sort of appointment?” I chug my water, careful to hide my smirk.
“Don’t be a jackass. I came down here to tell you Nate and Sophie went to get cinnamon rolls from the Eat Three Bakery. I don’t think you’ve had those yet. They’re amazing.” She heads back toward the stairs. “Anyway, I notice you’re wearing the same running gear I saw you in yesterday evening. And your bed is perfectly made. Almost like you didn’t even sleep in it.”
I shrug, purposely gulping more water to pass the time. “Making the bed’s a nice little habit I picked up while I was gone. I do it without even thinking about it now. And there’s no point in washing my running gear after each run. It just gets gross and sweaty again.”
She scrunches up her nose as if she can smell me from across the room. Which is doubtful. I took a shower before I left this morning. We took a shower. Whatever. I’m clean. If anything I smell like Riker’s cologne, and that shit pretty much makes you wish your panties could vanish into nothingness the second you get a whiff of it. It doesn’t make you contort your face into a pig’s snout.
“Something is up with you. And I’m going to figure out what it is.” She nods, but I’m pretty sure it’s more for herself than my sake. Then, she leaves, closing the door behind her.
I turn toward Harley. “Well, that was close.” I’d planned on crawling into bed as soon as I got home to catch up on the sleep I missed last night. Kinda felt like I probably needed to be well rested for the shopping spree Kirsten threatened me with yesterday, but now that I know cinnamon rolls are headed my way, I might as well go with the promise of a sugar high to get me through the day.
Since Kirsten expects me to be disgusting, I step into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I let the water run for a few minutes while I change clothes. I didn’t break a sweat coming home at all this morning. Just walked down the beach, enjoying the peace and quiet. This time of year, the tourists are out of control most of t
he time, but I still have the place nearly all to myself in the early morning hours.
When I venture up to the main living space, the whole family is already spread out around the kitchen island, digging into the hot and gooey rolls of sugar.
“You want one?” Kirsten reaches for a plate as soon as she sees me.
“Nah, that’s cool. I’ll just have the half Sophie’s wearing on her face here.” I tap the tip of her nose with my finger, taking a glob of cream cheese frosting with hit. She giggles, then tries to reach her nose with her tongue, unsuccessfully.
Nate observes me over his coffee cup. “You’re in a good mood.”
I take the plate Kirsten made me anyway. “I really like cinnamon rolls.”
He puts down his mug, smiling like he knows something. “Oh. I thought maybe you were looking forward to your date with Carson this evening.” He knows nothing.
“Nope. It’s the cinnamon rolls.” With my plate in hand, I move over to the kitchen table and have a seat there by myself. Until Kirsten takes the chair beside me.
“Listen. What are the odds of getting you into a dress tonight?”
I smile back at her facetiously. “I don’t know. About the same as getting you into a pair of overalls made entirely of burlap.”
She rolls her eyes. “Be serious, Quinn.”
“Back at ya.” I take a massive bite and practically rip it out of my cinnamon roll like an uncivilized animal. I don’t know why she always brings out my inner four year old. Maybe because she treats me like one.
Judging by her expression, and the fact that I can feel the smear of frosting on my cheek, I’m pretty grotesque to behold right now.
I swallow hard to get it all down, then surrender. “Fine. I’ll wear a dress. Whatever. But be warned that putting me in heels could prove potentially dangerous for myself as well as anyone within a ten foot radius of me.”
She flicks her wrist, dismissing my concerns almost instantly. “It’s early. You have all day to practice walking in them.”
And I want to cry, because I know she’s not kidding.
From there, the day doesn’t get much better. After breakfast, Kirsten and I pile into her car, while Nate takes Sophie over to C.J.’s house for a play date with her husband and daughter, since C.J. winds up joining us on our shopping spree.
Four hours and three potential outfits later, we wind up back at the house, where Kirsten really does make me practice walking in the four inch stilettos she purchased for me, insisting they were the only viable shoes for an evening out with a guy like Carson Winn, which instantly made me think of Riker and his considerably simpler dress code.
For some reason, almost everything that happens after, triggers some thought of him in one form or another. Reminding me of something he said, something he did. A look he gave me. Anything and everything from the last month crosses my mind, suddenly making my afternoon a thousand times more bearable.
Until it’s time. Time for my date. Time for Carson Winn.
Chapter Eight
Riker
“Hey. You wanna go out and grab a beer with me?”
I can picture Sid doing a double take, staring at her own phone in disbelief. “What? You want to go out? Like, in public? What if people see you, Riker? They might realize you’re not dead after all.”
She thinks she’s so fucking funny.
“Nobody thinks I’m dead, Sid. Crazy. Sure. And missing. Isn’t that a thing, too? Whatever. I want to get out of the house. And drinking alone will only fuel the rumor mill, so are you in or what?”
She laughs. “Yes, of course, I’m in. Where do you want to go?”
I stare at the fridge blankly. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. “I don’t care. Somewhere on the main drag? Near the water?”
I can hear a horse snort in the background. She’s still at the ranch.
“Sounds good. Give me an hour and I’ll swing by and pick you up.”
My eyes travel to my mattress automatically. “Nah, that’s fine. I can just meet you.” I know it’s stupid, but I don’t want to risk being stranded if there’s any chance at all of seeing Quinn tonight.
“That works, too. See you in a bit.” She hangs up and I’m back to standing in my kitchen, aimless and feeling annoyingly unsure of what to do with myself. What the fuck did I do with my time before Quinn filled every waking second of it?
***
Quinn
I’m sitting here staring at Carson Winn and wondering who in the hell thought this would be a good idea. It’s not that he’s unattractive. I mean, I think he’s probably attractive. I’m not attracted to him, but I would be happy to believe other women are.
As expected, he showed up wearing a suit. No tie. But still. Very proper. And I was almost relieved I gave in to Kirsten and wore the dress.
Aside from the nearly formal wear, Carson is completely clean shaven with short black hair and brown eyes. He’s tall and definitely hits the gym. He’s got the gym body. Not like Riker who has the hard work body. And yeah. There’s a difference. Personally, I prefer the latter. But this isn’t a competition between the two of them. There’s no comparing the two and I knew long before I ever even met Carson that I’d rather be spending the evening with Riker.
Never the less, here we are and I’m doing my best not to embarrass Kirsten. So, I’m listening politely and nodding every time I count to ten while Carson tells me all about his work and golf. The real passion of his life. Apparently he’s really good. I’m assuming. He could be speaking another language for as much as I’m understanding.
“Are you enjoying your beef bourguignon?” he interrupts his story to point at my nearly untouched dinner.
“Oh. Yes.” I hastily reach for my fork and enthusiastically stab a slice of meat with it. “I’ve just been so engrossed in your stories I guess I forgot to eat.”
I can practically see his head expand as my little lie goes straight to his inflated ego.
“You know, you’re not the first person to tell me that.” He smiles. Not a nice smile. It’s an icky smile that makes my insides churn in an unpleasant way. Then his eyes travel below my collar bone while his finger rounds the rim of his scotch glass and I’m certain I can’t force down another bite of my food without throwing it up.
My lips form a thin line as I do my best to smile back. “I can only imagine how many people have missed a meal because of you.”
As expected, he mistakes my insult for charm. “Yes, well, I’ll be sure to make up for it when the time comes for dessert.”
Seeing an easy out, I place my fork down in a hurry. “Oh, to be honest, I don’t think I could eat another bite.”
Carson’s menacing grin widens as he covers my hand with his, leaning over the table. “Who said anything about eating?”
I’m too stunned to even speak. And that never happens. What the fuck? Clearly, Nate doesn’t know this asshole as well as he thinks. Or else, Kirsten doesn’t know Nate. Because there’s no way in hell, my sister would have purposely set me up with pervy creeper over here, no matter how respectable his job and family are.
Clearly mistaking my silence for some sort of a yes, Carson flags down our server and pays our tab. Before I know it, we’re out in the parking lot walking toward his Chrysler 300. As if the drive here wasn’t bad enough, the drive home is going to be that much more awkward when he finds out I intend to go straight back to Kirsten’s place.
I’m standing beside the car waiting for him to open the door when I feel his hand on my back, quickly moving down over the curve of my ass.
“Excuse me. What do you think you’re doing?” I take a step forward to get out of his grasp, a mistake I realize too late, because it only places me deeper into the darkness between his car and the Suburban parked beside him. I can feel my heartbeat begin to race and it takes every ounce of effort I have to keep reminding myself that I’m here. In the present. I’m safe. I’m with a gross guy. But I’m safe. I’m safe.
; “Come on, Quinn. There’s no reason to play coy with me.” Carson takes another step to close in the distance I just placed between us. His hands are already touching me again. This time they start at my waist. But they’re roaming, so there’s no telling where they’re headed next.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get your fucking hands off me.” I shove him hard in the chest and he stumbles momentarily because he didn’t see it coming. I won’t have that same advantage again.
“Would you chill the fuck out? Nate already told me all about you, sweetheart. So there really is no reason to keep up this little act of yours. Just relax and we’ll both have a good time. I promise.” He leers at me and my skin crawls.
“What exactly did Nate tell you?” I fight the urge to back up any further. There’s nothing behind me except a brick wall I can’t get over or around.
Carson chuckles. It sounds downright evil and it makes me feel dirty just having heard it. “He just explained why you came here. How you had to leave your home town because of your reputation there and that Kirsten insisted you move in with her and Nate to get a fresh start.” He grips my chin with his thumb and finger. “It’s cool. I won’t tell anyone your little secret. They don’t even have to know about us hooking up. Although, truth be told, that would probably go a long way in fixing your bad rep.”
I close my eyes, certain he’s about to kiss me. I don’t want to see it. Don’t want to know what he looks like as he closes in on my lips with his. His disgusting lips. And his disgusting hands as they move up my waist and under my rib cage.
Shock is setting in, leaving me completely frozen and at his mercy. I have no choice but to simply zone out. I can do this. I can let go long enough to survive this. I’ve survived worse, so I know it won’t kill me. It won’t even hurt. Because I won’t fight. I’ll just disappear. He can do whatever he wants with my body. I won’t be in it. Damn it. I don’t want to be in it.
But I am. Because I can feel him. Can feel his mouth moving over the skin on my neck. He’s sloppy, leaving a wet trail behind which runs cool as the evening breeze catches it the same way it does on my damp cheeks. Tears. Silent sobs ripple my chest as he continues to touch and caress me in ways that make me ache at the core of my being.