Taking the Plunge

by E. L. Todd

  Thatcher moved his hand and grabbed hers, holding her fingers in his own. She loved the touch so much, felt so safe, that she let him be. He continued to read while his fingers lightly caressed hers, making small circles in the skin.

  When she got cold, she grabbed a blanket and pulled it over her body. Thatcher eyed her then directed her head to his shoulder, letting her lay on him. He still held her hand and moved it to his thigh.

  “What are you reading?” she whispered. Her face was close to his neck and she could smell his cologne and his skin. The muscles of his shoulder were strong and solid.

  “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.”

  “You didn’t read that in high school?”

  “I didn’t go to high school.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No. I was home schooled.”

  “Oh. Why?”

  “My mom has been a public school teacher her whole life. She just thought she would be a better teacher and spend my time more effectively. I read a lot of books, but I never had the time to read this. My mom let me borrow it last night.”

  “You saw her?”

  “Briefly.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “I like all books. I haven’t read one I haven’t liked.”

  “What about Fifty Shades of Grey?” she teased.

  “I liked it.”

  She laughed. “Are you serious?”

  “Women’s sexuality has been forbidden for so long. I’m glad that’s changing. The story wasn’t something I would normally read, but the message of the story was powerful. Women can enjoy sex and they should.”

  “I didn’t realize you were so open-minded.”

  “You should. I’m just like you.”

  She didn’t say anything to his comment. Instead, she closed her eyes and breathed his scent. His warm hand still held hers. When she fell asleep, she had dreams she couldn’t remember. She just recalled seeing Thatcher’s eyes stare into hers.

  After the plane landed, a car was waiting to pick up Thatcher. The driver grabbed the luggage and packed it into the trunk while they got into the backseat. Wordlessly, Thatcher sat beside her and held her hand again. She didn’t pull it away. He was obsessed with touching her.

  “People are going to assume we’re together if you keep doing that,” she whispered.

  “We are together.”

  “No, we aren’t, Thatcher.”

  “Then pull your hand away.” He challenged her by looking her in the eye. She wanted to pull away but she couldn’t. “That’s what I thought.”

  They arrived at the hotel and entered the lobby. It contained chandeliers that hung from the ceiling and dark furniture that littered the floor. Nancy heard people speaking French and German and she wondered what they were doing in the city. Thatcher checked in at the front desk.

  “I’ll send a bell boy to take your belongings into your room,” the receptionist said.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Thatcher said. “I got it. Thank you.”

  The woman looked surprised by his refusal. “Well, have a good day.”

  Thatcher grabbed all the bags then moved into the elevator. She stood beside him, listening to the music play over the sound system. They said nothing, feeling the walls close in on them. When the doors opened, Thatcher carried the bags to the room and opened the door.

  Nancy felt the anxiety return. “Why do we only have one room?”

  He looked at her, a smirk on his face. “We have two. Don’t worry.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief.

  He walked over and opened the door. “We have adjoining rooms.”

  Her heart raced again.

  Thatcher caught the look. “The door locks on both sides. If you really want to get away from me, you can.”

  She grabbed her things and took them into her room. It had a bed, small kitchen, a bathroom, and a closet.

  Thatcher knocked on the door.

  “It’s open.”

  He opened the door. “I don’t have any plans today. I’ll be in my room if you need me. But I would like to go out to dinner tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  “So you’ll join me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Great.” He closed the door and disappeared.

  She texted Derek and told her she was off the plane. Then she lay on her bed and wondered what she should do. Thatcher was in the next room and that’s all she could think about. She would rather be with him than do anything else. She walked to the door and knocked.

  “It’s open,” he said.

  She walked inside and saw him lying on the bed, shirtless, and he was watching television. Her eyes immediately looked at his body, liking what she saw. His pectoral muscles were lined with muscle and his stomach was chiseled with an eight pack. Now she wanted to start surfing because it was obviously a good work out.

  He looked at her. “What’s up?”

  “Uh, nothing.” She kept staring at his chest.

  “Come here.”

  She came to him like he asked, sitting on the bed.

  Thatcher grabbed her and pulled her to him, making her rest her head on his chest. She turned into him, wrapping her arm around his waist. She gave into the desire and let herself hold him, feeling his bare skin against hers.

  “There’s nothing on,” he said, flipping through the channels.

  “I hate watching television.”

  “I hardly ever do. And when I do, I just watch Netflix.”

  “Me too. But I do it because I’m poor.”

  “That’s going to change very soon.”

  “I hope so. I can’t live with my dad anymore.”

  He turned off the TV then turned on his side, facing her. His hand rested on the small of her back, slipping inside her shirt. “You didn’t talk to him?”

  ‘No. I haven’t seen him. I’ve been gone all week and he hasn’t even noticed.”

  His hand rubbed her back, making her feel relaxed. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are.”

  “Sometimes you have to lose something to understand its worth.”

  “If I moved out, he still wouldn’t notice I was gone.”

  “You should tell him how you feel before you leave.”

  “What’s the point?” she asked.

  “It might be better for you than for him. You could get it off your chest and find closure. You did what you could to save the relationship. I realize he’s your dad, but family doesn’t have to be genetic. You know who your real family is.”

  She felt closer to Thatcher than she did to anyone. Her best friends meant everything to her, but Thatcher was slowly filling that void even though she didn’t want him to. He was sinking his way into her heart, claiming her without giving her a choice.

  “I really like your friend Henry. He’s a good guy.”

  “I love him too,” she said with a smile.

  “And your friend Andre, even though he wants to have sex with me.”

  She laughed. “I apologize on his behalf.”

  “There’s no need,” he said with a smile. “And I like Sydney. She seems very spiritual, very positive.”

  “She’s awesome.”

  “Your friend Laura….”

  “She’s a slut. I know.”

  He chuckled. “She isn’t my type.”

  “You don’t like easy girls?”

  “No, not at all.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sleep around?”

  “The only women I’ve slept with were people I was committed to, actually cared about. If I wanted to get off, I would just use my hand and be done with it.”

  The idea of him masturbating made her skin burn. She found that innately sexy.

  He looked into her eyes, catching the thought. “You’re into that?”

  “What?”

  “Masturbation.”

  She changed the subject. “I’ve never met a guy that didn’t sleep around.”

  “That�
�s just sad.”

  “You’re different than other guys.”

  “I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

  “It’s—good.”

  “I know Derek likes to sleep around.”

  “Please stop,” she said.

  He fell silent.

  “I used to sleep around…”

  “I don’t care about your past. If you were with me, you would never sleep with anyone else ever again.”

  She didn’t know that to say to that.

  “You accept the love you think you deserve, so you let guys walk all over you, treat you like shit. You aren’t used to me, which is why you’re scared of me. It’s something you’ve never experienced. You’ve never been with a guy that actually cared about you, that would slit his throat just to make you smile.”

  She looked away from his eyes, staring at his chest.

  “No one has ever told you they loved you, not your mom, your dad, Derek—”

  “Stop.” She turned away from him, hiding her face.

  He grabbed her and pulled her to his chest, holding her close. He fell silent, doing as she asked.

  She closed her eyes and tried to calm down. Thatcher always said things that hit her right where it hurt, breaking her heart.

  “I’m sorry that I upset you.”

  “You did it intentionally.”

  He paused. “Yes, I did. But you need to understand your emotions. You repress them all the time. If you just listened to your heart, you would truly understand what you really want and need.”

  “You, right?” She sniffed.

  “Only you can answer that.”

  She buried her face in his chest and fell silent. He stroked her hair and kept her close to him, silently showering her with affection. They stayed that way for a long time, letting the time pass them by. Nancy didn’t want to move because she loved feeling his large chest swell against her back, making her lungs move at the same pace. She lied in his arms, loving every moment, without speaking. When the sun left the skyline, they lay in the darkness.

  “Hungry?” he whispered.

  She nodded.

  “Let’s go out to dinner.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “Somewhere nice.”

  He stood up, leaving her on the bed alone. She watched him look through his suitcase until he pulled out his suit, which hung on a hanger. “I suggest you leave otherwise you’re going to get a show.”

  She didn’t want to go. She wanted to see his body, but she forced herself to return to her room, closing the door behind her. He knocked a moment later.

  “Come in.”

  He stepped inside, holding a dress. “Please wear this tonight.”

  It was royal blue and made of silk. It was casual but dressy at the same time.

  “You got that for me?”

  He shrugged. “It reminded me of you.”

  “Please don’t buy me things.”

  “Too late.”

  She looked at him, seeing him wearing a suit like he owned the entire hotel. The black color made him look sexy and tall. She wanted to grab his tie and pull his mouth to hers. Nancy shook the thought away. “I’ll get dressed.”

  He nodded then left the room.

  When she was ready, she walked through the door without knocking. “I’m ready.”

  He stared at her, examining every curve of her body. His hand reached out and touched her waist, feeling her gently. “You look stunning.”

  She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, but he stopped her.

  “Don’t be nervous around me.”

  “Stop making me nervous.”

  He came close to her face, his lips almost touching hers. “If I wanted to make you nervous, this is what I would do.”

  She wanted to close the gap and press her warm mouth over his, feeling his hot breath fill her mouth. “Please don’t kiss me.”

  He grabbed her waist and pressed his face close to hers. “I keep my word, Nancy. I won’t kiss you unless you ask me to. You can trust me.”

  “But you’re trying to get me to kiss you.”

  “Is it working?” he asked with a smile.

  She stepped away and headed toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  He sighed then followed her. They took a cab to the small restaurant near the center of the city. As soon as they walked inside, Nancy felt anxious. It was the fanciest restaurant she had ever been to.

  Thatcher pulled out the chair for her then sat across from her. When she looked at him, she couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he was. If she had to choose an ideal man, one that she found innately attractive, she would describe Thatcher perfectly. He was sexy, smart, beautiful, artistic, free, mature, perfect.

  The waiter came over and Thatcher spoke to him in French.

  The waiter nodded then walked away.

  She raised an eyebrow. “You speak French?”

  “Yes.”

  She waited for him to elaborate. He acted like it wasn’t a big deal. “Where did you learn?”

  “I lived in Paris for two years while I painted. I picked up the language quickly.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

  “Why would you?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Why do you live in Hawaii?”

  “It’s where I grew up. Despite all the places I’ve been to, I keep coming back there. The sand, the warmth, the people always make me return. I feel isolated from the rest of the world. I enjoy it.”

  “Did you love Paris?”

  “It was beautiful. I’ll take you next time I go.”

  “You go there often?”

  “In the off season so it isn’t so crowded. It’s very romantic and cultured. I think you would enjoy it.”

  “Were you alone the whole time?”

  “No. I met my fiancé there.”

  “Oh.”

  “We were together the entire time. When she ended our relationship I moved back to Hawaii, knowing there was nothing left for me there anymore.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s no reason to be sorry,” he said calmly.

  “Are you still friends?”

  He shrugged. “We’re friendly. Sometimes she calls me, but that’s on very rare occasions, like the holidays or my birthday.”

  “Is it hard to talk to her knowing she left you?”

  “No. I’m happy for her.”

  “How can you be so—calm about it?”

  He stared at her. “I don’t understand your question.”

  “Shouldn’t you hate her? Despise her?”

  “No. She never cheated on me and she was always honest about her feelings. And being angry doesn’t help the situation. It just causes you more pain. I would rather spend my life being happy than holding grudges against people. I couldn’t force her to be with me.”

  “Then why are you forcing me?”

  He drank from his wine glass. “Did I force you to take the job?”

  “No.”

  “Did I force you to spend an entire weekend with me, alone?”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “No.”

  “Did I force you make that painting of me?”

  “No.”

  “Then no, I’m not forcing you to do anything. You choose to be in this situation. You choose to be with me. Don’t blame this on me.”

  The waiter brought their food and interrupted the conversation. Thatcher conversed with the waiter in French before the man walked away.

  Thatcher looked at her. “I apologize for ordering for you, but the menu is in French and I didn’t want you to stress about it. The selection I picked is very good. You’ll like it.”

  “As long as it isn’t snail.”

  He smiled. “No, it isn’t.”

  They ate their meal quietly. Nancy watched him eat with perfect manners. He was refined, cultured, and calm. When they fell silent, it wasn’t awkward. She didn’t feel like she needed to carry a conversation just to
avoid the silence. He felt the same way. When they were finished with their meals, Thatcher leaned back in his chair and stared at her, blatantly gawking at the features of her face. The intensity of his look didn’t frighten her. She studied his face in just as much detail, particularly his lips.

  After they left the restaurant, they took a cab back to their hotel. Thatcher grabbed her hand and held it like he always did. She didn’t pull away, loving the feel of his large warm fingers on her.

  They walked to their room then Thatcher stopped in front of her door.

  He placed his hands in his pockets while he looked down at her. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

  “Good night.”

  “And my door will be unlocked if you decide to join me.”

  She looked into his eyes, searching for the meaning in his words.

  He leaned in and pressed his lips into her hair, not kissing her but holding her close. “Goodnight.” He pulled away then walked into his room.

  After she went inside, she climbed into bed wearing her pajamas but she kept thinking about Thatcher in the next room. It would be nice to sleep with him, feeling his warm body next to hers. But she controlled her emotions and forced herself to fall asleep, knowing she could never do that. She felt more confused than she ever had.

  She wanted to give Derek a real chance. Nancy said she would and she believed that he’d really changed, but then Thatcher came into her life, someone she wished she’d met first.

  Her phone vibrated on her nightstand.

  Baby, I just want you to know that I’m thinking about you. I miss you.

  Nancy didn’t know what to say. She was just thinking about Thatcher and felt like a horrible person because of it. Her phone lit up again but it wasn’t Derek.

  Take the plunge even if you can’t see the bottom. It’s there. We’ll find it together.

  Unsure what to do, she turned off her phone and went to sleep.

  16

  When she went to the art gallery with Thatcher, she felt like she was with Mick Jagger from the Rolling Stones. Everyone made excuses to talk to him, complement his work, and even ask for his autograph.

  Thatcher was humble, and politely conversed with everyone who showed him attention.

  “Thank you,” he said with a smile. “That means a lot to me.”

  “Do you have new piece on display?” the woman asked.