Because Beards
Page 57
“Wait, what? You’re moving?”
“Well, of course, just like I told you. It was almost my time…and now it’s here. I cannot wait to move. You know I’ve been wanting this.”
“Yes, but, I thought when you said it was your time, you meant you were dying. You’re not?”
“Well, Daisy, I suppose we all are, but I’m not planning on making that move anytime soon. The Good Lord will call to me, but I don’t think it’s imminent. I just saw Dr. Clark, and he said I am healthier than most of his patients half my age.”
“But why did you want me to go to confession just so you could get into a new apartment? You know I don’t go to church, and isn’t it kind of wrong to make me go and confess just so you can get a new place to live? I don’t know much about all that, but it doesn’t seem completely appropriate.”
“Confession? I never said you should go to confession? Where would you get that idea? Of course, you know I pray for you and for God to forgive you, and I am always happy to take you to church with me, anytime. You just let me know. But I also know you and your stubbornness well enough not to put a guilt trip on you like that.”
“But you said, and I quote you here, you need to make a confession.”
“I did no such thing! Oh wait…do you mean when I told you need to make concessions if you want to meet a nice gentleman. I just meant you might need to be a little more open to men you might not initially think are right for you—you do have a pattern of finding something wrong in every man you meet, and dear, you’re not getting any younger. You really do need to open up your mind to some different types. And I have a very nice young man in mind for you. Mr. Pritchard’s grandson is quite nice, and if you wear flats, the height difference won’t be so noticeable. His personality is…lovely.”
“Oh, my god, Nana. I thought you wanted me to make my confession before it was too late. I thought you were going to die!”
Daisy looked up from the ground, where she had been digging patterns in the pebbles with the toe of her shoe, and straight into Chase’s eyes. She wanted to drown in those eyes.
Her Nana continued to talk, but Daisy wasn’t listening anymore. She focused on Chase, and thought about her crazy behavior since meeting him. It was possible, not probable, but she was willing to admit possible that Chase wasn’t completely at fault for deceiving her. He’d never actually said he was a priest. Of course she assumed he was, he had the outfit on for god’s sake, but she hadn’t given him much of a chance to correct her assumption.
And she had, after all, been the one who’d started the dirty talk, who’d been deliberately provocative, knowing that it was wrong.
And he’d been the one to stop her from going further than the kiss, when he must have sensed he’d been willing to continue, do more. It was, in a way, admirable. She’d felt how hard he was, so it must have been uncomfortable for him to stop.
So maybe he deserved another chance. Maybe.
Daisy said something, she couldn’t remember what, to end the call with her Nana.
“Okay,” she said. “Maybe you’re not completely at fault. Maybe I jumped to conclusions just a little bit and didn’t give you much of a chance to explain.” She held up a hand. “You’re not totally excused. You could have tried harder to stop me. You could have let me know sooner. But anyway, I guess I’m willing to hear your story now, and it had better be good.” She waved the phone vaguely in the air. “Anyway, that was my Nana, and she is not dying, and she did not want me to go to confession. So, you can just forget everything I just told you.”
Daisy shrugged. She didn’t quite know where she and Chase would go from here. She watched him rub his chin. She’d known him only a few hours, and already she knew that gesture meant he was thinking something over. After such a short amount of time, she already felt like she got him. She loved the way he listened to her, and the easy way he offered that sexy half smile of his when he was amused, which seemed like most of the time. And the way he kissed. Damn! If he did other things as well as he kissed, she’d be a satisfied woman. Her Nana was wrong. If she ended up with Chase, she wouldn’t have to make any concessions. If anything, she’d be reaching higher.
Chase didn’t quite know how it had happened, but it seemed that he was no longer on Daisy’s shit list. She was smiling at him. He couldn’t remember a time he’d felt happier about something. This was a woman he wanted to spend his days making happy. That smile. God, that smile.
“First of all, I’m glad to hear your Nana’s not dying. And second, I truly am sorry for deceiving you. But there is no way in hell that I’m am going to forget anything you just said. There was some pretty good content in there. Parts of me, in fact, still have a pretty vivid memory of your confessions.”
Daisy quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Oh yeah? Which parts would those be?”
“My, uh, mind, of course. Gee, what were you thinking?”
“Your mind, huh? Yeah, I’m sure that’s what’s remembering what I said about wanting to hold your cock in my hand. In my mouth.”
She was right, it definitely wasn’t his mind that was thinking about that.
She paused, then continued.
“And is it your mind that’s interested in knowing that I’m imagining your fingers unbuttoning my shorts and slipping under the fabric of my panties?”
Damn, she was hot. And he was hot for her.
“You know that dirty talk is going to get you in trouble. Aren’t you supposed to be some proper Catholic girl or something?”
“I never was a very good Catholic. But there are other things I’m excellent at.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him, partly in jest, but also with a hint of promise.
“Since you’re starting up with the sex talk again, maybe instead of forgetting, we just start fresh.” He held out a hand to her. “Hi, I’m Chase, ersatz priest who has been known to withhold the truth unwisely, who has a really interesting story about a jar of maple syrup and a haunted dry cleaners, and is amazingly attracted to you.”
Daisy held her hand out to him.
“I’m down with starting new. I’m Daisy. I’m a little bit crazy, a little impetuous, and sometimes I don’t allow other people the chance to talk. I’m a hugely lapsed Catholic, and a prolific sinner. I’m a travel blogger with a deadline that I’m going to miss, and I’m in need of a ride to Florida to attend a house-warming party for my Nana. She said I can bring a guest.”
Her eyebrow quirked up at him again. “So Chase, you up for it? Road trip to Florida? I think you’d like my Nana. And you do still owe me that explanation.”
Yep he was up for it. That and a whole lot more. Smiling in return, he clasped her hand in his. “I’m in.” He opened the passenger door for Daisy and gestured her in.
“Let’s get started.”
About Adrienne Perry
Adrienne Perry writes contemporary erotic romance with plenty of heat and humor. When she’s not writing fiction, she is a professional science writer and in her spare time she likes to warp young minds (but only those of her own children and sometimes her nieces and nephew).
For more information about Adrienne and her two real-life sisters, who also write romance novels visit graffitifiction.com.
Facebook: www.facebook.com/AdriennePerryAuthor/
Twitter: www.www.twitter.com/authoradrienne
Why is death described as black? When I died, all the colors became crystal clear to my mind’s eye. I could see everything. I could see the entire universe all in one blink. The colors shot out at me almost violently, engulfing me completely like a white hot bath of love and joy. It was so bright and so refreshing. I felt free. I felt happiness. I felt ecstasy. I felt incredible energy. I had been encased in a physical body for so many years that I thought was me, only to discover that I was far more. I was a light being, an energetic entity. It was beauty beyond my wildest dreams: perfection in balance.
In the throws of my reintroduction to eternal bliss, there was a tiny silver c
ord of thought pulling me toward something. A presence that guided my heart. The love and desire that pulled at me were palpable, like the soft warmth of an evening fire that hypnotizes the eye. I couldn’t deny the gravity of this thought and felt my essence being drawn more and more rapidly toward it. I wanted it, longed for it, needed it, and it needed me. We were compelled to meet and be together, forever.
The first time I saw her was my tenth birthday. Father had agreed that it was time I got to see the big city. She appeared to glow through the glass of her father’s general store counters. Initially, I was mesmerized by the candy the glass display held captive just out of my reach. When she peeked through the first time from behind the display, I caught my breath. Somehow she seemed familiar. The candy no longer held any interest to me. Her eyes caught mine and she darted out of sight again, only to return a moment later wide-eyed and curious. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, only to be startled back to reality by my father’s deep baritone voice booming directions for me to take the supplies outside to our vehicle. When I looked back through the glass again, she was gone.
The next few weeks in the high country held me prisoner, hundreds of miles away from my new obsession. She was in my dreams and thoughts daily. Her emerald green eyes burned into my skull like brands on a beast of burden. The young girl through the glass had permanently marked herself inside me, yet I had no idea what her name was. My fascination was downright distracting. There was no comparison for the aching need that pulled at my psyche to learn more about her. My age allowed only the limited experience that my parents would indulge. However, my imagination was untethered. By the next time I was able to make a trip with my family into the city for supplies again, this mystery girl had become an enigma beyond reproach. She was perfect in every way to me.
When my family entered the city limits, my heart started beating so fast that I broke out in a light sweat. My mother touched my forehead, checking for fever and suggested I wait in our lift. My outburst may have been unnecessary, but seemed to serve its purpose. Permission was granted to visit the store. Once inside, I immediately began to scour the entire shop for my maiden. Her name was my goal. The only challenge was that my father kept demanding my focus to gather the essentials for the next period of time in the high country. The ore we mined was extremely valuable, but our territory wasn’t completely settled yet and squatters were ever threatening. Father kept trying to hire new workers, but they never seemed to stay and the automated systems required constant monitoring. Even I had been trained to manage them at eight years old, so the work wasn’t difficult—just tedious. Finally, everything had been gathered and packed. Just as we were about to leave, she came in through the main entrance to her father’s store carrying a bag in each hand. When she saw me, I saw the blood drain from her face until she looked porcelain. Only my mother caught the exchange as we walked toward my angel and her mother entering after. Ever the doting parent, my mother slowed and greeted the young girl and her parent. This gave me precious few moments to say something, but my mouth wouldn’t move and I began to fidget uncontrollably. I could see the young girl’s eyes pasted to the floor while our mothers exchanged pleasantries until my father insisted our time for safe passage home was growing short. I’ll never forget the feeling of defeat as I crossed the threshold of the entrance and glanced back as my goal faded into the shadows of the isles filled with products and supplies. The entire flight home, I wept silently in my seat, pretending I was asleep. The agony was unbearable, and it felt as if there were no hope or joy in the entire universe.
This was the way of it for several years. Every few months we would head into the city for supplies, and every few months I would be scared silent when my angel would appear—if she would appear. There were a few times she wasn’t present at all. If ever life held needles of stinging pain, not seeing my dream in the flesh even briefly brought on suffering like I never imagined possible. Doubt and fear would creep into my thoughts that she was avoiding me or was disgusted by the simple, mute boy that occasionally frequented her father’s shop. The list of reasons for her absence grew infinite and without restraint as my mind raced to explain all the reasons she would have to not want to see me. Until I did catch a glimpse of her, it would weigh relentlessly on my conscious and unconscious thoughts, distracting me from the beauty of life around me in our high mountain sanctuary.
By my fifteenth year of life, I was able to run the entire mine by myself. My father and I worked side by side with the occasional seasonal worker. It was a good time in my childhood because I got to know my father well. He was a hard working man that enjoyed a challenge as much as he enjoyed the full beard he sported year-round. His facial hair was a point of pride for him, but served a very practical purpose during the sub-zero winters we weathered in the high country. I looked forward to emulating my father and growing my own beard one day. Perhaps a strong, masculine beard would win my angel’s heart as it had my mother. My parents were so in love. It was inspiring to see the devotion they shared for each other, despite the hard work of running a family business in the unsettled territory.
In the spring of that year, my father died in the mine repairing one of the roadheaders. The giant machine had become jammed, requiring direct assistance to clear the debris. While directing the droids, the tunnel had collapsed. The hydraulic wall supports had done their job and saved the roof from crumbling completely, but a stray piece of rock managed to strike my father’s temple, killing him instantly. My mother took it hard and almost lost herself in her despair. I began running the business alone until my mother could gather herself again. In the process of learning to keep everything going, a powerful discovery revealed itself to me. My parents were incredibly rich. The ore we’d been mining was extremely rare and difficult to acquire and my parents had saved and invested everything they made into several profitable financial ventures. Thanks to the success of owning the mine, our family’s future had been secured. I had no idea my father was so close to never needing to enter a mine again. It almost broke my heart knowing he’d come so close to reaching his dream. For his memory, and my mother’s emotional health, I decided to find a management company to run our mine and move to the city. Secretly, I longed to be closer to my angel. With my mother’s guidance and assistance, I secured a reputable firm to run the family business and made arrangements to move. The move actually seemed to improve my mother’s depression. She dove in head first to completing the interviews and documents required by the management firm and instructed me about the nuances and details of each piece as my formal business education. I think she wanted to escape the memory of the high country as much as I longed to be close to my obsession.
Once in the city comfortably, a new challenge arose. I had no need for buying supplies from my favorite store anymore. Our new home was part of a purchased housing facility that we now owned. It included office staff, maintenance, maids, and various other assistants to procure our every desire. My hands had been my tools for so long that allowing others to serve me became a real challenge. In my eighteenth year, I realized that I hadn’t seen my dream girl for almost three years. The distractions of burying my father, moving, hiring the management firm, studying the documents and laws at my mother’s direction, and finally adjusting to living in a city teeming with people and activity had made time rocket by without much notice. Suddenly, I had to go to her, but the fear of seeing her engulfed me like a powerful morning tide raging against the rocks of the shore. Several times I tried to go to her father’s store, even made it to the door of the shop, only to flee in desperate disgust at my own inadequacy. My mother called me a man now and reveled in the beard I’d begun growing in memory of my father, but the thought of my angel would instantly drag me back to that frightened and embarrassed ten-year-old peering through the cloudy display glass. I was hopeless.
I discovered quickly that the city was abundant in a great many things, including young, eligible women. Being rich, young, and elig
ible myself made the buffet even more enticing. Girls would swoon over me regularly: often to my own embarrassment in public. My mother would tease me, insisting that I choose one as a future mate. This idea from her seemed completely contrary to the devotion and passion she and my father had expressed during their relationship. They had loved each other madly. While logical, settling for a suitable mate was the furthest thing from my mind, though some of the beautiful, young girls did provide some pleasant distraction occasionally. My heart still longed for my missing angel, yet I had no courage to seek her out seriously. The thought alone would make my knees weak.
One weekend while out on a sunny Summer afternoon with friends, I found myself in the neighborhood of the old supply shop that held my prize. It was a moment of joyous abandoned inspired by my company that caused my brazen entrance into the small storefront. My friends followed closely on my heels with wide-eyed curiosity at what had caught my attention in such a bland, boring, and otherwise unentertaining venue. The building looked so much smaller than I remembered from my childhood. At first, it appeared that no one was working the store. Then suddenly, a young woman stood up from behind the candy counter. She didn’t look up at first and began to open her mouth to speak. Before words could escape her ruby red lips, her eyes caught mine and my heart stopped. I felt as if I might pass out. The tugging on my arms from my friends snapped me out of the panic that had soaked me to my marrow. They were insisting we leave due to the lack of stimulation the establishment provided. I refused to move, but failed to speak too. Finally, the young woman behind the counter offered assistance with finding our needs, but my friends filed out the front door impatiently. My feet unconsciously guided me closer to the counter. Drawing near, it was easy to see that the young girl I’d worshiped had become a stunning young woman. Stammering, I introduced myself. It was amazing that I was able to form words at all, but my angel’s response surprised me. She recognized me despite my full beard. She explained that my similarity in appearance to my father was uncanny. Her brilliant green eyes sparkled in the dim light of the shop. I was mesmerized. We spoke at length, leaving my friends to their own devices. It came to my awareness that she’d lost both her parents to a terrible accident in the bustling flight paths of the large city. She maintained the shop out of nostalgia for them, but secretly longed for more. I promised that I would come to visit frequently if she would allow it. Her smile at my request made my heart leap.