In Love With Lucy

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In Love With Lucy Page 9

by C. C. Wood


  She grinned and clapped her hands together. “Yes! Five-thirty sharp.”

  I nodded and watched her bounce out of my office, looking more like a Mickey Mouse Club alum than the mouthy woman who swore like a sailor that I knew and loved. I shook my head and started texting the rest of the girls.

  Since Chelsea was the last interview of the day, I had to cancel the candidates who were scheduled to interview tomorrow. After that, I read emails and organized paperwork for the BioSign Corp in Fort Worth. Chris was getting closer to figuring out who was embezzling, but they had covered their tracks well, despite the large sums of money that were missing.

  I also tried not to dwell on the fact that Chris never left his office before lunchtime and then disappeared for the rest of the afternoon. I also told myself that it didn’t make my stomach ache. My lying skills must have been improving because I almost believed it.

  “So, Geordy is standing there, his boss right behind him, and I say, ‘I don’t give a damn if you give me a bad reference. Seeing as Mr. Barden worked with your company a few years ago and remembers you less than fondly, I doubt he’ll believe a word you say.’ Then I look over his shoulder at his boss, John, and say, ‘Every good idea he’s presented to you in the last four years has been mine. Every report he’s handed in was prepared by me. He’s done little more at work than play computer games and search for porn since I started working here.’ And, of course, John starts to look pissed, Geordy’s already livid, so I stick my nose in the air, stomp to my desk and pack up my shit. I have enough money put back that I can take a some vacation time before I start training with Lucy next week.”

  Tanya and Yancy are giggling like idiots, likely due to the three margaritas they’ve consumed rather than Chelsea’s story. I’m grinning right along with Grier, feeling pleasantly buzzed from the three vodka tonics I’d thrown back on an empty stomach.

  “I hope the horse’s ass gets fired,” Chelsea grumbled into her margarita before she drained the last of it.

  “I’ll drink to that,” I said, lifting my own glass.

  After Chelsea drained her glass, she glanced over and waved at our waitress, signaling that we were ready for another round. Then she pointed at me.

  “And you!”

  “What?” I had no idea what she was talking about.

  “Your boss is the sweetest guy. I mean, I have no doubt that he’ll let me know when I screw up, but he’s not the ogre you made him out to be.”

  I sighed. “I think he’s nicer because he’s getting laid.”

  The table went silent before it erupted in a chorus of squeals and yells.

  “No way!”

  “You finally did it!”

  “Was it awesome? I bet it was awesome.”

  I dropped my head into my hands and then onto the table and groaned. The girls fell silent. I felt a hesitant hand on my shoulder and lifted my face to look at Grier. She looked worried.

  “What’s wrong, Lucy? I thought that you decided to give him a shot.”

  I brushed my hair off my face. “Yeah, a shot at a fling. I didn’t plan on falling in love with the jerk.”

  My friends looked stunned.

  “But, you don’t even like him, right?” Yancy asked.

  The waitress came with fresh drinks before I could respond. I waited until she set them all down and took a huge sip of mine before I answered her question.

  “I didn’t. Not really.” I paused. “Most of the time.”

  I looked up and all my friends were staring at me as though I’d lost my mind.

  “Well, which is it?” Tanya prompted.

  I threw my head back. “He’s actually considerate. And even a little sweet.” I lowered my face and leaned toward Tanya. “He even likes to spoon.”

  Tanya, Chelsea, and Yancy gaped at me. Grier merely smiled.

  “And now I’m in love with him.” I shoved my hands through my hair. “I am SO fucked.”

  Everyone at the table burst into gales of laughter.

  Smacking the table with her palm, Yancy managed to exclaim, “Literally!”

  I decided then and there never to share my love life problems with my friends ever again.

  Chapter Twelve

  That night I didn’t sleep well. Again. As a result, I woke up the next morning with a horrendous headache and did something I hadn’t done in almost a year. I called in sick. Well, texted in sick.

  I won’t be in today. Migraine.

  A few minutes later, as I was lying on the bed with a cool cloth over my eyes, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen.

  You okay?

  I rolled my eyes. Of course I wasn’t okay. I almost wished my head would fall off. I will be if I get a nap and take some meds.

  That was actually pretty sweet, though unnecessary. No thanks. Just sleep and maybe a hot bath.

  I’ll check on you later. Call me if you need anything.

  Wow, he sounded as though he was concerned. As though he cared.

  Ok.

  I set my phone back on the nightstand and closed my eyes. It was Friday, which meant I wouldn’t see Chris for three days and part of me was relieved to have a break from the emotions that bombarded me when we were together. The problem was that I never set the parameters of this fling with Chris in my mind before I jumped him. Now all the boundaries I expected were nowhere to be seen and I was ass-deep in relationship quicksand.

  I honestly thought Chris would want to keep things simple and maintain his distance. I hadn’t expected the possessiveness he demonstrated, nor his affectionate behavior. It was surreal. Those qualities, along with his dry wit, were enough to make me fall in love with him. Had I realized exactly what I was getting into, I probably would have run as far and as fast as I could in the opposite direction.

  Nothing good could come of this. The Chris Barden I’d known for the least three years didn’t seem capable of falling in love. I never would have expected the considerate, even sweet, interior that was covered by his aloof, cold shell.

  Now, I was in love with him and it scared the crap out of me. I didn’t know what my next move should be. Thinking about it made my head ache even more, so I rolled over onto my stomach and drifted off to sleep.

  I woke up from my nap three hours later, feeling much better. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten. I climbed out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom to use the facilities, brush my teeth, wash my face, and then I headed into the kitchen. My fridge was woefully empty when I opened the door but there was a carton of yogurt that expired yesterday. I peeled back the lid and sniffed. It smelled okay, so I decided to risk it and vowed to go grocery shopping later.

  I also found the two end pieces of a loaf of whole grain bread and stuck them in the toaster. As I ate my yogurt and waited for my toast to finish, I wished that I could find a store nearby that would deliver groceries. There were several high end stores that offered the service, but the minimum required purchase would be more food than I could eat in a month.

  I threw away my empty yogurt container. After I spread Nutella on my toast and devoured it, I took a nice, long leisurely shower. The insistent ache in the back of my skull had dulled so I dressed in a pair of stretchy lounge pants and a t-shirt that was faded and thin from too many washings.

  A few hours later, I was sprawled out on my sofa when I heard someone knock on my door. Frowning, I went to the door and looked out the peephole. It was Chris. I glanced at the wall clock in my living room and saw it was only three in the afternoon. What in the hell was he doing here instead of the office?

  I pulled the door open, staring at him in confusion.

  “Chris, is everything okay?”

  I noticed that he held several plastic grocery bags in his hands so I stepped back to let him into the apartment. He immediately headed toward the kitchen, leaving me to follow behind him. I shut and locked my door and moved to the bar area between the kitchen and living room.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked
.

  Absently, Chris glanced at me as he took food out of the bags and started loading up my empty fridge. “I knew you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you some things to eat and some over-the-counter migraine medicine.”

  I watched as he placed a take and bake pizza on the counter, along with root beer.

  Unsure of what I wanted to say, I went the polite route. “Uh, thank you.”

  He smirked at me over his shoulder, as if he understood that I was at a complete loss. “I noticed your refrigerator only held ketchup, pickles, and a few cartons of yogurt the last time I was here. I thought you might be hungry and wouldn’t feel like going out.”

  Again, he was showing me how sweet and considerate he could be and it made me want to swoon. I just stared at him, unable to think of one thing to say. He seemed completely unaware that my heart was lying in a puddle at his feet, because he turned on the oven and started unwrapping the pizza.

  I sat on one of my barstools and watched him putter around my kitchen, making himself right at home. I liked the sight more than I should. In fact, I liked it so much that I wanted to ask him if he would come over every day and make dinner for me at 3 p.m.

  He opened several cabinet doors, obviously looking for something. Just as I was about to ask him what he wanted, he reached in and pulled out a pizza sheet. I blinked. I’d completely forgotten I had it. If I made frozen pizza at home, I usually just stuck it on the oven rack because I was too lazy for anything else.

  After the pizza was in the oven, Chris turned and looked at me. I sat up straighter.

  “What?”

  He shook his head and took a glass out of the cabinet, filling it half full with water. Then he opened the bottle of migraine medicine and shook two pills into his palm. Looking stern, he brought the pills and the water around the bar.

  “Take these,” he said, holding up the pills.

  I did as he asked, popping them in my mouth, then taking the glass and washing them down with water.

  “Thanks.”

  Chris gave me a small smile and took my hand. “Now, I’m going to give you a back rub.”

  I frowned at him slightly. “What? Why?”

  “It will help with the pain and help you relax so you can sleep.”

  He pulled me to my feet and started to lead me into the bedroom. I lagged behind a little, dragging my feet.

  “I’m okay, Chris. All this isn’t necessary. It’s just a migraine. It’s already better and it will be gone by tomorrow morning.”

  He stopped, turning to face me. “You never call in sick, Lucy. This is the first time in almost a year you haven’t come in to work and the last time you had such a horrible case of flu you almost ended up in the hospital. I wanted to be sure you weren’t downplaying the seriousness of your symptoms.”

  I tried to tug my hand out of his. “You were checking up on me.”

  His face grew serious and a little angry. “Yes. I was checking on you because I was worried that you were sicker than you were letting on. The last time I looked around that wasn’t necessarily a crime. In fact, checking on the people you care about is a requirement in almost every relationship.”

  Oh shit, he used the R-word. He used the R-word. My heart started to pound. So maybe I wasn’t the only one who was in deeper than they wanted to be. I bit my lip and nodded.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  His expression softened and he lifted a hand to touch my cheek. “So, let me give you a massage. You should probably milk this for all it’s worth because I wouldn’t want to spoil you by pampering you all the time.”

  I made a face at him and he chuckled, pulling me with him into the bedroom.

  “Take off your shirt and pants,” he commanded.

  I pointed a finger at him. “No funny business.”

  He grinned. “I promise. My hands will be on their best behavior.”

  I didn’t believe him for a minute, but the pills he gave me must have been fast-acting, because the remnants of the migraine were fading, leaving me feeling drained and a little light-headed. I pulled my shirt over my head and heard him suck in a breath. I hadn’t bothered with a bra and it obviously took him by surprise. Then I stripped off my pants and left them in a pile on the floor. I moved to the bed and stretched out on my stomach.

  Chris was silent for so long, I lifted my head and looked over my shoulder at him. He was staring at my ass, revealed by the cotton thong I was wearing. When he realized that I was staring at him, he shook his head and his eyes moved to my face.

  “Lotion?” he asked huskily.

  “On the counter in the bathroom. I have a bottle of baby oil there.”

  He nodded and disappeared into my bathroom. I crossed my arms and rested my forehead on them. A few seconds later, I heard his footsteps come back toward the bed, then what must have been his shoes hit the floor. The bed shifted as he climbed onto it and straddled my upper thighs. The lid popped on the baby oil bottle then I heard him rubbing his hands together.

  The oil was warm from his palms as he began to smooth it over my upper back and shoulders. The calluses on his hands even felt good. As his fingers pressed into my tense muscles, I groaned.

  “Is that too deep?” he asked.

  I wanted to laugh at his question because it sounded almost dirty, but the pressure of his hands on my tight muscles felt heavenly and I didn’t want him to stop.

  “No, that’s just right.”

  He grunted and continued to rub the oil into my skin, using his thumbs to rub knots out of my shoulders and neck. As he worked his way down my back, the feel of his hands on me and the sound of his slow steady breathing lulled me. I grew drowsier and drowsier before I dropped off into a blissful sleep.

  I woke up sometime later with a start. The room was dim and cool. Chris had draped the throw from the end of my bed over me. I could hear the faint murmur of a television so I got up and pulled on my t-shirt and lounge pants.

  Stretching, I wandered into the living room and found Chris sitting at my bar, his laptop and files spread out on the surface. He looked over at me when I walked in.

  “Hi,” he said softly.

  “Hi.”

  “How’s the head?”

  I thought for second and realized that the migraine was completely gone. “All better. Not even a twinge.”

  He smiled. “Good. Are you hungry? I put the pizza in the fridge after you fell asleep.”

  “Sure.”

  As he started to shut down his laptop and gather his papers and files, I skirted the bar and started digging through the fridge.

  “I can do that,” he complained.

  “Yeah, so can I.”

  I found the pizza on a plate, covered with cellophane. I pulled it out, unwrapped it, and put the plate in the microwave. I turned just in time to run into Chris’ chest.

  “Hey!” I exclaimed, laughing. “There’s not a lot of room in here.”

  Chris smiled down at me and wrapped both arms around my waist. “Then I guess you’d better stand close to me.”

  I wound my arms around his neck. “I suppose there are worse things.”

  We were grinning at each other when he leaned down and touched his nose to mine.

  “God, I love you,” he murmured.

  My entire body froze solid. I couldn’t think of anything to say. Those were the words I wanted to hear. I wanted him to hold me the way he was right at that moment. Yet I was filled with the irrational fear that there was no way this could work out.

  After four years of carefully guarding my heart, the idea of being vulnerable and exposed to this man scared the bejesus out of me. My chest felt tight and my heart was beating so fast that I was sure it would explode.

  “Lucy?”

  I blinked rapidly, trying to collect myself, but it was a lost cause. The longer I stood there, staring wordlessly at Chris, the more closed his expression became. Finally, he pulled away from me, his arms dropping to his sides.

  When his han
ds left my body, I was able to think and speak again. “Chris…” my voice trailed off at the look in his eyes.

  “What just happened?” he asked.

  “Chris, please let me explain.”

  He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest and I knew that even if I articulated what I had been thinking and feeling clearly that he was in no mood to listen. He thought I rejected him, and in a way, I had.

  “Explain,” he said shortly.

  I cleared my throat. “I just feel like this is….” I searched futilely for the right words, “sudden.” I didn’t continue because his disappointment seemed to be morphing into hot anger.

  “Sudden?” he asked in a dangerous tone. “Sudden? How the fuck does three years of me wanting you so badly I can barely stand it qualify as sudden?”

  I felt cold, nauseated, and the insistent pounding returned to my head. “What?” I whispered.

  Chris took a step forward, looming over me, his hands grasping my elbows. “For three years, I’ve watched you strut into my office, looking beautiful and full of life and joy. You are nothing like the other women I’ve known.” He grimaced and turned away, tearing a hand through his hair. “At first, I thought it was because I’d been too focused on my career and not taking care of my physical needs”

  My body jerked slightly. That cold description sounded more like the Chris Barden I knew. Then he continued and blew my mind.

  “I realized after months of dating, trying to find a woman who appealed to me as much as you did, that no one else would do. I bided my time, waiting for a chance, but you never gave me one. You didn’t tolerate my moodiness or rudeness yet you revealed nothing personal about yourself. The closer I tried to get to you, the farther away you seemed.”

  The fear and chill that covered my skin was beginning to recede, but I still couldn’t process all that he was saying.

  Finally, Chris stopped pacing my tiny kitchen and stared at me, no longer angry, only bleak.

  “I gave up trying to find what I wanted elsewhere because no other woman could compare to you. You’re it for me, everything I could ever want or need.” He huffed out a humorless laugh. “Only you’re more afraid of commitment than I ever was. It seems almost fitting. I finally find the woman I want for the rest of my life, but she’s scared shitless of belonging to anyone but herself.”

 

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