“You don’t even remember?”
“It’s not like I use it.”
“You’re hopeless.”
“You’ve said that already,” I remind her. “What are you going to do with his name anyway?”
“What do you think? I’ll Google him.”
I take the phone out of my pocket but hesitate to scroll down the list of recent calls to find his name. Am I sure I want to start checking him out? What if I don’t like what this little investigation discovers?
Taylor grabs the phone out of my hands rolling her eyes. She searches the list until she locates Nate’s last call. “Nathan Henley? Is that him?”
I nod. Henley. I remember now. When I first heard it, I thought it had a really cool sound to it.
Taylor hands me back the phone and takes out her own to search the web for traces of Nate. “Holy fuck. Is that your guy?”
At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s found out he’s wanted in a number of different states for the most heinous of crimes. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to look but Taylor has different ideas. She shoves the phone under my nose. “Is that your guy?” she repeats.
I look and everything starts spinning in a frenzy. “Yes, it is,” I say with my eyes ready to pop out of their sockets.
“You had this in your living room and you sent it away?”
Her sarcasm doesn’t escape me. Nate stares at us half-naked in various sexy poses – lying idly by the side of a pool, leaning against a wall with squinting eyes, dripping wet in a shower or sitting on a bar stool.
“What do all these pictures have in common?” Taylor says breathlessly.
“Underwear.” The sound of that almost sends me into a laughing fit.
“He doesn’t look like a model,” Taylor says. “He is a model.”
“Underwear model?” It’s really, really hard to believe.
“Yep.”
“Was, at least. He seems somewhat younger in the pictures.”
“Girl, you hit the jackpot.”
I can’t take my eyes off his pictures: strong, sexy, powerful muscles and a smile and gaze that would melt any heart. “He’s definitely way out of my league,” I manage to say in the end, averting my eyes from the Google slideshow of Nate’s magnificence on Taylor’s phone. “Even if I had any doubts before, now I know I’m not interested in his games.”
Taylor shakes her head at me. “There’s more to it than you want to admit. The guy’s on your mind. You like him. That’s the big roadblock.”
“There’s nothing on my mind,” I say. “You’re wrong. Why would that be a roadblock?”
“You should at least screw him once,” she says.
“You’re so romantic.”
“Romance is overrated,” she says. “And stop changing the subject.”
I consider her words and then gaze over her head at the produce stalls with the apples, strawberries and grapes, all fresh and bright like the energy I badly need in my life. “He said he’ll come back,” I say and for some reason the admission makes me feel guilty of something.
“When?”
“I don’t know, maybe tonight,” I say, still avoiding her eyes.
She leans forward until I have no option but to look at her. “Grace Kendall, promise me you won’t blow it.”
“There’s nothing to blow,” I insist weakly.
“Isn’t there?” she says with a wink. “According to Google images there looks to be quite a bit there to blow.”
“Yuck,” I say.
“Yum,” she counters.
“We work together, Miss Vulgarity. The last thing I need is some kind of strained romance between us.”
“You volunteer together,” Taylor says. “I know the shelter is important to you, honey, but your personal life needs to be at least as important.”
“Please, can we just drop this for now?” I beg of her. “I’m sure you’re right, but I’m not you, Taylor. I’m not so casual about these things.”
She stays silent – something quite uncommon for her. Her disapproval is more intense than usual and it refuses to give way to a smile. Once again, I’m reminded of how I have come to depend upon Taylor’s joviality and good natured humor. It pains me to think I offended her.
“Have it your way,” she offers in the end, “but if you don’t want him, please send him my way. One of us needs to experience that.”
I know what she’s doing. This is her way of pushing me toward action.
“I’ll figure it out in the end,” I say. “And keep your hands off.”
“You know I’m teasing. Just keep an open mind about him, okay?”
I nod. “My mind, yes, but not my legs.”
“What if he says the magic word?”
“What word would that be?” I say with a grin.
“You’ll know it when you hear it,” she says. “I can’t tell you all the secrets of the universe over a single crepe.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“You’ll figure it out,” she says noticing her watch. She stands to go. “By the way, you’re spending Thanksgiving at my place.”
“Your mother’s?”
“Yeah, you’ll have to survive my mother’s meddling and my sister’s whining but I won’t take no for an answer. Unless you have plans with your aunt. She could come too.”
Of course she would think that the only plans I could possibly have for a holiday would be with my aunt. It’s an absolutely logical assumption and it’s spot on but it still bothers me.
I help Taylor load the trunk of her car with all the groceries she’s purchased. In comparison, I only have a small plastic bag with green beans, tomatoes and avocados. Taylor gives me a kiss on the cheek, then disappears into her car and zooms off to the fancy hair salon she frequents.
In my car I start the engine. I linger a while until the heat starts working. It takes a good ten minutes for my old Ford to spew out a little warm air. My car needs maintenance as much as I do. Pretty soon I’ll be able to afford it.
The mechanic will take care of the car, but who will take care of me and look under my hood? I want it to be someone I trust and someone who knows what they’re doing, someone who can really make my engine hum.
Oh my God, Taylor is contagious. Or maybe Nate is contagious. My old, beat-up car should hardly lead to erotic longings. I shift into drive and the Ford jerks forward and I’m moving again.
I honestly don’t know where I’m heading. Without remembering a single turn I end up in the covered parking lot of my apartment complex. I guess we always end up where we belong.
After a few steps, I have a clear view of my front door. My heart skips a beat at the sight of Nate sitting patiently with his back against the door.
Chapter 10
Life takes us to places we don’t want to go. Nobody knows that better than me and, yet, I have a hard time deciding where it is I want to be. There have been many lonely days in my life; days before Jack, days with Jack and days after Jack. I am learning to accept things as they are and just ride the tides.
I take a deep breath and walk past Nate to unlock the door.
“I’ve waited for you,” he says. “Not just now but always.”
I ignore his remark, romantic as hell, but it has been well rehearsed I’m sure. I walk through the door to my small, cluttered entryway, kicking the door shut behind me.
He knocks softly on the door. “Will you let me in?”
“Who’s asking?” I fight to keep my voice steady and devoid of any emotion. I’m sick of the temptation of him.
He doesn’t answer. I count slowly to twenty before I open the door to let him in. He steps in cautiously, keeping his eyes on mine, as if asking for permission still. A second later, I turn my back on him and blindly find my way to the kitchen. I put my one plastic bag on the counter and take out the avocados, sniffing them before setting them down in a small basket with two bananas and one apple.
My ears try to listen in on any sounds
from the living room but all I get is silence. Every nerve in me is jittery and on edge; every cell trying hard to keep it together. I shall not come undone.
I pour water in a glass and gulp it down to quench a thirst that’s stemming from fear and need. Nate’s still not audible so I gather every vestige of courage in me and walk back to the living room to face him.
He’s standing in front of the very same bookshelves that caught his attention the first time he came to my apartment when he was in bad shape and looking for a place to stay. Only this time he’s stripped down to his boxer briefs. Just like his Google pictures although now I can smell his aftershave.
My mind falls into a momentary amnesia, unable to retrieve words that could be used now. He is so beautiful I can barely think, let alone speak.
Instead, I focus on his flexing biceps, his shiny pecs and his rock-hard abs, all radiating a masculine essence from deep within his skin. I do my best to avoid staring down at the boxer briefs and the fullness within.
He glances at me with my concise Oxford Spanish dictionary in his hands. “Que piensas?” he says.
This little oddity is enough to bring me back to my senses. “Put your clothes back on,” I order him. “You’re more than that I would hope.”
My straightforwardness takes him aback. He lingers undecided in front of the shelves, flexing his neck muscles.
“And it’s really cold in here,” I say looking away. “You’ll catch your death.”
A grin forms on his lips. “This is cold for you? Really? I guess a ski trip would be out of the question.”
“I’ve never been,” I say indifferently.
“You seem to have lived a sheltered life,” he says.
Blood pools behind my eyes blinding me for a moment. Or maybe it’s just tears hoping to finally break through the dam I’ve imposed on them. I can’t blame him for not knowing anything about my life but his words piss me off.
“Waking up on the top of a mountain, walking into the cold morning air is so exhilarating,” he goes on. “You are so innocent.”
There it is again – innocent. This is how he sees me, what probably drives him to test me so cruelly time after time. “I need you to stop now,” I say. “I’m not enjoying any of this charade.”
When he comes to my side, taking barely two long steps, his tall, muscular body dwarfs me. It’s not that I didn’t know he’s tall, just that I’m feeling particularly small today.
He puts his right hand behind my head pulling me closer. He lowers his face to mine so that our noses almost touch. All kinds of alarms go off in my brain but I remain still, staring into his eyes fearlessly.
“You didn’t ask why I’m here. It’s progress,” he says.
His transformation goes well beyond the physical appearance. He demonstrates surprising amounts of confidence, audacity and mockery. “Who are you?” I say slowly, almost as if stuck in a dream.
“You know who I am, Grace.”
“Do I?”
“Who do you think I am?” he says with a slight smirk.
“We become what we think. That’s what Buddha says.” I am pleased to have come up with these random words because I certainly don’t want to find an answer to his question.
“Joy follows like a shadow,” he says, still holding my face so close to his I can smell the shampoo in his hair.
My surging heartbeat betrays me. I study that face, feeling more than a little bit startled that a man like Nate would know one of Buddha’s most famous quotes. He captures me at every turn.
“All right, Nate, you win. You are who you are.” I touch his hand to slowly glide it off the back of my head.
“Call me Nathan,” he says, strengthening his hold on me and pulling my entire body against his. “There’s so little time, Grace. So fucking little time. Let’s not waste it.”
Once you feel a body like that pressed against yours, it’s hard to pull away and go back to having a normal, simple life ever again. It’s impossible now to deny that I’m wildly attracted to him. I wonder if he can sense it. Within seconds, my body grows warm and I crave more of his skin.
He’s a strong man, both physically and mentally, and he’s used to getting his way, this much is obvious. What are my chances of getting out of the tangle of his muscled arms and detach from the hold of his gorgeous eyes?
I know what his next move will be. His intentions have been crystal clear since he got rid of his pants and shirt – I have to give him credit for that. His smooth, muscular chest and abs rise and fall with every breath he takes, pushing gently against my breasts. I resist a desire more like hunger to kiss his neck and shoulders. His fingers relax their grip on my head and start playing gently with my hair.
His left hand slides down and pushes itself under the hem of my shirt pressing on the small of my back. I hold his gaze for two seconds. My breathing slows as my heart pulses in panic mode. I can feel it thumping against my ribcage and I know he feels it, too. His eyes drop to my chest. My heart and breasts tremble for his blue eyes.
He slides his hand from my back to my ribs. His fingers linger there for a second before they start climbing higher until they find the underwire of my bra. Gathering the last fragments of strength in me, I grab his hand and pull it out of my shirt. He immediately pulls me closer and I am thunderstruck at the hard evidence of his arousal against my belly.
“Nathan,” I gasp.
He stares at me, making no attempt to touch me again. “Did I do something wrong?” he whispers into my hair.
“Everything you do is wrong,” I say through thin breaths.
He slowly lets go and I push away.
“You don’t like me?” he says with a sincerely pouty face. Suddenly frustration erupts across his handsome features. He balls up his fists and gently punches one against the other. The small black tattoos across his knuckles are stretched out and for the first time I pay attention to the different designs: crescent moons, a skull and a heart on each hand.
I can see that he’s working a new angle in his head. “If you have sex with me this once, I promise I will leave you alone. If that’s what you want, I mean. No more showing up uninvited and no more begging. Everything will go back to normal.”
“Let me get this straight,” I say. “You think you can stand a girl up and then appear at her door horny a week later and then suggest a one night stand and the girl will be happy with this arrangement?”
He stares into my eyes dumbly.
“And nothing goes back to normal after sex,” I remind him. “I’m sure you’re aware of that. What is this, Nate? A bet or something?”
He laughs. “A bet? That only happens in the movies.”
“Does it?”
“Yeah,” he says. “All those old 90s movies? They had a lot of betting going on. What was that about?”
I take a step back and realize how ridiculous we are with him stripped to his underwear and me fully dressed, sweating and doing my best not to stare at his glorious physique. “See, you never really answer my questions. It doesn’t make me feel like I can trust you.”
“You can trust me, Grace. You know me.”
“You say that a lot but–”
“But what?”
With a sigh, I plop onto the couch and pull my laptop from the coffee table.
“What are you doing?” he says.
“You’ll see,” I say as I type his name on Google’s search bar. “Come sit down next to me,” I go on when the first pictures of him dressed in pretty much what he has on now show up on the screen. “Who the hell are you, Nathan Henley?”
His features harden as he takes in the images of himself. A small pulse makes his right cheek twitch twice. “That was a different lifetime,” he says.
“Really? How long ago was it? You haven’t aged much since.”
He is uncomfortable with my questioning. I can see it in the way he licks his lips and scratches his ear. Finally, I have the upper hand.
“I did some modeling a coup
le years ago to get some quick cash. I knew people who did photo shoots like that and they suggested I gave it a shot since I was, you know, broke.”
“People – you mean girls?”
He nods. “What does that matter now?”
“It matters to me.”
“Why?”
“It helps me understand where you’re coming from.”
“That’s not where I’m coming from, Grace. That was like a few hours of my entire life on Earth.”
“Did I offend you?” I say with a grin.
He studies my attempt at being smug and callous.
“I never thought you’d be so insensitive,” he says, reaching over to pick his shirt off the floor.
I laugh out loud. “You’re an incredible hypocrite. How many times have you called me innocent with that condescending grin of yours?”
“What? That’s not what I was doing at all,” he says. “Just forget it. You are wearing me out.”
“With all those muscles, you wear out easily.”
“There’s better ways to tell me you’re not interested,” he says.
“That’s not it at all,” I say. He doesn’t seem to notice when my voice breaks. “You and I are drastically different people.”
“Oh, I got it. Loud and clear,” he says zipping up his jeans. “I’ll get out of your way. Problem solved.”
I follow his gaze as he searches the room. I spot his old sneakers between the bookshelves and a corner of the wall. “Are you looking for those?”
“Yes, thank you.”
It’s getting dark outside turning the room into a stage of half-light, shadows and melancholy. I feel a wave of regret rise inside me. I watch him put his shoes on. The tan skin on his powerful arms looks darker now, sending shivers through my pale skin.
He turns to me when he’s fully dressed, holding his jacket in his hand. His eyes dig into me mercilessly causing my eyes to drop.
“It will all be okay,” he says in a whisper.
I hope his words will prove out in the end. I hope we will overcome this awkward moment and resume our friendship. He pushes the door open letting a cold wind breathe inside the room. I stand a few feet behind him rubbing my arms with my hands to warm them. There’s something ominous in this moment that sits heavy on my chest making breathing difficult.
Beautiful Ruin Page 7