Down to You

by M. Leighton

  I call Dad and Ginger on the way. Ginger is kind enough to offer me one of her shifts, which I gladly accept. It’ll be tonight’s shift, which is probably a good thing. I can stay busy right off the bat. Tomorrow, I’ll go out and look for more lambs, even though there’s no real reason. But it’ll be good to get outside, to do something that doesn’t require me to think. Or hurt. Or want.

  “Hey, punk,” Dad says by way of greeting when I walk in. I have the sudden and inexplicable urge to go throw my arms around his neck and cry on his shoulder like I did when I was a kid. Rather than doing that, however, and scaring the crap out of him, I set my bag down and go kiss him on the cheek and ask how he’s been.

  I spend the day watching a CSI rerun marathon on television and chatting about this and that. It doesn’t completely get Cash off my brain, but it helps. I knew it would.

  I shower and dress for my shift, happily slipping into the emotional comfort of the black shorts and tee as much as I slip into the physical comfort of them. I get Dad settled before I go and then I drive myself to Tad’s.

  Everyone is awesome. Of course. Glad to have me back. I feel tears threaten more than once when regulars ask me to come back, assuring me that they’ll never be as good to me at my new job as they are at Tad’s. In a way, I believe them. But in a way, I also know that’s not true. Cash is at my new job.

  Cash.

  Ginger shows up, not to work, but to provide much-needed support from the other side of the bar. She sips her drink and waits patiently for things to slow down before she asks any questions.

  “So, let me guess. ‘Bad boy’ turned out to be ‘worst boy’?”

  I laugh. Yes, it’s a little bitter. “Um, I guess you could say that.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  I stop stocking beer bottles into the cooler and stare at her, mouth agape. “You were? Well you could’ve said something, you know.”

  “I took one look at him and knew he was trouble. He’s not just hot. He’s smart. That’s not a good combination for your heart, Liv. At least the others have been pretty useless and stupid. But this one? Yeah, I knew if he got his hooks into you there’d be trouble.”

  I’d like to slap her. Hard. “Thanks for the head’s up, Ginger,” I say, trying to sound teasing, but knowing my anger is showing.

  “Would you have listened to me if I’d tried? No. You never do. You knew you should’ve stayed away from him. But you didn’t. Do you really think I could’ve said anything that would’ve changed your mind?”

  I don’t want to admit it, but she’s probably right. Cash had me breathless from day one. So did Nash. Because they were the same guy, only in different clothes and with different jobs. I think, deep down, my body knew. I responded to each of them the same way, sexually. They both set me on fire. And that’s not too likely to happen with two such supposedly different personalities. Why didn’t I see it? How could I be so blind?

  I’m emptying the last of the bottles from the box, arranging them neatly in the cooler, when I see someone slide onto the stool beside Ginger. I look up and stop, my arm halfway into the cooler.

  It’s Cash.

  He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me. I wonder if that’s his heart I see in this eyes. Or if it’s just my imagination. Either way, I don’t trust it. I don’t trust him.

  I say nothing. I finish what I’m doing, take the box into the back then come back out and pour him a Jack neat. I slide him the glass, he slides me a twenty and I pay for the drink and stick the change in the tip jar. I throw a smug look at him, daring him to make a comment. But he’s smart. He doesn’t say a word, just nods and tosses back his whiskey.

  I don’t need to ask what he’s doing here. I only listened to one of his dozen or so messages, and it was him asking to talk to me. I saved the rest. I figured I’d listen to them eventually. Just not yet.

  A guy that is widely known to adore Ginger sits on her other side and starts chatting her up, leaving me to tend to the few other customers at the bar. And Cash.

  I keep myself busy with odd jobs, but it doesn’t really help. Every nerve, every cell, every sense of my entire being is focused sharply on Cash.

  Cash.

  By the time the night is over, I’m on edge. He still hasn’t said a word. Neither have I. But the tension is palpable. And it’s killing me.

  When Tad gives last call, Cash looks at me long and hard then slides off his stool and walks out. I feel aggravated and bereft and sad and frustrated and hurt. But mostly I feel like chasing him. Like asking him to stay.

  But I don’t.

  I can’t.

  I won’t.

  As we are required to do, the bartenders stay as Tad counts the till. But my mind is wandering. To Cash. Always to Cash.

  Taking my phone out of my pocket, I check for messages. There are no new ones, which both puzzles and disappoints me, so I randomly select one of the saved messages from him and listen to it. When his voice comes on, there is a quick, sharp stab of pain in my chest.

  “Look, Olivia, I care about you. Can’t you see that? Can’t you feel it? I might not have always done the right thing, but try to see it from my perspective. Do you know how hard it was for me to tell you all this? Knowing that you might leave and never come back? I was just hoping that you wouldn’t do that. Leave. But you did. And I know I should let you go. But I can’t. I just can’t.”

  I hear him sigh into the phone and then it clicks off.

  A lump of emotion constricts my throat.

  What am I supposed to do? He’s a liar. A liar!

  Some small voice pipes up to tell me that he had a better-than-average reason to lie and that he did finally come clean, trusting me with things that could literally threaten his life.

  Does that matter?

  The small voice answers that it does. It matters very much.

  I choose another message to listen to.

  “Okay, if this is how you’re gonna play it, fine! I’ve done all I can do. I’ve tried to help you, to show you I care about you, but obviously that’s not enough. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re right to go. I don’t even know anymore.”

  I listen to another and another and another. It’s plain that Cash was going through all manner of reactions to my reaction. For some reason, they make my heart squeeze. The one thing that’s apparent in all of them is that he’s searching desperately for some way to fix things. And that I’m the one making him desperate. I know what that feels like. I know what it’s like to care about someone so much they make you desperate.

  But it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

  But it does matter.

  I just get more irritated.

  When Tad’s finished and he’s ready to lock up, we all leave together. As I approach my car, I see Cash sitting on his motorcycle, right beside the driver’s side. I walk past him, unlock my door, get inside and start the engine. I consider rolling down my window to talk to him, but I decide against it.

  As I pull out of the lot and turn toward home, I see a single light, the headlight of Cash’s motorcycle, pull out behind me.

  Is he following me home? What’s he gonna do, cause a scene in front of my father? My father with the broken leg?

  My irritation rises. But so does that swelling sensation in my chest, like my heart might burst from inside my ribs. Like Alien.

  Cash’s messages run through my mind—his words, the sound of his voice, the things he doesn’t say, as well as the things that come across so clear. I look in my rearview mirror again, at the bike’s front light. Following me. Steadily, persistently following me. Like his focus is as bright and singular as the headlight.

  As I pass a familiar pull-off that’s hidden in the trees along the road, I swerve into it, coming to a crunchy stop in the gravel. Impulsively, angrily, I throw the gearshift into park, shut off the lights and get out, slamming the door behind me. Within seconds, Cash is pulling to a stop behind me and cutting his engin
e, too.

  I stomp over to where he’s taking off his helmet and getting off the bike. “What the hell do you want from me?” I scream, anger suddenly finding its way back to the forefront. I lash out, putting my palms in the center of his broad chest and pushing with all my might. He barely moves. “What are you trying to do to me?”

  When I feel tears threaten, I turn and walk quickly back to my car. As I’m rounding the hood, I feel fingers like steel bands wrap around my upper arms and bring me to a stop. Cash whirls me to face him. In the silvery light of the full moon, I can see the livid set to his features, the flash of temper in his eyes.

  “Stop! Just stop!” he spits.

  “Why? What else needs to be said? I think you’ve told me enough lies for a lifetime.”

  “No more lies,” he says angrily. “I don’t even want to talk to you anymore. I just want to hear you tell me that you don’t feel anything for me. That you want me to leave you alone and never come back. Then I’ll go. If that’s what you really want, I’ll go.”

  I know this is my opportunity. In my gut, I believe that he’ll do exactly what he says—he’ll be gone from my life forever if I tell him to go.

  I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I hear him gasp, as if he’s waiting for me to banish him from my life.

  Rage drains from his face. It’s replaced by something close to a silent plea. Then he whispers.

  “Don’t. Please don’t say it.”

  I search his eyes. For what, I don’t know. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want you to. I need you to come back to me. Not to help me. Or to help my father. I’m done with that. I don’t want your help. It all boils down to you. I just want you.”

  My heart is beating wildly inside my chest. I hear nothing, feel nothing, see nothing but Cash. And even so, I barely hear him whisper again, “I just want you.”

  Before I can give it another second’s thought, before I can overthink it and torture myself with what I should do rather than what I want to do, I answer him quietly. “Okay.”

  I see several emotions flicker across his face, but then I see nothing. I’m in his arms.

  His lips crash down on mine and the world disappears. My fingers are in his hair, holding him to me. His hands are roaming my back and hips.

  And then he’s lifting me onto the hood of the car. Kissing my neck, untucking my shirt, touching my breasts.

  I wrap my legs around his slim hips and pull him into the V of my thighs. He grinds against the place I need him most.

  His fingers loosen the button and zipper to my shorts. I’m only vaguely aware of being thankful we are so hidden from the road.

  With his palm, he pushes me back onto the hood and pulls my shorts and panties down over my feet. He tosses them onto the car beside me and lifts my bent legs onto his shoulders, burying his face between them.

  I can’t hold in the moans of pleasure his tongue elicits. I feel it making hot circles over my clitoris. I feel it lick down and slide inside me, pushing in as deep as it will go. I feel him rub his face against me. And then I feel the world explode around him, showering him with the fireworks of my orgasm.

  He moves and then I hear his zipper. He enters me and my spasms continue. He grabs my hips and pulls me tighter against him, my back still pressed to the warm metal of my car.

  I look up through half-lidded eyes and I see him watching me, so serious, so sensual. He moves his hand between us and I jump when his thumb grazes my sensitive clitoris. But he’s gentle and, soon enough, I feel the tension building again. I close my eyes and just feel.

  The waves of one orgasm run seamlessly into the next. As my body squeezes Cash, I feel him pulse within me. He spreads through me as he fills me up, as he comes deep inside me.

  I open my eyes again and see his back arched and his head thrown back. It’s so hot to watch him come, I feel my body reacting, milking him, demanding everything he has to give. I want it all. I want everything he has to offer. I want it pouring out inside me.

  With his body still shooting hot liquid into mine, Cash opens his eyes and reaches for my hands, pulling me up and into his arms. We are as joined as two people can be. And not just physically.

  He showers my face with kisses and runs his hands all over my back. He doesn’t need to use words. I know what he’s saying. I perceive it. I feel it. And I feel the same way.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT- Cash

  I open my eyes to bright streaks of light peeking under the edges of the curtains in Olivia’s room. I shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did, but I wanted to hold her while she slept. I wanted her to know I wasn’t going anywhere. That she’s safe with me. In my arms.

  Unfortunately, I fell asleep, too. Great sex for the third time in a short period of time does that to me.

  I smile and I look down at Olivia where she’s curled up against me, her beautiful face relaxed in sleep.

  I don’t want to put names to the things I feel for her. I just want her to know I’m not going anywhere. And that I want to take care of her. To make her happy. I hope that’s enough. It has to be.

  She wiggles against me and I feel my body react. I know if I don’t get out of bed, I’ll end up waking her up. And while that sounds like the best possible start to my day, I know she’ll be sore if I don’t give her a break. Besides, her father will be up soon and I need to get to my own room.

  Easing out from under her, I slip on my jeans and grab the rest of my clothes, tiptoeing to the door. I crack it and listen. It sounds like her dad is already stirring.

  Silently, I sneak to the bathroom and take a quick shower. When I’m done, I head downstairs, letting Olivia sleep as long as she can.

  Darrin, Olivia’s father, is sitting at the kitchen table. The way he’s watching me, I can’t help but think he was waiting for me.

  I nod. “Good morning, sir.”

  He nods in return. “So, you’re the one,” he says enigmatically.

  I look into his eyes, a more brown and less bright version of Olivia’s, and I know what he’s getting at, what he wants to know. Straightening to my full height, I link my hands behind my back and nod again. “Yes, sir. I am.”

  His eyes travel me from head to toe, measuring me up like he might measure a new ram for his flock, before they come to rest on mine. They speak volumes as they look, unwaveringly, at me. Into me.

  “And you know what she means to me, what I would do for her. And to anyone who hurt her.”

  I suppress the grin that twitches at the corners of my mouth. He sounds about Olivia like I feel about Olivia. “Yes, sir.”

  After several more long, tense seconds, he finally nods. “All right, then let’s get that girl some breakfast.”

  From that point on, I can’t seem to wipe the smile from my face.

  Sometime later, when Darrin speaks to Olivia, I turn to see her standing at the kitchen door. She looks adorably tousled. It makes me want to pick her up and carry her back to bed.

  I find myself holding my breath when she looks at me. I’m a little uneasy. I don’t know if the bright light of day has brought about some new revelation that will work against me or not.

  When she smiles shyly at me, I exhale. And when her cheeks turn pink, I chuckle. I don’t know why that makes me so happy. But it does.

  “Good morning,” I say, laying my spatula in the big spoon that sits to the right of the stove. I know her father knows how I feel about her, but even if I didn’t, I couldn’t stop myself from going to her.

  I stop in front of Olivia and cup her face in my hands, kissing her sweetly on the mouth. She looks up at me with her liquid eyes and something in me melts away. I think to myself that I hope it wasn’t something important. Something that I needed.

  It makes me just a little uncomfortable, feeling the things I feel for her, so I give her a smile and head back to the stove, hoping she won’t see my uncertainty.

  The rest of the morning goes smoothly. Right up until she announces that we’
re heading back to the city after lunch. My head jerks up and our eyes meet. There’s no warning in them, but there’s a purpose. There’s no mistaking that.

  “Why so soon, Liv?” Darrin asks.

  “I’ve got some things to take care of, Dad.” I see her eyes flicker up to mine where I’m sitting across the table from her. “Marissa will be back soon and I’ve got some things to figure out.”

  There it is.

  We’ve got some things to figure out. Obviously.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE- Olivia

  The ride back to the city is as different from the ride away as it’s possible to get. The only thing that would make it more dramatic is if my hair was on fire or I was a man.

  I glance back periodically to see Cash on his bike, following along behind me. He’s wearing his helmet, so I can’t even see his eyes, but I imagine that he smiles at me each time I look back. I can almost feel it. A couple of times, he even nods his head, like he can tell I’m looking at him. I wonder if he can see my eyes shift to him in the rearview mirror…

  When I pull into one of the spots designated for Marissa’s apartment, Cash pulls in beside me, killing his engine and taking off his helmet. I try to hide the smile I feel that he’s coming in without me having to ask. It’s like some unspoken agreement has been reached between us. I’m his and he’s mine. At least for now. And I refuse to think any further than that.

  He carries my bag in and takes it into my room. Rather than just dropping it, he sets it on the bed and sits down beside it. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he clears his throat.

  “Why don’t you pack a bigger bag and come stay with me?”

  My stomach flutters at the thought of going to sleep in Cash’s arms every night and waking up in them every morning. Of going to sleep with his taste on my tongue and waking up with his tongue in my mouth. That’s what it would be like. At least for a while. For a few days.

  It sounds like heaven.