Dirty White Candy, Ultimate Vacation, Book 2

by Cox, Anita

  He pulled me down next to him, curling up behind me. “Sleep, my sweet Candy. Sleep.” He kissed the back of my neck.

  NIGHT IN

  When I woke, the sun was setting and I was in bed alone. I had no idea what time it was, but knew that work on Monday was going to be difficult with my sleep schedule upside down. I didn’t get out of bed immediately. I stayed there looking around the room, taking in the genius that was John. The room looked warm and inviting without being overly feminine. Anyone could be comfortable here.

  Finding my bearings, I sat up and grabbed one of John’s shirts out of the closet, putting it on as I made my way to the master bathroom. After a quick freshening up, I started walking around the apartment. John was gone. I was there alone and in desperate need of coffee.

  In the kitchen I found a bag of coffee, a grinder and a French press with a note.

  I’ve run out to grab some groceries, I’ll be back. You probably know how to use this stuff more than I do and I know how you are before you have your coffee.

  He was right. I was usually grumpy and groggy before my first cup of the day. I filled the kettle and put it on the stove. Six o’clock. It was already six. Suddenly I felt sad that I had slept away one whole day off. Truth was, I probably needed the rest. I had been working hard at work and at home, sacrificing sleep for time with friends and lovers. I couldn’t keep up that pace forever.

  Hearing the whistle of the kettle I turned off the stove and filled the French press, adding the coffee and stirring the mixture. Honestly, I’d rather just use a coffee pot. Fill the thing up and turn it on. I was a fan of working smarter, not harder. Staring at the press I nearly willed it to be ready when I pushed the top down. Thankfully, I had a drinkable cup of coffee to clutch and sip.

  Cup in hand, I wandered into the living room. The far wall stopped me in my tracks. The wall, the whole wall, was filled with records—actual vinyl. There had to be hundreds lining the wall on a built-in shelving unit. I had no idea John collected them, probably because I hadn’t spent much time there. Until now, I had never felt very selfish, but standing in awe of this beautiful wall with old albums, I realized I had never spent any time trying to get to know John. Up until now, I’d only worried about my own feelings. To really know him was opening myself up to falling in love and until now, I hadn’t been ready for that.

  “Good evening sleepy head.” John was standing in the entry way, arms loaded with grocery sacks.

  “Hey there!” I rushed over to help him with his load.

  “No, I got it.” He shrugged off my help. “It’s only a few feet to the kitchen.” He walked into the kitchen with me on his heels.

  “John, you have so many records. I never knew you collected them.” I started pulling items out of bags to help him put away the groceries.

  “Leave the steaks out,” he said with a grin, “we’re having a great dinner tonight.”

  “That sounds wonderful. So how long have you been collecting those records?” I asked as I stocked the fridge.

  He shrugged, “since I was about fourteen or fifteen.”

  “Why didn’t you just switch to tape and CD with everyone else?” I eyed him. He didn’t seem fazed by the discussion.

  “I have CDs and I had tapes when I had something to play them on, at least until they wore out. But vinyl is pretty durable if it’s taken care of. It’s not that easy to find some older music and the original cuts just sound different.” His hands had paused and he was staring at the countertop. “Then there’s the feel and smell of an old album.” He shook his head. “It’s getting harder and harder to find replacement needless for my record player, but now with the internet, I have a few places I can buy them online.”

  “I can’t believe you bought all those. There’s a fortune on that wall. I’d put in a more secure lock or something.”

  John laughed. “Not a lot of people would know the value of that old vinyl. Some of it wouldn’t fetch fifty cents, but there are some pretty rare records in there. But I didn’t buy them all. I inherited at least half from my father. Some of it is stuff I don’t really listen to. There’s some stuff in there from the forties and older. You know, the big bands, swing…”

  We both laughed.

  “That word has certainly taken on a different meaning, hasn’t it?” I teased.

  “You could say that. So how do you like your steak?”

  “Medium. So is it like a hobby for you? Do you go in search of old vinyl?” Maybe I was too eager to learn more about John. He gave me a sideways glance.

  “Why the sudden interest in my record collection?”

  “Just trying to get to know you better, is all. I’m sorry for prying.” Biting my lip, I’d hoped I wasn’t irritating him.

  “I see…” He grabbed the steaks and went onto the balcony. He pulled a beer out of his back pocket and opened it with the spatula.

  I giggled.

  The night before, we were in a swing club. Today, he was grilling on the balcony like we were an old couple, secure enough to have carried a beer in his back pocket, carefree and unconcerned about appearing cool.

  Still standing at the kitchen island, I leaned against it with my coffee and watched him as he manned the grill, lighting it, cleaning it and setting the damper. His dark sandy waves blew in the breeze.

  He came back into the kitchen and winked as he pulled halved potatoes out of the oven and scooped out the contents.

  “Can I make a request?” I asked.

  “For dinner? Sure.”

  “After dinner,” I smiled.

  “Ma’am, I’m all yours. I’ll even paint your toenails if you want but you can’t paint mine.” He gave me a goofy grin. Even his goofy side was sexy. That’s just wrong.

  “I really want to stay in your shirt, curl up on the couch and rent a movie. It doesn’t have to be a chick flick, so long as it’s not horror. I don’t do well with scary movies.” I bit my lip again, hoping it didn’t sound like the lamest night ever.

  “That sounds fantastic. Any excuse to keep you in my shirt is okay with me. But there’s just one problem. I don’t have cable or satellite. I don’t have enough time to watch TV to justify the expense.”

  “You have an enormous television!”

  “Yeah, because when I decide to take a day off, I sometimes watch movies. I could go rent a movie.” He mixed cheese, bacon, butter and sour cream in with the potato guts.

  “You don’t have to do that. I could just go to my place and grab my laptop. I can hook it right to your TV and stream any movie that’s available on DVD right now.”

  “Technology! I’ll never catch up. But I’ll go to your place. Otherwise, you’ll have to put pants on, and I can’t have that.” He kissed my cheek as he spooned the potato mixture back into the shells.

  “Come on! You’re making twice baked potatoes, steaks on the grill and you build masterpieces. I’ll manage the technology!” I poured another cup of coffee as I watched him go back to the balcony. The smell of charbroiling steaks and twice baked potatoes had my stomach growling.

  “About five minutes,” he called from the balcony. “Would you press the start button on the microwave please?”

  “Yeah,” I said as I pressed start. The man was amazing me. He’d made me breakfast before, but I didn’t know he could cook a meal like this. The smells filling his apartment had me feeling ravenous.

  I looked around the kitchen until I found plates and silverware. I set the table, lighting the candle in the center. Every time I looked around, it looked as if a professional decorated had graced the premises. Everything was simply perfect.

  When I came back to the kitchen, John was tossing broccoli with some sort of dressing. I swallowed hard. I didn’t particularly care for cooked broccoli. I was going to have to choke it down.

  He carried plates in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other. “Hope you’re hungry.”

  “I’m starving, actually. John this all looks wonderful.” I sat down while
John poured the wine.

  “Dig in,” he said smiling.

  I cut the first piece of steak and took a bite. The juices and wonderful tastes filled my mouth and I groaned.

  “Oh my god,” I said with my mouth still full, “this is the best steak of my life.”

  “Glad you like it. Now eat your broccoli, it’s good for you.”

  I looked at him and stopped chewing.

  “What?” he said laughing. “You didn’t think I knew you hated broccoli? Trust me, you’ll like it. It’s steamed and dressed with a light warm vinaigrette.”

  How did he know that? It’s not like I complained about broccoli. I swallowed my steak and pierced a piece of broccoli with my fork. Slowly, I put it in my mouth. Surprisingly, the taste was wonderful. The warm vinaigrette had taken the pungent taste away that I didn’t like about cooked broccoli.

  “You just have to know how to make it,” he said before sipping at his wine.

  I was in awe of this man.

  “So, I was thinking, if you worked for your dad since you were a kid, certainly, you didn’t work as a cook. How did you learn to cook like this?”

  John put his fork down and stared at me. His brow was furrowed, but his lips were turned up slightly. I could not tell if I’d made him angry, uncomfortable or what he was feeling.

  “What’s with the fifty questions tonight?”

  Guilt. I had just been hit with an incredible wave of guilt. The more John knew about me and the less I knew about him the worse I felt, but at the same time, I was trying to cram all the information in one night.

  “I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” My heart was in my throat.

  He just sat there staring at me.

  “John?”

  Still no words came out of his mouth.

  “John? Aren’t you going to speak?”

  “Not until you answer my question. Why are you asking me so many questions. First the records, now my work history. What’s the deal?”

  I looked down at the table, not wanting to admit that I had failed miserably at getting to know more about John.

  I answered at a near mumble, “you know me more than I know you. I’m ashamed that I have been so self-absorbed.”

  John snickered. “Are you kidding me?”

  “What?” All the oxygen had left my body. I couldn’t breathe. Was he mad? Did I make an ass out of myself?

  “Candy, when I met you, you were in the beginning of discovering yourself. Of course I’ve had more time to focus on you… because you’ve been focusing on who you are and what you want rather than getting to know every aspect of my life. It’s okay. We have plenty of time to get to know about each other.”

  Oxygen finally came back to my lungs as I took a deep breath in.

  “After my father died, I didn’t want to work on houses. I was mourning him. We were so close and his death was very difficult for me to accept. So I watched a lot of television and was addicted to the Food channel. I started buying huge amounts of food, more than I would eat, and cooked whatever I saw on the shows I watched. I would record them, go to the store to buy what I needed, come back and make what was on the show. Cooking became very fun and therapeutic for me.”

  How endearing. He lost his daddy and it took him some time to recover. My heart melted.

  “Dinner is wonderful. Thank you.”

  “Thank you for staying. I was very happy to wake up with you in my bed. Dinner and a movie, maybe some popcorn later… I can see why girls like slumber parties.” He winked at me.

  We finished with dinner and put the dishes in the dishwasher. I gave my house keys to John and he ran to my apartment to grab my laptop bag. When he returned, I set everything up and we scrolled through movies before we settled on a romantic comedy.

  “No gore, no horror, good old fashioned laughter,” John said pointing at the screen.

  John sat behind me on his couch, legs and arms wrapped around me. Resting the back of my head on his chest I felt warm and relaxed. Every time he laughed my head bounced a little, making the moment a little more comical. I realized something simple yet wonderful had happened—I was happy. I belonged here.

  A knock at the door made me jump.

  “Stay here, I’ll see who it is.”

  “John, I’m not wearing anything other than your shirt!”

  He turned around and looked at me, running his fingers through his hair. He pointed down at his erection. “Thanks for pointing that out right this second.”

  I bit my lip. “Sorry.”

  The knocking at the door got louder. “John! Open this door right now!”

  John opened the door. “What the fuck, man? I’ve been calling you for hours. I thought something bad happened to you. Why the hell…” The guy stopped talking and looked past John at me standing there in John’s shirt, legs peeking out from below.

  “Yeah, bad time, bro.” John stepped to the side to block the guy’s view.

  “For you, not me.” He stepped around John. “Hi, I’m Dan.” He walked toward me, hand extended.

  “Dan, I’m Candy.” I looked at John, “I’m going to go put some pants on.”

  “Thanks man,” John groaned.

  “You don’t have to put pants on, on my account.” Dan grinned, peeking around John again.

  “Eyes back in your head, Lieutenant.” John pushed Dan, but it was playful.

  “Lieutenant?” I asked.

  “Lieutenant Dan,” John laughed, “he looks like Lieutenant Dan off of Forrest Gump.”

  I looked at Dan and started laughing. He did look like Gary Sinise’s character from the movie, long hair in a ponytail, similar features… I could see the joke.

  “Oh, Lieutenant Dan!” I laughed. “I’m going to go get those pants.”

  John rolled his eyes and waved me on.

  UNUSUAL FRIENDS

  I wasn’t really comfortable sitting there in sweats, so I grabbed my jeans and a tank. When I came back into the living room, Dan and John were sitting on the couch drinking beer.

  “Hello beautiful, you clean up nice, though I really preferred you in what’s-his-name’s shirt.” Dan toasted me with his beer bottle.

  “So my romantic evening in has been crashed I see.” I plopped on the chair feeling defeated.

  “I knew Johnny boy had it bad for someone, but he wouldn’t spill. I see why. Dirty bastard has been hoarding you, keeping your beauty all for himself.”

  “Oh man, you’re going to have to tone it down, I’m not wearing boots.”

  “Damn! Now you see why I love this woman!” John laughed and punched Dan in the arm.

  “In love?” Dan’s mouth fell open. “Never would have thought I’d hear those words coming out of that mouth. Congrats!” Dan punched him back.

  It was like a weird frat brother atmosphere in the apartment. Part of me wanted to flee to my apartment, a more estrogen friendly environment. The other part of me just wanted to sit there and wait out Dan’s departure. My longing for more time with John won. Besides, I thought, getting to know one of John’s friends was part of getting to know John.

  I watched the two banter back and forth, talking about the good old days, John’s high school football days and the time he lost his virginity, a story I could have lived without hearing. The boredom must have been evident on my face.

  “So, Miss Candy, what do you do for a living?” Dan asked as he popped open another beer.

  “I’m in advertising.” I forced a smile, fighting to hide the fact that I selfishly wanted John alone. I felt like such an asshole. So I continued, “You know, I come up with the ad campaigns you see in magazines and the television.”

  “Ever do any of those Super Bowl commercials? Those are great!”

  “Nope, nothing like that. Those cost a ton of money and I would rather sell things for my clients than to entertain the mass drunken football fans.”

  “Makes sense, I guess. So what do you do for fun?”

  “John,” I teased.
r />   Dan spit his beer all over the coffee table.

  I couldn’t help but laugh, neither could John, who was running to grab paper towels.

  “Damn girl, ya’ made me spit my beer. I like you!” Dan wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

  “Thank you. I like you too.” It wasn’t a lie. I needed to ease up. John had more than just me in his life.

  “I see you’re not drinkin’ beer?” he asked as he mopped the beer spray from the coffee table. “Sorry about the table, John,” he said out the side of his face.

  “I’m not a beer fan.”

  “Bar is stocked, Candy. My home is your home. Make whatever you want. Some of your favorite ingredients are in there and the fridge.” John flashed me an apologetic smile.

  I retreated to the bar on the other side of the room and looked around. I could make just about anything I wanted, so I settled for a cosmopolitan. It was difficult to hear what was being said over the shaker, but I was certain it was very testosterone filled.

  Returning with my glass and a shaker full to refill it, I found Dan’s mother was the topic of conversation. She had been sick, but had recuperated, despite the doctors verdict, though I missed what she’d been sick from.

  “I’m sorry for being the wrecking ball to your evening, ma’am.”

  “That’s quite alright, Dan. I can share John for a little while,” I said raising my glass. “Life’s too short not to make new friends. So what do you do?”

  “I travel a lot,” he said.

  “That doesn’t really answer my question.” Shit, that sounded like an interrogation.

  “No, no, I guess it doesn’t. I travel around, take cruises, flights, vacations and then I write about it.”

  My jaw dropped. I never, not in a million years, pegged this guy as a writer. His English was terrible and he didn’t seem refined at all.

  “Yeah, you judged a book by its cover, didn’t you?” He laughed. “Happens a lot, which is exactly why the company hired me. No one would guess in a million years that I was a critic. The more casual I am, the more people loosen up around me. While I may talk like a hick, I have a masters in journalism.”