by Lesley Jones
“You’re a dick.”
“Yeah, I think we’ve established that.”
I huff out a huge puff of air but feel too tired to argue with him.
“Am I forgiven?”
“No.”
“Just for now, or not ever?”
“I’m gonna go and have a bath and think about it.”
He rubs his nose up and down the side of my neck, just below my ear.
“Can I join you?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“You can keep me company if you want, but you need to crawl behind me up the stairs, on your knees while apologising continuously.” No clue where I plucked that one from, but it sounds like a plan, so I’m just gonna go with it.
“You want me to get naked for all of that?”
“Not really.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re ugly and unattractive and seeing your naked body does nothing for me.”
He bites my shoulder and grinds his hard dick into my arse crack.
“I think you lie.”
“You can think what you like.”
“I think you love my body, how it looks, and especially how it feels when it’s inside yours.”
Whorey Wanty me is nodding her head in agreeance while leaving a snail trail across my shoulder.
She’s such a slut.
OverThinking me packed her bags, waved the white flag, and absolved herself from all things Koa the second he told me he was cacking himself.
I let out another over exaggerated sigh. I’m still pissed off at his attitude towards me, but at the same time, I’m chuffed to bits that he reacted at all.
Does that make me sad? Who gives a fuck, not me.
Much.
For fuck's sake, I’m doing my own head in right now.
I need alcohol to help me figure things out.
“Go open a bottle of red and bring it and two glasses to my bathroom.”
“I love it when you’re bossy.”
“I don’t care what you love.” I feel his stomach and shoulders move as he laughs in my ear.
“You plan on carrying on this hissy fit for a while, Essex? ’Cause I gotta tell ya, it’s making me hard baby.”
“Then I’ll stop right now. Go fetch the wine and glasses.”
He kisses my ear, making a big wet sloppy noise.
“Go to my bathroom, the bathtub in there’s bigger.” He smacks my arse and heads back down the stairs.
A half an hour later, we’re lying at each end of the enormous oval-shaped bathtub I’d failed to notice was in Koa’s ensuite.
I’d used my Molton Brown Caju and Lime fragranced bath gel to create a mass of bubbles, and we were staring at each other over them now as we sipped our wine.
Jess Glynne was singing about being taken and home, and we listened in silence.
I hadn’t invited Koa to join me. I’d run the bath, added the bubbles, and stepped in. He’d appeared a few minutes later, naked, on his knees carrying wine. I’d merely shaken my head and accepted the glass as he’d climbed into the water. All the while fighting back a smile.
He’s such a dickhead, but for now, he’s my dickhead.
I didn’t often take baths. They gave me too much time to think, something I did far too much of anyway. A quick in and out shower with my music blaring was more my gig. My aim was to remain focused on what needed doing and the words to whatever song was cranking.
“Does it hurt?” Koa interrupts my musings.
“Hmmm?”
“Your head, does it ever hurt with exhaustion from all the thinking it does?”
How does he know that? I smile because I fucking love the fact that he does. Then I remember I’m pissed off with him and give him evils instead.
“Who says I’m thinking?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not thinking.”
“Is it even possible not to think? If I stopped thinking, how would I function?”
He smiles but doesn’t answer the question. Instead, he asks, “who’s this singing?”
“Jess Glynne.”
“Great voice. I like the song, too.”
I nod my approval. “Give me six months, and I’ll educate you on all things music.”
“Can’t wait.” He wiggles his toes, and they brush against either side of my hips.
“Will you let me listen to some of yours?”
“Music?”
“Yeah. Not just what you like to play, but what you like to listen to too.”
“I’d like that. My CD collection is at my other house. Once this place is fixed up, I’ll move them here.”
“You still have CD’s?”
“I still have vinyl.”
“Fuck me, you’re old.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
We’re both quiet again. Jess is replaced by Adele when Koa says, “I’m sorry for reading your messages.”
“It's not about you reading my messages Koa. I wasn’t hiding anything from you on purpose, I just wasn’t sure how to handle Reggie. I didn’t wanna tell you about his calls and messages and complicate us even more.”
“You think we’re complicated?”
“Don’t you?”
“I think we’re perfect.”
I shake my head. “You’re full of shit. Don’t think you can charm your way out of this, that hurt, the way you sounded so accusatory over those messages? It bloody hurt.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” He sits up straight and bends his knees. With his elbows resting on them, he dangles his wine glass in one hand.
“The women in my life never gave me cause to trust them.”
“I’m not them. Nor am I anything like them.”
“No, Gracie, you’re not.”
“What does that mean?”
His eyes sparkle, and he smiles softly. My heart takes a direct hit.
“You’re not like any woman I’ve ever met. I’m not sure—fuck— I don’t know. I feel like I’m just starting out at fourteen or fifteen again and know nothing about the opposite sex.” He gives a small laugh. “This is so different to anything I’ve ever experienced in my life.”
“Me, too,” I admit. My chest hurts because my heart is banging so hard against it.
“I was jealous when I saw those messages. It’s been a long while since I cared about anyone enough to make me feel that way. The truth is, I didn’t feel that jealous when I found out that Lucy had moved on so soon after our split. I kinda knew she wasn’t all in. I’ll admit I didn’t expect her to end it so soon, but I half expected it to happen at some stage.”
I watch as he leans back in the water again. He stretches his legs out and lifts each of mine over his so that he doesn’t squash me. There’s nothing sexy about the manoeuvre, but it gets my insides squirming all the same. Maybe it’s just because we’re here, sharing a bath and talking, the fact that he cares enough to adjust our positions, so I’m comfortable. It might mean nothing to others, to me, it means everything.
“Why’d you marry her then?”
“I think I did it to prove that I could. I felt so cold, alone, and cut-off after what Dani pulled on me. When Lucy came along and tried to convince me that she could make me love again, I let her. I didn’t wanna die old, lonely, and bitter. I didn’t wanna be raising my boy with that as a role model, so I went with it.”
“That’s really sad.”
“No shit.”
“So tomorrow, when your son gets here, what’s gonna be the go between you and me? You introducing me as the lodger, your new bird, what?”
“New bird?”
“Girlfriend. Bird is just a term for a female where I come from.”
“Men call their woman ‘a bird’?”
“Not just their woman, all women.”
“And you don’t mind?”
“No, why would I?”
“I’m not sure. You’re not offended?”
“Not a
t all. It’s not a derogatory term. Anyway, that’s beside the point. What are we telling your kid?”
“My kid’s nineteen-years-old, he can handle the truth.”
“And what’s that?”
He wiggles his toes against my flesh under the water again.
“You fishing for something here, Essex?”
“Not at all.”
I lie.
I want the title.
I want it all.
He grins at me, knowing full well that he just busted me. I suck in my cheeks and try not to smile back.
“That you’re my woman. That you’re here from England for a visit and you plan on staying a while.”
“And what about your little girl?”
“Yeah, that situation I’m not so sure about.”
“Why?”
“She’s never seen me with another woman. She’s only four-years-old. She’s a girl. I don’t know, Essex, I don’t know what the right thing is to do.”
“Are we gonna share a bedroom while she’s here?”
I want her to know that I mean something to her dad, but I don’t want to traumatise the kid. I’ve no clue how to handle this situation. Judging by the look on Koa’s face, he doesn’t know, either.
“Ya know, Essex? The man in me, the man you’ve turned me into the last few days, wants me to say yeah, let's do this. Let's just put it out there to the world that as crazy and fucked up of a situation as this is, we’re just gonna roll with it and give it a chance. But the dad in me—” He looks at me and shakes his head. “The father in me is terrified that my little girl is gonna love the shit outta you, Essex. And then I’m gonna fuck things up, and she’s gonna lose you and never forgive me.”
My nose stings. My eyes burn with unshed tears, and my throat feels tight.
“What if we both try really hard not to let you fuck it up, for her sake and for ours?”
“I’d like that.”
“I’d like that, too.”
“Get up here, woman.”
I put my wine glass down on the edge of the bath as Koa does the same. I straddle his lap and let him slide right into me. He rolls his hips and pulls me tight against his body. The damp hairs on his chest brush against my nipples, the desire to grind myself against him, too base to resist.
The fingers of one of Koa’s hands dig into the soft flesh of my arse, the others comb through my hair, dig into my scalp and bring my mouth down to his.
We kiss and move against each other, water splashes around us as we pant and groan.
He stands up with me still wrapped around him, steps out of the bath and carries me to his bed.
“This mattress is hard and uncomfortable, that’s why I prefer your bed, but I need to be inside you right now, so you’ll just have deal with it for a while.”
“Mattress, what mattress? All I can feel is you, Cowboy.”
And I can. Now that I know the reason for him never bringing me to this bed, I allow my brain to let go of everything and just enjoy the sensation of Koa’s body sliding in and out of mine. The feel of his teeth and hot mouth on my nipples, and the pressure of his thumb when he slides his hands in-between us.
“You feel so fucking good, Gracie. So good.”
I’m still straddling Koa, while he sits on his knees, we work together to move and gain friction and when the first sparks of my orgasm fire through me, he knows. He feels it, and he’s right there with me as I arch my back and allow myself to melt into him, to it, to us.
I PACE THE FLOOR OF the cabin while waiting on Koa to get back from the airport with his son.
Aside from decorating his daughter’s room, we’ve both spent the last few days working on our own jobs. I’ve sketched and worked on the blog, and Koa has been into his office a few times. Because it’s closer to Aspen than here, they’re the nights he stays at the other house and has his daughter for overnight, mid-week visits.
I haven’t met her yet, although he’s been pushing for it. I’ve simply not been ready. I’ve listened to him on the phone with her, and their conversations make me want his babies so badly, but I’m still not sure if this whole thing is gonna end as rapidly as it started. What if I meet his daughter and fall as fast in love with her as I did with her dad?
If we crash and burn, it will hurt so much more if I also lose his kids. But, like it or not, his son Kai will be arriving any moment now, and Malia will be here Saturday morning. Time for me to swallow that bag of cement and harden the fuck up.
I pour myself a glass of wine, but it tastes like shit, my nerves apparently affecting my palate.
Koa’s been gone about two hours, which is the length of time he told me it would take to get there and back.
I have my music playing softly in the background. It helps soothe my nerves and stops my overthinking brain steamrolling over any productive thoughts I might attempt.
I’ve made a shepherd’s pie for dinner. Not sure if either of them will know what that even is, but who doesn’t like shepherd’s pie?
I pivot and stop pacing long enough to put the Yorkshire pudding that I always serve it with into the oven, and then I hear the rumble of Koa’s beast pulling up the drive.
I just get myself upright when they come through the door.
Koa smiles at me, he knows that I’m nervous and moves straight to my side while looking at the plates and knives and forks I’ve set out on the breakfast bar.
“Something smells good, Essex. I was gonna take us all out for dinner.”
“Oh—” My face must show the panic bubbling inside me over my fuck up. I didn’t ask what we were doing, I just assumed.
“Home cooked is always better, babe.” He kisses my temple as I watch Koa’s son enter the room.
He’s a man. Definitely not a child. And he’s the image of his dad. I get a lump in my throat while wishing that I’d known Koa when he was younger, as young as Kai, and that we had a history together.
Fuck, whatever is his kid gonna think of me?
“Gracie, this is Kai.”
“All right,” I greet him and note that Koa’s eyes slice to Kai’s and their lips twitch in sync.
“What?” I rub my hand over my face in case I have flour on it from the batter mix.
“Hey, Gracie, happy to meet you. Smells good. What’s cooking?”
He leans in, and we shake hands briefly.
“Well, I didn’t know that your dad planned on taking us out, so I used the mince we bought the other day and made a shepherd’s pie and a Yorkshire Pud.”
Kai opens his mouth, closes it, and looks at Koa. I watch both of them as they burst out laughing.
“What’s funny?”
They continue laughing.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Gracie.” Kai continues to smile. “But I have no clue what you just said.” He looks towards his dad. “You’re right, she does sound like Adele.”
I turn my gaze to Koa, who’s getting a beer out of the fridge.
“You want wine, Gracie?” he asks.
“You think I sound like Adele?”
Koa closes the door of the fridge, a bottle of white in one hand a beer in the other. He’s still grinning and looks as guilty as all fuck.
“I’ve got red.” I nod towards the glass of wine I poured earlier. “You reckon I sound like Adele?” I ask again.
“Yeah, when you talk, at least. When you sing, not so much.” I can’t sing for shit and am well aware of it. I just wasn’t aware that Koa was, too. It will never stop me from giving it a go, though.
“Can I have a beer?” Kai asks his dad, both of them apparently unaware of my nervousness and mortification that they’ve obviously been discussing me during the car ride here.
“No. You can go get washed up for dinner,” Koa tells him.
“Fine. What room am I in?”
Koa turns his head to me, just as I look at him.
“Shit forgot to mention that boy. We started the renovations. Hope you don’t mind taking the room next to
mine just for this trip. I’ll try to be better organised next time you visit.”
“Visit? This is my home, Dad. Next time, I’ll be here to stay.”
“We’ll see about that, we’ll see.”
Koa gestures to me to head upstairs, and I make my way up there ahead of the boys, not wanting to miss the reaction Kai has to the work we’ve done.
I walk in first and turn on the lights, then I turn to watch his face as Kai takes in his new room.
“What the fu......Hold. The. Phone. Who did this? Wow, Dad, this is fantastic, man. Thank you.”
He turns around and slaps his dad on the back as they share a blokey cuddle, and I look on with a lump in my throat.
“I just did the grunt work with a few of the boys, it was Gracie who picked everything and designed the look.”
That’s when I get my own cuddle.
Kai’s almost as tall as his dad but not as broad. Still, I feel dwarfed standing here with both of them.
“Thanks, Gracie. This room is seriously epic. Dad, I’m moving home. I don’t care what you say. You can’t make me stay in bum—at Grandma’s with no cable, no Wi-Fi, and no women when I know this is sitting here empty.”
“Like I said, we’ll see.”
I decide to leave the boys to it and go check on how my Yorkshire is rising. I let out a long breath as I hit the bottom of the stairs, and then I go and knock back my wine, pouring another before they join me.
I DON’T KNOW WHY I got myself so worked up. They love my shepherd’s pie, although I’m not entirely certain they know what to make of my Yorkshire pudding. Like seriously, these people put their excuse for bacon on their pancakes, pour maple syrup over it, and eat that shit for breakfast, how the fuck can they question meat, veg, and gravy being served inside a Yorkshire Pud? I can see I’m gonna need to educate these men.
Still, conversation flows, and Kai is as charming as his dad. He’s mature for his age, much the same as I imagine Koa was, and we talk about everything from the much-awaited final season of Game Of Thrones, to music, football (round ball), and politics.
Both the Carmichael men help me clear up afterwards, and then I leave them to it, as I want to call Kimmie and check-in.
I’m lying back on my bed, waiting for her to pick up. My phone rests on my chest while I use a wipe to remove my makeup.