The Girl He Wants

by Kristi Rose

  And it does kill me. Sends shockwaves of pleasure through my body. Makes me forget about all things like cheesecake (impressive) and financial worry. I want to rest my forehead against his shoulder and let that feeling of being more than one fill me. It’s better than sex or cheesecake. It’s better than when takeaway arrives when you’re the hungriest. It’s feeling safe from all the elements set about to break you.

  Because he’s the one that makes me feel the safest, I know I’ve given him the ability break me. Break me like Hank did Paisley when he walked out. Like my bio-dad did Mum when he left.

  “How was your day?” He pushes away an errant strand of my hair.

  I shrug. “I’m moony for Pippa,” I say and squint, looking closer at his eyelids, which, depending on how he moves his head, sparkle. “Are you wearing eye shadow?”

  Stacy chuckles and ducks his head. “Maybe.”

  My lips twitch with amusement. “Is there something I should know?” I can’t wait to hear this tale.

  “Cordie had a half day so I worked from home. Apparently, she and Pippa do quite a bit of girly things. Like each other’s makeup. I had mine done today. I learned that I am a ‘winter’.” When he says it, his brows raise up. “So I need to stick with jewel tones.”

  “Hence the blue,” I say and wipe away a smidge of shadow with my free hand (the other still cradling the cheesecake). “It’s very nice.”

  “Nice enough to share your cheesecake with me?” He bends forward and presses a kiss to the pulse point in my neck.

  “Never, get your own,” I whisper, ready to give him not only the dessert but all the quid in my bank account, my secret stash of cupcakes, and well...that list is endless.

  I roll my head to the opposite side and relax my body into his.

  “What are you thinking about more? Me or the cheesecake?” he mumbles.

  “Hard to say.”

  He chuckles. Even his laugh is damn sexy.

  “Jayne?” Josie calls. She’s coming down the hallway toward the kitchen. “You better not be in my cheesecakes.”

  I push Stacy away with such force he actually staggers backward and has to catch himself on her kitchen table. I shove half the cake into my mouth and start chewing.

  Surprise then anger flashes across his face and it dawns on me how it must seem. That I’m embarrassed to be with him. I want to correct him, to apologize, and explain that I’m not ready for our friends to know we’re fooling around. But I’ve this mouthful of cheesecake that tastes more like mud than chocolate bliss.

  Josie whips into the room, finger already extended. “Ah, ha. I knew you’d be in here. And I knew you’d be eating.”

  I shrug as if to say “busted” then return my focus on Stacy, who will not meet my gaze.

  “What are you doing in here?” she asks him.

  He nudges his chin toward me.

  “Ah,” she says and opens the fridge. Taking out the tray of cheesecake slices, she cuts her eyes to me. “I feel as if I interrupted something.”

  I shake my head and swallow. “Only me about to murder this dessert.”

  Josie looks to Stacy. “How’s Cordie taking the news of Pippa leaving?”

  He rubs a hand down his face and briefly pierces me with a wounded look before answering, “Pippa asked that I not tell her. But she’s going to take it hard. Pippa was exactly what Cordie needed. Someone waiting at home, braiding her hair, and making cookies. Even if they were made from chickpeas.”

  “That would explain why they just took a walk down the beach,” Josie says.

  “I better go wait for them.” He stands, flips his ball cap around, bill shadowing his face, and leaves me alone with super-intuitive Josie.

  “Just sleep with him already,” she says, matter-of-fact. “And if you have, do it again.”

  “It’s not that easy,” I say and put the cheesecake down on the counter. No longer hungry.

  “Everything is that easy.” She leaves me standing alone in the kitchen.

  I follow her outside to the deck where everyone has gathered and is eating and chatting. Cordie and Pippa come up from the beach holding hands. Both of their faces look a little ravaged from shed or unshed tears, I’m not sure which.

  I’m not privy to the exchange between the three of them but Stacy ends it with a hug to both, and poor Pip, her face contorts briefly as she tries to hold back the tears.

  “Hey,” I say, stepping up to them. “Can I borrow Pippa for a minute?” I don’t wait for a response but grab her hand and tug her behind me as I make my way through Josie’s house, ending at the guest room where Stacy and I made out a few days ago.

  “All right?” I say.

  To which she nods and promptly bursts into tears.

  I wrap my arms around her and let her fall apart. After a good spell, she pushes away from me only to slump back against the wall.

  “I’m going to miss that child,” she says between staggered breaths.

  “But you’ll see her again. Likely more now than if you were still working for that company in India.”

  “Except this job is the real thing. Full time. No more coming home and staying for weeks.” She wipes away fresh tears.

  “You don’t know that. It sounded like there would be lots of flexibility once things were established.”

  “Things are changing, Jayne. Aunt Millie and Uncle Thomas might not have the pub much longer. You might be in Atlanta or some place. Where will home be then?” Her voice quivers.

  “Wherever we are, that’s home, and you will always have a place there. Or maybe you become our center. But regardless, we’ll always be a family. That will never change.”

  Following a chuckle, Pip pushes from the wall and wraps her arms around my neck. After she ends the hug she says, “And who thought I’d be the one to have all these issues with change? That’s more your expertise.”

  “Hey,” I say, slapping her arm. “I’m great with change.”

  “Controlled, heavily plotted out change that happens slowly, sure. But seizing a moment and making it yours? Not so much. At least, not until Stacy showed up.”

  Chapter 29

  Dad’s surgery was a success. Not only did he do well under the knife, so to speak, but there were no further issues and the doctor beamed when he told us how pleased he was with Dad’s performance.

  Well done, Dad.

  Mum though. Not so much. Finding a groove has been difficult with the frequent hospital stays and complications. She’d get him home for a week or so, things would start to go back to normal and then they’d have to go back to the hospital for the next procedure. The cycle would begin again.

  For her, the wheels fell off after the doctor left us with the grand news following procedure number three. I think it was when he reminded her Dad needed to learn to manage his stress better and reiterated he had to make some serious life changes. My guess is she was hoping things could go back to how they were prior to all this and suddenly realized that was not the case. They’d just begin down their new path.

  Pip and I had to peel her off the floor; change is hard for her. When my parents decided to move to America, it took three years to bring it to fruition. Mum required that much time and even then stumbled some as she made her way to the plane that was to take her to her new life.

  Never mind trying to get her to make fast decisions about the pub. It’s as useless as tits on a bull, to borrow a phrase from Paisley. In the interim, Jeff is making all the decisions with Pippa and I acting as the sounding board. But he’s got such a firm grip on what the pub needs that when we discuss things I drink my tea and nod when required. And write the checks.

  With Pippa standing watch, I deposit Mum at home, in bed with a sedative—praises to the doctor who saw that need—and I pull up outside my flat with plans to devour whatever I can find in the fridge for a late lunch, change my clothes, call into the shop, and try to catch my breath. The afternoon and evening prom
ise to be just as exhausting.

  Stacy’s car is parked outside his place. I’m getting out of my car when he comes out of his place carrying a box that looks strikingly like a large pizza.

  I ponder the odds of being able to nick that from him. I’m that hungry but I’m more tired and the energy required would take all that’s left in my reserves.

  “Hey,” he calls across the lot. “I was just coming to see you at the hospital.”

  We were texting most of the morning and I realize I forgot to respond to his last text, inquiring as to my plans, as I was busy peeling Mum from the floor. Though at quick glance nothing’s changed, yet things haven’t been the same since I pushed him away at Josie’s. I can’t put my finger on what’s different except to say it feels like a gap between us. A space that before didn’t exist. We haven’t talked about it. He hasn’t mentioned it once. But I know we should.

  I sigh. “Sorry, had to get Mum home.” I focus on the box. “Is that a pizza?”

  “It is.” He’s coming across the car park and I swear I can smell the melted cheese and sauce.

  “What do you have planned for the pizza?”

  “I plan on feeding it to you. Figured you didn’t really eat and comfort food would go a long way.” He’s dressed in dark wash jeans that make his legs look miles longer. A heather gray V-neck sweater covers a white t-shirt and I can’t decide which looks yummier. Stacy or the pizza?

  May I have both, please?

  “I may have snacked on vending food but it’s hard to really do that with Pippa there telling you about all the crap that goes into such wonderful food.”

  “Where is Pippa?” He steps closer and there’s a small nick on his chin where he cut himself shaving. I gently brush the spot with my finger.

  “She’s staying with Mum. Can you believe she leaves in three days?” He takes my hand, the one touching his face, grasps it around the wrist, and brings my palm to his lips.

  Following a soft kiss, he says, “You’re going to miss her.”

  I nod and bite my lower lip.

  “Look at us, young entrepreneurs with the flexibility to be home in the middle of the day. No Cordie. No Pippa. And a pizza. What shall we do?” He winks.

  “We should definitely go inside.” I step back and he follows. Sliding his hand into mine, he spins me around and pushes me toward my house. I fit the key with fumbling hands and just as I’m about to turn the knob, I hear a rustle in the shrubs.

  Meow.

  “Bloody hell,” I say. That arsehole cat has impeccable timing.

  “Here, give him a slice.” Stacy lifts the box and I select a small sliver, placing it in the bowl under the bush. Then I push the door open, drag Stacy in, and boot it closed.

  “Pizza now or later?” he asks, but is already kicking off his shoes.

  I roll my eyes and work the side buttons on my sailor trousers as nimbly as my fingers will allow. I slide them off, stepping out of my shoes as I do.

  I stand before him in my lacy pants and side-wrapped shirt, and the look of appreciation he gives me is loaded with such desire and excitement it nearly does me in.

  In seconds we’re together, on my couch, pizza tossed to the table. It’s a coupling that always starts with lust and attraction but quickly becomes more. It’s need and comfort. It’s acceptance and awe. It’s the soft caresses of his hand on my hip, the kiss I deliver to the scar on his chest. It’s entwining our hands as we become one, and holding on tight knowing there’s nothing else that makes me this way. This safe. I clutch him knowing one day he’ll be gone. There is more meaning in his touch than ever could be in his words. Maybe he knows this can’t last. Perhaps we both have mastered being in the moment.

  When it’s over, I sit on the edge of my couch dressed in my manky pink robe and devour cold pizza. Stacy, dressed only in his jeans, does the same.

  “We should meet up like this again,” he says.

  “I heartily agree.”

  “My parents are coming in two days and will stay the weekend. They’ll have Cordie.” He wags his brows.

  “Ooh, you could sneak away during the night. Pip will be staying with Mum some until she leaves and I’ll be here all alone and scared.” I feign helplessness, holding my robe closed and closer to my neck.

  “Yes, I can see there is a need for me,” he says.

  “I love a good plan.”

  “Not to damper the day but I’ve gone over more of your numbers.” He pulls another slice from the box.

  I groan and fall back against the couch. “Too bloody late. Just bringing the numbers up has removed all romantic and sexual ambiance.”

  “You don’t think numbers are sexy?”

  “How can they be?”

  “Well, have you forgotten about sixty-nine?” He raises a brow.

  “Oh puh-leez.” I wave him off.

  “How about seventy-one?” He nudges me with his shoulder.

  “There’s no such thing.”

  “You bent over a table, me behind you. Need I say more?” He eats his pizza like no big deal, his abs begging me to touch them, taunting me with their firmness.

  “You made that up.”

  “Okay, how about ninety-nine? You up against the wall, me behind you—”

  “All right! You win. Numbers are sexy.” I fan myself with a crusty remnant of my pizza. “Now move away so I can think.”

  “This is way better than fighting all that attraction, right?” He bumps his knee to mine.

  “For now. Ask me again when no one is talking to one another.” I meet his raised brow with one of my own.

  “Such a fatalist.”

  “Realist.”

  “Time will tell.” He gifts me with his beautiful smile.

  I dread that day. Almost as much as I dread what he’s going to say about my books.

  “So go on. What were you saying about the business?”

  His pizza’s halfway to his mouth when he stops. “It’s interesting really. Your profits quadrupled when you started personal shopping. That’s where the bulk of your income comes from.”

  “And I’ll continue to do that at the new store.”

  “But, Jayne, you don’t need a brick-and-mortar store to do it. No bank is going to give you a loan for a large square footage space to do something of that nature.” He puts his hand up, telling me to wait. “I get that you need a dressing space and storage space for that. I get that combined with the store it works. But you run them under two separate business licenses. Quite frankly, my suggestion would be to keep the store here as your home base. Don’t worry about another building and make yourself the traveler. Go to them if they’re far away. That’s where your profit and write off occurred.”

  “That’s what I’ve been doing and I can’t seem to spread out any more than I have. I need a location to bring fresh clients in and spread the word. Besides, with Dad out for a while and the doctor saying he should reduce his stress, I’m not sure how much longer they can keep the pub. With Pippa leaving, I’ll need to be around more.” I shake my head. “As it is I might have to postpone everything anyway.”

  “All I’m saying is that the numbers are pointing toward personal shopping. And if my initial take on the snapshots you’ve been doing for people is correct, that’s a gold mine. From what I can tell, when you started charging people for the outfit snapshots, which you didn’t charge me by the way, those profits doubled. You could do a website, make virtual closets for people.”

  I put my hand up to stop him. “I only charge when I do complete wardrobes. Those are very time consuming.” I twist my earring and think about what he’s said, but the truth is I can’t begin to piece it out. There are too many other questions I’ll need to have answered first and the change with Mum and Dad’s status makes everything feel more urgent. I know this is where impulse and mistakes live, so I try to steady my internal thoughts, promising to make a list of what needs to be done first chance I get
.

  “I’ll give it some thought,” I say and cross my fingers over my heart.

  “That’s all I can ask for.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. When he pulls back, his brow is furrowed, his lips a thin line.

  “What?” I ask and face him. Here it is, the metaphorical boom.

  “I wasn’t saying the whole truth when I said that’s all I can ask for.”

  “Go on,” I say, though I really don’t want him to.

  “About that night at Josie’s.”

  He’s right to bring it up. But it fills me with such dread I want to run from the room.

  “I’m sorry about that. I really am.”

  “I didn’t like it. I know we agreed to keep this casual, but the moment I see you I want to walk up to you and kiss you.”

  I caress my hand down across his cheek. “But you understand why you can’t, right?”

  “I understand why you think I can’t.” His level stare is the one trait about him that’s annoying.

  “If everyone sees us kissing and holding hands, they’d think we’re dating. They’d want to know where we see it going. They’d scrutinize us more.”

  “There’s my answer.” He leans away from me and rests his elbow on the far side of the couch.

  “What was the question?” I take in a shallow breath.

  “I wondered if you would do it again. If we were in the same situation, would you push me away?”

  “Stacy—”

  “Being with you is easy.”

  “I agree, being with you is very easy.” If there were such a thing as easier than easy, it would be that. I shift toward him, which only serves to force him from the couch. He moves across the room to where his shirt landed when I tossed it after taking it off him.

  “But only behind closed doors.”

  “You said that you and Cordie didn’t need another person in your space, that you needed to be ‘just us’. Has that changed?”

  His sigh is heavy as he rests his hands on his hips. After a quick shake of his head he says, “Initially, that was true. When we first got here. But you’re as much a fixture in Cordie’s life as Josie or Pippa even. Don’t you get the feeling we’re missing out on an opportunity to be happier?”