Butterfly Ginger

by Stephanie Fournet

  “I love you, Nate,” she whispered.

  “I love you,” he answered, claiming her with his gaze. “So much, Blythe.”

  Nate guided himself to her opening, never taking his eyes from her.

  “I’ll go slow,” he said, softly pressing a kiss to her lips.

  “It’s okay,” she reassured. “I want you inside me.” And she did.

  Blythe felt the tip of him enter her, and the wonder of their joining made her heart turn over in her chest. She wrapped her arms around his back and held on tight. It didn’t hurt at all.

  Until it did.

  Ow! Shit!

  She screwed her eyes shut against the shock of pain.

  “Blythe?” Nate eased back, and the pain retreated.

  “I’m okay,” she hissed, knowing he wouldn’t believe her.

  “Open your eyes…”

  And when she didn’t…

  “Look at me, Blythe,” he whispered.

  She forced herself to look at him, an indescribable shame almost trumping the burning. Nate’s loving eyes held nothing but tenderness.

  “Please don’t hide from me. We can stop.”

  “No,” she said, giving her head a shake. “I don’t want to stop. Keep going.”

  Nate narrowed his eyes at her.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. I’m sure. Keep going.”

  “Stop me if it’s too much,” he told her. Nate pushed in even more slowly. Blythe stroked her fingers down his back to encourage him. The pressure built. She took one deep breath and then another.

  This time the white pain ripped a cry from her throat.

  “Jesus, Blythe, I hate hurting you,” Nate said, pulling out.

  “Wait! Wait!” she begged, panting now. “I think that was the worst of it.”

  Nate’s anguished eyes raked over her.

  “You’re shaking,” he said. And she was.

  “Well, it’s intense,” she defended. “We’re not stopping.”

  “It’s okay if we stop—” Nate’s voice was so gentle, Blythe feared it would make her cry.

  “No! I don’t want to be a lousy lay!”

  Nate’s eyebrows bobbed.

  “What… What does that even mean?”

  “I don’t know!” Blythe wailed, but the confused look on Nate’s face made her realize how ridiculous she sounded.

  She laughed then. And Nate laughed. And the feeling of Nate laughing on top of her made her laugh even harder.

  He cradled her face in his hands and drew her up to kiss her again and again as they laughed.

  “I love you so much. So much,” he told her. “You could never be a lousy lay — whatever that is. Making love to you — doing anything with you — is the best part of my life.”

  Her breath caught, and her eyes filled.

  “That’s how I feel about you,” she said, smiling, almost overcome. “Nothing else comes close.”

  Nate looked at her for a moment.

  “Let’s try something,” he said.

  “What?”

  “You be on top.”

  Blythe couldn’t hide her surprise.

  “I-I wouldn’t know what to do,” she stammered.

  Nate wrapped his left leg around her right and grabbed her left thigh.

  “Do whatever feels good,” he said, rolling them over. She found herself on top of him, her knees on either side of his hips. Blythe discovered that she liked straddling him, seeing him stretched out beneath her.

  Can I do this?

  “You can do this,” Nate said, reading her mind as he ran his hands up the outside of her thighs. When he moved to the inside of her thighs, Blythe drew in a shaking breath.

  “I can do this,” she echoed.

  She reached down between them.

  “So do I just… grab it?”

  Nate nodded, smiling up at her with a renewed heat in his eyes. She clasped her hand around him again, and Nate joined her, helping her. The sight of him gripping himself was surprisingly arousing.

  “Okay…”

  She lifted up on her knees and came down slowly. So slowly. He felt impossibly big. And it hurt. But beyond the knife-edge of pain, there was a promise of something else, too. Blythe pulled back a little and tried again.

  “That’s it,” Nate hissed, watching her with hooded eyes. “God, you’re so sexy.”

  One hand gripped her thigh, but the other found its way down between them, and as she lowered herself again, he touched her there, and everything changed.

  “Oh my God…”

  The choice was hers. She thrust her hips down to close the distance between them, breaking through the wall of pain and finding Nate on the other side.

  With her next breath, the rhythm of her movements and Nate’s touch against her folded together in the most powerful dance.

  She moved, crashing and rising, feeling him inside her and watching awe claim his face. They belonged to each other, Blythe saw. They had created a world separate from everything else. A home to the two of them alone.

  When she spread her knees a little wider and sunk deeper onto him, she gasped in surprise. Her mind went blank as her body took over. Muscles she never knew she had promised something wonderful if she just chased after it. Pace and pressure joined awe and bliss. And then a triangle of heat that joined the small of her back, her inner thighs, and her very core drew together, seizing time and space, heaven and earth.

  Again. And again. And again.

  “Oh, Blythe!” Nate cried, coming as she did, his face mirroring the most sublime moment she could ever imagine.

  She collapsed on top of him and kissed his perfect mouth. He wrapped his arms around her, murmuring her name and his love over and over.

  “Wow,” she panted, making him laugh.

  “Yeah. Just wow,” he said, brushing her hair from her sweating face.

  “And you wanted to quit,” she teased. He laughed again.

  “Uh, no. I wouldn’t say that,” he said, squeezing her tight. “Actually, I’d like to do it for another 80 years.”

  Her eyes locked with his. He was smiling, but Nate Bradley wasn’t joking. Happiness flooded the sunlit room.

  “Okay,” Blythe said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Now

  “HOW ABOUT WE GO OUT FOR a beer, boss?” Pete asked, locking up the stand-alone shed behind Nate’s garage.

  Nate considered the offer. He’d told Pete Ralston about his plans for the spring when they broke for lunch, and the younger man could not have been more excited to accept a promotion. Why not have a beer to congratulate him? October was winding down. The days were a little shorter now, which meant work ended earlier, and Nate didn’t have anything better planned for a Friday night.

  “Sure,” he accepted, nodding. “Just let me check on Lila and get a shower. You want to meet up in an hour?”

  Pete’s face lit up, and Nate thought he looked surprised. Surprised that Nate said yes.

  “Y-yeah! What about Corner Bar? In an hour?”

  Nate shook hands with his newly promoted Project Manager.

  “See you then.”

  Pete’s invitation wasn’t unusual. The guys on his crews often went out on Thursdays and Fridays, and they’d ask him to come along every now and then, but Nate rarely went. It wasn’t just that he felt like he needed to look after Lila at the end of the day — which he did — or that he was usually too tired to go out — which he was — it was also the need to keep a little distance between himself and his employees. A respectful distance.

  When he first took on ownership of Rich Land Lawn, Irrigation, & Landscaping, he learned soon enough that friends didn’t make great employees, and employees usually didn’t make great friends. Guys who invited him over to watch a Saints game on Sunday night usually expected him to overlook a late arrival on a job site Monday morning, and if he had to chew out a crew for leaving a customer’s gate open and forcing the team to drop everything to chase down the family dog
, Nate knew better than to think his guys didn’t bitch about him behind his back. Business was business.

  But as he climbed the stairs to Lila’s apartment, Nate realized he was looking forward to grabbing a drink with Pete. He liked the guy, and it had been a while since he’d spent an evening away from his house — away from Lila.

  He could hear Drew Carey’s voice through her door before he even knocked. This was Lila’s after-work routine, watching the day’s episode of The Price is Right on her DVR. Nate smiled as he tapped on her door.

  “Lila, it’s me,” he called, waiting for her to pause the show to let him in. He heard her unbolt the lock and slide the chain before the door opened, and he watched his mother’s retreating head as she walked back to the television and sat in her bent wood rocker without a word to him, as usual.

  Nate entered, closed the door behind him, and took the empty wingback next to her, Richland’s favorite chair. The smell of cooked cauliflower filled the small space.

  “Are you making cauliflower au gratin?” he asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to test his mother’s mood by her response. If she said anything at all, it meant she’d had a good day.

  “Cauliflower au gratin with white cheddar and jasmine rice chicken,” she said, speaking to his knees.

  Nate smiled again.

  “Sounds good. Did anything interesting happen at the store today?”

  Lila rocked in her chair, and a smile formed on her lips.

  “Three sets of twins. Boys. One set of triplets. Girls. Eight crutches. Six walkers. Three wheelchairs. Nineteen strollers.”

  “Wow,” Nate said, nodding and trying — as he always did — to picture the world from Lila’s eyes. “That is an interesting day… no scooters?”

  Lila shook her head.

  Nate surveyed the apartment. Lila kept the efficiency as neat as an army barracks, and, as usual, everything was in its place. The space above his garage was a perfect square divided, essentially, into four rooms and a utility closet. A counter separated the kitchen from the living area, and a decent-sized bedroom and full bath finished it off.

  The apartment had been the reason he’d bought the property on St. Patrick Street, even if the main house was a too big for him. It gave him and Lila their own space, their own lives. Even if it meant he had a kitchen that hadn’t been updated since 1970 and galvanized pipes that made decent water pressure a distant memory, he couldn’t imagine a much better set-up. At least, not one he could afford.

  Nate had to admit that things could have been worse for the two of them. And for a few years, they had been. At night, when he couldn’t sleep and his thoughts tasted of self-pity, he’d try to remind himself of what he’d accomplished in the last six years. Taking care of Lila and giving her a home that helped her to be independent and content wasn’t a small thing. Growing a business from four employees to nine wasn’t a small thing. It was always better to focus on what he had instead of what he’d lost.

  “So, I’m going to go out with Pete tonight. I won’t be gone late,” he told her. “Call me if you need anything.”

  Lila did not like using her phone to make calls, but she would do it if an emergency arose. He knew she’d heard him, but she didn’t acknowledge his words in any way.

  Nate stood to leave.

  “Anything else, Lila?” he asked, knowing sometimes she needed the invitation to give him information he’d not sought. Once, she’d gone a whole day with an abscessed tooth without saying a word. Nate hadn’t noticed something was wrong until her face swelled.

  “Pete and Ray,” she said.

  “What?” Nate asked, frowning.

  “Pete and Ray,” she repeated, offering him nothing else.

  “Is Pete bringing a friend with him?” Nate asked, figuring that she must have overheard a phone conversation of Pete’s as he locked up the equipment in the shed out back. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  Lila just rocked herself.

  Nate shook his head. He could spend the rest of his life trying to decipher every thought Lila had and still not know what she meant each time she spoke. Instead, he walked to the door.

  “Goodnight, Lila. Enjoy your cauliflower and chicken rice.”

  “Cauliflower au gratin with white cheddar and jasmine rice chicken,” she corrected.

  Nate swallowed a chuckle.

  “Right. How could I forget?”

  Lila tapped the play button on her remote before he’d even closed the door behind him.

  ****

  AT SEVEN O’CLOCK ON A Friday, Corner Bar wasn’t crowded yet, and Nate spotted Pete at the far end of the bar, talking to one of the bartenders. Or maybe he was flirting, Nate decided, watching the girl admire Pete’s boyish smile.

  Nate took the stool next to him and clapped Pete on the shoulder.

  “First round’s on me,” he said.

  Pete gave him a startled look and mounted a protest.

  “Oh, no sir! It’s on me,” he said, wide-eyed. “I need to thank you for giving me this chance!”

  Nate grinned at the younger man’s earnestness. Pete was sincere and always willing to give more than he got. It was why Nate had chosen him to lead the next crew.

  “I insist,” Nate said, meaning it. “That new paycheck won’t kick in until after the New Year, anyway. What’ll you have?”

  Pete shrugged, but he looked resigned.

  “Okay. You get the first round, but I’ll get the second. Abita Amber.”

  Nate looked over at the bartender who still watched Pete.

  “Make it two, please.” He handed her a $20, and Nate was certain that Pete watched the girl walk all the way to the other end of the bar.

  Pete had worked for him for almost a year, but other than lunch break conversations, Nate didn’t know that much about him. The guy was young, he liked working outside, and as best as Nate could tell, his life wasn’t a mess. He didn’t have a criminal background, and he hadn’t fathered any illegitimate children.

  The bartender placed their beers in front of them, and Nate tapped his glass against Pete’s.

  “To bigger and better projects,” he said.

  Pete lifted his glass in salute, and they drank.

  “Thanks, boss.”

  Nate smirked.

  “You know, you don’t have to call me ‘boss’ or ‘sir.’ I’m happy with ‘Nate.’”

  With a self-conscious dip of his head, Pete gave him a doubtful look.

  “Sorry, I ‘ma’am’ and ‘sir’ everyone older than me and anyone in a position of authority, and so that means you get double.”

  Nate felt a jolt.

  “Pete, how old are you?” He pointed to the beers. “You’ve got to be at least twenty-one, right?”

  Pete beamed.

  “Yes, sir, twenty-onelast March.”

  Nate cocked his head.

  “So you ‘ma’am’ and ‘sir’ anyone twenty-two and up?” he asked, giving Pete a perplexed look.

  His new project manager laughed.

  “No, just folks who are like ten years older on up,” he explained innocently.

  Nate couldn’t help it. His jaw dropped.

  “Pete… how old do you think I am?”

  He watched the moment of realization cross the younger man’s face, and his eyes widened in alarm.

  “Oh… oh… whoa… I mean… sometimes, it’s hard to tell—”

  “How old?

  “Well… like… thirty… something…?” Pete stammered, looking miserable.

  Oh, shit.

  “Jesus Christ,” Nate grumbled and took a long pull from his beer.

  “Oh, Lord. How old are you, boss?” Pete’s misery seemed to shift to nausea.

  “I’ll be twenty-five next month,” Nate said, sawdust filling his mouth. “Happy Birthday to me.”

  Pete’s eyes went the size of paper plates.

  “No way…” he whispered.

  Nate glared at him, dug into his back pocket, and produced his wal
let. He opened it to his driver’s license.

  “D.O.B. November 25, 1989.”

  Pete studied the license.

  “Whoa…”

  Nate rolled his eyes, yanked the wallet back, and stuck it in his pocket.

  “I’m not gonna lie, boss. You seem so much older,” Pete marveled.

  “Thanks, Pete.” Nate nodded with mock gratitude. “Thanks a lot.”

  Pete brought up his hands.

  “Nah, man, you don’t look older… much… You just act a lot older,” he tried to explain. Pete took a generous sip of beer and kept on. “You’re just… you know… so serious. Most guys in their twenties just aren’t that serious.”

  Nate had heard this before. He knew that more than one employee he’d fired thought he was a hardass.

  “Well, it takes a lot to keep a small business in the black,” he defended before nearly draining his beer.

  “Nah, that’s not it.” Pete shook his head, a light of appreciation shining in his eyes. “You’re serious about business. That’s true, but that’s not what I’m talking about… I’m talking about how you seem like… I don’t know… like you’ve lived fifty years instead of twenty-five.”

  The words struck him like a bat to the head.

  Nate waved to the bartender.

  “Can a get a double of Jameson over ice, please? And another beer for my honest friend, here?”

  “Hey, I said I’d get the next round,” Pete protested.

  “Well, I was hoping I’d get the senior citizen discount,” Nate muttered, making Pete and his admiring bartender laugh.

  It was a joke, but Nate had to admit that sometimes he did feel fifty instead of twenty-five. Not even twenty-five yet. The fact that Pete had thought he was in his thirties gave him a check. And not a pleasant one.

  The bartender brought over Pete’s second beer and Nate’s tumbler of ice. She chatted Pete up while she poured.

  When she slid the whiskey over to him without taking her eyes off Pete, Nate wondered if he gave off the old-man vibe to everyone. It had been a while since he tried to ask out a girl. If he’d started flirting with the bartender first, would she have responded with the smiles and giggles she now gave to Pete?