Summer Breeze Kisses

by Addison Moore

  Holy hell. Do I want to know?

  “Inhale it all in just one bite?” A blocked windpipe on his part will do quite nicely.

  He picks up his plate and places it carefully on the floor.

  What’s he doing? Is there a small animal roaming the floor that I haven’t noticed? Is he trying to say the food is bad?

  He leans forward and produces his wallet from his ass, and I’m slow to follow the direction this is heading.

  He pulls out a bill just enough for me to see that it’s a Benjamin. “I’m willing to give you one hundred dollars if you dip your foot into that dessert.”

  “Why would I do that?” I’m confused. Is that some social norm I’m not privy to that gives the establishment you’re eating at the big F you? God, I really have to get out more. If this is the case, society is experiencing a serious case of devolution, and soon we’ll all be right back to thinking the earth is flat.

  His lips twitch with a smile. “So I can watch.”

  Watch?

  “What?” I jump back in my seat. Okay, I have to give it to him. I did not see that coming. I’m guessing the demented doctor can keep me entertained all night with his fetish requests and touchy feely fingers. In truth, I’m fearing for more than my piggies.

  “Go ahead.” He tosses me the bill, and it lands square on the whipped top layer of my yummy Italian treat. Great, now he’s defiled both our desserts.

  I glance up at the bar and spot Holt looking in this direction.

  “I’ve gotta go. There’s a man at the bar that needs me.” I snatch the bill off my plate and run like hell.

  I bet he didn’t know I charge fifty bucks a piece to feel my feet.

  Freaky bastard.

  Holt

  Izzy flies over, and the idiot Laney paired her with ditches out the side exit.

  “What happened? Did he touch you?”

  “Yes, he touched me.”

  Crap. I jump the counter and land next to her.

  “You okay? You need me to break some kneecaps?”

  “Yes.” She touches her hands to her temples. “I mean no. No breaking of the kneecaps. I’m fine. Let’s just say he was overtly interested in what I’m hiding in my shoes.”

  Laney pops up with a ticked off look on her face. “What the hell? I just saw Dr. Lancaster run out of here like a fugitive. Did you say something to him?”

  “No.” She holds up a hundred dollar bill and grins. “I stole his money. He said he’d pay me to plunge my foot in his dessert. He’s a sicko, Laney. Are you happy now? You’re two for two.”

  Laney claps her hand over her mouth. “God, I’m so sorry! I swear I’ll make sure to thoroughly investigate the next guy I throw your way. You’re not mad are you?” She shrinks a little when she says it.

  “No. I’m not mad.” Izzy takes a seat and glares down at her shoes as if she’d like to burn them. “How about we cap the age limit at fifty? And I don’t mind broke just as long as he’s not homeless or allergic to cats. And please no illegal addictions or fetishes.”

  “Got it.” Laney strokes her sister’s hair. “I’ve got to finish up my shift. I’ll catch up with you Thursday at the party for ELDS?”

  “Deal.”

  Laney takes off, and Iz looks at me from under her lashes.

  “I’ve got a hundred bucks. You up for dinner?”

  I toss my dishtowel to Cole. “It looks like you’ve scored your second date for the evening. Anywhere you want to go?”

  “How about Chinese take-out at your place?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have any video games would you?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve got a library that puts the Game Hut to shame.”

  We head out the door and into the brisk night air—just Izzy and me. The way it’s supposed to be.

  Iz follows me over to the apartment in her car. I’ve already called in the food, and the delivery guy shows up right as we hit the door.

  “Good timing.” I pull out my wallet, but Izzy insists on paying. No matter how hard I protest she covers the bill.

  “I owe you dinner,” I say as we get the food and head on in. “Somewhere nice—other than here.”

  “I’m good with here.”

  “So, you want to talk about tonight’s misadventure?”

  “I’d rather not.” She taps the sofa. “You mind?”

  “Go right ahead.” I start up a fire before landing myself next to her. We divvy up the boxes and dive right in with our plastic flatware, our fortune cookies already on the floor.

  “Sorry about pulling you away from the bar.” She bows into her food and bats those long, dark lashes in my direction.

  Hell, I’d give up the bars to be here with Izzy, not that my father didn’t already beat me to the punch.

  “You didn’t. I volunteered.”

  “I dreamed about you last night.” Her cheeks darken with color.

  Hot damn. Izzy just said the words I never knew I wanted to hear.

  “I guess that makes me the man of your dreams, kitten. Was it PG?” I dig my fork in my noodles trying not to let onto the fact my balls just incited a riot.

  “It was very much PG.” She tilts her head at the thought of me implying it was anything but. “We were playing video games. I beat you, by the way.”

  “Did you?” I set my plate down on the coffee table and fire up the tube. “I’ve got a hundred bucks that says you won’t.”

  “I accept. But be warned, I’m on a roll. Hundred dollar bills are practically flying into my hands tonight.”

  “Game on.” I flip a controller her way and dig another one out from under the couch. “Zombie Assault. I’ll make things easy on you and go for best out of five.”

  “Easy on me, huh?” Her brows peak into her smooth forehead. Her milk-white teeth graze over her lips in amusement.

  I offer a brief rundown of the rules, and we go at it for the next hour and a half.

  “Crap,” I mutter as I watch myself get eaten by yet another member of the undead. “You’re pretty good at this.”

  “Who knew?” Izzy places her controller on the coffee table, and I do the same. “That was fun. You make me feel good, Holt. Before I was just existing, but now I’m living. Every part of me feels alive around you.” She clamps her lips shut tight as if the words slipped out without her permission. “I’d better get going.” Her lids lower as she eyes the door, but her body is slow to get with the idea.

  “You got another hot date?” I hold back a grin. “Maybe a chiropractor this time? Someone ready and willing to jump on your back for a while?”

  She belts out a laugh, arching her long, pale neck, and it takes everything in me not to lean in and kiss it. Izzy is a work of art that’s come to life. I’ve always thought so, but on a night like tonight when she’s just inches away, it makes me want to verify it by way of my mouth.

  “You wish.” She leans back and closes her eyes a moment. “Come to think of it, a man who knows how to ease the tension in my aching muscles doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.”

  Crap.

  “I can do that,” I offer.

  Her eyes spring open.

  “I give a mean massage.” I might be lying, but, just in case I’m not, I threw it out there.

  Her mouth falls open. That smile she’s been wearing all night glides right off. Her chest rises and falls as her gaze meets up with mine.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got, cowboy.” Her eyes hook into mine. We stay that way for a minute without a breath exchanged between us.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.” She perks to life, adjusting her back to me, and pulling her hair to the side.

  I place my hands over her shoulders and soak in the sensation. A current travels up my arms as I close my eyes and memorize the feeling. Izzy is warm and soft and everything I thought she would be. I start in slow, digging my fingers into her flesh ever so gently, and she sways, moaning as I increase the effort
. I’m willing to bet every hundred dollar bill I’ve got on the fact this is Izzy’s first massage, and I guess that covers whether or not she’s a virgin. I shake my head at the idea. There’s no way. She’s too damn sweet and gorgeous to have held out this long. Not that I plan on asking for confirmation. That’s one conversation I don’t dare initiate with her. But if it’s true, I’m curious as to why. For sure it’s not something I would have guessed a few weeks ago. Maybe she’s saving it for the wedding night?

  “You ever think of getting married someday?” I whisper right over her ear, and both of us freeze. Crap. Really? No freaking filter.

  She turns her head. “Are you proposing?”

  “Only if you’re about to say yes.”

  She laughs, and her back bounces. “How about I take a rain check. I haven’t quite mastered the fine art of dating. I think I should cross one relationship threshold at a time.”

  Can’t pretend like I’m not happy about the rain check.

  “How about you?” She turns the question around. “Do you hear wedding bells in the not-so-distant future?”

  “I don’t know about that.” I took away the chime from my parent’s marriage, so I’m pretty sure that disqualifies me from a happily ever after of my own or at least it should. “Maybe I’ll just wait for you to say yes.”

  Her back bounces once again with a laugh. Izzy turns around, pressing those watery blue eyes into mine.

  “I’ll tell you a secret if you tell me one.”

  My heart stops. Maybe this is it. Maybe she’s about to unleash what’s been eating at her all these years.

  I lean in until I can feel her breath on my face, warm and sweet like afternoon sunshine.

  “Shoot.”

  “I’m not cut out for relationships, Holt.” Her lips press together. She tears up, ready to lose it. I watch as my reflection wobbles in both her beautiful eyes, and it makes me want to cry like a baby myself. “I’m not even close to going there.”

  “Me either.” The briefest smile plays on my lips.

  A beat of silence thumps by.

  “Looks like we’re on the same page.”

  “Looks like we are.” I push in closer until our lips are less than an inch apart.

  “But just in case.” Her tongue does a quick revolution over her lips. “You think you can teach me a few tricks? I mean if things ever get physical, I’m not sure I’d know what to do.” She eyes my mouth, and I can’t help but smile.

  I close my eyes and brush my lips over hers ever so softly. “Like that?”

  “I was thinking more like this.” Izzy dives over my mouth as if she’s wanted a bite out of me all night long. But, the truth is, I’m the one who’s been craving her—for as long as I can remember.

  Izzy tastes like sugar, so achingly sweet I never want this moment to end. I wrap my arms around her waist and gently pull her closer without ever breaking our stride. Izzy delivers moan after moan, straight down my throat, and I return the favor with longer, stronger groans. Her hands find my waist. Her fingers ride up my shirt, carefully padding along my chest. Izzy moves in slow, easy strides as she explores the landscape. If this were any other girl, I would have long since returned the favor. I’d have both our clothes off, and I’d be ravaging her by now. But this isn’t any other girl. This is Iz. And, if these are the baby steps she needs, I want to be right here to give them to her. In fact, I can stay on this step all night—all year if she wants.

  “Holt.” She pulls away just enough to take me in. “I hope you don’t think I’m using you.”

  My chest bucks with a quiet laugh. “I promise.” I raise a hand in the air. “It never crossed my mind.” I comb my fingers through her hair. “Do you think I’m taking advantage of you?”

  “What? No.” She taps her hand over my chest. “I think we’re just really friendly around one another.” She bites down on her lip. Her features sag for a moment. “And I think you’re beyond nice to put up with a basket case like me.”

  “Basket case? What makes you think so?” I’m hoping she’ll take the bait.

  She blows out a breath and traces circles over my chest. “I’m not sure I’m ready to go there.”

  Progress. The first step to solving a problem is admitting you have one.

  “But I might.” She scoots into me until her chest lays soft over mine. “You make me feel safe, and I can’t thank you enough for that.”

  “I’m glad.” I bury a kiss in her hair.

  “Now getting back to what we were doing.” She pulls her hand from my shirt and touches a line down my nose to my lips. “I think I’ll need all the pointers you’re willing to offer.”

  “Sounds like we’d better get busy.”

  “We’d better,” she whispers, pressing her lips to mine.

  Izzy and I start in on a viral assault, exploding into one another’s mouths like solar flares, hard and rushed as if time were running out for the two of us. This is the stuff that dreams are made of. Izzy is definitely the girl of my dreams.

  I wonder what has her thinking she’s such a “basket case.” Doesn’t she know I’m the only basket case around here?

  I wonder if the two of us could ever work.

  Maybe all two broken people really need are each other.

  Dance Hall Days

  Izzy

  Dad,

  I did it. I took a step in a direction that I never thought I would go in, and I liked it. I can’t tell you how long I’ve wondered if I would ever cross that threshold. So much was holding me back. Deep down, I was afraid something like that would never happen. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m ready to break some boundaries I thought I’d never cross. Okay, this is drifting into the weird zone, so I’ll sign off for now.

  Do me a favor and show up sometime, would you? I would appreciate the hell out of it. Or at least I think I would. I’m not sure I could ever really be mad at you. I probably should be, so if you ever do come back, wear armor.

  Love you—mostly,

  ~Izzy

  Any morning you wake up with a mouthful of fur is guaranteed to be a bear from eyelids open.

  I rush through my routine and run around my room like a spaz trying to find my purse before remembering I left it in the kitchen last night.

  “I’m late,” I mutter as I struggle to put on my shoes while hopping down the hall. No time for breakfast. I’ll hit Starbucks on my way to the—

  I spot my purse on the table, unzipped and splayed out. Funny. I don’t remember leaving it like that. I head over and pluck out my wallet and find that too unzipped. Now I for damn sure know I wouldn’t leave it like that. I peer inside only to find it empty. Crap. I had forty-five dollars left from Mr. Let-Me-Sniff-Your-Feet, and now it’s up and disappeared.

  “Donny?”

  A groan comes from the living room. I stagger over in a blind rage and bump into the moron himself.

  “Did you take money out of my wallet?” At this point it’s a bit of a rhetorical question.

  His hair is rumpled, his eyes half closed. He doesn’t say a word, a sure sign of guilt in the first degree.

  God. What is it with my mother and idiots? Does she require they come with some pedigree that specifically dictates they’ve been inbred? Must they be derelict fugitives to gain entry into her bedroom?

  “Okay, look. I’m going to be really nice about this.” Lie number one. “Give it back, and I’ll forget it ever happened.” Lie number two. “And I’ll never mention it to my mother.” Lie number three—the most delicious of them all.

  “Can’t.” His breath blasts over me, thick with vodka. “Spent it.”

  Gah! “I can’t believe you’re not even trying to cover it up!”

  “Take it easy. It’s bad enough I had to hear your mother yapping all night about some big celebration down at that dance club you pretend to run. I had to do something. If it makes you feel better, I can tell her the flowers were from the both of us.”

  Flowers? He blew my ha
rd-earned foot fondling money on dying roses? That’s about as nonsensical as liquor at this point.

  “You owe me forty-five dollars.” I try to step around him, but he blocks my path.

  His eyes steady over my body, probing with his gaze as tactile as if he were feeling me up with his fingers. “You up for earning it back?”

  “You wish.” That’s it. He’s history. “Get out of my way.” I bolt around him just as he slaps me over the ass. “Get out you asshole! Get out before I come home, or the next thing you’ll find in my purse will be your balls!” My voice knifes through the morning air with the promise of a dull razor. “And don’t ever come back!”

  I run all the way to the car and lock myself inside. My heart plows up into my throat. A cold sweat erupts all over my body.

  “Crap.” I pant as I start up the car.

  Forty-five bucks says he’ll be out by nightfall.

  And then my mother will be alone again.

  It’s always because of me.

  And not once have I ever regretted it.

  The dance studio buzzes all day with the pre-party hype. Roxy shows up with far more cupcakes than I ever imagined.

  “They look and smell glorious.” I moan over the pink confections, and an image of Holt and his searing kisses comes to mind.

  “It’s my treat.” She grins at the idea. “I want to thank the two people in my life who helped mold me into the person that I am.”

  “Aw.” I run my hand over her dark curls. “I don’t know whether to hug you or write an apology to your mother.”

  “Get over here.” She pulls me in. Her boyfriend, Cole, gives a nod from behind as he hauls in more boxes. It’s him I should write a thank you, too. He sort of got the ball rolling in the kisses department for me and Holt. A private smile creeps onto my lips because lately whenever I think of Holt a silly grin wants to take up residency on my face.

  Baya and Laney are here along with their respective fiancés, and we’re quick to decorate the studio with crepe paper and the cardboard cutouts of ballet slippers I managed to excavate from the party supply store. Before I know it, throngs of bodies flood through the door along with my mother. Here she is with her signature fuchsia lipstick, her matching black Electric Lights Dance Studio T-shirt with the hot pink lettering. I watch as she works the room. Her smile never leaves her face. The entire first hour is peppered with her laughter, and it breaks my heart to think I might have knocked another deadbeat boyfriend out of her life. Not that he should have ever been in it to begin with.