The Gritty Truth

by Melissa Foster

  They made small talk as they finished eating, and then Quincy said, “If I remember correctly, there is one thing Gram didn’t teach you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How to roast marshmallows.” He reached behind a pillow and pulled out a bag of marshmallows and two sticks he’d whittled into sharp points.

  “Are you kidding?” She let out the cutest squeal and went up on her knees, his jacket dwarfing her lithe frame as she threw her arms around him, hugging him tight.

  He was glad he’d waited to tell her about his past, because nothing was better than the look on her face or the feel of her embrace.

  “You are full of surprises!” she said as she drew back.

  You don’t know the half of it.

  “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get you hot and sticky.” The blush that earned rivaled the flames in her eyes. He was wrong before. That look was miles ahead of the last one.

  They roasted marshmallows until the fire was nothing more than embers, and Roni tied him in all kinds of knots as she moaned with each bite of the sticky treats and licked melted marshmallow from her fingers. It was torture keeping his hands and mouth to himself. They made small talk and laughed at silly jokes, and man, he really dug her laugh. They talked about his job at the bookstore, and he told her how much he loved it and that his favorite part was reading to the kids for story hour. When he asked her what it was like teaching dance, her face lit up as it had earlier, and she raved about the classes she taught—contemporary dance (her favorite), hip-hop, and ballet. Her tone warmed as she told him that she and Angela had known each other since they were kids, and he sensed something bittersweet when she mentioned that Angela was engaged and they no longer spent much time together outside of the studio.

  “I bet you two drove the boys mad when you were growing up,” he said, setting down his stick while she roasted another marshmallow. He’d thought his life these last two years had been pretty fucking amazing, but Roni’s sunny disposition, sexy innocence, and sassy sense of humor made it feel like he’d been only half living.

  “Angela did, but I was always at the studio dancing or helping with classes. I didn’t have much time for boys. To be honest, I still don’t.”

  “So I’ve noticed.” He leaned his arm against hers and said, “Thanks for giving me a few hours tonight.”

  “I still can’t believe you did all of this for me.” She lifted her marshmallow away from the fire and pulled it off the stick. Her eyes swept over the twinkling lights framing the truck bed, the trash from their meal they’d put in bags and moved to the side, and settled on the wildflowers, lingering there. When her gorgeous eyes found him, the intensity in them stoked the flames that had been simmering between them for months. “I’m really glad Angela won a date with you for me. This has been the best night I’ve ever had.” She licked her lips, her cheeks pinking up as she said just above a whisper, “I like you, Quincy.”

  “Even though I make you nervous?”

  “It’s a good nervous. Butterflies-in-my-belly nervous.” She held up the marshmallow for him to eat and said, “This one’s for you.”

  His fingers gently circled her wrist as he lowered his mouth over the marshmallow, eating it in one bite and sucking the sugary treat from her fingers. Her eyes turned to pools of liquid heat, her chest rising with heavier breaths. He leaned closer and brushed his lips over hers, whispering, “How about this one?”

  “Quincy” fell wistfully from her lips.

  He slid his arm around her waist, drawing her even closer, and said, “I promise to keep my hands to myself, but my lips want yours.”

  “Kiss me.”

  He slid his tongue along her lower lip and kissed the edge of her mouth. “So sweet,” he whispered, and traced the bow of her upper lip. “I fucking love your lips.” She made a needy sound as his mouth descended upon hers, and he reveled in her softness, the feel of her tongue gliding over his, tentative and somehow also eager. He was aware of everything about her—the way she held her breath for seconds at a time, releasing it with a hungry whimper, the feel of her arms circling him, drawing him closer, allowing him to take the kiss deeper. Her mouth was a treasure trove of pleasure. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she opened wider for him, drawing a groan from some untouched place deep inside him. His hand skimmed down her hip, and damn, she felt incredible. He remembered his promise and forced his hand to remain there. He had the overwhelming desire to be closer, even if fully clothed. He leaned into her, taking her down on her back, but she broke the kiss, eyes wide.

  “Quincy, I can’t.”

  The worry in her voice tore at him. He gazed into her eyes and said, “I’m not trying to do anything more than kiss you. I just wanted to hold you while we kissed. We can stop.”

  He started to sit up, and she grabbed his arm, a spark of surprise glimmering in her eyes. “Wait. You’re really okay just kissing?”

  She was so sweet and innocent, he wanted to wrap her up and take care of her as badly as he wanted to kiss her. “Yes. I’ve waited a long time to kiss you, and I’m in no hurry to do more. I know you’re nervous. I am, too. I’ve never wanted to hold a woman when I was kissing her. Not like I do with you. This thing between us is…” More powerful than the lure of drugs ever was.

  “Electric,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “And scary.”

  “A little. Yes.”

  She licked her lips, trust settling in her eyes again. “Most guys wouldn’t admit that.”

  “Most guys haven’t lived the life I have. I value honesty, and I don’t break promises, Roni. I want to see you again. I want to do the scavenger hunt with you Friday night if you’re free, and see you next week, and the week after that. I’m not interested in a quick roll in the hay.”

  “I believe you. I like kissing you. I just didn’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

  God, this woman… “I like kissing you, too, and I like that you’re as honest as me. I could kiss you into tomorrow.”

  A bashful smile curved her lips. “I have to be up for work early tomorrow. It’s one of my long days. But maybe you could kiss me for a little while longer?”

  “Jesus, Roni, you get me all twisted up inside.”

  She wrinkled her nose and whispered, “Is that good?”

  “So good, baby, you’re redefining the word.” He lowered his mouth to hers, and all those twisted knots inside him fell away.

  Chapter Three

  “WOULD YOU SLOW down?” Angela said as she and Roni hurried down the block Friday afternoon.

  They were picking up lunch from Jazzy Joe’s and stopping at the bookstore where Quincy worked, so Roni could say a quick hello. She and Quincy had texted a lot more often the last two days, but they’d both been busy with work, and last night he’d had a date with Kennedy and her little brother, Lincoln, which he’d said he tried to do fairly often. She loved that he made his niece and nephew a priority. But after Wednesday night, when they’d lain in his truck kissing and talking until nearly midnight—mostly kissing—she couldn’t wait to see him. And not only for those steamy kisses, although she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about them, either. She didn’t have a lot of experience with kissing, but she was quite sure Quincy’s butterfly-inducing, toe-curling kisses could win gold medals. By the time they’d finally said good night, she’d been hot and bothered. And now she missed him. She missed his face, his laugh, the way he looked at her.

  “I know you’re dying to see Quincy,” Angela said as they turned the corner and the bookstore awning came into view. “But it’s not like he’s going anywhere. You said he’s working until four, then picking you up for the scavenger hunt.”

  “I know. I’m just—”

  “A stalker?” Angela teased.

  “No. But who are you to judge? When you started dating Joey, you saw each other every day. I just want a peek.” She stopped walking and said, “Wait. Do I seem like a stalker? Is it weird that after all th
ese months, texting isn’t enough anymore?”

  Angela laughed. “No. I was kidding. The only thing you seem like is a girl who has finally let the guy she’s been dreaming about all summer into her life, and one taste was not enough. That’s a good thing, Roni. Maybe you’ll even dust off your cooch and get some action. Now, come on, let’s go see your guy; then we can go see mine.”

  “Ang! I have a guy!” she said giddily, making them both laugh. Her nerves flamed as they neared the entrance to the bookstore, and she grabbed Angela’s arm and stopped walking. “Now I’m worried he’ll think I’m clingy.”

  “Clingy would have been begging him to come by after he took the kids out last night. You just want to say hello. Besides, didn’t you say he texted you something sappy about counting down the hours until the scavenger hunt? He’s totally into you.” She pulled open the door and waved Roni in.

  His text hadn’t been sappy at all. Her pulse quickened just thinking about it. There’s this guy at the bookstore bragging about taking out the hottest girl in Peaceful Harbor tonight. I gotta show you this guy. He’d texted a selfie with the message Can’t wait to see you tonight, beautiful. His sense of humor made him even harder to resist. Not that she wanted to resist him anymore.

  She spotted Quincy, and those butterflies took flight again. His hair fell in front of his eyes, and he raked his hand through it, pushing it behind his ears, giving her a great view of his handsome face. She loved his honest eyes, but what was it about his face that she liked so much? She’d been asking herself that for two days. There was no doubt he was gorgeous, with a square jaw and inescapable ruggedness, but looks went only so far. Roni knew how quickly outward appearances could change with accidents or age. She’d learned from her grandmother to see people for who they were on the inside, because even attractive people could be rotten. The answer dawned on her. The person Quincy was on the inside was what made everything else about him even more alluring. And the best part was, she had a sneaking suspicion that she might be the only person who was privy to his tender, romantic side.

  She watched him reading to about a dozen toddlers sitting on the floor in front of his chair, their adorable faces tipped up as they hung on his every word. Two more children stood by his side, peering at the pages he was reading. One had a hand on his shoulder, and another was leaning against his other side. Quincy looked out at the kids as he told the story, speaking in silly voices and asking questions. He listened as intently to their answers as he had to her the other night. A little blond girl holding a stuffed hedgehog tried to climb into his lap. He lifted her and put his arm around her without missing a word of the story. The little girl rested her head on his shoulder.

  Melt. Melt. Melt.

  Angela dragged Roni away from the entrance, and they stood near a skinny girl who was also watching Quincy. Angela pointed to a handful of women standing huddled together, whispering, at the edge of the carpet the children were sitting on, their eyes locked on Quincy. “How many of those women do you think borrowed their nieces or nephews just so they could see Quincy?”

  Roni noticed a few other women sitting on chairs, some with babies or toddlers in their lap, and there was definitely a difference between them and the whisperers. “Do you blame them?” Roni asked as casually as she was able, trying to ignore the jealousy clawing at her.

  The skinny girl said, “He gets gawked at all the time, but he’s all about the kids.”

  “Do you have a child over there?” Roni asked.

  “No. The guy reading is a friend of mine,” the girl said.

  Angela’s brows slanted. “A friend? Is he your boyfriend?”

  Roni glared at Angela.

  “No,” the girl said. “He’s just a friend helping me through a rough time. He’s a good guy, and he’s single, if that’s what you’re fishing for.”

  “She’s not fishing,” Roni said, embarrassed that Angela had even asked. She needed to get out of there. “We have to go. Have a good day.” She hurried out of the bookstore with Angela on her heels, and as soon as they cleared the door, she turned on Angela. “Why did you say that? Quincy isn’t that kind of guy.”

  “I didn’t think he was, but why not make sure?”

  “Because it makes you sound like you don’t trust him, and I do trust him. Besides, you don’t know who that girl is or what she’ll say to Quincy. What if he saw me and she says I was checking up on him? I’m not even the one who said it, and I’m not checking up on him. All I wanted was to see him.”

  “I’m sorry,” Angela insisted. “You’re right. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  As they headed for Jazzy Joe’s, Roni said, “You’re the one who sang his praises, remember?”

  “Yes, and you’re right. I’m sorry. Like I said, I saw an opening and thought it was worth asking. And now we know.” She put her arm around Roni and said, “You’re my girl. I’m going to be a little protective of you.”

  “I appreciate that, but I don’t think he’s a womanizer, and I don’t think I need protecting from him. But I might need protecting from myself. He looks at me like he wants to eat me alive.” She pulled open the door to Jazzy Joe’s and said, “And I kind of want him to.”

  RONI SPENT THE day volleying Angela’s excited chatter and her lectures on safe sex. She couldn’t believe she’d even told her bestie she wanted to be devoured by Quincy. It wasn’t like she was going to jump into bed with him when they went to the scavenger hunt tonight, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think about how much she loved being in his arms, how good his hands had felt moving over her hip and down her back, and how much she liked when he’d caressed her face, gazing so deeply into her eyes it felt even more intimate than their kisses. Those things had her wondering what being closer to him would be like, how good his naked body would feel pressing down on her. A knock at her apartment door jarred her from her thoughts, sending tingles of anticipation racing up her chest.

  Quincy was there to pick her up for the scavenger hunt. She took one last look in the mirror at herself in black skinny jeans, ankle boots, and her favorite cropped lavender sweater and thought she looked darn good.

  If only she wasn’t so nervous.

  She hurried through the living room, trying to calm herself down, and pulled open the door. Her entire body sizzled at the sight of Quincy’s slow grin and those clear blue eyes drinking her in.

  “Hello, beautiful.” He stepped inside, slid his arm around her waist, and pulled her into a knee-weakening kiss. “I’ve been waiting all day to do that.”

  “Me too” slipped out, as honest as it was shocking.

  “Then maybe we need another.” He lowered his lips to hers. “And another.” He kissed her slow and tender, keeping her close as he said, “I’ll never get enough of kissing you.”

  She didn’t even try to think as she went up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, because she couldn’t get enough, either. He crushed her body to his, and she felt every hard inch of him. By the time their lips parted, she was on fire.

  “If we keep doing this,” he said in a voice full of restraint, “I’m going to break that promise I made about keeping my hands to myself.” He loosened his grip, which was probably a good thing, because she was debating asking him to break that promise. “How is it possible that you look even hotter with your glasses on?”

  She absently touched the black frames. “I only wear contacts when I teach or dance.”

  “Good for me, then. You were wearing glasses the first night we met, and that’s the image I see of you, sitting at the table, trying to figure out what that flash of electricity was between us. Just like I was.” He brushed a feathery kiss over her lips and closed the door, his eyes sweeping over her off-white living room couch with light-pink and lavender accent pillows, the glass coffee and end tables, and her secondhand teal-and-oak settee. “I like your place,” he said as he walked over to her bookshelf by the settee, eyeballing her fiction novels, books on dance, and photographs of her
with her grandmother, Angela, and fellow dancers.

  “Thanks. There’s not much to it.” She’d never had a guy in her apartment, and it had never felt overly girlie. But Quincy was so potently male, the way he strode across the room, big and broad in his leather jacket and black boots, it was a stark contrast.

  “I disagree,” he said. “Your home says a lot about you. It’s feminine and organized, and all these pictures tell me who and what is important to you. Maybe one day we’ll end up in a frame on this shelf, too.”

  She hoped they would, too.

  He picked up a picture of Roni and her grandmother and said, “I assume this is Gram, the famous apple-pie-making tough cookie?”

  “You really do remember everything.”

  “When it comes to you, I do. How old were you in this? Fourteen? Fifteen?”

  “Fifteen. That was taken after the Summer Showcase. Contemporary dance is my absolute favorite, and I performed solo to ‘My Immortal’ by Evanescence. Gram said she cried during my performance.” Her throat thickened with emotion as she took in her grandmother’s proud smile.

  “I wish I could go back in time and watch all of your performances.” He set the picture down and said, “Is Angela coming to the scavenger hunt?”

  She was still stuck on him wishing he could have seen her dance, and it took a second for her to tuck that sweet sentiment away and respond. “No. She had other plans.”

  “That’s too bad. I would have liked to officially meet her,” he said as he looked at more pictures.

  “We stopped by the bookstore to say hi on our way to pick up lunch today, but you were busy reading to the kids. You were really good with them.”