On the Mend (Carolina Waves Series Book 1)

by Tina Gallagher

  “Getting better,” he said, gesturing toward me. “Thanks to this amazing woman.”

  The woman’s eyes shifted to me, and her pleasant expression put me at ease. “Vince warned me, but I didn’t believe him,” she teased. I followed her eyes to Dan, who was actually blushing.

  “Rita, this is Sabrina Kelly, my physical therapist and date for the night. Sabrina, Rita Maroni, Vince’s wife and the main force behind the wonderful food served here.”

  “Hello Sabrina.” Rita extended her hand to shake mine. “It’s so nice to meet you.” That done, she turned back to Dan. “Sit.” He did as she ordered and she pulled a corkscrew out of her pocket and opened the wine. After going through the whole ceremony of allowing Dan to taste it and filling both of our glasses, she set the bottle back in the ice bucket.

  “Vince will be out shortly to take your order. I just had to see this for myself,” she said, tossing a smile my way.

  Then we were alone. Well, as alone as two people can be in a public place. I took a sip of wine, more for something to do than anything else. I felt Dan watching me, and my stomach fluttered. Whether it was from nervousness or anticipation, I’m not sure.

  “I take it you come here often,” I said.

  Dan nodded. “This is one of Lexi’s favorite restaurants.” He chuckled. “I’m not sure if she likes the food or the fuss they make over her.”

  “Probably a little of both.”

  Again, he nodded. He looked like he was going to say something, but Vince returned to take our orders.

  Dan and I decided to share an order of stuffed mushrooms for an appetizer. Colossal salads, loaded with a variety of veggies topped with house dressing followed.

  I ordered chicken marsala with a side of spaghetti with marinara. It had seemed like a harmless meal until Vince set it down in front of me. A plate the size of a satellite dish held the chicken, which was two full breasts topped with crimini mushrooms smothered with marsala sauce. I thought he’d forgotten my spaghetti until he placed what I would consider a serving bowl down, filled with my “side” of pasta.

  The bowl that held Dan’s chicken and fettuccine alfredo was so large I could barely see him over it. Well, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but I swear there has to be two pounds of pasta in front of him.

  “Is everything all right?” Vince asked a while later.

  “Delicious,” I answered, around a mouthful of the best chicken marsala I’d ever tasted.

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  Dan and I both told him he couldn’t and Vince told us to yell if we needed him.

  “I’ll never finish all this,” I said, looking at the mound of food on my plates.

  “They do give healthy portions.”

  “I don’t know if I would use the word healthy to describe this meal, but there sure is a lot.”

  A loaf of crusty Italian bread sat in a basket between us. Dan picked up the basket and held it out to me. “Bread?”

  “Not just yet, thanks.”

  He set the basket down, took a piece of bread for himself, and proceeded to butter it. I stared, fascinated by his hands, his long, broad-tipped fingers as they held the knife. Images of those hands touching me flashed through my mind, heating my skin. No man’s hands had ever felt as good as Dan’s. No one else ever made me feel like he could with the slightest touch. I returned my attention to my food.

  We ate in silence for some time before he spoke again. “I’m sorry about the fuss.”

  “Fuss?”

  “The fuss Vince and Rita are making.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “Lexi’s the only female I’ve ever brought here.” He thought for a moment then added, “No, scratch that. I brought my mom once.”

  The way he said the last word made me think the experience hadn’t been pleasant.

  “Once?”

  “She and Rita hit it off instantly and kept trying to fix my life for me.”

  “What’s wrong with your life?” I don’t know what possessed me to ask.

  He shrugged. “They think I need a good woman.”

  Okay, time to change the subject.

  “So, Lexi really likes it here?” My voice sounded an octave or two higher than normal.

  “Yeah, she does,” Dan answered. I thought I was home free until he added, “I told my mom that I’d had a good woman and let her go.”

  I nearly choked on my pasta. He went back to his fettuccini. We ate in silence for a bit, then Dan resumed the conversation on a lighter note, asking questions about my career and family, and other normal date topics.

  After a loud good-bye with Vince and Rita, which included hugs and a promise that I’d return, Dan and I shared a quiet ride home. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and I didn’t feel the need to fill the air with needless chatter.

  I used the time to evaluate the evening as a whole. The restaurant was charming, the food amazing, and Dan had been the perfect date. And yes, I readily admit that it was a date. I had truly enjoyed myself and planned to admit as much to Dan.

  Resting my head against the window, I allowed my mind to wander to the past. How many nights had we shared like this very one?

  More than I can remember.

  With or without dinner, our time together had been easy. We never ran out of things to talk about, yet we also weren’t afraid of quiet times. Like now, neither of us feels the need to speak and the silence seems neither oppressive nor uncomfortable.

  The car stopped and I realized we were back at the house. The garage door closed behind us as Dan unbuckled his seat belt and I did the same. Suddenly, the awareness between us was so overwhelming, I opened my door in order to drag fresh air into my lungs.

  “You okay?” Dan ran around to my side of the car. Well, ran as well as any man with a leg injury using a cane can.

  “Fine. I just needed some air.”

  He studied my face for a moment and nodded. His hand reached out and held mine, helping me out of the car. Our hands remained clasped as we walked through the garage and through the door into the kitchen.

  The house was quiet.

  Dan squeezed my hand before releasing it and asked, “Would you like a drink?”

  I really didn’t want the evening to end, which immediately made me want to decline. I don’t want to want him. But I do. Maybe it’s time to face that head on.

  “I’d like that,” I answered.

  “Great.” He’d obviously expected me to head straight to bed, even though it was barely ten o’clock. “Have a seat. Would you like more wine?”

  While that was tempting, I figured I’d had enough alcohol. “Sweet tea is fine.”

  I sat on the couch and watched Dan fill two cut crystal glasses from the pitcher of sweet tea Mrs. Evans somehow kept filled at all times. I wondered how he was going to carry both and use his cane, and smiled when he placed both glasses in the palm of his right hand, before picking up the cane and heading toward me.

  “Thank you.” I took a token sip and placed the glass on the coffee table in front of me. “I had a great time tonight. Thank you for asking me.”

  From the look on his face, I’d managed to shock him again. “The pleasure was all mine,” he said once he composed himself. “Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

  I wanted to tell him no, tell him not to get the wrong idea, but instead heard myself say, “I think I’d like that.”

  Dan finished his tea in one long gulp and placed the glass on the table next to mine. He sat back against the cushion and traced the crease in his pants with his index finger. “Sabrina,” he started, then cleared his throat. “I want you to know how sorry I am about everything that happened between us.” He turned to fully face me. “You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you when you confronted me, either.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve explained to you why I did it, and you brought up a very valid point. The thought of someone else touching yo
u, kissing you would have driven me insane…still drives me insane. So why should it be any different for me?”

  The anguish in his eyes, on his face, is genuine and I know that he’s truly sorry. The things that happened between us obviously affected him as much as they did me.

  “I just don’t want you to think I’m a jerk anymore. I care about you and your opinion too much to let that be the case.”

  His eyes searched mine, looking for answers to his questions, for reassurances about my thoughts, my feelings. I knew I had to speak and that I had to be honest. The problem is that while my honesty will thrill him, it scares the hell out of me.

  “I don’t think you’re a jerk,” I said, my voice a mere whisper. His disbelieving look made me smile. “I really don’t, Dan. That’s not to say I didn’t when I first arrived. But I don’t anymore.”

  “If I followed correctly, I think I like what I’m hearing.” His voice raised slightly on the last word, turning the statement into a question.

  “You heard me correctly,” I assured him. “For ten years, I allowed what happened to fester inside me. In my mind’s eye, you turned into a monster who broke my heart. And you were right.” He cocked his brow, but didn’t say a word, obviously not wanting to break my train of thought. “When I first arrived, I saw you as I wanted to, not as you actually are. You’re obviously a dedicated father and if rumors can be believed, you’re not the shallow, womanizing creep I’d imagined you to be.”

  “Thanks for the compliment.” Dan chuckled. “I think.”

  “It was meant to be compliment, no matter how backhanded it sounded.” I leaned forward and took a drink. “Whenever I thought of you over the years, I’d imagined you with a slew of groupies, living a life of never ending orgies.”

  He seemed to think about that for a minute then laughed. Not a small chuckle, but a full belly laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  It took a second for him to compose himself enough to answer. “While you were imagining that, I was probably covered in spit up, trying to figure out how to change a diaper.” He wiped tears from his eyes and sobered. “Seriously Sabrina, it was never like that. Even back in college, it…” he stopped and rubbed his eyes. “There just weren’t as many girls as you seem to think there were.” He held up his hand at my indrawn breath. “Now, before you go berserk, I know there shouldn’t have been any, that even one was too many. I know that now. Hell, I knew that then, if my guilt was an indicator.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m really messing up here.”

  “No, you’re not,” I reassured him. “Dan, what happened, happened. Circling around it won’t make it go away. That’s the mistake I made back then. Instead of talking to you about it, I drew my own conclusions.”

  “You tried to talk to me. I screwed that up. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember. But in all honesty, nothing you said that day would have really registered. I was too hurt, too upset.”

  “Sabrina, I could say I’m sorry a million times and it wouldn’t begin to convey how I feel.” I nodded, just to let Dan know I’d heard what he said. “Thank you for talking to me about this.”

  I nodded again, tossing the question around in my mind. Did I dare ask it? Am I strong enough to face his answer? I guess I’ll never know if I don’t ask.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “I was wondering…” I let out a frustrated breath and started over. “The night of the prom, did you…did you go to someone else after you left me?”

  Dan looked as unsettled by the question as I’d felt asking it. For a moment, I didn’t think he was going to answer, but slowly his features returned to normal, then softened. He inched closer to me and took my hand in his. “Is that what you thought?” Without waiting for an answer, he said, “No wonder you hated me so much.” I looked at him with confused eyes and saw the answer even before he said it. “No Sabrina, I never went to anyone after I left you. Not ever, but especially not that night. It was too special, too memorable to tarnish.”

  “I just always wondered.”

  Dan stroked my knuckles with his thumb and his smile turned nostalgic. “That night was amazing, Bri. Walking out of that room was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

  “But you didn’t have to,” I pointed out. “You could’ve stayed. In fact, I seem to remember begging you to do just that.”

  “I know.” He leaned closer and cupped my cheek in his big palm. “I know.” He kissed my forehead before pulling back and looking into my eyes once again. “That night has haunted my dreams for ten years. Sometimes we finish what we started, but most times I wake up so hard I feel like I’m gonna explode.”

  His lips gently touched mine. It started as a comforting kiss between two friends, but the old feelings took hold too quickly for either of us to stop them. Dan kissed me once again, this time it was less comforting and more possessive, more complete. I thought I would melt into a puddle right there on the couch.

  His hands circled my waist and pulled me closer, our mouths never losing contact. I wrapped my arms around his neck, putting my breasts in contact with his brick wall of a chest. I felt as well as heard his groan before he opened his mouth fully over mine and thrust his tongue inside.

  No one kisses like Dan. There must be something addictive in his saliva, because one taste of him and I immediately want more. Dan leaned forward, pushing me against the arm of the couch. I slid my sandals off and put my right leg on the couch behind his back. And the kiss went on.

  He settled between my widespread thighs and his erection brushed against my center. Sensation shot through me, then exploded as Dan cupped my breast, and rolled my distended nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I arched my back, telling him in the only way I could that I wanted more. He didn’t disappoint.

  By slow degrees, he drove me wild. First one breast, then the other received attention. His hips danced a slow, easy rhythm between my thighs and our mouths only parted long enough to allow us to breathe.

  I pulled his shirt out of his pants and allowed my hands to roam over the broad expanse of his back. His muscles bunched and flexed beneath my fingers, and I wanted more. I was so into things, it took me a moment to realize that Dan was slowing down, pulling away.

  “No,” I screamed in my mind and only realized I’d said it out loud when Dan kissed my forehead and whispered reassurances.

  “Not like this, Bri,” he panted. “Not on the couch like a couple of horny teenagers.” His crooked smile looked sexy and seductive, and somewhat evil. “I want to stretch you out on my bed and love every inch of you.” His eyes glowed in the darkness and I shivered in anticipation. “Will you let me?”

  The word yes was barely out of my mouth before Dan was leading me up the stairs to his bedroom door. A lamp on the nightstand cast a soft glow over the room. The king-sized bed sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by masculine furniture. Family photos hung on the walls, in lieu of the sports awards and memorabilia I’d always imagined would be there.

  Dan stepped in front of me, putting an end to my perusal. He placed his hands on either side of my face. “Are you sure?”

  I didn’t have to ask what he was talking about. I also didn’t have to think about my answer. “I’m sure,” I said. “I’ve been wanting this forever.”

  “Me too,” he said, before crushing his mouth to mine.

  His hands moved down my body, then back up, dragging my dress with them. The kiss ended just long enough to allow him to pull the silky material over my head.

  Dan laid me in the center of his bed and looked his fill. Thankfully, I’d worn my sexy underwear.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said. “Perfect.” He stroked his hand across my abdomen. “Soft.”

  Before he started touching the really good parts, I reached out and unbuttoned his shirt. My fingers itched to touch him, so I did. His skin felt smooth beneath the tawny hair, stretched over wel
l-developed muscles. I leaned forward and placed a kiss just above his right nipple.

  He sucked in a breath, then pulled my mouth back to his and proceeded to kiss me senseless. Somewhere in the back of my mind it registered that Dan had unhooked my bra, but it wasn’t until I felt his mouth on my naked breast, that I realized it was gone.

  As promised, he loved every inch of me. He nuzzled my breasts before moving up to my neck and nibbling on a particularly sensitive spot he remembered. Then back to my breasts where he sucked my nipples into tight, aching points. His hot mouth skimmed down my stomach and nibbled at my belly button.

  The man reduced me to a melting puddle of want, unable to do anything but pant, moan, and eagerly await his next touch.

  He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of my panties and pulled them slowly down my legs. He stared for several heartbeats, heating me with his gaze, before he leaned down and kissed my knee. Slowly, deliberately, he inched his way up my leg, alternately kissing and nibbling my skin.

  When he settled between my thighs and placed a kiss at their juncture, I nearly jumped off the bed. Dan placed a restraining hand on my belly as his eyes met mine over the expanse of my body. He continued his sensuous torture, laving and nipping and sucking until I didn’t think I could take any more.

  I closed my eyes as though blocking out the sight of what he was doing would help dull the sensation, giving me a modicum of control. It only intensified the feeling, and when Dan slipped a finger inside me, I shattered. When I came back to reality, he was beside me, naked, condom in hand.

  “This time, I’m not leaving,” he muttered, before engaging me in a no-holds-barred, tongue-tangling, toe-curling kiss.

  “I don’t want you to,” I panted, ripping the condom from his hand. I pushed him onto his back and proceeded to touch him as I’d wanted to for so long.

  I ran my hands over his chest, while nibbling on his neck, behind his ear. Slowly, I moved down, suckling first one, then the other nipple. Moving lower, I nipped his navel, as he’d done to me and was rewarded with a moan. His reaction was probably more due to the fact that my chin had brushed the tip of his penis than belly button sensitivity.