by Lacey Black
My heart literally skips a beat when he uses that nickname.
“Good night, Rigsby.”
He waves as he adds, “I’ll lock up. Come on, Jack.”
I listen as they make their way down the hall. Royce talks to Jack as he puts his leash on him and grabs the small bag he brought earlier. Then, the front door opens and closes, and I’m left in silence.
I toss and turn for about fifteen minutes and swap out my pillow for the one Royce was using. It smells like him, and even though I should be ashamed of myself, I can’t stop from stuffing my nose into the material and inhaling.
After another few minutes, I toss my blankets off and get up. My first stop is the bathroom, followed by the kitchen for a glass of water. The bowl Jack was using is set in the sink with the other dirty dishes, and even though I know I should just go to bed, I end up loading the dishwasher and handwashing the pans.
When our dinner mess from earlier is finally taken care of, I turn off the overhead light and head to the living room. There on the couch, are splotches of dog hair. I can’t help but laugh as I walk over and check out the mix of dark and light hair from the German Shepherd and Golden Retriever mix. After a quick stop in the bathroom for my lint roller, I rid the couch of dog hair; surprised I’m not upset about it at all. In fact, I kind of like the traces of Royce’s dog left all over my house.
Double-checking to make sure the front door is locked—which it is—I grab my cell phone and head back to my bedroom. Once I’m settled in the blankets, my head resting on the pillow Royce used, I lift my phone, debating on whether or not to send the message. I mean, the polite thing to do would be to verify he made it home, right?
Pulling up the texting app, I fire off my message.
Me: Did you make it home okay?
His reply comes instantly.
Royce: Safe and sound. Jack scared off all the boogiemen lurking in the night.
Me: I’m glad. Thank goodness you have him to protect you.
Royce: Definitely. I’d be a quivering pile of scaredy cat if not for him.
Me: Your secret’s safe with me, Rigsby.
Royce: Thank God, Bestie Tami with an I. I don’t know what I’d do if people found out.
Our conversation goes from light and teasing to talks of work and family. I’ve never been able to talk to someone as easily as I do Royce. Even from the very beginning, before we had met, he was fun and engaging. He’s the lighter side to my more serious one, if I’m being honest with myself, but I have to warn myself not to head down that trail of thought.
Next thing I know, I yawn and glance at the clock.
Me: Holy cow, it’s after one!
Royce: Well, look at that. Good thing I don’t work until noon tomorrow.
Me: You mean today.
Royce: LOL! I do mean today.
Me: Well, I have to get up in like four hours.
Royce: Man, sucks to be you! *insert grinning devil emoji*
Me: Not funny, Rigsby. Five is going to come quickly.
Royce: You’re right, it is. I’m sorry for keeping you up so late.
Me: Not your fault. Besides, I was the one who texted you first.
Royce: That’s right, you did! It’s your fault I’m not getting my beauty sleep right now.
Me: You don’t need any more beauty sleep.
Royce: Are you saying I’m pretty? *insert batting eyelash gif*
Me: You know you are. Stop fishing for compliments.
Royce: LOL! You do wonders for a guy’s ego, Bestie.
Me: I’m sure you’ll live.
Me: I really should go to sleep.
Royce: Sweet dreams, Bestie.
Me: You too, Royce.
I set my phone on the nightstand and turn on my alarm, dreading the thought of it going off in just a few short hours. I can’t believe we just texted that long. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation via text message for that long, continuously, even with Sabrina. In fact, I know there’s no way that would happen. Her attention span maxes out at ten minutes.
Snuggling into my spare pillow, I slowly start to drift, images of Royce’s smile and the scent of his shampoo lulling me to sleep. The last thing to cross my mind isn’t the worry of what my lack of sleep will do to my workday. No, it’s of hazel eyes that turn a dark gold color as he’s about to get off, and the way he whispers my name so softly in that moment, I don’t even know if he realized he did it.
***
Monday night, Royce worked until closing. He texted me as soon as he got home and was preparing to take Jack for his nightly walk and jog. That’s why I’m slipping out onto my front porch with a glass of water, waiting.
I changed from my pantsuit into a soft cotton tank top and lounge shorts but left my hair up in the bun I threw it in this morning while it was still wet. I don’t think I’ve ever gone to work with wet hair, but that’s what happens when you spend half the night texting and don’t get to sleep at a decent hour.
I start to wonder if maybe Royce took a different route tonight when I see a man running this way with a dog on a leash. A smile instantly breaks out on my lips. Standing up, I step over to the stairs and wait for him to approach. He moves fluidly and effortlessly, his long, muscular legs carrying him toward me.
As he reaches the edge of my property, he stops running, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Hey,” he says, barely panting, even though he’s been running. Jack spots me and barks, pulling against the leash. “Settle down,” his owner says, as he crouches down and releases the leash from the collar.
Jack takes off, heading my way fast, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. I take a knee on the edge of the porch and brace myself for the blow. He flies up the stairs, his tail wagging, and I can tell by the look in his eye he’s about to jump. Royce must sense it too, because he hollers, “Jack, don’t you jump.”
If the dog hears him, he doesn’t listen. Jack launches himself at me, plowing straight into my chest. I lose my balance and fall to the side, my shoulder thumping on the hard wood, the big dog practically landing on top of me.
“Shit! Jack, no!” Royce yells as he joins us on the porch, reaching under all the hair to help me up. “I’m so sorry, Quinn. He’s still young,” he sputters as he helps me stand.
“It’s okay,” I assure him.
“It’s not okay,” he says, a look of mortification on his handsome face. He turns to Jack and shakes his head. The dog just sits there, a sad look on his face, like he knows he did something wrong, even without Royce saying anything.
I place my hand on Royce’s arm to stop the criticism that’s coming. Instead, I step over to where Jack sits, his nose cast down. “Jack?” I ask, squatting right in front of him. He watches me, lifting his paw to shake. I grin and take his paw, giving it a slight shake.
When he sets it back down, I scratch behind his ears. “Jack, jumping on people is bad, okay? You’re a big guy, and you could really hurt someone, you hear me? No jumping.” He drops his nose again, but I keep scratching his head. “Come on, Buddy. Give me a kiss.”
Jack lifts his head and meets my eyes. He leans forward and licks across my face.
I stand up and face Royce. “He didn’t mean to do it.”
“I… I know, but still. He could have injured you. Does your arm hurt?” he asks, moving my arm to see if there’s anything wrong with it.
“It’s fine, truly. It doesn’t hurt,” I insist, bending my arm to show him.
Royce glances over at Jack, who still sits stoically on the porch. Royce kisses me on the forehead before turning to his dog and squatting in front of him. He reaches out and runs a hand over the pup’s back. “Jack, Jack, Jack,” he says, exhaling. “You know better than to jump, right?”
The dog whimpers, as if answering the question.
Royce gives him a smile. “No more jumping, you hear?”
Jack barks.
When his owner stands back up and turns to me. “I’d hug you, but I’m all sweaty from m
y run.”
Ignoring his comment, I throw my arms around his waist and draw him near. Sure, I can smell sweat and feel the dampness against my cheek, but I don’t care. I’m too comfortable in his arms to be disgusted by a little man sweat.
Royce throws his arms over my shoulders and kisses the top of my head. “I’m getting you wet.”
I know what he’s referring to, but I can’t stop myself from saying, “I’ve been wet since the moment you stepped onto my front lawn.”
His chuckle is like the sweetest music to my ears. “Naughty girl, Tami with an I.”
After I run in and grab a bowl of water for Jack, we sit outside and visit for a little bit. He tells me about a young couple who came to zipline earlier today. The guy was trying to be all tough and excited in front of his lady, but Royce could tell he was sweating bullets on the outside. “He ended up chickening out the moment we went to hook up his harness. He was all pale and clammy. Dusty ended up taking him back down the mountain.”
“And his lady?” I ask, a hint of humor in my voice.
“Oh, she went down and loved it,” he answers with a chuckle.
“Is that some innuendo?” I ask, teasing.
When his eyes meet mine, the laughter dies. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean she went down.”
I smile. “I know, I was just giving you a hard time.”
His face is a bit stoic as he holds my gaze. “You know, Quinn, we haven’t really talked about us much, but I want you to know, I’m not seeing anyone else.”
My heart flutters, not only from his words but the look on his face. It’s so serious, and that’s not something I’m really used to from Royce. He’s more of a good-natured, lighthearted guy. Plus, there’s the fact we’re teetering at the edge of something we’ve never dipped our toes in yet.
Us.
“Oh, okay. Well, I guess that’s good. I mean, I’m not seeing anyone else either,” I stammer, hating how off balance I sound.
He gazes straight out at the roadway, but I’m not sure he’s really looking at it. “And I know we’re probably on two different paths in life.” He turns and meets my gaze. “You seem like the type of woman who wants marriage and kids.”
It’s almost an open-ended statement, so I go ahead and confirm. “I do. I hope someday to have both.”
He nods thoughtfully. “I suspected. And that’s great, really, but I don’t think I want that. I’m more of a fun kinda guy. I don’t see myself settling down, married, and all that jazz,” he replies with a shrug.
Even though I suspected as much, it still kinda hurts a little to hear him say it. Mostly because I like him, and I could easily see myself getting completely caught up in him, liking him more than like. We have fun together, whether talking on the phone or hanging out. And let’s not forget about the sex. I don’t have the experience I know Royce has, but that seems pretty fantastic too.
So now I have the choice I suspected I’d have to make.
Do I cut things off with him because we want different things, or do I have a little fun with Royce, knowing it won’t go any further?
He pins me with a sharp look that borders on dirty. “I do really like hanging out with you, and I’m not just talking about in bed, though that’s fucking phenomenal,” he states, his hazel eyes turning that sexy shade of gold I associate with him being aroused.
“I like you too, and yes, that part is…amazing.” My cheeks burn, and my grin is so wide, it hurts my face.
“So, what do you say we keep having fun until one of us, or both, decides it’s not working anymore? Then, we can go our separate ways without all the weird entanglements and drama,” he suggests.
I wish I could say I don’t know what my decision is going to be, that I need time to think about it. But that would be a lie. The moment the words were out of his mouth, I knew where my decision lay. I enjoy spending time with Royce too much to walk away now. I’m not ready for it to end, even though I know someday it will.
“I’d like that,” I blurt out, knowing it’s going to hurt.
Because there’s one thing I know as well as my own name.
This will end.
Chapter Seventeen
Royce
The plan was to pick her up at her place at six thirty on Tuesday, by five thirty, I was practically walking a hole in my hardwood floors. So, here I am, just after six and walking up to her front door. I just want to see her.
My hand knocks harder on the door than intended, but for some reason, I just feel…edgy. I saw her last night and texted her throughout the day while we were both at work, but it still doesn’t calm this anxiety I’ve felt off and on throughout the day. Like I might not get to see her again, and that bothers me.
I don’t know why, though.
We talked last night, and it went exactly as I’d hoped. We’ll continue to see each other and spend time together, but without the weight of having a relationship. We’ll hang out, go to dinner, fuck a little, and when it stops working for either of us, move on. That’s exactly what I wanted.
Yet, ever since she agreed to this, I keep picturing her going off with some faceless dickhead, and that makes me ragey. I actually got up earlier than normal today and went for a run to try to burn off some of the excess fretfulness I had, to no avail.
No, all I want to do is see her, and maybe steal a kiss or two.
The moment she opens the door, all thoughts of just a kiss go right out the window. She’s wearing sensible blue shorts, a white lacy top that hangs off one shoulder, and these little tan sandals that cross over the top of her feet. Suddenly, I’m practically hard as a rock and all I want to do is see that gorgeous shirt thrown on her bedroom floor.
“Hey,” she greets with a smile. “You’re early.”
“Yeah,” I stammer, running my hand across the back of my neck, “I’m sorry, I hope you don’t mind.”
Her eyes light up as she pulls open the door. “Not at all. I was just touching up my makeup. Come on in.”
I place a kiss on her cheek as I slip inside her house, inhaling the floral scent on her skin. She smells absolutely fucking delicious. Like normal. Like Quinn. My heart starts to hammer, a combination of excitement and fear. It’s both calming and alarming in a way I’ve never experienced.
Never even wanted to.
“I’ll be out in a just a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable,” she says, placing a kiss on my cheek before scurrying down the short hallway to her bedroom.
I just stand there, like an idiot, with the residual sizzle from her kiss on my cheek. I force my feet to move farther into the living room. There are a few decorative framed photos on the walls. A field of wildflowers, the sun rising over the mountains, and one of it setting over the ocean. It’s a beautiful display of elegance and simplicity. A reminder to stop and see the beauty that surrounds us.
Like Quinn.
She steps out of her bedroom at about the time my palms start to sweat. I have no idea what the hell is wrong with me. Suddenly, she’s all I see, all I think about, and not in that “I want to fuck you senseless” way I’m accustomed to.
Although, seeing her in that outfit does cause a certain reaction in my pants.
“Ready?” I ask, my throat dry and scratchy.
“Ready,” she confirms, grabbing a small bag and meeting me at the front door. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” I offer her a wink and a smirk, which causes her to just roll her eyes.
“You’re lucky I enjoy surprises.”
With my hand on the small of her back, I lead her outside and wait while she locks her door. Once it’s secured, we make our way to my truck. She hops up without assistance, making me grin at her eagerness. I head over to the driver’s side and join her in the cab.
“Any hints?” she asks, blue eyes shining.
I glance her way and shake my head. “We’ll be able to see the Smokys,” I tease, starting the ignition and backing out of her driveway.
We
really do head toward the mountain, specifically in the vicinity of where I work. Quinn tells me about her day, and my thumb taps uncontrollably against my thigh. I try to pay attention, really I do, but I’m so anxious, it’s hard to concentrate. What if she doesn’t like what I have planned? Am I making a big mistake asking her to step out of her comfort zone?
“Hey, are you okay?” she asks, reaching over and placing her hand on top of mine.
“What? Oh, yeah. Fine.”
She gives me a soft, knowing smile. “You seem a little…not yourself,” she says, wrapping her soft hand around mine. The strumming of my thumb stops immediately the moment her skin touches mine. Relief replaces my earlier anxiety, another foreign concept hard for me to fathom.
I take a deep breath and give her one of my best grins. “I’m good, sweetheart. Promise.”
Sweetheart.
I’ve never used a nickname.
Turning my hand face up, I lace my fingers with hers and maneuver through traffic. It’s not too heavy for a Tuesday night, but it’s still tourism season, so it makes getting to where we’re going more difficult. Before too long, I’m pulling into the employee lot of Elevate Sky, the SkyLift sister-company to the zipline business I run.
“The SkyLift?”
“Have you ever been?” I ask, parking the car in one of the available spots and turning off the ignition.
She glances around, but there’s not really anything to see yet from where we’re parked. “Actually, I did go once when I was younger, but not since…like junior high.”
“Well, I’m sure tonight’s experience will be a little different than it was back in sixth grade.”
I hope.
“Ready?” I ask grabbing my keys and waiting for the cue.
“Totally.”
I hop out and meet her around at the passenger door. She places her hand back in mine and jumps out. We make our way to the office, where I spy the manager waiting. Tito is a big guy with tattoos covering his arms. He looks intimidating as hell by appearance but has a heart of gold and is the biggest softy.
“Tito,” I say, reaching for his outstretched hand for a bro-hug.
“What’s up, little Rigs. This y’er lady friend?” he asks, giving Quinn his best smile.