by Pratt, Lulu
In the other room, Henry was already seated, his short legs dangling from the chair, and despite his apparent annoyance, Carter was standing behind a pulled-out chair, gesturing for me to take a seat. Even in his frustration, he was a gentleman.
“Thank you,” I said with a blush, sitting down as he slid the wood beneath me. That wasn’t meant to be dirty, gosh, get your mind out of the gutter.
The table was simple but elegant. Silverware, plates, placemats. A vase with a bundle of fresh flowers — baby’s breath, the cheapest kind, I noted. Cloth napkins. He really had brought art to every corner of his life.
“It looks wonderful,” I told him. Then, to Henry, “And those carrots look delicious.”
Henry giggled, and reached with his fingers for a carrot stump.
“Henry!” Carter chided. “What’s the rule?”
The little boy huffed, but picked up a serving utensil from the bowl and spooned himself some carrots.
“Sorry,” Carter said to me with the apologetic tone every parent does so well. “We’re working on table manners.”
“I want steak!” Henry crowed.
“What’s the magic word?”
“Pleeeease!”
Carter smiled, then set to cutting Henry a small piece of steak. In his hands, the knife was fluid, an extension of the arm. It was a dance of domination, and I envied that steak. If only he would touch me like that, I thought. Rough but masterful. Rough but ready.
He made short work of the steak, placing a piece of it onto Henry’s plate.
“Would you like some?”
I nodded, and in no time, a fine cut of steak was deposited in front of me.
“It looks delicious.”
“It is,” he said with a wink.
The tension melted a little and I breathed in deeply.
We all dug in. I was, in truth, famished. It’d been many hours since I’d laid sight on a piece of food. I vowed to take Jo-Beth back some steak, but sometimes, she got like this — not eating out of spite for her situation. If you ask me, you’re better off eating first and feeling pissy later.
After the first initial rush of consumption, I sat back a little in my chair.
“So,” I began, dabbing my mouth with a napkin. “Do you have any other family in Rough and Ready?”
Carter’s eyes shot to Henry and then back to me, before replying, “Not really.”
I was taken aback. “None at all?”
“We don’t talk about it,” Carter said through taut cords.
“I’m sorry—”
“I think that’s enough on that,” he replied. “Anyone ever told you you’re a little nosy?”
“Anyone ever told you you’re a little closed off?”
He nearly choked on his steak with laughter. “Oh, if you only knew — never mind.”
“What?”
“It’s nothing.”
Carter made a big show of turning to Henry, signaling an end to the discussion of family. “Henry, how’d I do on the steak?”
“Grrrreat!” Henry growl-screamed.
We all dissolved into laughter, underneath which lay a relief at the dissolution of tension.
What wasn’t Carter telling me? Why did it seem to cut beneath is every word and action? Where was his family? The mysteries kept stacking up in an ever more precarious pile.
Our feet collided beneath the table, the tips of his cowboy boots scuffing the rubber soles of my sneakers. We locked eyes, and for a moment, I forgot the mysteries, the hiding, the obfuscation and just saw the man sitting across from me — a delicious, deep person with muscles to spare.
Ugh, living inside my brain was so damn confusing. What the hell did I want?!
“Daddy?”
“Yes?” Carter said, not turning his eyes away from mine. Our feet were still touching. It felt so unspeakably naughty.
“Is Phoebe my new mother?”
If I’d been drinking water, I’d have done a spit take.
Both Carter and I raced over ourselves to correct this error.
“No, kiddo—”
“Oh, Henry, um, I’m not—”
“But she’s just like a mommy!” he told us, as though the point were obvious. “She could be my mommy!”
Carter’s face paled, so I took the lead.
“I’m just visiting,” I explained, careful not to confuse him. “Because my car broke. So I’m staying here. I’m not — your dad and I aren’t—”
Aw, hell. Just when I needed my psych training the most, it was totally failing me. How do you explain to a kid who apparently didn’t have a mom in the picture that you couldn’t be that for him?
“She’s just a friend,” Carter finished, at last finding his words.
That may have satisfied Henry, but it stung me, despite its truth. Was I just a friend? Because our feet were still connected beneath the table, and I felt like I might be something more.
“Are you done with dinner?” Carter asked his kid.
“Yeah, Daddy.”
“Okay, good. Then clear your plate.”
Henry lifted up his plate and toddled out to the kitchen. As he vanished from sight, Carter leaned across the table.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean for that… to, uh… yeah.”
“Don’t apologize. He’s a kid, I get it. Besides, it was sweet.”
Carter looked into his lap. “I just hope he’s not, y’know, messed up. About not having a mom.”
Was Carter about to open up to me? At least we had now established that Henry’s mom wasn’t on the scene. Were we going to make material progress in our discussions?
I thought there was a chance at open communication. Until, that is, Henry re-entered, bright-eyed as ever, totally unaware of the doors he’d flung ajar.
“Bedtime,” Carter announced, nimbly dodging my loaded barrage of questions.
My, but he was good at avoidance.
He scooped Henry up into his arms. “Phoebe, I’ll be back in a little while. You’re welcome to hang around here, go back to the trailer… whatever you’d like.”
“I think I’ll stay here,” I said, remembering the feeling of his foot on mine.
He nodded, then took off with Henry.
Sitting back in my chair, I listened to the sounds of their nighttime ritual echoing through the house. Water running. Grunts of struggle and whines of ‘but I want the Spiderman ones’ — getting pajamas on. At last, I heard a story about a pigeon and a bus being read aloud, then a lullaby begin to rise from the back corner of the house.
The house was peaceful. I dabbed a tear from the corner of my eye. Carter’s song was beautiful, his voice deep but melodic. Was Henry the only sunshine in his life? I longed to bolt from my chair, letting the wooden back clatter on the floor, and race to comfort Carter, lay his head on my breast, and whisper that everything would be all right.
But of course, that wasn’t an option. This was all getting far too intimate, and far too real, for a four-day stopover. You can’t rip somebody’s life wide open and then leave as soon as your car is repaired. No, I needed to take a step back. Give him space.
At last, Carter returned, the hem of his shirt freshly dampened.
His eyes saw mine dart to the hem.
“Henry’s a messy brusher,” he explained. “Give me a sec, I’ll change.”
He walked out of the kitchen and into the entry hall, where I watched him pull a flannel off a coat hook. His fingers moved with precision, unbuttoning his shirt and ripping it from his body. Perhaps he thought I couldn’t see? Or maybe he knew full well that I could, and that it was a view any girl would kill for.
Beneath his now-discarded damp shirt he wore a white tank top, its ridges molded to his abs. His arms had bulged in the other shirt, but now, they were on full display. I felt my panties grow wet, which was mortifying. Some guy invites you into his home, and you gush all over his seat? Not cool.
Carter buttoned up the flannel in several brisk movements,
unaware or unfazed that I was disappointed that the show was over, then strolled back to the dining room table, looming large over the thin piece of wood.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
We were silent.
“You stayed, huh?”
“I stayed. Not really anywhere to go.”
“Yeah. That’s why I like it here in Rough and Ready.”
“You live on the outskirts of a tiny place that is in the middle of nowhere.”
He thought about this for a moment, then replied, “It’s good you stayed.”
“Your singing… it was wonderful.”
Carter blushed. “I’m tone deaf. I just sing with love. That makes everything sound better.”
More silence. The air between us was heavy, as though laden with unspoken secrets, words that neither of us was ready to say. We were so close to one another that if I just reached across the table, I could be touching him — unbuttoning this new shirt, peeling off the white tank top, unbuckling that heavy silver belt…
Instead, I was good. I stayed seated.
“Hey,” he said suddenly. “Do you wanna see something?”
For an insane, silent second, I crossed my fingers and hoped by ‘something’ he meant ‘his cock.’
Oh my God, my mind screamed. You’re insatiable!
Aloud, I replied, “Sure. What is it?”
He smiled, and I knew I would see anything he wanted to show me, cock or otherwise.
Carter moved around to my side of the table, and took my hand to help me out of the seat. Our grasps intertwined for a moment. He dropped my palm as soon as I’d risen to a standing position. That was probably for the best.
“Follow me.”
We moved away from the table, and I followed him close behind.
Out of nowhere, a sliding glass door appeared, through which I saw a garden.
Carter unlatched the door. “This is my happy place.”
We strode out together, and in a whirl of fabric, Carter pulled a blanket off a nearby wooden-planked bench and settled it onto the ground.
Gesturing to the blanket, he said, “Take a seat. If you like, that is.”
What was happening? Was he about to make a move on me? I feared it, but I wanted it. Should I say yes or no? My mind was in tumult, whirling faster and faster, playing out options for scenarios that hadn’t even occurred. Despite all my efforts, I was, at my core, a worrier.
And then I thought, fuck it. Whatever happened, let it happen. Carter wasn’t going to hurt me. I knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt.
So I slid to my knees, scraped knobs against washed linen. Then I rolled onto my back, and found that I was staring at a sky full of stars.
“Wow,” I gasped, at a loss for anything more profound.
The night teemed with pinpricks of light, like a womb heavy with hope.
“Ain’t she a beaut?” he affirmed, laying down next to me on the blanket.
Carter was careful to leave several inches of space between us, a feat seemingly impossible on so small a blanket. I wondered if perhaps he was partially laying on the ground instead of on the blanket. Such a gentleman.
I wanted to roll over once more, this time onto his hips, and straddle him, ride the cowboy until the crows came home to roost.
“I don’t talk about much,” he began slowly, every word chosen with care. “But this is something I like to share. The stars.”
The space between my legs throbbed, a dull ache.
“So, Carter, tell me about the stars.”
CHAPTER 10
Carter
LORD, IT’D been a long time since I’d lain next to a beautiful woman, and I could feel the effects on my body.
Muscles I’d forgotten I had were clenched. Everywhere between my knees and my neck felt like a minefield, just waiting for a stray touch so that they could explode.
I could feel that the attraction was mutual. Phoebe’s body kept slithering, stretching, inching to mine. She might not have even known she was doing it. Both our bodies were working separate from our minds.
What was I supposed to do with this fire in my belly? It’d been a long dang time since a woman had taken a shine to me.
You’re supposed to do nothing, my brain replied. We’ve been over this. Don’t make me repeat myself.
Too young. Too… dangerous.
Young.
Dangerous.
I repeated the words in my head, trying to keep them at the forefront of my mind, try to not let thoughts of Phoebe, soft beneath me, consume my every waking breath.
To buy time I said, “You wanna know about the stars?”
She nodded, her long brown hair creating static on the blanket.
“Well, that one is the Big Dipper,” I said, pointing upwards, my finger hovering above her face so that she could follow its line.
Phoebe giggled, and replied, “I know the Big Dipper, silly. Everyone knows the Big Dipper.”
Tough little filly, huh?
“Okay, well, do you know Cygnus?”
My finger moved to indicate a small grouping of stars that formed a stretched-out cross, burning in the heavens.
“No,” she murmured. “Show me again.”
I redirected her lovely brown eyes to Cygnus, and I heard her gasp.
“I see it!” she exclaimed. “That’s amazing.”
“It’s one of the things I’m teaching Henry — to be able to locate and name the stars. So that he can always find his way home.”
Her head turned, her cheek grazing the blanket, so that she could look directly at me. Hair spread out behind her like a halo, and a sweet smile played across her lips. If only I could kiss those lips…
“You’re a great father, Carter.”
I waved off the compliment. “I’m mediocre.”
“Don’t say that,” she said, upset, propping herself up onto her elbows. “I’ve spent time with kids and parents. I know what average looks like, and you, Carter, are not average.”
I swallowed. “Neither are you,” I whispered.
Her face hung inches from mine, and I watched it transform from vehement to pliant, watched as her lips spread apart.
This time, I couldn’t help my muscles. I felt my cock twitch, hungry between my legs. It was growing harder by the second, and at this distance, Phoebe was sure to notice. God, why did my body always have to out my mind?
I raised my body so that I could slide my elbow onto the blanket. We were staring into one another’s eyes. The words from earlier — young, dangerous — seemed to slip away. There was just the two of us, the rest of the world be damned.
“What if,” she breathed, so softly I almost missed it, “what if Henry doesn’t learn his stars? What happens then? What are you afraid of?”
I lurched back, nearly falling off my elbow’s perch.
Just when I thought I could set it all aside, could dive into the deep end and worry about emerging for air later, Phoebe reminded me that she was dangerous. She wanted to know too much, like Eve, always reaching for something forbidden.
The moment was broken.
“You ask too many questions.”
“I just want to know you,” she shot back. “Why are you making that so hard?”
“We didn’t even know one another when we woke up this morning,” I pointed out.
“And now I’m in your backyard, I’ve eaten dinner with you and your son, I’m staying in your trailer. We’re not strangers.”
But we’re not lovers, I thought.
Had I fallen for another crazy woman, one who wanted to split me open and pour my secrets out, to sort through them like mahjong tiles, looking for the prettiest pieces?
Just my fat fucking luck.
She couldn’t be worse than the last, of course — Satan himself couldn’t reach that threshold — but that didn’t mean she was safe. Not for me, but more importantly, not for my son. Anybody who asked this much had an agenda, right? I’d learned that the hard way.
I had a good son, a good life, both of which I’d fought to achieve. Would I break my vow of celibacy just for this girl?
No. No, I would not. Henry came first. And Phoebe was getting too close, in every sense of the word.
“Maybe tonight isn’t such a good night for star-watching after all,” I said, thrusting myself up into a kneeling position.
Phoebe knew we weren’t really talking about the stars. “I can see them so clearly, though.”
She could see me.
I stood up, and headed to the door, back into the sanctum of this small, fragile life I’d crafted for myself and my son.
Phoebe called after me, “What am I supposed to do for the next three days?”
I shrugged, bitterness flooding my body. I’d never be able to do anything as normal as woo a girl.
“Enjoy Rough and Ready,” I said through clenched teeth. Then, ever the gentleman, I added, “You can get out through the side gate, ‘round the back of the house. Good night, Phoebe.”
With that, I slid open the glass door, and went inside, returning to safety.
CHAPTER 11
Phoebe
OKAY, THAT was totally bullshit, right?!
I was like so close to getting Carter to open up, to be a little honest with me, and then poof — he disappears.
Listen, normally I wouldn’t push that hard. I’m not an unsociable monster with a penchant for making people miserable. I just wanted to know that, before I kissed those scrumptious lips, no woman was gonna come racing out of the woodwork to browbeat me and blame me for the downfall of her marriage.
Is that so much to ask?
You have to know something about someone before you kiss them. Or, maybe that’s not a hard and fast rule for everyone, but it is for me. I’ve had bad experiences. And I didn’t want to repeat that, especially to the tune of being stranded and emotionally bruised for four days while I waited for this car.
Those perfect lips had been right next to me. If I’d moved an inch in, we would’ve been kissing. Instead, I was alone on a picnic blanket in the middle of Rough and Ready. Life sure is a bitch.
I stood up from the blanket, dusting off my back and thighs. There was dirt between my legs when there could’ve been Carter’s cock. I was feeling majorly cheated.
