by Sasha Goldie
"What are you doing, you crazy man?" he asked, laughing as he was swept along in my dance.
"Wooing you," I replied, lowering him into a dip. "I want to take you out on a real date."
He arched his back and lowered his head, exposing his throat. I took the opportunity to kiss it.
"When?" he asked as I pulled him up.
"Tomorrow," I said, twirling him around. He laughed and twirled around the kitchen, striking me with his graceful body.
"What's the rush?" he said, and I realized he'd moved away from me because he was uncomfortable. I stopped moving and faced him. "We could just stay here instead." Moving back toward me, he trailed his hands along my shoulders. I just stood there and let him flutter around as he tried to sugarcoat the fact that he was trying to seduce me out of taking him out on a date.
From behind, he snaked his arms around my side and up my chest, clutching me. "We can even get started right now."
"Why can't I take you on a date?" I asked flatly.
"You can, I just thought it would be better to stay in." He removed his hands. "Why do we need to go out, officially?"
My heart sank. I'd pushed him too fast, but damn it, he'd been with me over a week and spoke of possibly leaving but seemed perfectly content to stay. Why did he insist on sabotaging it?
"I'm going for a run," I said brusquely before going upstairs to change. As I jerked exercise clothes out of the drawers, I stewed on Corey's behavior. What had I done to warrant him consistently pushing me away?
Corey still stood exactly where I'd left him, staring at me. Ignoring the pitiful expression on his face, I took off out the front door. The run was cathartic. I stuck to the neighborhoods, no desire to jog in town where anyone could stop me and ask me why I hadn't put a ring on it yet. In the neighborhoods, people were more likely to just wave as I went by.
My mind wouldn't stop racing, Corey's words running through on repeat. Why do we need to go out?
I ran faster and faster, trying to outrun his voice, but it wouldn't stop. Finally, I gave up and headed back to the house. It was no good. I was too pissed and needed to argue with Corey and get to the bottom of it all.
Corey's whole body moved back and forth rapidly as he wiped down the counter. He was really mad, moving the sponge rapidly over the marble.
"Why would you offer sex instead of a date?" I asked angrily. "Why would you insult me like that? Do you think I just want you for your body and what you can do with it?"
"No, but instead of trying to take me out on a date, I'd rather stay here and be with you!" He threw the sponge in the sink. "Is that so wrong?"
"Yes!" I wanted to hurt him, make him feel the way I had when he'd rejected the idea I'd been planning all day. "If all you want from me is sex, then get over here and suck my fucking dick!"
Corey
Well, this I can understand. Use sex to hurt me, Brady, at least we were in a territory I was familiar with. I wouldn't stumble and fall in that familiar realm of narcissism and sadomasochism.
Brady stared at me as I walked toward him silently. I dropped to my knees, grabbing the elastic waist of his jogging pants and pulling down.
"Stop," he said roughly as he grabbed my hands. "Don't."
I rocked back on my heels, confused and hurt. Did he not want me? Was this it? The big rejection? I'd saved enough money from the diner to go somewhere and maybe even rent an apartment, as long as I got a job right away.
My shoulders sinking, I started to rise, to get my stuff out of his room and take it to the cottage to pack and figure out a ride to Bend.
Brady's hand on my shoulder stopped me. I looked up at him, and the expression on his face lifted my spirits. Maybe he didn't want me to leave after all.
He pressed on my shoulder until I fell back onto my butt, gentle but firm. Brady grabbed the waistband of his boxers I'd worn as shorts since I came home from the diner, drawing them down and off of me.
As I'd promised him, I wore no underwear underneath. I hadn't put on underwear since that night.
My dick didn't make anything easy for him. I was too shocked and hurt that he'd refused to let me go at my own pace. If I wasn't ready for a date, why did he insist on pushing me?
"You're right," he whispered as he took me into his hand, pulling and stroking, caressing and loving me until my cock hardened in his palm. As soon as my head was firm enough, he took it into his mouth, circling it with his tongue.
As physical pleasure coursed through me, emotional pleasure did the same. He'd stopped me. He hadn't let me suck his dick, and to show how much he cared for me, he was willing to suck my dick, to show me he cared. To show me he loved me. I threaded my fingers into Brady's hair, squeezing, not because I was so close to coming into his mouth, but because I was so close to crying. My emotions overwhelmed me, and I had to pull him up and off of me. I couldn't take him anymore. Not like that. "Stop," I whispered.
He looked up at me, confused. "What is it?"
"Not like this, Brady." I kissed him tenderly, moving him until I could pull his pants down as our lips intertwined.
He pushed me down again, onto my back this time, then looked around. "Don't move," he whispered.
Hopping up, I listened to his bare feet slap against the stairs as he ran up. Within seconds, he was back, holding the bottle of lube. Without a word, he rubbed lube all over my cock, then reached behind him and covered himself in it.
"Brady," I whispered. "What are you doing?"
"Loving you," he said as he perched over me, guiding my hard dick to his entrance.
I let him move at his pace. It was the first time he'd offered himself to me in this way, offered to let me into his body. As he lowered himself on me, his tight hole squeezing me and milking me, I laid my head back and watched him as he moved over me, giving himself to me fully in the middle of his kitchen floor.
It was better than any preplanned, romantic night could've been.
As my orgasm built and my emotions swelled, I realized something that had been trying to break through my thick skull for days.
I loved him.
21
Corey
Without any idea what to do to apologize to Brady properly, I decided to make my way to the brewery and set up an official date. Unfortunately, the brewery was too far up the mountain to walk, so I had to call. As soon as I finished my shift at the diner, I headed back to Brady's and googled the number.
"Brewery, this is Carson, how can I help?"
Brady's friend answered the phone after the first ring.
"Hello, I'd like to make a reservation?" I wasn't sure exactly how to go about doing this. I'd never in my life tried to plan a romantic date.
"Oh, uh." Carson sounded confused. "Sure? One sec." I waited while he rustled around. "For when?"
"Tonight? Around six would be good."
"Okay," he said, drawing out his vowels. "Name?"
I started to give my name but didn't want to have to lie about my last name again. "Brady Holmes, please."
"Oh. Ohhh, okay. Yep. It'll all be ready," he said brightly.
"Thank you," I said, hanging up Brady's house line and springing into action. Everything had to be ready.
First, I combed through Brady's closet until I found the perfect summer evening date outfit for him. Then I looked for myself, but he didn't have anything that would work for me.
Time to try grandma again.
Peeking into the second bedroom on the top floor, I looked around at the old lady's belongings. The room was clean and dust-free, but he said he hadn't changed it since she died.
That would have to change if I officially moved in. Time to let go. Tiptoeing in, I felt like I was disturbing a church's sanctuary. "Sorry, Granny, but I need to ransack your closet."
I had decent jeans, but I needed a top.
Her closet was a goldmine. Half the remaining time I had left until Brady came home was spent in a fashion show, me trying on her shirts and jackets while I posed in front of
the full-length mirror. "Granny, you had style," I said as I decided on a gold lamé button-down shirt and black blazer.
Fabulous.
As I'd changed from one outfit to another, I'd hung everything back up, so I didn't have to clean up after myself. I just grabbed the outfit and ran for the cottage, where my toiletries were. I hadn't been fixing my hair up or anything, but tonight warranted a special look.
With one eye on the clock, I took all the time I could primping. Finally, I had a baby-smooth face and my hair was perfect. The best part was that I'd thrown a few pieces of makeup in my bag before I'd left Portland. I’d been in a hurry and hadn’t put them in my missing toiletries bag. Nothing crazy, but I put a little concealer under my eyes and blended it, then the tiniest hint of black eyeliner just at the corner of my eyes. Nobody would even be able to tell it was there unless they looked very closely, but my eyes looked wider and sexier.
Brady and I wore the exact same size shoes, which was hilarious considering how different our body types were. I hightailed it back to his closet and slipped on a pair of black cowboy boots, which tucked perfectly into my jeans.
"Perfect," I whispered excitedly.
I hit the kitchen just in time for Brady to walk in the door, looking like Mr. June in a hot cops calendar. "Hello," I said in a sultry voice, one hand on the doorframe.
Brady stopped dead, his eyes wide. "Hello?" He looked around the kitchen, which didn't have dinner cooking for once.
"Officer, can you please make your way upstairs and change into the clothes laid out for you?"
He nodded, mouth slightly open as he put his lunchbox down and walked toward me. With a roll of my hips, I moved around him so he couldn't touch me. "Hurry," I said in a commanding tone, one hand on my hip and one eyebrow arched.
"Yes, sir," he shouted as he ran up the stairs.
He was back in record time, his short hair needed no fixing. I could tell he'd run his electric razor over his face, taking an extra moment to look nice for me.
"Now what?" he asked, looking around. "Do you have a candlelight dinner laid out somewhere? In the cottage?"
Chuckling, I walked out of the kitchen, into the garage, straight around the truck, and climbed into the passenger seat, staring at Brady expectantly with the door shut. I hoped he hurried, because it was freaking hot.
He scrambled, whirling around and grabbing his keys from the table before skipping out the door and into the truck. He opened the garage door and hit the button to turn the engine over. I cranked up the air. "I wanted to surprise you, but I don't know how to drive, so I can't take us there, and it seemed silly to call a taxi when you've got a perfectly nice truck. So, if you'd please take us to the brewery." I grinned at him and buckled my seatbelt.
Turning toward me, Brady smiled. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” I said.
“How did you run drugs without driving?”
“John runs between towns. He has to drive, sometimes long distances. I ran in the city. Public transportation, small runs. Unobtrusive was my game. I got really, really good at fading into the background and hiding in plain sight.”
As he backed out of the driveway, I took his hand. "How was your day?" We needed a subject change.
Brady told me about a family he'd been helping. The dad had broken his ankle working at home, so his job benefits wouldn't pay anything besides what his health insurance covered. Brady had helped them figure out how to get aid while he recovered. He'd gotten the mom a part-time job at the gas station, which had helped them tremendously. As he told his story, I stared at him, so proud to be forming a relationship with someone that was obviously so kind and cared so much about the citizens of Three Lakes. He was probably the best person I'd ever met. My heart warmed. I actually loved him. Like, a real, honest love. It felt pure.
When we pulled up to the brewery, a woman I didn't know ran up to Brady's truck and opened my door. "This way, please, sirs," she said with a small bow. We walked past tables full of patrons, several waving at Brady and Carson as we walked past.
"Corey," someone hissed. Looking around in surprise, I saw Martha with a long-neck bottle in front of her. She waved crazily. Smiling, I waved back.
As we walked past all the people, Brady and I exchanged a look. I shrugged. "I don't know," I whispered. "All I did was make a reservation."
We walked around the side of the building. "We're going toward the river."
He was right. As the sound of the water grew, a small table came into view. Carson stood by the table. "Welcome to your private dining experience," he said with a silly formal expression on his face. "Please, sit, and we'll bring you our finest orange tea, along with a sampling of appetizers from our delectable truck menu."
Brady burst out laughing, but I was delighted. Carson had realized what I was going for and made it look like I'd planned it all. He held out my chair, and I turned my head away from Brady to whisper, "Thank you."
Carson tucked my chair under me, then squeezed my shoulder with one hand. "Anytime."
The girl had disappeared, but as Carson walked back toward his busy crowd, she reappeared with a tray. Balancing it on one hand, she placed a plate of different appetizers and our drinks in front of us.
"I'll be back with your salads," she said and hightailed it.
"Did you preorder for us?" Brady asked as he snagged a loaded potato skin.
"No," I said with a laugh, grabbing the other one before he could. There were two of everything on the plate. Two hot wings, two mozzarella sticks, two pieces of what looked like pizza. I could've made an entirely unhealthy meal out of the apps. "This is all Carson."
"Apparently," he said as he dipped a chip into the small bowl of queso dip in the middle of the food. "Everyone in town is rooting for us to succeed. People keep asking me if I've put a ring on it."
I snorted. "I don't know about a ring, but I did figure one thing out." I saw the server returning. "Oh, by the way," I said before she was in earshot. "What's her name?"
"Wanda."
She set the house salads on the table. "Finished with the apps?" she asked.
"Not yet," Brady said with a grin.
"I'll just leave these dressing options here for you and be back in a bit." She smiled at both of us as she turned.
"Thank you, Wanda," I called.
"So, what did you figure out?" Brady asked as he pulled what looked like French dressing from the carafe she'd set on the edge of the table. We were going to run out of room if she brought anything else out. I pulled honey mustard out and poured a bit on my salad as I contemplated how to tell him.
He set his dressing down and looked at me, totally invested in what I had to say. I set mine down as well and reached across the small table to stroke his cheek once. Loading my eyes with all the emotion I had inside, I tried to speak, but my throat choked up. Clearing it, I tried again. "I love you, Brady. I'm in love with you."
Staying in Three Lakes, potentially forever, was still a scary prospect, but every day it became less so. "Every day I spend with you, the world seems a little less huge, and a little bit easier to handle. You make me stronger."
His beautiful green eyes filled with tears. "I don't think it's possible that you could be any stronger."
We dug into our salads, talking about the people that had set this up.
"I think they're trying to show you that they accept you," Brady said around a mouthful of veggies. "I know these people, and if they didn't like you, they wouldn't have done anything near like this." He grinned and indicated the rushing river beside us. "I've never seen Carson give this much VIP treatment to anyone else."
Was this what my life could be like? Friends going out of their way to make me happy, make me feel good? Me, willing to do the same for them? It was a wonderful way to live.
If they were really willing to do this for Brady—and realistically, they might've not done it if they didn't like me, but they definitely wouldn't have done it if they didn't love
Brady, then maybe he really was this amazing, all the time. Like the family he'd helped. He didn't just want to save me. He wanted to save everyone. Just like he was once saved.
Fucking hell, he really was this perfect.
Brady
"Will you take a walk with me?" I asked. He nodded eagerly as he chewed the last bit of his decadent chocolate dessert. I loved how he was unafraid to eat or be normal around me. Nothing felt awkward.
We walked slowly along the river, hand in hand. The urge to talk wasn't there, just enjoying each other's company was great. I found a bench in a clearing that I'd long forgotten was there. "I forgot about this place," I said. "When the mine was condemned, this area was off-limits, but my parents brought me up here a few times to swim where it was private. They weren't worried about crossing the property line."
Dusting off the bench, we sat and stared out at the water.
"Do you have many good memories of them?" he asked softly as we looked out at the water.
"Some, yeah. But I think my grandma had something to do with some of them. Like, I always had a great Christmas morning. Tons of presents. And they were reckless, but to a child, it seemed like fun. One year we packed up and drove to the beach during the middle of the school year, and they let me stay out of school. We just spent one night, but they didn't have any money, so we slept in the car, swam all day, then drove home. Looking back, it was irresponsible and totally feckless, but at the time it was just fun. Another time, they drove us up into the mountains to cut down a Christmas tree, but now I know we stole it from state-protected land. They could've gone to jail."
"I can understand their headspace, unfortunately. You should look back on those memories and know they probably did those things from a good place." He shook his head sadly. "Maybe them letting you go was the best thing for you. Them getting clean would've been ideal, of course, but sometimes you have to let go." He sank into silence, watching the water froth against the rocks.
