by Tina Martin
I take a seat on the sofa opposite of him. “It was good, and FYI, you don’t have to leave now that I’m here if you were in the middle of watching something.”
“I wasn’t watching anything. I was laying here dozing off. I told myself I wouldn’t go to bed until I knew you made it home safely.”
“That’s sweet, but you don’t have to do that. I might mess around and get used to it. You won’t be here forever to be checking up on me like that.”
He looks at me.
I look back at him.
Silence fills my fragrant living room.
Cain frowns a little and then leans forward to place the remote on the coffee table. I don’t know what to make of his facial expression.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Huh?”
“You look like something’s wrong.”
“It’s nothing,” he says, standing.
“Oh, now it’s you who’s withholding things.”
“I’m not—I—I just didn’t like the idea of it all.”
“Of what?”
“Of you being here alone with no one to watch over you.”
“I’ve been doing it for a long time, Cain. You don’t have to worry about me. Besides, you’re the only man who’s ever broken into my house.”
He beams. “And you’re never going to let me forget it.”
“Nope. I should’ve called the cops. You think they would’ve bought your crock-pot story?”
I fall over laughing.
He looks amused to the point that I can see him trying his hardest not to laugh.
“Seriously, though, woman…I think I have a right to be concerned.”
“Explain.”
He hesitates at first but finally says, “When I leave, who’ll be over here cutting your grass, helping you fix things. I can’t imagine you out there in the heat trying to cut your own grass and doing other stuff that, quite frankly, a man should be doing.”
“I appreciate your concern, Cain, but I know how to get stuff done. I don’t want you worrying about little ol’ me back here in Knightdale when you have your own life to rebuild.”
“I’ll still worry.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a good woman, Ahmalee. You have a good heart. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of that.”
I place a hand on top of his and assure him, “I’ll be fine.”
He takes my hand and put it flat against his, palm-to-palm, then interlock our fingers. “I know you will.”
He gives me a half-smile. Seems he can’t take his eyes off of my lips. When he’s finally able to, he releases my hand and says, “Thank you for the food and for letting me have your place for the night.”
I stand up and stretch. I say, “You don’t have to leave.” It should’ve come out as ‘I don’t want you to leave’.
“I do. I need to get some sleep and so do you. You have to work in the morning.”
“Oh, right.”
I wrap my arms around him then attempt to kiss him on the jaw, but even on my tiptoes, he’s too tall.
“What are you doing, Ahmalee?”
“Trying to give you a goodnight kiss. Hold on.”
I step up on the sofa. Now, I’m slightly taller than he is. “That’s better,” I say. I lean forward to press my lips against his beard. Then I wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze. I feel his arms circle around my waist. Oh, how good this feels…
He chuckles. “All that effort and you give me one single kiss on the cheek.”
“Shh…don’t ruin this for me,” I say, inhaling his scent and enjoying the feeling of being in his arms. Having dinner with the girls tonight made me truly realize how short-term this arrangement is. I won’t have Cain here for much longer.
I loosen the grip I have on him and, eye-to-eye with my arms loosely around his neck, I ask, “And what’s wrong with a single kiss on the cheek?”
“Nothing,” he says. He moves closer to me until his lips are a breath away from mine and whispers, “It just wasn’t enough.”
And then I feel our lips touch. He doesn’t kiss me. He’s just close. Like, really close. He wants me to make the first move, I presume. I lose myself in his eyes for a moment until my eyes crawl down the bridge of his nose, to his mustache, to his lips and then I take the bait. I lean forward, press my lips to his. Softly. I bring my hands to his beard and allow his prickly hair to tickle my hands. Feels different now – different than before. I repeat this process, strumming his lips with mine until I’m confident enough to make a real attempt to kiss him.
I close my eyes, pull his bottom lip between mine, then the top. At the same time, I feel his arms constrict around me. Those strong arms. At this point, I don’t know if my feet are still on the sofa or if he’s holding me up.
My hands were still on his beard until he squeezed me. Then they went to his head. I grab two handfuls of dreads and concentrate on making sure I’m doing this right. Kissing him, softly. Passionately.
I must be. I hear his groans. Feel the way he’s holding me – holding me like I’m a prized possession of his. The way his body tells me he wants more when he squeezes me even closer, securing me to his frame. For a moment, I forget what day it is. What year it is. Shoot, where’d I just come from? I’m in the zone until he slides his tongue in my mouth. Overwhelmed, I snatch away from him.
I think it’s nerves. I haven’t kissed anyone in forever and this level of attraction to Cain is a shock to me.
He looks confused but helps me off of the sofa and when my feet are on the floor and I’m standing in front of him again, he says, “I’m going to go. Have a goodnight, Ahmalee.”
I’m too stunned to say anything back. I’m still in the land of fantasy. Did we just kiss? Why do I feel like I’m floating? Did we really kiss?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ahmalee
“Don’t go in there, girl! You already know he’s in the room. You know he’s up in that room. What are you doing?”
I toss popcorn in my mouth after yelling at the TV. My Saturday evening ritual of binge-watching Lifetime movies is starting to get on my nerves. These women actresses always gotta learn the hard way, don’t they? Got my blood pressure going up for absolutely nothing. It’s fictional, I know, but they gotta do better.
“Are you kidding me? What you gon’ do with a knife? He’s got a gun, sweetheart!”
I reach to take a glass of red wine from the end table. After taking a sip, I yell, “Ruuun! Run girl. OMG! Why are you just standing there looking stupid?”
“What are you doing?”
Cain’s voice almost startled me right into a stroke. “Jesus, Cain! What are you doing here?”
He thinks it’s funny. “You left the back door open.”
“So, that gives you a right to waltz on into my house because I left the door unlocked?”
“That’s usually what that means.”
“I thought we agreed you’d alert me to your presence after the photo album incident? And why’s your shirt wet?”
“It’s starting to rain. A storm is supposed to be rolling through tonight.”
Just as he says that, a bright flash of lightning blankets the sky followed by a loud, crackling boom. I cringe. Me and storms don’t get along.
“You all right?”
“No. I hate storms.”
“Why?”
“I always did, but I got my hero here now, so I’m good. Come sit down. I got popcorn and some chicken strips.”
He sits next to me, takes one of the chicken strips and dips it in the honey mustard sauce.
I watch him chew. Neither of us has brought up the impromptu kiss from Thursday night. We’ve both done a good job of pretending it never happened, but I certainly will never forget it. Nor will I forget the dreams thereafter – dreams that could only be dreams because of how good they were.
More thunder comes – has me all messed up now.
“You really are scared, aren’t you?”
“Look—I was that kid who ran to my parents’ bedroom whenever a storm came.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“I was. No lie. I legitimately hate storms.”
“Storms are relaxing to me,” he says, eating more chicken.
“Why?”
He shrugs his massive shoulders. “It just never bothered me.”
“Because you’re a big, strong, hairy man—yeah, I get it.”
“How much of that wine have you drank, young lady?”
“This is my second glass. Why?”
“I can tell.”
“You can tell?” I say amused. “I’m not tipsy, for your information.”
“I didn’t say you were. You’re just extremely relaxed, well until the thunder comes.”
And more thunder erupts. My whole body jumps. I grab the blanket I keep on my couch and cover my entire body including my head. I can hear Cain laughing.
“Calm down, girl.”
“Go on…laugh it up,” I say, my voice muffled since I’m beneath the covers. He’s still chuckling.
“I know what to do,” he says, getting up from the couch. I hear his footsteps trek down the hallway and then quickly come back this way. He sits down again and pulls my feet into his lap.
I peep from up under the blanket. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you relax.”
He’s holding a bottle of Ivy and Eden Sweet Almond massage oil. He opens the cap, pours oil in his hand and sets the bottle on the end table. He rubs his hands together before sandwiching my toes in between those large hands of his. I didn’t know it would cause me to moan, but it feels so good, so relaxing, I can’t hold it in. I pinch my lips closed – that doesn’t work. I close my eyes and try to focus on something else. That works for a moment until he digs his thumb into the arch of my foot. The man has me grabbing the couch cushions for stability. I’m losing it.
I peep from beneath the covers to watch him work and those laser-brown eyes are staring directly at me.
“You okay?”
“Ah—um—I—uh—what was your question?”
He laughs.
“Stop laughing.”
“You’re funny, girl—acting like you’ve never had a man massage your pretty feet?”
“I haven’t.”
“You’re a liar.”
I’m all giggles. “I’m not lying.”
“What about that boyfriend you kicked to the curb?”
“He was too busy massaging other women’s feet to be worried about mine.”
“Dang. Was he your only relationship?”
“Mmm—this feels so good,” I say, ignoring his question. “Where have you been all my life?”
“Stop it,” he says, pouring more oil.
“I’m serious. This feels sooo good. You have gifted hands.”
Thunder bursts into what sounds like a tree splitting in half. I don’t jump. Don’t budge. Cain’s got me feeling euphoric. Nothing else matters. I wouldn’t care if the roof flew off this place at this point. I’d be lying right here, enjoying this.
“Do you think you can handle it if I massaged your other foot?”
“Mmm-hmm. Definitely. I can handle it.”
He laughs. “I don’t think you can.” He pours oil directly onto my left foot. I moan again. Over and over. He digs his thumb in my arch. Squeezes my toes. The storm is a thing of the past. It’s still happening, but I’m completely unbothered. Cain’s got me drifting.
“Ahmalee.”
“Yes?” I say, regaining awareness. It’s when I realize he’s on the floor next to me. His face is like right there, in kissing distance from mine. “Weren’t you just rubbing my feet?”
“I was until I realized you’d dozed off.”
“I did not,” I say when I know I probably did. I have no recollection of him moving from the couch to the floor.
“You made me go to sleep with those magic hands of yours,” I say yawning.
He grins. “Come on. I’m taking you to bed.”
“I’m fine right here.”
“No. You have a bed. Let’s go,” he says, picking me up. I just go with it. What choice do I have now, anyway? Besides, I kinda like being carried.
Cain lowers me to the bed and says, “The storm should let up soon. I’ll clean up in the living room before I leave.”
“You’re not my butler—don’t need you cleaning up after me.”
“Rest, Ahmalee. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“No. Stop.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t want you to go yet. Can you stay for a while? At least until I fall asleep?”
“How can I say no to you?” he asks in a low rumble.
He sits on the bed with a knee up just slightly. His other foot rests on the floor.
I say, “It’s my fault he broke up with me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My ex from a looong time ago. It was my fault.”
“Why was it your fault?”
“Because he only wanted to—you know.”
“No, I don’t know. Tell me.”
“He wanted to sleep with me, but every time I would bring up marriage, he brushed it off like it wasn’t something he wanted when he knew from the beginning it’s what I wanted. So, he cheated. I don’t even know if I consider it cheating. He was gonna leave me, anyway.”
I sigh and continue my wine-induced confessions with him when I say, “I just always wanted the fairytale. I’m not a goody-two-shoes like people think. I want to fall in love. I want to lose my mind, my heart and my soul to someone.”
“I just took all three of those while massaging your feet.”
He joins me in laughter.
I say, “My body is a temple. It’s something sacred. I don’t want to go through a handful of men to find the one that was meant for me.”
“You just want the man to magically appear one day?”
“Yeah, and if he doesn’t, it’ll just be me and my candles. Not cats. Candles.”
He grins with me. “People are gonna start calling you the candle lady.”
“They already do.” I yawn. “So, that’s why I reacted the way I did when you massaged my feet. I’m not used to being touched.”
“I see.”
I stretch and move to a different spot on the pillow. “It sounds like the rain is getting heavier now.” As soon as I make the statement, the light flickers. “Shoot. The power might go out.”
“It only flickered once,” Cain says.
“That’s what happened the last time the power went out. It blinked once and then like five minutes later, it was out. Can you bring those candles from the living room in here just in case?”
“Sure.”
He goes to get them. Before he’s able to return, the lights flicker again, go completely out and don’t blink back on.
“There it goes!” I say, uneasy. “All this money I pay for electricity and these fools can’t keep the power on through some heavy rain!”
“Anything could’ve happened out there,” Cain says, stepping into my bedroom with two aromatherapy candles. “A tree might’ve fallen on a line or something. It sounds pretty bad out there.” He sets the candles on the nightstand.
“I don’t know if I feel comfortable with you out there in that camper with it storming like this, so stay a while.”
“Don’t front like you’re concerned for my well being. You want me to stay because you’re scared to death, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
He sits on the bed again. I close my eyes, try to stay awake to keep him company, but I’m exhausted. Exhaustion plus wine equals sleep. I find Cain’s hand and tug at it, trying to pull him closer to me. He comes, lays in front of me. His arm is around me. I can’t describe how safe and secure I feel in his arms.
I touch his face, rest the palm of my hand on his beard. “I’m glad I met you. Or should I say, I’m glad you stalked me.”
“Either would be acceptable.”
I smile.
He says, “Promise me you won’t be this trusting with anyone else.”
“I’m not this trusting. Seems weird, I know, but I’m really not. Something is just different about you.”
“Different how?”
“Different in the aspect that I felt compelled to do whatever I needed to do to help you. I’ve never felt that before, just like I never felt an urge to kiss someone.”
I stroke my hand along his beard. His eyes dance around my face, studying me.
“But you weren’t comfortable with that. You pulled away from me.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“I just—I don’t know. I’m not used to being so close to someone.”
“But you make yourself available to be close to me.”
So, he’s noticed…
“Yeah. I’m guilty of that. I enjoy your company very much, Cain. I meant it when I said that, and I mean it now. I don’t tolerate you. I genuinely like being near you. Your energy is addictive.” I brush my thumb across his lips.
“You probably shouldn’t do that, Ahmalee.”
“Why not?”
“It just might awaken my lips to want more of what they couldn’t get Thursday night.”
“Is that right?” I ask, watching him rise to an elbow.
“Yeah. That’s right. And I like being with you, too. It’s not every day I meet an angel.”
A rumble of thunder comes roaring through, but it’s not louder than the drumming of my heart when I see the flames from my candles dance in Cain’s rum-colored eyes. And then he comes down to me. His lips meet mine again. This time, I’m more at ease but still anxious.
He kisses me softly. Tenderly. He kisses me with care, like he’s determined it’s all I can handle.
The storm no longer bothers me. The storm in his eyes causes a little apprehension, but I’m not afraid. I know Cain won’t hurt me.
He takes his time, toying with my lips, tattering kisses all round my mouth like he’s afraid I’ll back away if he’s too aggressive with his tongue this time. Then he stops, looks at me and says, “You’re a good woman, Ahmalee Hayes. Too good for a man like me.”
