Out Of The Blue

by P. Dangelico

  “I know you don’t want me.” I pause to hammer home the reality of this and find his face as opaque and hard to read as always. Nothing is getting through. “I get that you’re going through whatever you’re going through after the divorce. That you miss your ex-wife and probably still love her. I respect that… Now I need you to respect my wishes. I explained to you where I’m at. I don’t need a bodyguard. I need a… I need a friend and a lover. I need a partner. I need what I need. Have I sufficiently scared you? Can you go now?”

  His gaze roams my face, taking in every detail. But I still have no idea what he’s thinking because he won’t let me see it. It’s infuriating.

  “I’m not going anywhere, shirina.”

  “I’m not your sweetheart.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  Seriously? Has he heard a word I said? I put a lot into that speech. “No, I’m not––I mean yes, I’m hungry. But I’m on a date, so I can’t… go have food with you.”

  He looks left and right. “You’re on a date?” He nods. “Where is he?”

  I start walking because this is not going anywhere I want it to go. He doesn’t miss a step; he’s right behind me the entire way. I make a hard right turn when I smell funnel cakes. At the booth, I order and hold out the cash to pay for mine, but he beats me to the punch and pays the guy making them before I can.

  “You can’t buy my food. I’m on a date.”

  I stuff the funnel cake in my mouth while he watches. I’m too far gone to care what he thinks of me, and no, I’m not a dainty eater.

  Once in a while he breaks eye contact to scan the crowd for this supposed threat Brandon spoke of, the motorcycle gang. Then he returns to looking down his nose at me.

  “You need protein. All that sugar isn’t good for you.”

  “Really?” I say, staring up at him with my cheeks stuffed with funnel cake. “How else can I rearrange my life to make it more acceptable to your impossibly high standards?”

  “You could be less of a wise ass. You can start there.”

  Oh, he did not just go there…

  “Okay, this is…” I gesture with my hands. “We’re not doing this. I’m going to see Johnny now. At his booth. He’s my date. You cannot come with me.”

  I walk away again and Shane follows. He hangs back a little, but I know he’s literally a step away. At one point, I stop, because I’m not sure which direction the Barrios booth is and he nearly runs me over.

  “Can you step off?” I grind out between my molars.

  It’s the smug expression peering down at me that raises my hackles. “I’m just making sure you’re safe.”

  Damn you, Brandon. If he hadn’t said anything about the motorcycle gang, I wouldn’t have to lose the tail.

  “Can you do that from somewhere else, preferably out of sight?”

  Shane crosses his arms. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

  “You’re six feet two. Somewhere around two hundred and thirty pounds. How do you suppose I do that? Poke my eyes out?” My blood pressure is about to hit three thousand.

  Looking down at me with that freaking air of superiority, he has the audacity to sigh. As if this is all so boring to him. “Six foot three.”

  I scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re six foot two and a half, at best.” Because I’m petty like that. I continue walking and swear I hear a burst of laughter coming from him. Or I could be imagining it.

  Pushing through the crowd of people, I finally spot the Barrios booth and Johnny, smiling at customers lined up to buy his vegetable dishes.

  Johnny sees me approach and smiles broadly. I manage to plaster a smile on my face for him; it’s the least I can do. This thing with Shane is spiraling out of control and turning into something I don’t know how to handle. I could ride it out for the next three weeks until he’s gone, but that would make me weak and pathetic.

  “Hi, your parents aren’t here?” I ask him when he comes around the outside of the booth and plants a kiss on my cheek. His breath is warm, his cheek is smooth, and he smells all wrong. Of expensive cologne instead of pine and sandalwood. I don’t think Johnny and I are going to be a thing.

  “No, they pulled the day shift. They’re getting too old for this stuff anyway. We do it to contribute to the community more than anything else.”

  That makes sense. Their orchard has been family-owned and operated for fifty years. They don’t need the publicity.

  “Here, try some of the sautéed heirloom baby vegetables with aioli sauce on the side.”

  The food is wonderful and it doesn’t surprise me that Johnny is a great cook. He graduated from the N.Y. Culinary Institute and had just moved back to Ojai the same time I did.

  “I’d like to try a little of everything.” I hear Shane’s voice and my back snaps straight. He’s standing at the booth, cash in hand. While Johnny prepares his food tray, Shane says, “We didn’t get a chance to meet the other day when you came by. I’m Aidan Hughes’ brother.”

  “Hey man, nice to meet you,” Johnny cordially replies. “Enjoy the food.”

  Shane pays for his food and remains standing next to me eating like he has a right to. Because that’s not awkward at all.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” I say under my breath, more to myself than to anyone else. “Johnny, thank you, but I think I’m taking off.”

  “Already?”

  Sensing my discomfort, he glances at Shane and his ever-present smile slides off his face. I hate this. I hate that Shane had to ruin this evening, not so much for me, but for Johnny. He doesn’t deserve this bullshit.

  “Are you sure? ’Cause I can get rid of this guy for you.”

  Johnny is five feet ten inches and built like a tank. He could probably give Shane some serious trouble. It’s that I don’t want to give him any trouble.

  Placing my hand on Johnny’s forearm, I say, “I’m sure you can, but it’s not necessary. Your family needs you and I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble.”

  Begrudgingly, he nods.

  “I’ll see you next week for our usual exchange?” I ask, meaning the manure and produce swap. I don’t want to give him false hope for anything more than that.

  Johnny’s lips lift, but he doesn’t mean it. His attention is still on Shane who doesn’t seem to care.

  I walk away, headed for the exit when all hell breaks loose. Two shots ring out and the crowd screams, everyone hitting the ground at once. It’s mayhem. Shane pushes me to the ground so fast he knocks the wind out of me. A beat later, while high pitched screams and squeals persist, I see Ojai PD running in the direction of the where the shots rang out.

  “Keep your head down and don’t move.”

  Suddenly, Shane is gone. I can’t feel his body draped over me anymore. With his body heat missing, I can’t stop shaking.

  I lift my head to see people standing and quickly ushering their kids out the front gate of the fairgrounds. I think of Brandon and the kids and pray he got out safely. I stand and see Johnny still crouched behind his tables. He looks justifiably terrified.

  Other than the shakes, I’m okay. A bit bruised, but better than most. Glancing around, I see lots of women and children crying.

  I’m dusting off my now-wrecked dress, it’s stained possibly beyond repair, when Shane reappears. He looks shaken, like something got jarred loose inside of him. He takes a few steps in my direction. Then a few more. The final few we take together. When he reaches me, he wraps me in his arms and holds me so tightly that for a moment I doubt he’ll ever let me go.

  Breathing out harshly, he turns his mouth to meet the skin of my neck and kisses me there. Then he inhales me and kisses me again. Being held like this by him is a fever dream I don’t want to wake from. I almost can’t believe it’s happening.

  Feeling bold, I cradle his head in my hands and kiss him and he kisses me back. It’s exactly as I remember it. Hungry and hard and soft and sweet at the same time. It’s perfect in every way. Like we were made for ea
ch other. Now what?

  “Let’s get out of here,” he says.

  Chapter 16

  Once we get back to the Cobra and slip inside, we both sit quietly for a minute, getting our bearings. The parking lot emptied out at an alarmingly fast clip. We’re practically the last ones here.

  “What happened?” I ask, my curiosity outweighing my concern.

  I somehow feel like myself again. The person I was before the assault. Something happened to me tonight, snapping me back into place. It’s like my psyche got an adjustment. It does not look like Shane got the same benefit.

  “Brandon was right. Hessians,” he tells me, staring straight ahead. His fingers stroke the bottom of the steering wheel. Strong hands, blunt long fingers. He won’t look at me and I have to wonder why. “Drug bust gone bad with undercover cops. One of them got shot in the stomach. It didn’t look good when I got there. He was bleeding out pretty quickly.”

  “I could’ve helped.” Instinctively, I know I could have. No part of me feels scared or threatened anymore. And now that I think about it, I didn’t feel any anxiety when the shots rang out. That total calm that I’ve known most of my life is back. I’m liberated. I’m me again.

  Shane shakes his head. “A miracle’s the only thing that could’ve helped that guy.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He nods, but his demeanor doesn’t match his words. “Why did you and that guy call off the engagement?”

  That guy? The question throws me for a loop. I have to think about how to explain.

  “Looking back, we were wrong for each other. I would’ve probably stayed married to him, maybe unhappily, for the rest of my life… But then I got jumped and the rose-colored glasses came off. Hard times will do that to any relationship––make you see the best and the worst in people more clearly…”

  He glances over at me in the dark and takes me in, looking at me as if he’s seeing me for the very first time.

  “He didn’t want to touch me after… like I was damaged goods. I broke it off after a session with a therapist we were seeing. He said––and I’ll never forget this––he said, ‘at least you weren’t raped.’ I knew then that I had grossly misjudged him… Worst part is he made me doubt my own judgement.”

  “No person should ever be the reason you doubt yourself.”

  He starts the engine and we ride the rest of the short way home in silence. It’s a comfortable silence, though. Not like the last time when it was fraught with tension. I’m at peace with whatever happens between us. Tonight was a great reminder that you can’t control life. It’s going to be what it’s going to be.

  He pulls the Cobra up to the guesthouse and kills the engine, the dark creating a cozy cocoon for two. Neither one of us makes a move to get out.

  “What do you want, Shane?” I say cutting to the chase. “Because you run more hot and cold than a fever. And frankly, I’m sick of it.”

  “You.” It comes out direct and clear. There’s no questioning what he meant.

  “Me?” I turn to see his face, to confirm what I’m hearing, but what I get is his profile. I get his chin, his sharp jaw, the straight line of his nose. What I don’t get are his eyes. The windows to his soul.

  He exhales and looks at me then. His eyes burning with pent-up frustration and lust, so much lust and greedy need that I want to reach out and touch his face and crawl onto his lap and give him everything he can’t ask for.

  “I want you morning, noon, and night,” he rasps. “I want you when you’re being a pain in the ass, and I want you when you’re playing Frank Sinatra to a heartsick donkey… I want you so badly I can taste you in my dreams; I’ve fucked you so many times there I can’t even count. Don’t ever doubt whether I want you.”

  I swallow, my skin burning hot all over, and an uncomfortable empty feeling growing between my legs. “So then why don’t you have me?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you. Why do you think I’ve been trying so hard not to touch you?”

  My temper spikes. I can’t with this horse crap anymore. “I didn’t take you for a coward.”

  Throwing open the car door, I get out and march across the driveway in my messed up dress. The same dress that I’ll probably have to throw out due to another disastrous night in which I did not get laid. End of horror story.

  I hear him coming before I can feel him. Less than a second later, he hauls me up in his arms and throws me over his shoulder. I have to slap a hand over my mouth to stop the yelp that could’ve woken Aidan and Mona. The last thing we need is nosy family getting involved.

  A few ground-eating strides and he’s opening the door of the guesthouse. A few seconds more and he’s closing and locking it behind us. He places me down on my feet and mumbles, “I’m done doing the right thing.”

  Taking my face in both hands, he kisses me. He pushes his way into my mouth with his tongue and does to it what I want him to do to the rest of me. Is this attraction rife with danger? Yes, it is. But what’s the alternative? Not seeing where this could lead?

  “You’re the most beautiful and maddening woman I’ve ever met,” he grunts out between kisses. His hands stroke down my neck and grab on to the edge of my cardigan. He pulls it off my shoulders without an ounce of care. The frenzied kissing continues even as I grab the bottom of his t-shirt and rip it up. With his help, I manage to get it over his head. It falls to the floor on top of my cardigan.

  “Gloves are off,” I hear him mutter.

  This one’s chatty when he’s messing around and quiet when he’s not. Go figure.

  I kiss him back, lifting my hips and wrapping my legs around his waist. It’s like throwing gasoline on a fire. The sexual tension is on the verge of exploding.

  “Yes, da zrra qarara. Grind yourself against me,” he continues, sounding like he swallowed broken glass in a language I will never understand. Have mercy, it’s sexy, though. His warm, calloused hands slip easily under my dress and under my boy short panties. He cups my ass, squeezing the cheeks. Any harder and I’ll have bruises tomorrow.

  Still kissing, he carries me to the bedroom and gently places me on the bed. It’s an unexpectedly sweet gesture. I was almost certain he was going to drop me on the mattress. I’m up on my elbows and he stops and looks down at me with wonder on in his eyes and a ghost of a smile on his face.

  “Are you sure you want to do this with me?” he asks in that low, quiet rasp of his. “There’s no turning back after tonight.”

  “You’re the only one I want to do this with, Shane. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been waiting a long time for you… No regrets, ever.”

  And it’s true. I have never before felt this level of attraction in mind and body and spirit to another person. Whenever I’m with him, it’s like I’m an explorer. Sometimes he lets me see into his heart and mind. And sometimes I hit a dead end. But I’m always excited to learn more. I’m always excited to try again.

  Taking one leg at a time, he grabs the heel of my red boot and slides it off my foot, dropping it on the floor. Then he rolls my ankle sock off and drops it next to the boot. He takes the other boot and sock and does the same.

  After each sock comes off, he rubs my painted toes and watches my reaction with a sly smile. Between all the bluster coming out of him and the hard surfaces on him, I forgot who I was dealing with: a romantic. Shane is a romantic at heart, whether he likes it or not. And I’m starting to suspect that Eamon Shane Hughes has feelings for me like I have for him.

  He grabs the fly of his jeans and deliberately unbuttons them slowly. I’m riveted on every finely-honed muscle called into action as he pushes his jeans and boxer briefs down in a single motion. This show alone is worth the price of admission.

  His dick springs free and it’s a beast, hard and thick and nearly reaching his stomach, the dark hair surrounding it neatly trimmed down. He steps out of his pants and walks over to the bed where I’ve gone into a trance watching him stroke himself slowly.

  “You�
��re so beautiful I don’t know which part I want to touch first,” I hear myself mutter like a sex-deprived lunatic out on bail.

  “They’re all yours to touch, shirina. Every part of me is yours whenever you want.”

  I don’t dig into what he just said. I haven’t been happier or more satisfied in years and I don’t want to ruin the moment by thinking. Bad stuff usually follows when that starts.

  Shane crawls on to the bed and I move backward to make room him. None of it feels foreign or awkward like it did the first time I slept with Jaime. This feels natural to me. Like coming back into a warm home after being out in the cold all day.

  His fingers hook onto the hem of my dress and he drags it up as he moves over me. I raise my hips, and together, we take it off. Afterward, he makes quick work of my bra.

  My breasts bounce free and he runs one hand back and forth over them while he kisses me deeply. He strokes them with confidence. His touch magic and knowledge, the work of someone who knows what he’s doing and promises great sex.

  The heat from his hands and the pads of his fingertips, rough from the day working hard restoring the barn, sends sparks racing across my skin, pebbling my nipples, and making my thighs clench shut.

  “You like that?” he murmurs in my ear as I squirm, silently begging for more.

  “Yes, don’t stop,” I nearly whine, my eyes screwed shut from pleasure.

  His hand leaves my breasts and move south to my panties. He drags them down and off without wasting time. One hand strokes between my legs and cups me while his mouth latches on to one nipple and pulls, then the other. My body arches off the bed. My legs fall open without anyone asking. Not even an open sesame. I am done. This man owns me now. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. And from his hands and mouth alone. I can’t even imagine what his dick can do.

  “You’re not coming until I’m inside you.” Abruptly, he sits up and leans over the bed. It’s a bucket of cold water. I was seconds from euphoria and he ripped the celebration away before the party could get started.

  Opening the side table, he grabs a condom out of there and puts it between his teeth. Last time I checked that drawer, there was only Chapstick and reading glasses. “Those weren’t in there last time I checked.”