See You in September : The Refuge Series Book One

by Debbie Zello

  “You’re welcome,” he said, smiling. He fixed her coffee and brought it to her. Sitting next to her he said, “Whenever you’re ready, I’m a good listener. If it’s none of my business, then I’m a good dryer.” She smiled and he took that to mean at least she’d heard him.

  It took her several more minutes of sitting there sipping her coffee and leaning against his chest before she spoke, “My ex came by. He’s in some trouble and wants me to bail him out. I told him to leave me alone. But I know he can have me subpoenaed, so I will have to help him whether or not I want to.”

  “That’s what upset you so?”

  “He made it sound like I was somehow responsible for his ‘proclivities’ as he called them. Him wanting a man. I was not very adventurous and had to be talked into things. Other things I flat out said no to. I always have a thousand thoughts running through my head…sometimes it’s hard to hold on to one for any length of time. He always wanted to be creative and I wanted normal. Does that make any sense?”

  “Making sense from this mess isn’t going to happen. This much I know; you could never turn a heterosexual man into a bi-sexual or a homosexual. They are born that way, not inspired or convinced to do it.

  “I know that some people are curious and might try it once or twice. But if you continue, then you simply are what you are. It’s like raw oysters. I tried one, once. I didn’t like it sliding down my throat, it made me gag, I’m a chewer. I told you I like folds and no dick in this world is going to make me change to it. You are what you are,” he chuckled.

  “How could I have not seen it though? If he was always so inclined, how come I didn’t notice it, could I be that dense?”

  “I’m told by practiced gay people who either can’t or won’t come out that it’s relatively easy to fool the naive, and you, my darling, are that. They can make love to you and you won’t know it.”

  “Thank you for saving me again. You’re going to get tired of always coming to my rescue. I wouldn’t blame you,” she said sadly.

  “Hey,” he said lifting her chin to look at him. “All I did was dry you off and make you a non-orgasmic cup of coffee. Why were you out in the rain anyway?” he asked curiously.

  “He left and I started to feel sick. First, I went out to get some air but I began to throw up. I hadn’t eaten anything so I was just retching. I went out to the sand and got lost in looking at the ocean. I don’t know how long I was there before you found me.”

  “Long enough to be soaked through and shivering cold. You’re welcome to stay here or I can walk you back to your place so you can get into your own clothes,” he said offering.

  Cheri suddenly jumped up and said, “Oh my God my sauce! I left it simmering on the stove. I’m supposed to make you dinner.” She went to his door and swung it open. He was right behind her as she ran between the raindrops to her place.

  She threw open her door to see that all was well with her sauce. It was still simmering and smelled even better than before. “Oh, thank you, I didn’t burn the house down with my stupidity,” she turned, expecting to see Gareth right behind her. Instead, he was waiting just outside her door.

  “What are you waiting for? Come in!” she said. He opened the screen door and walked in. He looked around her place with a smile. It was a carbon copy of the one he was renting except it was uniquely hers.

  He could see her quirky craft projects dominating the space. He liked the walls that didn’t touch the ceiling, allowing for her treasures to be displayed. The entire space felt light and airy. His cottage was much darker in its style, and spoke of an older owner. “I like your place, Cheri. It looks just like you. Light and sweet, just how I like my coffee.”

  “ I forgot you haven’t been inside here. I’ve been at your cottage so many times but you were only on my porch. Why is that?”

  “I haven’t been invited in. I won’t come in unless I’m invited,” he explained.

  “You’re invited in any time you want. How’s that?” she grinned.

  “Sorry, not good enough for me. I need you to say it each and every time.”

  “Why?”

  “I had a problem with a woman who said I didn’t have her permission. I’ll never let that happen again. I won’t come in your house unless you invite me in. Same thing goes for your bedroom, bed, and you. I’ll kiss you, hold your hand and put my arm around you. Nothing happens south of your shoulders unless you specifically say the words,” he said with his eyes down.

  “I don’t believe it. There isn’t any way that you took advantage of a woman.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t. Saying it and proving it are two different things. She said I raped her. I said it was consensual because it was. She said she was pregnant as a result. I said no way, I used a condom and it didn’t break. I always make sure of that.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was in the service. She wanted a Marine and picked me. We had sex twice before at a motel down the road from my base. Luckily, she had used the same motel for other rendezvous with unsuspecting soldiers.

  “I took a polygraph and she refused to. I passed and with the testimony from the desk clerk and other Marines that knew her, I was exonerated. However, the accusation was still on my record. I would have never received another promotion because of it. So when my papers were up, I got out.”

  “Would you have stayed, if not for that?”

  “I was a Staff Sergeant and on my way to Gunnery. I would have been a lifer, I loved it,” he said, sorrowfully.

  “Then what did you do?” she asked softly.

  “I had a bachelor’s degree in business management. I went back to school on the government and took, don’t laugh, video production and direction.”

  “Now why would I laugh? So do you make pornos or something?”

  “Not exactly, they’re romantic comedies. The kind that Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks might make.”

  “Are you any good at it?”

  “Someone thinks so. I have an Oscar for production, two for directing, and one for best picture,” he said quietly. Cheri dropped her spoon.

  Chapter Seven

  “You must think I’ve been living under a rock or something. I don’t read magazines or watch much television. I can’t remember the last movie I went to see. I’m sorry I didn’t know who you were,” she said, completely embarrassed and trying to explain herself.

  “I’m glad you didn’t. It was very nice just being me. Not having to act like the pompous ass that most people expect me to be. These last few days with you have been a real vacation. The best I have ever had,” he said, sweetly touching her cheek.

  “Still, someone who has earned that kind of honor should be on my radar at least.”

  “Not necessarily. If you’re not a movie buff, why would you? I don’t keep up with the news on enchanting attorneys.”

  “Only because you don’t know any,” she said in her usual self-deprecating manor.

  “Oh, but you’re wrong, because I most certainly do,” he said, folding her in his arms and kissing her.

  Cheri made meatballs while Gareth watched from the couch. The way she moved around her kitchen, and the care she used to ensure that each meatball was the same size, fascinated him.

  To be fair, Gareth hadn’t spent any amount of time getting to know any other woman. Even with that, he knew just how special she was. She could turn the making of coffee into a sexual experience, after all. Who else could do that? “You are so damned beautiful,” he just blurted out.

  “Thank you. You’re very complementary, blind, but complementary,” she said, turning to him and smiling.

  “You’re not even conscious of the fact that you’re stunning. Why is that? I’m used to actors that are so self-centered they think the sun rises just for them. Here you are, smart, sensual, and accomplished, yet you’re unassuming. I just don’t get it.”

  “Maybe you’re hanging out with the wrong people?” she said suggestively. His laughter filled her small space wi
th warmth.

  “I’m sure I am. Pitfalls of my work,” he said once he regained his voice. Her meatballs were cooking as she washed her hands and then joined Gareth on the couch. “Do you know how to play ‘condo rummy’?”

  “Sorry, but no I don’t.”

  “Want to learn?”

  “Sure, why not. I can play in the trailers in-between shoots.”

  “Okay! You start with three cards,” she said as she shuffled the deck. “Threes are wild. You pick a card and try to make pairs, three of a kind, stuff like that. The object is to clear your hand with one card left to discard. What’s left in your opponent’s hand counts against them. Lowest score wins,” she explained.

  “Why is it called ‘condo rummy’?”

  “Because you build on it. The second hand, you get four cards and fours are wild. Then five, six and so on all the way to aces.”

  “I see. I warn you, I’m very competitive. I don’t like losing,” he confessed.

  “Are you sure you aren’t a lawyer?”

  “Definitely not. I’m not smart enough for that.”

  “You’re plenty smart enough and much better looking. You forget I was married to one. I know from experience,” she said leaning over to kiss him.

  They played cards and ate their spaghetti and meatballs. He told her about the movie he had just wrapped up. His long time friend, Tucker Coolidge, was in the process of editing it. Tucker was the only person he trusted with his pictures. They thought so much alike it was as if they shared one mind.

  After dinner, they went for a walk on the deserted beach, holding hands. The soft sound of the waves added a sweet background to their conversation. Cheri noted that even when they were dating, she had never had this many discussions with David. Through their marriage, they barely spoke to each other outside of their cases.

  Gareth wanted to feel more of her skin, so he dropped her hand and placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him. He was ready to move this thing between them forward. He was conscious of the fact that their first week together was ending and they only had three left. But things had to progress on her time schedule, not his.

  Cheri, always looking down searching for her buried treasure, spotted the corner of something she needed to dig up. She dropped to the sand and began digging through it stating, “I’m sorry, but this could be one of my shells.” He squatted down next to her admiring the pleasure she took in the small things like seashells and mermaids.

  He walked her back to her cottage, stopping at her door to kiss her goodnight. Cheri completely gave in to his kiss, molding her body so closely to his that a whisper wouldn’t pass between them. Gareth broke the kiss, admitting, “You’ve ensnared me, Cheri. I’m caught in the magical web you weave. Do with me what you will, I have no resistance.”

  “Good, you can help me staple the new plastic around the frames for my windows. I hate doing that alone. I had a wonderful evening. See you in the morning,” she said happily. She opened her door and slipped inside, leaving Gareth shaking his head. Leave it to her to take his sexual innuendo and turn it into a housing project.

  He was way out of his league. And he knew it. And he liked it.

  He could smell her orgasmic coffee through the open window of his bedroom. He envisioned her with a fan blowing it in his direction. Smiling, he got up and dressed.

  The smell of the coffee turned into something even more delicious as he neared her door. Pumpkin and spice. Cinnamon, to be specific. His favorite. Pumpkin anything was the key to his heart. It reminded him of being in his grandmother’s kitchen when he was little. Smelling her Thanksgiving pumpkin pie was by far his best and dearest memory of her.

  Gareth knocked on the screen door. He watched her exit from her bedroom and his heart tilted in his chest. It looked like she was wearing a cummerbund around her chest and a pair of very short shorts. “What are you wearing?” he asked breathlessly, staring at her chest.

  “A tube top and shorts. Why?”

  “Does that top fall under the ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ rule? Because, damn Cheri, there isn’t much of it,” he moaned.

  “Says the man that takes his shirt off at every opportunity. What’s good for the goose is just as appropriate for the gander. You don’t like it?”

  “I didn’t say that. I like it plenty, that’s the problem. I’m waging war with my hands right now. They want to grab you and do unspeakable things to you. I think I need a chaperone,” he said meekly.

  “Don’t just stand there, silly, come in. I made pumpkin muffins for breakfast. Do you like them?” she asked frowning.

  “All right, fine. You win, will you marry me?”

  “Just because I made muffins? You’re a pushover.”

  “No, it’s the whole package. The mind, that body, your laugh, and you make pumpkin muffins, I’m so gone!” he said sweetly.

  “They’re still warm. Sit and I’ll pour you some coffee,” she said with a giggle. He sat down and put a warm muffin on the plate in front of him. Breaking it in half, he bit into the sweet bread. His shoulders slumped as he began to savor it. His eyes were closed as he chewed. “You okay there, big guy?” she wisecracked.

  “My grandmother would make me pumpkin muffins when I was little. These just took me back there with her. I didn’t realize just how much I missed her until this minute. She was an amazing woman. The two of you would get along great.”

  “Is she gone?”

  “Yes. She died shortly after I went into the Marines. I didn’t get the chance to say good-bye. One of my many regrets,” he said sadly.

  “Everyone has regrets, Gareth. We have to try not to make too many of them. I know from experience that is much easier said than done,” she said patting his hand.

  Gareth left with the remainder of the muffins that he hadn’t eaten for breakfast. He had some calls to make, since it had been too early on the west coast to call when he’d gotten up. Now, it was after nine in the morning there, so he went ahead.

  Cheri also had some chores to do. She had purchased some bulbs to plant around her outdoor shower. She wanted some spring color to hide the otherwise ugly little wooden structure.

  She took the packages of bulbs and her trowel over to the opposite side of the cottage from Gareth’s cottage, and began to dig in the dirt. Two years ago, she’d had topsoil brought in to surround the house. She didn’t want to mow a lawn but she did want to have some shrubs and roses, not just sand.

  Gareth finished his calls and went back to Cheri’s place. He called through the screen door but she didn’t answer. He walked off the porch and went around the cottage to see if her car was still there. He stopped dead when faced with her perky ass. She was on her hands and knees, bent over and digging in the dirt. He was going to have to make an appointment with a cardiologist if this kept up. His loud groan alerted Cheri to his presence. She sat up looking behind her and said, “You okay?”

  “No, most certainly not okay. Nope, definitely not,” he said, slowly shaking his head.

  “What’s the matter?” she said concerned.

  “You’re killing me!” he yelled.

  Chapter Eight

  Cheri was confused. Gareth, she thought, made it very clear to her with his “you have to invite me in” speech that he wasn’t interested in starting anything but would ‘service’ her if she wanted. Cheri thought more of herself than to resort to being serviced, like a car. She needed her oil changed in the worst way…she was way over her mileage. She also wouldn’t mind it if Gareth was the mechanic working on her. But she wasn’t going to ask, beg if you will, for anything.

  Gareth, on the other hand, thought he had made himself perfectly clear. He wanted in and needed her to affirm that she wanted the same thing. She kept giving him the signals that she was primed and ready but sent him home every time. She kissed him back like a tigress stalking her prey. She molded her body to his like a vice, tightening until there was nothing between them. And yet, she would not pull the tr
igger on the words.

  Gareth decided that maybe a romantic day with a ride to the tip of the cape and a candlelight dinner might push her over her edge. He said, “Would you like to go for a ride in my hamster mobile, with the top down, to P-town?”

  “As long as we don’t take route six. I hate that road, too much traffic,” she said with a frown.

  “I’ll go any way you want.”

  It was a long drive sticking to the back roads. However, it was a beautiful drive, just the same. They arrived a little after two, having stopped for lunch at a roadside fish-shack for the tastiest broiled shrimp they had ever had.

  They walked in and out of several shops along the main road. Stopped in for a drink at a bar that allowed your dogs in as well. Gareth bought a few gifts to bring back to the people that he worked with. He was fascinated by the work being done by a local jewelry crafter. She made geometric designs out of old nails and such, hammering them into submission.

  It was just after six when they got back to the car for the ride home. They started out telling stories from their childhood. Funny things that happened around the holidays and at school. Then Gareth mentioned living in California and how completely different it was from the East Coast. Cheri got quiet and her eyes sort of glassed over. Gareth said, “What’s wrong, Cheri?”

  “I’m so stupid. Of course, you live in California. You produce and direct films, that’s where you would live,” she said so sadly.

  “I thought you realized that, I’m sorry. I have a house in Santa Barbara. It’s a beautiful place, I hope you’ll come and see it sometime.”

  “Yeah, sure, sometime,” she said, attempting but failing miserably to smile. The quixotic trance was broken. He was quickly running out of ardent ammunition to shoot at her. He had never had to woo a woman before. They usually fell at his feet in piles.

  He stopped at a liquor store and purchased a few bottles of wine. He was forgoing the romantic dinner in favor of getting drunk. A couple of grinders from the shop next door and they were back on the road again, this time taking the highway. He was in a hurry to get back to try to salvage what he could of this day.