Morning Man

by Barbara Kellyn

  “What if I just show you one?” She raked her fingers through his chest hair.

  “Then I’ll give you a couple of random letters in no particular order.”

  “Fine. But no touching. You can only look until you give me what I want.” She lifted her shirt from the bottom and flashed him for a fleeting half second.

  He frowned. “No fair. I barely got a nipple out of that.”

  “Name?”

  He groaned, rolling away from her in defeat. “If you tell anyone, and I mean anyone, I will come after you,” he said. “You’re to take this to your grave, you hear me?”

  She straddled him to regain control of the situation. With Tack pinned down between her thighs, she had the upper hand while giving them both immense pleasure.

  “Oh God, you’re warm like an oven,” he said with a dirty grin.

  “And you’re so…” Big. Hard. Mine. Her train of thought derailed completely as she rocked against him. “No.” She snapped back to attention. “Stop changing the subject. Gimme your name.”

  “Show me.”

  “Name first, then you get to see ’em.”

  “Show ’em to me first, then I’ll name it.”

  She glared at him. “Cut it out or else this is going to be one very long night.”

  He placed his hands on her hips, guiding her motion forward and back. “As long as you stay right where you are, baby.”

  Realizing that if neither caved they’d be going nowhere fast, she finally relented, lifting her cami to give him the goods.

  He stared at her breasts with a silly, drunken grin that titillated her senseless. “Ohhh yeah, those beauties are definitely country radio’s hottest hits.”

  “Funny, it sounds like you said…oh.” She slapped away his outstretched hand, then lowered her shirt down again. “Name?”

  He threw his head back into the mattress and squeezed his eyes shut like he was in agony. “Terrence.”

  “Terrence?” She bit her lip, trying not to giggle.

  “I went by Terry Collins until my coach started calling me Tack. It caught on with my teammates and friends off the field and soon, even my teachers and family were calling me by my nickname. So I legally changed it to Tack when I turned twenty-one.”

  “Terry Collins.” She played with the sound of it. Cute. “So, can I call you Terrence? Just in private?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Not even if I take my shirt off completely?”

  “Not even if you strip naked and dance around this entire apartment for me.”

  She sighed. “All right, but I’m still glad you told me. It’s kind of cool knowing something about you that few others do.”

  “Well, I’m glad it makes you so damn happy.”

  “It does.” She planted her hands on either side of his shoulders and leaned down to kiss him as he smoothed his hands over her back. “Would you feel better if I told you a secret that only one other person on the entire planet knows?”

  He smiled and nodded. She swung her leg around to get off the bed and he rolled on his side. “Hey, where are you going?”

  “I’m showing you something no one’s ever seen before,” she said, hooking her thumb in her waistband. A throaty groan escaped him as she teasingly lowered the shorts an inch at a time, past the top curve of her hip, down a bit more until she revealed the tiny blue and pink butterfly tattooed inside her lower left hip bone. “I got it in February.”

  He moved quickly to the edge of the mattress, staring fascinated as he traced his finger around the outline on her pelvis. “Did it hurt?”

  She nodded, weaving her fingers through his hair. “But isn’t she beautiful? She’s a little reminder that I can spread my wings and do whatever I dream of.”

  “She’s beautiful. And so are you.” He looked up and met her eyes. “You really never showed it to anyone before?”

  “No one knows about it but you, me and a little Chinese tattoo artist in Buffalo.”

  He leaned in and pressed his lips against it. “It’s very sexy.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” she said quietly, releasing her thumb and letting the waistband snap back into place. “I’m going to go brush my teeth and get ready for bed now, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Don’t be long.”

  * * * *

  Tack shut off the lights around the apartment and returned to the bedroom to find Dayna waiting for him under the covers. Her golden hair spilled over the pillow like a halo, her smooth, sun-kissed skin looking altogether touchable against the crisp white sheets. The breathtaking sight of her in his bed was almost too good to be true.

  “What are you smiling about?” Her delectable lips curled at one corner.

  “Just wanted to memorize this moment,” he said. “The night Dayna Cook wanted to sleep with me.”

  She giggled, lacing her fingers behind her head. “Sounds so scandalous. I like it.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed and double-checked that the alarm clock was set for 3:45 before lifting the covers and sliding in next to her.

  “Uh, are you really going to sleep in your sweats?”

  “Trust me, it’s better this way. Prevent any unforeseen incidents from occurring between us during the night, if you know what I mean.”

  “Like, ‘Oops, I rolled over and accidentally fell inside of you.’”

  “Something like that,” he said with a laugh, trying not to imagine the possibility.

  “How do you want to do this? Are you more comfortable on your side or back?”

  “Either is fine,” he said, lifting his arm in invitation. “Why don’t you come snuggle up and we’ll take it from there.”

  She put her head on his shoulder and tucked into his side. Her warm breath, soft curves and the tickle of her fragrant hair was nothing short of heaven on earth.

  He kissed the top of her head. “You really think about me holding you like this every night, sugar?”

  “Sometimes like this. Often I picture us spooning.”

  “What a coincidence, often I picture us forking,” he said to their amusement.

  She affectionately stroked his chest and he closed his eyes, losing himself in her gentle, silky touch. “If I asked you something, would you promise to tell me the truth?”

  “Mm-hmmm,” he said drowsily.

  “Have you been with anyone over these past few weeks? I promise not to freak out or get crazy jealous or anything. I’m just curious.”

  His eyes blinked opened. “What do you think?”

  “I really don’t know.”

  “Would you believe me if I said there’s been no one else?”

  “I don’t know. I’m always wary of men who answer questions with more questions.”

  He bent back his arm and pulled open the bedside table drawer. “Reach inside.” Puzzled, she sat up, reaching across his chest to retrieve a pharmacy bag containing a box of condoms. “Go on. Take them out,” he said, prompting her to raise a suspicious eyebrow. “It’s not a trick, I promise.”

  She removed the box and looked it over. “Yeah?”

  “Any missing?”

  “Nope. It’s still sealed. All twelve appear present and accounted for.”

  “Now look at the date on the receipt. See when I bought them?”

  “It says June twenty-seventh.”

  “Okay, Encyclopedia Brown. Now put the clues together and tell me what you think that means.”

  “It’s been a very long, dry summer for Sailor Ned?”

  He laughed. “Or it could be I’ve been saving these for the right girl. A girl who makes me laugh. A girl who makes me crazy and turns me inside out. A girl I can’t get enough of with beautiful brown eyes and a knockout body and a perfect butterfly tattoo.”

  With a smile, she reached over and tucked the box back into the drawer. “Wow, you must really love me…oop,” Her eyes widened as she slapped her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. “Oh God, I’m so sorry that slipped
out. I meant to say want. You must really want me,” she apologized before covering her mouth again.

  The L-word was finally out there, hanging suspended between them. She looked devastated by her gaffe, but Tack wasn’t disappointed. In fact, she’d done him the favor. “You’re right on both accounts,” he said, opening up to her as he pried her hand away from her lips. “I do love you. And I want you more than anything.”

  Her eyes suddenly brightened. “You…you love me?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his heart hammering in his chest. “I really do.” He marked the moment by giving her a long, slow, deep kiss. It grew more insistent as the heat of passion flared and roving hands began to wander, fingers pressing and skimming over one another. She bent her head and began kissing his neck and then his chest, her tongue darting and fluttering over his nipples before gradually moving down to his belly, burning with lust. “Oh God. What are you doing?”

  She licked the hair around his navel with a hot swirl until it too was standing at attention. “Silly boy, what does it feel like I’m doing?”

  “Like you’re trying to kill me,” he groaned, each ragged breath breaking faster the lower she went.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” She squirmed further down the bed and took one end of the drawstring of his sweats between her teeth, giving it a tug to free the loose knot.

  He gasped, his hips practically bucking in anticipation of what he prayed was coming next. “I thought you said this would be cheating.”

  “Not according to Bill Clinton it’s not,” she said, meeting his eyes with a smoky gaze. “Now lie back and let me give you your last birthday present of the night.”

  * * * *

  Dayna’s eyes opened first and then her brain caught up, remembering that she was waking up in Tack’s bed. With Tack. Even deep in sleep, the big bear was still curled in close, his chest to her back, his knees bent to fit in behind hers, his hand cradled just under her breast. She smiled. Careful not to disturb his slumber, she gingerly eased away from him and toward the edge of the bed to get up.

  Her eyes gradually adjusted to the low light as she tiptoed to the kitchen. She searched for a drinking glass among the mismatched coffee cups and beer mugs and found a tumbler. Filling it with cold tap water, she leaned against the counter and drank a few quenching sips. The time on the microwave read 3:33, so there wasn’t reason to go back to bed now. Well, with the exception of one very obvious, sexy hunk of a reason, but there was no immediate need to rob him of any precious sleep for another two weeks.

  Her hand slid along the countertop, finding her way as she prepared to head to the couch and wait out the alarm clock. As she stepped away, she accidentally knocked a piece of paper off the edge and bent down to pick it up. The note scribbled on it read:

  Galveston. Oct 1. $165,000-179,900.

  She immediately recognized Galveston as being among the country’s top ten radio markets. The figures could only be the kind of salary range a top-rated station would offer a morning man of Tack’s caliber. That had to have been the call he took, but why didn’t he say something? Even worse, why would he tell her that he loved her if he was planning to leave in a matter of weeks? And then, suddenly, it dawned on her.

  Because he was a Goddamn radio guy.

  Chapter 15

  Tack barked his usual order into the drive-thru speaker, adding on an extra coffee for Dayna. “You sure you don’t want a breakfast sandwich, sugar?” he asked, looking across the cab of the truck.

  She shook her head without glancing up from her phone.

  He turned back to the speaker. “That’s it.”

  “Three large black coffees and three egg ‘n’ cheese with bacon,” echoed the tinny voice. “That’ll be twelve-twenty-five at the first window.”

  “You’re pretty quiet. You sure you slept okay last night? My snoring didn’t keep you awake, did it?”

  She continued her flurry of thumb-tapping. “I would’ve told you if it had. I don’t hold things back from you, remember?”

  He reached over, wrapping his fingers around her delicate wrist. “Hey now, what’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. I’m just sending a message.”

  She was sending a message all right. “Was it something I did? Or maybe something I didn’t do?” he asked, tickling up her arm. “Because I recall very much wanting to return a certain incredible favor last night and you telling me you wanted to wait ’til Labor Day.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She nodded, still typing. “Whatever you think is best.”

  He shook his head. “Now you’re not even listening. Why are you so pissed?”

  “I’m not,” she said frostily, still not meeting his eye.

  “Oh really?” A guffaw punctuated his doubt. “Well, then I’ll just shut my trap.”

  “Fine,” she grumbled.

  “Fine,” he grunted. Women, fuck.

  Tack got his change back from the window and then nestled the tray of coffees and the bag of food down on the seat between them. He pulled up to the end of the driveway, made a sharp right turn, then picked up speed toward the station. “Last night was great. I loved being so close to you and I thought you wanted that too.”

  She propped her arm up on the window ledge. “Last night was wonderful and exactly what I wanted.”

  “Well, then?”

  “What?”

  He glanced over to see if she was being for real. “What do you expect me to think? Last night, I told you I loved you and this morning, you’ve shut down on me.”

  “I haven’t shut down. I’m just thinking.”

  “Ohhh-kay. Anything you can share with the rest of the class?”

  She went quiet. “What do you suppose is going to happen to us after Labor Day?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But I have a hunch you’re going to be a lot less tense and in a much better mood.”

  Dayna folded her arms. “I’m serious, Tack.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Dayna.”

  “I just don’t want to pin my hopes to any false expectations. Do you really think this thing has a chance in hell of going somewhere, or am I just going to be another good-time fuck like the rest of your groupies?”

  He slammed on the brakes and swerved onto the paved shoulder, bringing the truck to a violent, jerking halt.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?” she screamed, one hand clutching the dashboard, the other preventing the searing hot coffees from sliding onto her lap.

  “Are you?” He yelled back. “God, Dayna, where the hell is all this bullshit coming from?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “You should have never told me you loved me.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I do love you.”

  “Fuck you, you love me. You’ll love me for two more weeks until you get what you want or it’s no longer fun for you or it’s no longer convenient. Then it’s all over.”

  He sucked in a breath. “Is that really what you think?”

  “That’s what I know because it’s what always happens. Guys like you wait until I’m ripe for the picking, then you swoop in, take what you want and then you’re gone.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, softening his tone.

  “Don’t lie to me. You’re going to leave just like the rest of them.”

  Suddenly, he was standing under a ledge looking up at a frightened little girl too scared to jump. He saw the first of her tears begin to fall, and the stabbing pain in his chest damn near killed him. “Dayna,” he whispered, reaching over to stroke her hair. “Please, baby, don’t cry.”

  The back of her hand swept across her cheeks, wiping them as she sniffed. “Let’s just go. We have a show to prep.”

  “I don’t care,” he said. “Please talk to me. I hate seeing you like this.”

  “Lucky for you, that won’t be a problem much longer.”

  His heart dropped. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing, nothing.” She shook her head. “Ple
ase, just go.”

  He was certain that he loved her and wanted to be with her, but if Dayna needed some kind of guarantee or promise, he wasn’t ready to dole any out. If he’d learned anything, it was that life didn’t come with warranties, and the future was just too big and lofty a balloon for Tack to tether for the both of them. The only thing he knew how to do was just be there for her, even if that meant silently holding her hand while she dried her tears and worked through whatever she needed to work through.

  So he did.

  * * * *

  The show seemed more subdued than usual, but Dayna did her best to smile and get a few on-air laughs out of Tack. When the mikes were off, neither brought up what had happened earlier, but it still weighed heavily on her mind. Every time she looked across the console, she was torn between loving him so much it hurt and hurting so much because she knew he’d soon be gone. One thing she knew for sure, she wasn’t going to be standing around like Tack Collins’ weeping widow the day that announcement came.

  “It’s nine-nineteen and just ahead of Reba and eight more in a row, Dayna’s got one more look at your forecast.”

  After the last note of the musical splitter, she turned to her mike. “Hot Country One-oh-three weather is brought to you by The Sports Stop, with a reminder to come down soon and get your balls customized with your team’s logo.”

  Tack smirked. “Ouch.”

  “It’s going to be a great day to get your balls out to the park, with a gorgeous high of eighty-eight but a sticky low of eighty overnight. Tomorrow, expect another sunny one with a high of eighty-two and a comfortable low of seventy-three. Right now, wind is gusting from the south at thirty, humidity at thirty-nine percent and we’re already sitting at a balmy seventy-nine,” she took a breath. “That’s your weather, now back to more continuous hits on Hot Country One-oh-three.”

  As soon as the on-air sign went dark, Tack uncovered one ear and took a call. “Hello, One-oh-three,” he answered, followed three beats later by an angry, “What?”

  She stopped shuffling the morning’s road reports. “What is it?” she mouthed, growing concerned.