by V. L. Brock
His eyes tightened, a lopsided grin dominating his features. “Let’s go for an egg sandwich?”
“Umm…” my shoulders were vibrating; I hollowed my cheeks in a vain attempt to silence my cathartic laughter.
“What?”
“I don’t know how to fry an egg,” I managed to say through the streams of tears that fell from my eyes and aching ribs.
“Oh, dear, Lord.” He rolled his eyes, and that made the laughter-fit come harder and faster. I struggled to breathe as I folded my right arm across my middle to hold my side. “Sometimes the best time to learn something new is after a good drink. Come on, I’ll teach you.”
While my Irishman dug through the state of the art refrigerator, I unhooked the pan from the wall, shushing it as it made a loud clanging noise against the other equipment. I sifted through the cabinets for the oil.
“Found it,” I called, a little louder than necessary.
“Good girl, now, poor a bit into the pan.” I did as instructed with one eye firmly shut. Walker didn’t stray from behind me, and I had the chance to actually enjoy him being there, the feel of him and the enjoyment of reestablishing a bond with a person who had been in my life for nearly eighteen months but have no recollection of.
He held my hands as I broke the shell, and guided me as he parted the casing, steadily pouring the contents into the heating oil. I watched as the goo began to turn white, and relished the way his arms were around me, his hand encased over my left which was holding the pan handle steady, and the other guiding my hand with the spatula. “You’re doing brilliant, Kady. I told you it wasn’t hard.”
That’s what he thought. Inside I was screaming that it was too hard, being this close, this physical, feeling his hard body against my back, encompassed by his strong arms, smelling his scent, the alcohol on his breath, his tone as he whispered encouragements in my ear. I was struggling more with combatting my body’s demands to turn in his arms and lose myself, more than I was struggling to fry the fucking egg.
“Keep basting it darlin’, be careful though, it spits.” Now he was fucking killing me. I squeezed my legs firmly shut, my chest heaved while uneven breaths were sucked into my lungs.
The effect he had on my body at that point was undeniable. The alcohol just made me brave it more.
Just like he warned, the oil began to spit. Tiny, hot pin pricks landed on my chest, my arms and throat. I sunk my teeth into my lip to halt my groans and I sank further into his burly arms, tossing my head back against his chest. I could feel the definition that lay beneath the material under the back of my head. I expected the sizzling oil to burn, to hurt…well; it did, but whereas my body’s instant reaction should have been to brush it away or move back, I just stood and welcomed the piercing which heated my skin before cooling to a sensuous tingle. The way the scalding stab influenced my muscles, making them tighten and pull was something unusual, but so addictive.
“You okay, darlin’?” he rumbled in my ear. I closed my eyes, my arm turned flaccid. I hadn’t realized my head was still resting on his chest.
Since certain demons had made themselves known, and stepped from the darkened corners into the light of day, since having determined the only method to handle my days was purely by the want and necessity of an escape, a diversion from emotions I found myself struggling to process and hold on to, alongside the frustrations of lies and unnerving behavior…being there with Walker, and that heat which caressed both my back and the split-second of shock as it prickled my front, for the first time since being home, since being awake…I felt revitalized.
Only two words fell from my lips, from my mind and body, “God, yes.”
Chapter Seven
I woke up to some little shit mining into my skull and blending my brain with a fucking whisk.
“Ouch…” I groaned, as I lifted my right arm to my face and rubbed my eyes as carefully as I could. As my other senses began to stir, I realized I could smell Walker, Walker and bacon.
Fluttering my lids, I was met with my living room, and a familiar black and red plaid shirt covering my near naked body.
Oh, fuck…what have I done?
The night before was a blur, but unlike the missing years of my life, I was at least able to filter one event from another. The dishonesty…storming out to get a few bottles after ringing my parents…the guy with the knife…Walker coming to my aid…bringing him home…his arms around me, guiding me, his heat…the heat…
And then my brain decided to be uncooperative.
I groggily twisted my body and reared up from the couch, the thick beige carpet feeling like dry sand as my feet sunk into it. Considering my clothes had gone AWOL, I slipped myself into Walker’s shirt, and fastened the poppers before treading into the kitchen.
Fisting my hands through my blond, matted mane, I was greeted by a sexy-as-fuck Irishman in just his jeans and white vest. His muscular arms were emphasized by a tribal sleeve on his left arm. When he fisted his hand through his hair while singing to himself, I noticed a large tattoo of a Celtic-style cross span down his right bicep. I didn’t know he had tattoos.
I never saw anyone jump so high when I said, “Good morning.” The singing came to an abrupt end, as he twisted to face me while clutching his chest with the spatula in his right hand.
“Kady, you scared the living day lights out of me.”
“I can tell. I hope you’re going to fix the hole you just left in my ceiling.” Making my way to the island, I giggled when he actually lifted his head to check for damage. “I was kidding, Walker,” I scoffed.
He pointed the spatula at me scornfully. “’Aye, well, you never jump out at someone while their cooking.”
“And singing,” I offered a shrewd grin, jolting at the coolness connecting with my relatively naked behind as I slipped myself onto a barstool opposite.
He frowned and I heard the whistle between his teeth as he gasped and handed me a cup of coffee. “Sorry, didn’t mean for you to hear me.”
I took a quick welcomed sip and set it on the surface, my bound fingers lingered around the warmed ceramic. “Don’t be sorry, you got a good voice. And if I can say that with a mighty hangover, then you know I’m not lying.” I helped myself to the plate of bacon as he went back to flipping pancakes. “Which reminds me, what the Hell happened to my clothes?”
He stepped toward the island after slipping the pancakes onto two plates, and set one before me. “You um…” he appeared embarrassed to some extent, which managed to double my level of concern. “You decided it was time for me to meet Raven.”
My face couldn’t possibly have gotten as red as what it did as soon as those words, and that Name, were hanging in the air between us. I tossed my face into my hands. “I am so, so sorry, Walker. God, I’m so humiliated.”
With a friendly hand on my shoulder, he slipped onto the stool next to me. “Hey, don’t be sorry, it’s fine. Now eat before it gets cold.” We started digging in in silence. God, he was a good cook. “So what are your plans for today, darlin’?”
“I don’t know about today, but um,”––I swallowed my forkful of pancake and took another sip of coffee––“I’m supposed to be meeting Liv tonight for a drink. Which reminds me,” setting my fork on the plate, I twisted to face him. He looked up at me with bright shining eyes, and all I wanted to do was fist my hand through his hair and down his stubble. I hated Liam with stubble, but Walker had the face to pull it off. “After what happened last night with that bloke and me freezing up, I’m a little nervous with going out. Feel free to say no, but…would you mind tagging along?” I narrowed my eyes and even I overheard my voice falter.
He sniggered with a raised brow. “You want me to come with you for a girl’s night out?”
I raised my shoulder opting for nonchalance. “Well, it’s not really a girl’s night per se. It’s only me and Liv.”
“And is Liv female?”
“Yes.”
“So it’s a girl’s night out then.”
Feeling uncomfortable at my demands, I fisted my hand through my hair and ousted a weighty sigh. “It’s okay, don’t worry, I shouldn’t have asked you. I’m sorry; my filter seems to be malfunctioning today.” I popped the last bite of pancake in my mouth and shunted myself from the stool, when a firm hand wrapped itself around my arm, holding me still as a current took over every cell and nerve ending, leaving an addictive charge of desire to caress my flesh. My body was encased in goose bumps as the air was shunted from my lungs. I watched transfixed at the way his brow pulled down and together, the tiny twitches of his lips. Each time I looked at him with that facial hair, I just wanted to glide my hand over it, feel it under my palm, against my neck…
“I’ll do you a deal. I’ll come to your girl’s night out, if you come to McGinty’s with me on Thursday night.”
I leaned my weight into my hip, my eyes flared dubiously. “McGinty’s?”
“’Aye, its karaoke night on Thursday’s.”
I dashed my tongue across my lips and shook my head. “I don’t think so!” I scoffed. “I don’t do karaoke, Walker. I dance, I bake apparently, singing? Nope, sorry, I have to draw the line somewhere.”
“Come on, Kady, it’ll be fun. You used to live in Dorchester, right?”
I nodded.
“Have you been back there since the accident?”
I shook my head sullenly, silently marveling at why it hadn’t crossed Liam’s mind to take me back there, to a place I knew, a place I would recognize. At twenty-four, I was independent, I knew what I wanted, was my own person. The sensation of that ugly, heavy fist which stirred in my gut, told me that thinking that Liam wanting to be my raft, wasn’t just speculation anymore. The accumulation of everything he instigated proved undeniably that he needed to be my raft. And for the first time, I felt somewhat saddened that he felt that way. “No.”
He shrugged his broad, well-defined, tanned shoulders and cocked his head. His fingers loosened around my arm, until they were finally stroking gently up and down the length of my inner wrist. I studied the Celtic-cross closely, God it was intricate. “So, it might help spark something.”
I hated the fact he was right, and therefore I had to concede to his resolve. After a few awkward moments, I muttered, “Fine, but bring the ear-plugs. I sound like a bag of cats being slaughtered,” then turned away to rinse my plate before slipping it into the dishwasher. Subjecting Walker to another showing of, Kady Flaunting Her Body, was something I desperately wanted to avoid, so I took extra care to not bend down with my back facing him. “What are your plans for today?” I asked out of curiosity.
“Well,” the legs groaned over the tile as he shoved himself from the stool, picked up his plate and rounded me. “I have to love you and leave you, because I am late for work.”
“Work, fuck,” I fisted my hands through my hair. “Oh my God, Walker, I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry,” I gushed, rapidly scanned the kitchen. “I’ll do you some lunch to take with you.”
“Hey, Kady,” he settled his thumb under my chin, his fingers cradling the side of my face. God his hands were warm…and rough. He gazed down at me intently, his mouth twitched, and he finally gave way to a lopsided grin. “It’s okay, stop fussing. I’m lucky the boss is on a business trip, or he’d be wearing my guts for garters.”
The view was admirable as I walked him out into the hallway and watched hypnotized as he sat on the stair and shoved his feet into his heavy, sandy-colored boots. “If you give me a moment to get some clothing, I’ll give you your shirt back.”
He pushed himself up straight, took two strides and towered over me, easily six-foot one. I didn’t need to see what was under his tank top to tell that he was built like a fucking God. My body heated and screamed as his eyes roamed over my slender figure which was screened to mid-thigh in his black and red plaid material, the poppers half undone and exposing a modest amount of cleavage. “Don’t worry about it; it suits you better than it does me anyway.”
Arms open wide, he asked for a hug. I found myself stepping into his embrace without a moment’s hesitation. With the span of my body pressed against his, I had to contend with the craving to brazenly wander my hands over his enticing frame. Despite my morals, I wasn’t a miracle worker. My fingertips craftily hitched up a few inches of his top, and I made small, stirring circular movements over the warm, smooth flesh of his lower back. As he kissed the top of my head, I found myself unconsciously breathing him in once again.
He dropped his hands from me, unlocked and pulled open the door. “I’ll pick you up at 7.00 p.m.”
“Okay,” I smiled.
“See ya later, darlin’,” he purred with a wink, and as I stepped back inside, closing that door behind me, I felt slightly unnerved by the feelings that were stirring inside of me, feelings that should be aimed towards my boyfriend, not his hot-as-fuck, Irish employee.
I set about my day of chores which took a lot longer than anticipated. I suppose that’s what happens when you move from a two bedroom apartment, to a two bedroomed, massive, detached house.
I switched the vacuum off on the upstairs hallway, and twisted the doorknob for Liam’s home office. I jiggled and nudged it, but, safe to say, the room was safely locked.
Why would Liam lock his office?
I pulled my hand away sharply, relieving the brass knob as though it’d just burned me. I lost several minutes of my life resting against the opposite wall, staring at the secured dark wooden door with a perplexed expression, hoping that the longer I stared, the sooner my Superwoman powers would kick in and burn a laser hole through it.
“Liam, Liam, Liam…what am I going to do with you?”
The house phone began ringing its God awful drilling sound, dragging me from my musing. I shot down the hallway, jumping over the vacuum, into the bedroom and flounced over the queen-sized bed to Liam’s nightstand.
I picked up the receiver and pressed the button.
“Hello,” I panted.
“Hey, Kady.” He did it again, he made my fucking name sound like Katy, and every time he did it, I turned into a puddle of mush.
Lying on my stomach, I grinned down the speaker like I was back in high school talking to the captain of the football team. “What’s up, Walker?”
“I’m so sorry, I know I said I’d pick you up around 7 p.m. to meet Liv, but I have to make up time for being late this morning. So––”
If I didn’t feel guilty enough this morning for making him late, then I sure as Hell did now. “Don’t worry just finish up work and if you want, you can come straight here, have a shower and whatever then we can leave. Liv won’t mind me being an hour or so late.”
“Um…are you sure? That wouldn’t be too weird?” I knew he was scowling, his lilt became a little thicker and little forced, but it was still the sexiest accent I’d heard in my life.
“No, of course it won’t be. We’re friends right? Liv and I used to do it all the time. So, just make sure you have a change of clothes.”
“Okay, thanks, Kady.”
I was just about to say ‘you’re welcome’ when I heard a stern voice shouting out, “Walker, you’re on my fucking time, ass off the motherfucking phone.”
“Walker, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get you into trouble. I’ll go––” I was pulling the handset away to hang up when he called my name. “Yeah?”
“Why are you doing this, darlin’? You’re forever apologizing, three times today already.”
I grimaced and stilled. I do it with Liam all the time, yet I hadn’t even noticed I’ve been doing it. It had become…natural, I guessed. “I hadn’t even noticed, I––”
“If you dare say you’re sorry one more time darlin’, I’ll walk off site, come to yours and hold you under a cold shower.”
A throaty laugh that I had no hope in Hell of subduing was released down the speaker. I buried my face in the satin throw and attempted to catch a breath.
“Okay. Go back to work. I’ll see you later.�
�
“See you later, darlin’.” And then he was gone.
Setting the cordless back on the cradle, I pushed myself from the center of the gigantic four-poster. I headed for the walk-in-closet in search for something to wear that night.
Along the right side of the closet were lines of Liam’s designer suits and shirts. He was very, very rarely seen in anything less than a suit. In actuality, I think he only owned one pair of denim pants and about two cashmere sweaters.
Along the left side were rails of my clothing.
I browsed and browsed for an eternity, nothing on those rails had the wow factor for a night out. Blouses with linen pants, suits, pencil skirts, evening gowns that looked more like funeral attire––none of the items had any wow factor. Actually, the only flesh that would be exposed by any of the items on those rails, were my legs, from knee down, and my hands.
I was sitting in the middle of the closet, my legs pulled in to my chest. Walker’s shirt hitched its way up my body, and it was only then did I become aware of the silver round markings on my thighs all over again. A part of me forgot they were that noticeable. I glanced back to the rail. Maybe I felt comfortable in pants because at least then, I knew the scars were concealed, and the stripes on my upper arms were obviously concealed by the long sleeved blouses.
Although I didn’t truly want it to, I guess it made sense. I was clearly embarrassed by them…I just needed to figure out how I got them.
I had just stepped out of the shower when the doorbell sounded.
I hastily wrapped a towel around my body and stepped into my slippers. “Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered with every step I dashed down, hoping that I wouldn’t fall and break my neck in the process.
Pulling the door open, I was greeted by the middle-aged, red-haired nosey neighbor.
“Hello, Mrs. Steinbeck,” I smiled politely.
“Good evening, Kady. I hope you don’t mind me calling, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” She peered over my right shoulder as I held the door open.
