by Carnal, MJ
“You’re back,” I hear from behind me as my foot hits the first step.
“Yep.” I look over my shoulder at him. Why does he have to be so good-looking?
“I made dinner.”
“Good for you,” I say sarcastically, going up two more stairs.
“Look, I shouldn’t have said what I said earlier.” He sighs, and I wonder if he has ever apologized in his life.
“You shouldn’t have,” I agree, taking a few more steps.
“Will you stop for a second?” He lets out a huff, and I turn to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Come eat so we can talk. You’re living here. I think it’s only right that we get to know at least a little about each other.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to fuck off, but sadly, my manners are ingrained in me. I turn, walk down the stairs, and follow him into the kitchen.
“Will you get out a couple plates?” he asks, going to the oven. As soon as he has the oven open, the smell of baked chicken hits me, making my stomach growl again. “You really should eat more,” he mumbles.
I turn to look at him and feel my temper spike. “I did eat,” I tell him, pulling down two plates before getting two sets of silverware out of the drawer and setting them on the counter with a little too much force.
“I mean something besides rabbit food. You need to gain some weight.”
I take a breath and blow it out slowly, counting in my head from one to ten. “Okay”—I turn my face to look at him—“I don’t know what’s wrong with the filter that goes from your brain to your mouth, and honestly, I really don’t care.” I turn around to face him completely. “I don’t appreciate you saying things to me about my job, my free time, or my eating habits. I appreciate what you’re doing for me, but it doesn’t give you the right to talk shit to me whenever you feel like it.”
I inhale deeply before letting out a breath, noticing that his eyes seem to have gone softer. Something about that look makes me feel better, but I finish with, “If you think that’s going to be a problem, I can find somewhere else to stay until I can go home.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that to you.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair before our eyes meet again. “Let’s start over.”
“Sure.” I nod, my insides twisting under his gaze. Every time he looks at me, I feel like he sees way too much.
He walks towards me, sticking out his hand. “Kenton Mayson.”
I put out my hand for him to take. “Autumn Freeman,” I tell him, and our eyes lock as his fingers wrap around mine. His touch sends tingles down my spine. I lick my lips, which have suddenly gone dry.
His eyes drop to my mouth before meeting mine again. “Right.” His voice seems deeper than before and his eyes seem to have gone darker. “Get the salad, babe.” He nods towards the fridge, dropping my hand.
My stomach flips at the word ‘babe.’ I ignore it and go to the fridge, pulling the salad out as he pulls some potatoes out of the oven, setting one on each plate before adding a golden piece of chicken as well.
“It’s a nice night. How ‘bout we sit out on the deck?”
“Sure,” I agree.
He finishes making our plates, adding butter and sour cream to the potatoes then adding salad to the dishes. “Get the door for me.”
I open the sliding glass door in the kitchen that leads to the deck. He sets the plates down on the table before coming back in, opening the fridge, and grabbing a beer.
“You want one?” he asks, holding up the beer.
I shake my head; I’ve never had beer…or any kind of alcohol for that matter.
“You don’t like beer? I got a bottle of wine if you prefer that.”
“I’ve never had it before.”
“You’ve never had a beer?” His voice sounds shocked, and I shake my head no again.
I have worked around alcohol since I was twenty-one, but I have also seen the way it makes people act and have never trusted anyone enough to be that unguarded around them. I watch as he goes to the counter, puts the beer to the edge, and pops the top off.
“Try a sip,” he orders.
I reluctantly take it. Why? I don’t know. Normally, I would have stood my ground a little more firmly. I put the bottle to my lips and tip it back. The bubbles and cold hit my tongue before the taste. I pull the bottle away, scrunch up my face as the flavor hits me, and hand the bottle back to him.
“Not a beer girl,” he assesses with a chuckle.
“It’s not bad, but it doesn’t taste good either.”
“It’s kind of an acquired taste. Do you like wine?”
“I’ve never had it.” I shrug, crossing my arms over my chest, feeling like I need to hold myself together.
His eyes drop for a second before meeting mine again. “Most women like wine.”
I ignore that comment and watch him go to the fridge to pull out a bottle of wine. He goes to the drawer, pulls out a bottle opener, and starts to screw it into the top of the bottle. His arm muscles flex with every turn, and soon, there’s a pop and a hiss.
“I don’t have any wine glasses,” he says, pulling a coffee cup down. He pours a small amount into the cup, handing it to me.
I take it and put the cup to my face, giving it a sniff before placing it against my lips and tilting it back. This time after the taste hits my mouth, I smile.
“There you go. You like wine,” he declares, sounding proud.
I nod and start to wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my sweater. His hand moves towards me, his fingers curve around my jaw, and his thumb runs over my bottom lip, his eyes watching closely. He leans forward, making my stomach drop.
“Let’s eat before the food gets too cold,” he says.
I nod, taking a step back trying to get myself under control. He fills the coffee cup with wine and waits for me to go outside before following me out onto the deck. I sit down on the iron chair as he sits in a plastic one across from me. I take a second to look around. The whole house is surrounded by trees, and it was built into a kind of valley. There isn’t much of a backyard. It all seems to be forest beyond the small area of grass.
“So how long have you lived here?” I take another sip of wine.
“About five years. I had plans to fix it up, but with my schedule, I’ve only had time to redo my bathroom and bedroom.”
“It’s a really nice house.” I take a bite of the chicken and moan when the taste hits my mouth. His eyes lock on me, making me squirm and lower my head.
“I like it. I really bought it for the view.” He takes a bite from his plate.
I nod. I bought my condo for the same reason. “This is a nice view.”
“Nothing better than coming out here at night with a cold beer and watching the sun set behind the mountain.”
“I’ll have to try that one day—minus the beer.” I lift my coffee cup.
He smiles, and for the first time, I notice a dimple in his right cheek. The sight of that dimple makes my stomach flutter.
“You should smile more,” I blurt like the moron he’s turned me into.
He smiles bigger, shaking his head while muttering, “Cute,” under his breath.
The rest of dinner is nice. We laugh and joke, and he tells me about his job and the people he works with. He never asks me about my work again, nor does he give me an in to talk about it.
By the time we are done eating, a chill has filled the air. Kenton goes back inside and gets me a sweater and the bottle of wine, and then he comes back out with a cigar. I drink wine while he lights his cigar, which smells sweet and has me leaning closer to him.
When he’s done smoking, I’m completely drunk for the first time in my life, and I’m laughing at everything he says.
“Come on, babe. Time to get you to bed.” He pulls me up from the chair, smiling, and I lift my fingers to trace his upturned lips.
“You’re really beautiful,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
�
�You shouldn’t call guys beautiful, baby.”
I smile before frowning. “My son was beautiful.” I am too drunk to notice that his body has gone solid against mine. “Holding him was the only time I’ve ever been happy…until tonight. I was happy tonight.” I sigh, laying my head on his chest. I think I hear him mutter a curse, but my drunken state has me unsure.
“Up you go,” he says softly, putting his arm behind my knees and lifting me up.
I bury my face in the crook of his neck, enjoying his smell. I feel him laying me down, and then my shoes are being pulled off.
“Night, beautiful girl.”
“Don’t call me beautiful,” I mumble, cuddling deeper into my covers.
“Night, Autumn.”
I feel lips on my forehead and sigh, liking the way his lips feel against my skin.
I wake up to the sun shining brightly through my window. I squeeze my eyes closed and put my hand to my head, which is throbbing. I can’t remember much about last night—just drinking wine and laughing a lot. Apparently, I’m not a drinker.
I keep my eyes closed as I get out of bed and stumble across the hall to the bathroom. I turn on the water and jump into the shower, letting the cool water run over me. By the time I’m done, my headache has lessened significantly. I get out and wrap a towel around myself, tucking it under my arms. I open the medicine cabinet and take a couple of pain pills before making it across the hall to get dressed.
When I’m finally downstairs, I feel almost one hundred percent. I pour myself a cup of coffee before heading to Kenton’s office. I need to get on the computer and print off the application for the hospital. Even though I got the job already, they still require me to fill it out.
My step falters slightly as I make my way down the hall. I can hear the sound of Kenton’s voice. I don’t mean to spy, but when I hear him talking about me, I can’t help but listen.
“I would never take a stripper home to meet my mom, so your point is moot.”
My throat starts to close as I walk closer. I stop in the doorway, taking Kenton in while his face is turned to look out the window. The phone’s against his ear and his knuckles are turning white from the grip he has on it.
“Fuck off. She’s a stripper,” he growls into the phone.
A whimper I can’t control climbs up my throat before I can stop it. His head turns my way, our eyes lock, and his get wide.
“Babe,” he says then pulls the phone from his ear. “Not you, fucker. I gotta go.” He hangs up and looks at me. I want to run so badly, but my feet feel like they are glued to the floor. “Babe,” he repeats, looking at me with his eyes wide.
“I’m a lot more than a stripper.” I raise my hand before flopping it down at my side when it looks like he’s going to say something. “I’m a person with feelings. I have my own hopes and dreams. I don’t know how you can judge someone so easily without knowing what they’ve been through.”
His eyes go soft again, but this time, I don’t let that stop me. “Honestly, it makes me sad that you’re so close-minded, and I’m glad I now see who you really are.” Tears clog my throat, forcing me to pause. His eyes have changed again, but I don’t know what the look means. “Unlike you, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. The difference is you proved me right more than once,” I say softly, leaving him standing.
I go upstairs and change into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt before grabbing my bag. Then I leave. I get into the car and pound the steering wheel a couple of times when I realize I forgot to find out how much the car had cost him. I do not want to feel like he has something over me. I put the keys in the ignition, promising myself that I will look up the Kelley Blue Book value.
I do a U-turn in front of the house and just drive. I have no idea where I’m going, but there is no way I am going to sit around his house all day. I pull out my phone, thankful that I have my headphones already hooked in so I can make a call. I press Link’s name as soon as I have his number pulled up on my phone.
“Hey, Angel.” My stripper name makes me feel even colder for some reason when he answers.
“Hey. How are things?” I ask him.
“Good. Sid’s worried about you. He wants you to call him, but like I told you before, I don’t think it’s wise to make any phone calls right now.”
I need to call Sid, but I feel awkward phoning him for some reason. “Can I come home?” I pull off the road when I reach a small gas station. I put my car in park, leaning my head back, trying to keep the tears at bay.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I just want my life back,” I fib.
“Autumn, you know you can’t. Not yet.”
“Soon?” I ask on a whisper.
“Angel, I wish I could tell you the cops caught the guy or that they have a lead, but right now, they’ve got nothing. You’re safe there.”
That’s a joke; I’m in more danger here than I was back home. Why am I so upset about this?
“Did you hear me?” Link asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Sorry?”
“I asked how you and Kenton are getting along.”
“Oh, fine… You know, he goes his way and I go mine,” I answer casually.
“What are you leaving out?”
“Guess what? I got a job in Nashville at a hospital,” I say, changing the subject. I do not want to talk to Link about Kenton. They were friends long before I was in the picture.
“That’s good news, Autumn, but...” He clears his throat, and I can’t tell that he’s trying not to burst my bubble. “I know you’re a long way from here, but that doesn’t mean you’re one hundred percent safe.”
“Only you know where I am, right? So I should be okay.”
“Just be careful…and keep Kenton up-to-date about what’s going on,” he tells me.
“Will do,” I say, knowing that I won’t be doing anything like that at all.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Okay. Talk to you later,” I say softly, hanging up the phone. “May as well go get breakfast,” I mutter to myself, putting my car back in drive. I reach a small town after fifteen minutes, pull into the first restaurant I see, get out of my car, and head inside.
The place is small, with a total of five booths and a long counter that stretches the length of the diner, which has short barstools lining the front of it. I walk to a small booth in the back, pushing my bag across the seat before sitting down. The smell of bacon and eggs has my mouth watering.
“What can I getcha, sugar?” asks a pretty, older woman with dark-brown hair that’s in a bun at the top of her head as she pulls a pen from behind her ear.
“Coffee, pancakes, bacon, and eggs.”
Her head lifts, looking at me. “A woman who’s not afraid to eat,” she smiles. “Be back with your coffee.”
As soon as she leaves, I take out my cell phone and pull up my Kindle app. Any time I need a break from reality, I read. There is nothing better than going on an adventure or imagining two people falling in love.
“What’s your name, sugar?” the woman asks, making me jump in my chair.
“Autumn. Thank you,” I say when she sets the cup down in front of me.
“I’m Viv. You got man problems?” she asks, sitting down across from me like it’s completely normal to sit with someone you don’t know and ask them such a personal question.
“Um…”
“Never mind. I see it in your eyes that you do.”
“I—” I start to tell her that I don’t when she cuts me off again.
“My mamma was able to see things, you know?”
“Sure,” I agree, because who am I to judge? For all I know, her mom could have a gift.
“Well, I can see things too,” she says. I watch her, wondering where she’s going with this. “The guy you like, well… He’s kinda an ass, like my old man used to be,” she tells me, leaning forward like it’s a secret between us.
“Um…”
“Well, you see,
he doesn’t know what to do with what he’s feeling, so he’s an ass.” She shakes her head. “You hear what I’m sayin’?”
I have no idea what she’s saying, but she’s dead-on that Kenton is an ass, so I nod my head in agreement.
“Make him grovel. Whatever you do, you make him pay for being an asshole.”
“Got it.” I smile.
“Now, when you do forgive him”—she shocks me by grabbing my hand—“what you’re feeling right now will be worth it in the end.”
“Uh, okay,” I tell her, patting her hand.
“All right, now you just sit back and I’m going to feed you the best pancakes you’ve ever eaten in your life. Food makes everything okay.” She stands, leaving me wondering what the hell just happened.
Viv comes back a few minutes later with a plate overflowing with pancakes, bacon, and eggs. She sets the plate in front of me before taking a seat across from me again.
“So I take it you’re new around these parts?”
“I just moved here,” I tell her, my mouth watering from the smell coming from the plate.
“Did you move here to be with the ass?”
I can’t help but smile at her name for Kenton. “Um…no, and we’re not together. I mean, we have never been together.”
“Whatever—tomato, tomatoes.” She waves her hand at me, and I can’t help but smile at the way she messed up the saying. “You got family ‘round here?” she asks, sitting forward in the booth like my answer is really important.
“No.” I shake my head, taking a bite of bacon.
“Well, you need to come over and have dinner sometime. My ass makes a mean brisket.” She smiles, watching me take another bite. “Good, right?” she prompts.
“Very.” I nod, covering my mouth.
“You should come over next Sunday. We close the diner early that day and have a big Sunday meal with all the fixings. My daughter and my niece are a little younger than you, but I would guess my nephew is about your age, though he doesn’t always show up. I’m sure the girls would like to show you around. One sure way to get your man to mind is to find another man to show him you can have someone else if you want to,” she rambles, and I can feel my eyes growing in size, so I cut her off.
