“Nice outfit.” He commented, glancing at the sheer black teddy he could see peeking out from underneath her dressing gown. “Were you expecting me?”
She shifted her weight awkwardly from foot to foot. “Look, Rick. Now isn’t a good time.”
“Why not?” He asked, trying to get a look into the apartment. All he could see was her washer, stacked on top of her dryer. There was a load of clothes spinning in the latter.
She huffed out an exasperated sigh and motioned for him to come in. He was grateful. The light jacket wasn’t sufficient to stand up to the wind chill. He brushed the dusting of powdery snow from his hair, watching it melt into water droplets on his palm.
“I thought you might take a hint, when I didn’t answer your calls.” She began to pace, the dressing gown flapping around her appealing legs. “But I should have known better. You’re more stubborn than that.”
“What exactly are you trying to say, Melanie? I’m not in the mood to play twenty-one questions.”
“I’m sort of on a date.” Melanie admitted, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.
“What?” He couldn’t help but feel a stab of betrayal, no matter how hypocritical it was. He’d thought after their encounter that maybe they could make something work.
“Why did you sleep with me?” He demanded, angrier than he ought to have been. They were divorced now. She could date who she liked. But the woman he thought ought to take sex seriously didn’t, and the one he’d tried to remain casual with wanted commitment. It was like life was on a personal mission to kick him in the balls every time an opportunity presented itself.
Melanie shrugged. “It was the last time. It helped me.”
“Helped you?” He repeated incredulously. “Helped you do what, exactly?”
“Lay my doubts to rest.” She said. “I wondered if it was a mistake, and now I know it wasn’t. There’s no spark left between us.”
“Spark, huh?” He could feel a nasty edge of sarcasm creep into his voice. “Yeah, it’s all about the spark. Forget about mutual respect, commitment, friendship, and trust. Oh no, it’s all about the fucking passion, isn’t it?”
“You used to be passionate!” She cried. “You used to be spontaneous, and I used to feel that fire inside of you!”
“I grew up.” He said coldly. “Did you expect it to be as hot and heavy as those first years all the time? Cause that’s not reality sweetheart.”
“Don’t you dare condescend to me, Richard.” She snarled. “Not after everything I’ve put up with.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not fighting with you.” He forced out.
A part of him wanted to stay and trade insults with her. But it wasn’t productive. He’d ruin her date and the likelihood he’d see Elle again was even lower.
“I’m going to Barbra’s.” He muttered, turning away from her.
“What?” Melanie asked, seeming caught off guard.
“Because that’s where Elle will be.” He replied, starting back down the stairs. “I’m going to see my daughter. Have fun on your date.”
Chapter Nine
Rosa wasn’t in class on Monday. He wished he could say it surprised him, but after the disastrous conclusion of their last date, he would have been stunned if she had shown up. He marked her as present regardless. Her grades didn’t need to suffer because of mistakes he had made.
The class seemed to drag on and on, and he had to fight to keep his eyes from clicking to her empty seat.
He finally allowed himself to sag in his seat and cradle his head in his hands when the last of his students filed out. He could close the doors and have a good sulk if he wanted. There wasn’t another class in this lecture hall until later in the evening.
He didn’t stand. He didn’t even try to move from the seat. How had he made such a mess of things in just under a month?
He wasn’t aware someone had entered the room until they started drumming their fingers on the desk near his elbow. He jerked away from the sound instinctively, and his head whipped upward, searching for the intruder.
A young man stood a foot away, looking nonplussed.
Rick shook his head. “Sorry, you surprised me. Did you need this room?” He couldn’t remember any clubs reserving the space.
The man didn’t respond, giving him a once-over. It was unnerving, reminding Rick of a butcher eyeing a piece of meat. Deciding the best place to make a cut.
“You Professor Johnson?” He asked finally, running a hand through his dark, wavy hair. He didn’t recognize the boy from any of his classes. This was a face he would remember. It was a very pretty, for a boy. He looked like he’d have been at home shooting a cologne commercial.
“I am,” Rick said slowly. The man’s eyes were dark brown and looked oddly familiar, though he was certain they’d never met before. “Who are you?”
“Not important,” the man said, rolling his shoulders as if easing a kink from them. “Got a message for you, teach.”
Rick was really beginning to dislike the young man. Everything, from the way he was dressed to the calculating look in his eyes set him on edge.
“And what’s that?”
“Stay away from Rosa McCall,” he said.
His stomach flip-flopped in sudden fear. What did this boy know? Surely Rosa hadn’t told anyone?
“Rosa is my student.” His voice sounded calmer than he felt. “I’m afraid I have to see her at least three days out of the week.”
The man sneered, as if that were the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “Save it. If I see you with her outside of class, I’ll break your face. Understand me, old man?”
Rick’s eyes narrowed. He’d never taken threats well. Even less so in his workplace.
“Leave. Or I’ll call security.”
He glared at the young man for a few more seconds before the sound of shrill laughter from the hallway broke the tense stand-off.
The young man turned on his heel and left. Rick stared after him, wondering what the hell that had been about.
He saw the young man three times the following week, conveniently on the days Rosa attended his classes. He had no idea what to say to her, though if a jealous ex-boyfriend was hanging around he really ought to give her a warning.
For the umpteenth time, he pulled his phone from his pocket, intending to give her a call. He missed the sound of her voice. She had stopped contributing in class. She hadn’t said a word to him at all since her return, and he found it hard to blame her. He’d broken it off, panicking at the thought of a public arrangement. It would have been hell on his career, and he’d secretly been hoping to reconcile with Melanie.
And now Melanie was dating. And school was miserable without Rosa. There was a need addition to his routine, and it was an unsettling one. Douchey McStalker was tailing them both.
He took a deep breath and pressed the call button, telling himself that he was calling to make sure she was okay, and nothing more.
He waited, discouraged as the phone continued to ring. Just as he’d resigned himself to leaving a message, she picked up.
“Hello?”
“Rosa,” he breathed, relief flooding through him at the sound of her voice. “Please. Don’t hang up.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. He checked to make sure she was still on the other end. She was. He hurried to get it all out before she could decide to say good riddance to bad rubbish and hang up.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I shouldn’t have. It was stupid. I’m really, really sorry Rosa.”
“Sorry doesn’t change the fact you’re ashamed of me,” she whispered.
“I’m not. Look, that’s not what I meant. Let me make it up to you.”
Her hesitation was palpable, even over the phone.
“I want to make it work,” he whispered, his voice breaking on the last word. “I miss you.”
It all came spilling out, and he couldn’t seem to stop it. Some internal damn had burst at the sound of
her voice, and he couldn’t keep the truth from slipping out.
“It’s been horrible. The days have dragged. There’s no color in my world without you in it, Rosa.”
He heard her inhale sharply. “Fine. Come over tonight. At eight. And if you’re late, I swear to God…”
“I’ll be there,” he promised. And hung up, belatedly realizing he hadn’t said a word about the mysterious man stalking them both.
He’d tell her tomorrow. Tonight, he had a date, and he wasn’t going to mess it up for a second time.
Rosa was living in a low-income apartment complex at the edge of town. It was one of many in the building. It gave him a wave of nostalgia. for the early days of his marriage. He remembered living in worse buildings than this, but even so, he’d been happy. Perhaps the simple things were what had made it that way.
He knocked on her door three times and then stood back to wait. He was a few minutes early. Even so, it was up to her to let him in. He wasn’t going to make a scene if she decided not to.
At exactly eight, Rosa’s door opened. He didn’t see her in the gap and peered cautiously in. She was standing just behind it.
She hadn’t made much of an effort, apparently afraid he wouldn’t show up. She was wearing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a black tank top. He ought to have been upset that she clearly hadn’t expected him to follow through, but seeing her like this, dressed in normal, non-vampy clothing, her face clear of makeup and her hair mussed, was oddly endearing.
He held up the basket he held on one arm. “I brought a little spread of my own, as I ruined the last one.”
“What’s in it?” she asked warily.
“It’s a surprise. Mind showing me to the kitchen?”
They only had to walk a few feet, as the kitchen was tucked into a corner of the apartment. There was a sink, stove and a small stretch of countertop situated in one wall, and the fridge and a trashcan on the other.
Rosa hovered in the doorway, watching him set out ingredients. “Spaghetti?” she guessed, eyeing the noodles somewhat skeptically.
“Close. Chicken cacciatore,” he said, giving her a wry smile. “I like to listen to music while I cook. Do you have a preference?”
“Vivaldi,” she said promptly. He searched a playlist on his phone and set it aside. Rosa continued to watch him for a few minutes.
“Do you want help?” she asked finally.
“No. I screwed up. This evening is all about you.”
She gave him a wry smile. “I’ll set the table.” She came to stand beside him, opening a cabinet above her head, standing on tiptoe to reach the stack of plates. He tried not to notice how much her top rode up.
She gathered the silverware as well and ducked out of the kitchen. It took him about a half hour to get the prep work done, and it would take even longer for the food to cook, so he pulled out his other gifts.
He fished out the bouquet of flowers and the box of chocolates he had purchased on the way over. Finding a vase beneath her sink, he filled it with water and went to locate Rosa.
She was sitting at a small, round table. She’d set the table and had lit a few candles. She set the vase down in the center. She blinked at them for a moment.
“Orchids,” she mumbled.
“Do you like them?” he asked, heart sinking a little.
“No, no, I do. I really do. Most men get me roses. You know, cause of the name. It’s nice. How did you know orchids were my favorite?”
“I guessed.”
“Knew there was a reason I liked you,” she said with a wry smile.
“Despite the fact that I must look really funny with my foot stuck in my mouth all the time.”
She laughed. “Thank you for the flowers, Rick.”
“I bought you something else,” he said and slid the box across the table.
“Ooh, you evil man,” she groaned. “I’m trying not to eat those.”
“You can indulge,” he said with a light laugh.
“I can’t. It’s the law of candy,” she said with a mockingly somber expression. “If I start eating this, I’ll eat the whole thing. Then it’ll be chocolate syrup and maraschino cherries right out of the jar. And then before you know it, I’ll be snorting pixie sticks in the dollar store bathroom.”
“Alright, I’ll eat it,” he said, and reached with exaggerated slowness for the box of chocolate.
She slapped his hand away. “Don’t you dare.”
He laughed again and left to check on the chicken. It was nearly done, so he waited the last five minutes in the kitchen. He put on another playlist while he waited, this time from Mozart, to keep Rosa happy.
He retrieved the plates from the table and he loaded them with large helpings of the dish, balanced them precariously in the other hand, carrying the bottle of white wine he’d bought in the other.
“Do you have any wine glasses?” he asked, glancing at the Styrofoam cups Rosa had set out. She shook her head.
“Sorry, no. Though next paycheck I will be able to upgrade to real glass cups.”
He poured them both a generous measure of wine and sat back to watch her eat. He wanted to make sure she liked it before tucking in himself. If she didn’t he’d order in whatever she wanted.
He needn’t have feared, though. Rosa tucked in with zeal after the first hesitant bite.
“This is amazing,” she gushed. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“It started as research, actually,” she said with a shrug. “For the Connor Valentine series. It’s not actually that difficult if you can follow instructions.” He grinned sheepishly. “And I seem to have a lot of time in the evenings to watch the Food Network.”
Rosa snorted into her wine. “You watch the Food Network?”
“It’s a very distinguished pastime,” he sniffed.
When they’d finished dinner he offered to do the dishes. Rosa shook her head, eyeing him with an entirely new kind of hunger.
“I don’t think so, Rick.”
“No?”
“No. We’re going to set these plates in the sink, and then I think you really ought to get a tour of my bedroom.”
His heart rate increased, and his breath quickened in anticipation. For the first time that night he shrugged off his coat. Rosa glared at the buttons of his shirt as if they’d done her a personal wrong.
“Too many buttons,” she grumbled. “Clothes off. Now.”
He obeyed, smirking a little at her impatience. She reached for the front of his pants, but he grabbed her wrist before she could get hold of him.
“No,” he said gently. “Tonight’s about you. We can get to that later.” He leaned down, kissing her cheeks, her jawline, down her neck and nipped lightly at her clavicle.
“Take off your clothes Rosa,” he whispered, breath fanning across her skin. He felt goosebumps erupt along the skin of her arms where he gripped her. “I want to see you.” He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the vanilla and sugar scent of her. Then he nibbled her ear, rolling it gently between his teeth. “Taste you,” he purred.
She pushed him back slightly and then stripped her top off in one smooth motion. She shimmied out of the bottoms with similar speed.
She was left in a matched set of deep blue underthings. The bra was covered with decorative sequins and pushed her breasts upwards, creating a deep line of cleavage. The underwear was slightly sheer.
“Now,” he breathed huskily. “Let’s get on with the tour.”
***
The next morning he woke with his head pillowed on Rosa’s stomach, her hand in his hair. He smiled to himself. Yes. This was what he’d missed.
Rosa’s fingers rubbed gentle fingers into his scalp. “Finally awake,” she said, voice thick with sleepy contentment.
“Didn’t expect you to be up,” he mumbled. “Not after the workout we did last night.”
“You’re just getting old,” she teased, and sat up to see his face.
“Maybe,” he agreed, doin
g the same. His joints protested as they did every morning, but otherwise he felt fine. Better than fine. He was sated in nearly every sense.
Last night had been perfect. He wondered why he hadn’t called sooner.
Which reminded him of why he’d originally called.
“Rosa, do you have any ex-boyfriends in town?”
She frowned. “No. You’re the first guy I’ve dated since moving here.”
He frowned as well, trying to puzzle that out. “Well, there’s this guy who’s been hanging around my classes. Tall, dark hair and eyes. Threatened to assault me if I didn’t stay away from you.”
Rosa went absolutely still beneath him. “Did you get his name?” she whispered.
“No. I thought you ought to know. I was going to tell you before, but…”
He trailed off as someone pounded on the door. Rosa was rooted to the spot, eyes wide and horrified.
“Brody.”
“Rosa,” a voice sing-songed from the hallway. He must have been speaking loudly for them to hear it through two walls. “I know you’re in there. Why don’t you come out and introduce me to your friend? I’ve got somebody for you to meet too.”
“You need to leave,” Rosa hissed.
“How?” he shot back. “This is the third floor.”
“Stay here,” Rosa commanded, grabbing the first clothes she found from the floor and donning them hurriedly.
He followed her, albeit slowly, wondering what the hell was going on. He stayed in the short hallway and listened.
Rosa unbolted the door and swung it open. “Go away Brody,” she ordered, voice quavering slightly.
“Oh come on cuz. Is that any way to talk to family?” came the familiar voice of the stalker.
Cousin? Rick’s mind reeled. Rosa had said her family lived in Maine. While it was true not all of her family needed to live in the same place, why here? She wouldn’t have come here if she’d known any of them were in town. Not to mention that this Brody had not acted with any sort of familial fondness when speaking to or observing Rosa. There had been a kind of possession to it that frankly disturbed him.
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