No Time to Explain

by Kate Angell

  Giselle huffed. “Customers look, but they don’t touch. You not only handled the merchandise, you tried on the garter, and then you snuck off. Outright theft.”

  “She didn’t get far.” The taller guard appeared proud of his takedown. “I’ll radio for a squad car.”

  Stewie’s eyes widened in panic. She scanned the crowd, searching for someone she might know. Someone to vouch for her character. To save her. Apparently her friend Lori was nowhere in sight. Her gaze glanced off him. Swung back. Relief, uncertainty, doom, all flickered over her features. She frowned. All hope faded. She expected him to turn on her. To walk away. As well she should. He could be a dick on occasion. Far more badass than good guy. That’s who he was. No shame. No remorse. His own man.

  She’d flipped him off without any thought of further consequence. That consequence was now. Karma had returned her to him. She was in trouble, and he could help. He smiled to himself. She would owe him for saving her. Owe him big-time.

  Game face on, he stiff-armed his way through the crowd. Glared people back. They gave him space. He eyed Stewie. Her lips parted. Her breath caught. She had no idea what he would do, what he might say, but then, neither did he. He went with the obvious. Women came and went in his life. He seldom went on a date with the same girl twice. But he made Stewie his date-for-the-day. Despite her sucky attitude.

  Once he reached her, he draped his arm about her shoulders and drew her to his side. Tucked her in tight. She fit nicely. Her shuddered resistance appeared to be shivery compliance to those looking on. They gave the impression of a couple. He dipped his head, nuzzled her cheek, then spoke low near her ear, “Time for me now, babe?”

  She blushed. Deeply. Perhaps embarrassed by her previous snub or merely at the fact that their bodies were touching so intimately. “No need for an arrest, Roy,” Joe read the security guard’s name stitched over the pocket on his khaki shirt. “I can explain the garter heist.”

  “Joe Zooker.” Roy recognized him. He grinned broadly. “Shed some light, my man. I’m listening.” He released his hold on Stewie. She shook out her arm. A purple thumbprint showed above her elbow. Joe’s body tensed. He hated that she’d been manhandled. That she’d been bruised. Son of a bitch.

  A protective growl rose deep in Joe’s throat. A warning. Dark. Animalistic. He tamped it down. Now was not the time for further confrontation. He needed to get Stewie off the hook and away from the security guards. He was good at stretching the truth, always had been. White lies were as much a part of his life as baseball, booze, and sex.

  He went with, “We were browsing the bridal event, and we stopped at Giselle’s table. My woman here”—he claimed her—“found a garter that she liked, and I asked her to try it on. She did so—for me.” He stroked Stewie’s hip, fingered the denim, then suddenly hiked her skirt three inches up her thigh, until the accessory was visible. He nudged Roy. “Sweet mercy, don’t you think?”

  The guard eyed Stewie’s gartered thigh along with the other onlookers. There were nods of approval, and a low whistle rose from one man in the back. Comments ensued. Everyone agreed with Joe: Pale blue was her color. The heart charm, romantic. It was the perfect wedding accessory.

  Stewie shifted beside him. She dug her nails into his wrist, pushed his hand off her hip. Her attempt to step back failed. He tightened his hold. She huffed her annoyance. The lady was unappreciative.

  Joe clarified to Roy, “She asked me to purchase the garter while she moved on to the next table. Cake toppers. She walked away, and I was reaching for my wallet, just as Giselle shot past me. There was no one to pay.” Short pause. “She’s no thief. It was an innocent mistake. I went after Giselle ready to pay, but she’d already sounded the alarm.”

  Roy accepted Joe’s account without question. “Thanks for clearing it up, Joe.” He nodded to Stewie. “Purchase it or return the garter, so we can close the incident.”

  Robbery dismissed. Accountability upheld. No one was headed to jail. Interest waned. The crowd thinned. There was no price tag on the garter. “How much?” the blonde asked Giselle.

  “Sixty dollars.”

  Joe raised an eyebrow. Apparently elastic didn’t come cheap.

  “The charm is sterling silver,” the shop owner said in defense of the cost.

  Stewie dipped one shoulder, rolled down the garter. “I don’t have sixty—”

  “I do.” Joe bent, placed his hand over hers, then skimmed the garter back up. Higher, this time. Denim brushed the backs of his knuckles. His thumb met her thigh gap. Satin against smooth skin. Their secret. He and Stewie knew she wore the garter, yet it was no longer visible to the casual observer. He squeezed her freckled knee. Straightened. She tried to pass under his arm, to wiggle free. He refused to let her go. Not until he was ready.

  Payment came next. He removed three twenties from his wallet. Giselle snatched the money from his hand. Hurried back to her unsupervised table.

  A new disturbance drew security down the boardwalk. Two women were arguing over a wedding veil. It was about to get ripped in half. The area cleared. Passersby skirted them. Joe and Stewie were left alone. He and his supposed date.

  He stared down at her. She stared up at him. Her sigh was heavy. Her expression questioning. “Do you think I stole the garter?” His response seemed important to her.

  He shook his head. “There’s not a criminal bone in your body. You were blamed—”

  “It was all your fault.”

  He stopped short. “How do you figure that?”

  “You cornered me by the accessories table. Came on to me.”

  Get real. “No more than a passing comment.”

  “You stared at my garter.”

  “I’m a leg man, babe.”

  “You made me uncomfortable.”

  “I tend to fluster women.”

  “Not in a good way.”

  “Good for most.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I couldn’t get away from you fast enough.”

  “Fast got you into trouble,” he reminded her. “You walked off without paying for the garter.”

  She stuck out her chin. Stubborn. “I would’ve eventually noticed it, gone back, and paid.”

  “Giselle was quick. She accused you of shoplifting. I saved your ass. Kept you out of jail.”

  Her dark eyes flashed. “I could’ve managed just fine without you.” The lady was short on gratitude.

  “Keep telling yourself that, hon. Your booking was seconds away.”

  She huffed. Her breasts rose, inches from his chest. Her nipples nearly flicked him. “I would have been entitled to a phone call. Someone would’ve bailed me out.”

  “Not Lori, she deserted you.”

  “I have other friends.”

  “You’d have sat in Holding until your ride arrived. Paperwork takes time. Cops eat doughnuts. Cells are nasty. You’d never have survived.”

  “And you would have?”

  “I have.”

  She didn’t seem all that surprised by his comment. Pretty accepting, actually. She obviously didn’t think much of him. So be it. He had a juvenile record, having been the fall guy when he took the rap for a stolen car for his younger brother. He’d never regretted his decision.

  She swallowed, said, “I’ll pay you for the garter once I get my paycheck.”

  He offhandedly wondered where she worked. He decided not to ask. It wasn’t important. “No need. Keep your money.”

  “I hate owing people.”

  Especially him. He could see it in her eyes. “Trade-off, then,” he proposed. “What do you have that I might want?” He had something in mind. He lowered his gaze to her mouth.

  Her lips thinned. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Not joking.”

  “Jerk.”

  He’d been called worse.

  She breathed in deeply. “You’re insane.”

  “I’m so mental I’d follow you around all day for that kiss.”

  “You have wa
y too much time on your hands.”

  He never gave up. Never gave in. “One kiss, then I’m gone. I’ve got other obligations.” He had a professional commitment at the Beachside Memorial Hospital Children’s Ward. Legendary superheroes Batman, Captain America, and Super Zooker were scheduled to entertain the young patients for an hour. He didn’t want to be late. Didn’t want to disappoint the kids. He used his superpowers for good. Smiles were contagious. Healing came through laughter and happiness.

  His attention centered on Stewie. She was growing on him, in a smart-mouthed sort of way. Which he didn’t fully understand. She wasn’t someone he would ever date. That she would ever even be his friend was questionable. Companionship was a two-way street. She hadn’t taken to him—at all.

  He preferred a warm, willing woman. Sexual experience mattered to him. Stewie might not be a virgin, but he’d bet his first home run of the preseason that she was all missionary position and snuggling. He liked X-rated.

  He eyed her now; her expression hadn’t changed. It was sullen, disapproving. No visible softness. A first for him. He reconsidered his request for a kiss. He’d never forced himself on a female before, and he wasn’t about to start now. If they kissed, fine; if not, that was okay, too. There were lots of kissable lips there today on the boardwalk.

  A beach babe in a skimpy sundress passed by within a foot of him. Ignoring Stewie, she arched an eyebrow, lightly touched his arm, signaling her availability. Definitely a hot prospect for the night. He winked, but didn’t commit. She blew him a kiss, moved on.

  “Kiss her instead of me,” Stewie suggested. Hopeful.

  “I plan to kiss you now. Her, possibly later.”

  “You’re such a hound.”

  What if he was? No big deal. “I’m single. I like the ladies. I’ve been known to howl at the moon—”

  “Chase your tail?” Spoken with a straight face.

  “I don’t do circles.”

  She gave a single-shoulder shrug. Not caring.

  Applause rose from the beach. He glanced over the blue metal railing. A volleyball game had ended. Cheers for the winners. Congratulations from the losers.

  A Frisbee sailed high and fast and far too close. It looked like a flying saucer. Someone had a strong arm.

  His attention returned to her. “Ready for me?” he asked.

  “Hurry up and get it over with.”

  “I’ve never hurried a kiss.”

  He eased toward her, allowing their bodies to meet. His male heat and muscle pressed against her slender curves. He slid his hands into her hair. Summery silk. His thumbs traced the frown lines at the corners of her mouth. Creamy skin, despite the creases. He waited for her to warm up to him. She shivered instead.

  Pulsing seconds passed as he gave her time to push him away. Amazingly, she did not. The lady was paying her debt, albeit reluctantly. He was tempted to take her mouth fully. To lightly scrape her lip with his teeth. To slip her his tongue. He lowered his head. Her eyelids shuttered. She appeared a martyr.

  He gentled. Calm and persuasive. An airbrush of warm breath over her mouth, in hopes of parting her lips. But she remained tight-lipped. He nipped one corner; she scrunched her nose. Not a pretty face. He hated second-guessing himself. He held back, unsure. Then he changed his mind at the last minute. Leaning back, he kissed her on the forehead. Quick, light. Uneventful. Then he withdrew. She blinked. Confused.

  He lowered his gaze to her legs. “Wear our garter and think of me.”

  “The garter comes off shortly, and it stays off. No thoughts of you.” Snippy woman.

  “Believe what you will.”

  “You know different?”

  He looked up. “Wait and see.” Her indifference amused him. It was too forced. He’d bet she would wear the garter to bed. They were about to part ways. He gave her one final chance to be cordial. “We didn’t get off on the best foot, did we?” he asked. Definitely not.

  “I stomped on yours earlier.” When she’d edged around him at the accessories table.

  “You’re heavier than you look,” he said, tongue in cheek.

  “Are you trying to be funny, or are you saying I’m fat?”

  “Funny.”

  “You’re not.”

  There was no winning with her. Pride pushed him in the opposite direction. “’Bye, Stewie.” He took his leave, all jock strut and arrogance.

  “Stewie?” Her voice hit him between the shoulder blades. Damn if she didn’t come after him. All flushed and offended. Breasts heaving. Fire in her eyes. A woman wanting the last word.

  They faced off near Goody Gumdrops, a penny candy store. Joe could go for a jawbreaker about now. Or bubble-gum baseball cards. He was still a kid at heart. He kept his cool despite her outburst. “Isn’t that your name?” he asked. Had his ears deceived him?

  “No, it’s not.”

  “You look like a Stewie.”

  “Insulting me again?”

  “Being truthful.” Not really.

  “I’m Stevie, short for Steven.”

  “A guy’s name?” Puzzling.

  “After my father. My parents wanted a boy.”

  “Anyone ever call you Junior?”

  “Don’t be the first.”

  “Steven what?” he tried.

  “Last names are for relationships.”

  “No sweat. I’m not that into you.”

  “I can live without you, too.”

  He had to ask, “Do you dislike all men, or is it just me? ”

  Her silence said it was him.

  “Because you see me as an opportunist.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Fine by him. He glanced at his watch. A Genesis X1, Advertised for the man who wouldn’t be told what to do. It fit him. He’d spent thirty minutes with her. He’d planned on five. Time he’d never get back. He flicked his wrist, waved her off. “Hope your day improves.”

  “It has to—you’re leaving.”

  They parted ways. His day could only get better, too. It immediately upgraded. A hottie in a bikini top and Boom Boom shorts bumped into him. On purpose. Barely covered breasts and peekaboo butt cheeks. There’d been room for her to walk around, but she’d cut his corner. Close. She tapped the front of his shirt with a finger, near his nipple. Grinning, she read his T-shirt, “Rules are meant to be broken.”

  She was a sex pack of wild, curly hair, phenomenal tits, narrow waist, and long legs. A Take Me Home Tonight tattoo curved over her left breast. He wondered where else she might be inked. He’d bet that her inner thigh had sexy script on it. Lick Me, maybe.

  She could keep him hard for the entire weekend. No doubt about it. He was tempted to invite her to meet him at the Driftwood Hotel later that night. Apartment housing for the players. Many of his teammates had purchased homes in town, but Joe hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Maybe this season. He’d enlist a Realtor.

  His hesitation had the dark-haired babe rolling her eyes and moving on. Had he missed out? More likely than not. He didn’t feel all that bad. He was more partial to blondes.

  He glanced back at Stevie one final time. She gazed back. A long stare. They blinked simultaneously. She looked away first, took in the boardwalk. Something felt off. The fight seemed to have left her. She relaxed against the metal railing now, her sudden change in mood confusing him. Her features had softened. She nodded to passersby, both women and the infrequent man. Her eyes were bright and smiling. She appeared happy. Away from him. He frowned.

  He sensed she was about to leave. Perhaps she was going to go in search of her friend Lori. Stevie needed a ride home, he remembered. Before he knew it, she’d slipped into the crowd, swallowed up by the masses of wedding consumers. Gone.

  His heart gave an unexpected squeeze. The tightness in his chest annoyed him. Why should he care where she went? Whom she was with? What she did? The reason was simple, though utterly ridiculous. Because she was wearing his garter. That gave him every right to go after her. And so he did. Keeping his dista
nce.

  * * *

  “He’s following me,” Stevie Reynolds whispered to her best friend, Lori Rafferty, once they’d connected at the wedding cake table. Three local bakers offered samplers. Small confectionary squares of traditional vanilla and buttercream, along with new takes on flavor profiles. Stevie moaned over the whipped-orange chiffon laced with strawberry schnapps. She would’ve enjoyed another piece, if seconds were allowed. The crowd nudged her aside before she could grab a napkin.

  Lori finished off her last bite of cherry-glazed mocha. “Who’s he?” she asked, peering at Stevie over the rim of her red heart-shaped sunglasses. Her green gaze was curious.

  “Joe.”

  “Joe who?”

  Indrawn breath. “Zooker.”

  Lori gaped. “Not ‘the Zoo’?” She finger-quoted.

  “One and the same.”

  “I wasn’t aware you knew him.”

  “Chance meeting earlier.” It was hard to confess. She’d been mindful of him for several years. Her cousin DJ spoke often of Joe. He envied the Rogue, imitated the left fielder’s drive and focus. Right down to Joe’s swagger and smugness.

  “Must have been some meeting,” Lori speculated. She glanced down the boardwalk. “Something must’ve gone right for Joe to come after you like that. I’m impressed.”

  I’m wearing his garter. That thought gave her goose bumps. She’d told him that she would be slipping it off immediately, yet it remained high on her thigh. She didn’t need a public restroom to remove it. She could slide the garter off at any time. Yet she had not. Joe was enough of a hound to sniff out that fact. To track her down. To grin his satisfaction.

  “We had words,” Stevie admitted.

  “Flirty, suggestive words?”

  Not even close. “I called him an opportunist.” She’d started it.

  Lori was shocked. “Whatever for?”

  “He’s just here this afternoon to score.”

  “Not a big deal.” Lori glanced in his direction. “Can’t condemn a man for checking out the ladies. He’s not forcing himself on anyone. If anything, the women are all over him.” Pause. “I think he’s a genius. The dating possibilities here are endless.”

  Leave it to Lori to side with Joe. Despite their closeness, the two women were as different as night and day. Lori was a guy’s girl. She preferred hanging with men over women. She loved sports, she watched action flicks, she was opinionated and strong-willed, and she didn’t give a damn what others thought. She presently wore an oversized white button-down and boyfriend-style jeans.