by Ferraro, W
“Hey neighbor, fancy seeing you around our ginormous town. What a coincidence?” Casey stated with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
Colby couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
“I’m starting to get that feeling.”
His handsome face responded with a large smile before winking. “You get used to it.”
With a good-bye to the group, Casey left the station. Paige noticed Gage’s door was still closed, so she told Colby she would introduce them another time. Dustin said good-bye, leaving Colby to blush again as the two women left the station.
They decided to head back to Colby’s and get some Chinese food. As they shared an order of orange chicken, Colby’s canvases were delivered.
Leaving the smaller ones wrapped in their brown paper, Colby immediately went to the two large ones, knowing she needed to see them both in such great light. The first one she unwrapped was the one painted with Reed’s tie. Colby leaned the painting against the wall while still holding shreds of brown paper. She stepped back to appreciate the beauty that was before her. The way each of the colors blended into the others, before the slashing and aggressive blue dominated. Colby was thrilled with how it came out, and in this light, its voice was even louder. Exposing how you could compartmentalize as many things as you wanted, and they might even fit into the spaces you needed, but all it took was one rogue emotion, and suddenly, order no longer existed; there was just chaos and anarchy.
Lost in the moment, Colby didn’t hear Paige step up next up to her. “Whoa, that is different than your usual stuff. What does it represent?”
Colby didn’t answer, just continued to admire her work as a small smile of pride graced her face.
“Seems almost angry in a way,” Paige replied, as she continued to study the painting.
Finally pulling her eyes from the canvas, Colby turned to her cousin and said, “Angry, no. Confused, perhaps. Silently suffering, definitely. Sometimes your emotions can be like that. You want so desperately to appear indifferent, yet something or someone comes along and blows that all to hell.”
Colby did not intend to share anything deeper than that. She knew the person who inspired this very painting, and just so happened to bring her work to life, would never accept how she really felt.
Reed Dennison didn’t do commitment.
Colby knew that from the very first moment she laid eyes on him. He may have never noticed her, but she certainly noticed him. Always coming into the coffee shop at 8:15 am sharp every weekday morning, impeccably dressed and looking like he just came off a runway in Milan rather than the small New Hampshire town.
Some days, he wore expensive black framed glasses as he read over paperwork, and other times, his incredible gorgeous blue eyes were free of them; either way, she was drawn to them from the back where she worked unseen from the customers. She would never admit that to anyone; especially considering how long it took to admit to herself that the reason she remained there for so long was because the sight of him was too good. He became her muse. So many times she would dream of painting him nude, clothed, didn’t matter—just the thought of being able to mimic his perfect lines onto a canvas had her going back to her shitty job day after day. She did try to paint him from memory any times, but the results never seemed right. Colby eventually gave up her poor attempts to convey his beauty through her brush until the unthinkable happened; the opportunity to work the front counter arose after a co-worker up and quit.
The entire morning rush that day, Colby was calm and collected. Greeting each patron with a smile or a, “Good Morning,” until he came in. Suddenly, Colby’s hands shook, and she found herself making the same cup of coffee three times because she couldn’t get it right. When it came time to make his simple large latte, she had burned her hands twice and was so nervous she couldn’t even bring herself to raise her face and allow those incredible blue eyes to finally share a moment with her brown ones. After he left, she quickly found her bearings again and bounced back to herself. That night she berated herself and swore it wouldn’t happen again. However, with every morning that followed, history just repeated itself, minus the scalding of skin. She never met his eyes; hell, she didn’t even acknowledge him, but she knew every time he entered the small shop. Her heart rate increased, her body hummed, and her breath suddenly became shallow. She would fill his cup, call his surname, and wait for the small ring of the bell indicating he had left, and everything would go back to normal.
However, one day it all changed.
When it was Colby’s day to work open to close, she generally didn’t mind. The morning was its typical embarrassing interaction, but while the place was quiet after a lunch crowd, the bell rang, and Colby turned from behind the counter to find him there. Without even waiting for the order to process from the front, she began to make it, confident she knew him enough not to vary it; she placed the to-go cup on the counter and yelled, “Order up,” before stepping away from her post. In the back, she was once again humiliated with her reaction to him and found herself despising the fact she had to remain here for another five hours. When the last ten minutes of her shift arrived, she couldn’t wait to head back to her little apartment and paint. All day, she had this need to get to her brush and paints, to throw all her internal highs and lows onto a canvas, as if her turmoil of emotions would actually purge themselves through her hand onto its surface. Then the bell chimed again, and Colby knew it was him without even looking up. To her, it was a sign that it was now or never. Once again, making his order without it even being placed, she called out it was ready and rushed into the back where her boss was. Asking to leave a few minutes early, she was amazed when her boss granted it. She waited until he left and then did the same.
Their interaction on the sidewalk was as if someone else was talking. She couldn’t believe she invited him home with her so flippantly, but she wasn’t lying; her feet really did hurt. When they were in her apartment, she was almost certain she had an out-of-body experience coming across so casual about her proposition of sex, but it almost seemed her body cut off the connection from her mouth to her brain and her mouth was taking charge. It took all she had to remain seated there on her futon calmly, as if she did this sort of thing all the time. She thought for sure she would die a hundred times over in the moments that followed before he answered.
That night, Reed Dennison effectively fucked her brains out. No words were spoken—just grinding, dirty, amazing sex. In fact, it wasn’t even until he was pulling his pants on to leave that she finally asked him for his first name. Without any sort of communication beforehand of when and if they would see each other again outside the coffee house, their affair began. Nothing changed in the mornings when he would get his coffee, his presence always having the same effect on her and resulting in her mute behavior. Then at night when her door would buzz, she never had to ask who it was; she knew it was him. Sometimes, he would go four or five days between visits, and other times, he would return night after night. Didn’t matter, it was always the same—minimal conversation and undeniable mind-blowing sex.
That was until the last time.
Colby tried to put up her usual ineffective front, but that time it was different. Always aware that he stood behind her as she studied her work, she became unable to abstain any longer and had to have his taste on her tongue. All those times with him, she knew he would never deny her to take the lead. To describe Reed Dennison in one word—selfless would definitely be it. He was such a generous lover. Always making sure she was exhausted from reaching her orgasms first before he then turned self-seeking and rammed into her until he too was spent.
Taking his tie was not premeditated, it just happened. Before she knew what she was doing, she had already plunged it into the paint, and suddenly, she didn’t want her perfect order. No, she needed to replicate how his presence affected her. He was her kryptonite. He was the one thing that had her wishing she were someone else. Because for all that she felt when she was with him or when he
was on her mind, Colby knew he would never be hers on the other side of her door.
Reed was not the type of guy looking for anything serious. He was not the type who wanted afterward cuddles or breakfast in bed. Colby was well aware that she was his proverbial scratch for his itch. Never before would she have accepted such a position of low self-importance, but for him, she not only accepted it, but she also placed herself in that role with full disclosure.
With minimal methodical movements, Colby felt the paint splatter across the surface and finally bring truth and honesty to what she was trying to convey. It was harsh, it was violent, and it made no sense, but it was her reality.
When she was done, she felt lighter than she had in a very long time. Her emotions were finally on canvas in a way that she never thought they would be, honestly and without a filter. So enraptured with its completion, she was unaware of the lusting beast that lay in wait behind her.
She followed through with his orders, without question, not quite sure what he had in store, but silently willing to obey. Their painted tryst was the most sensual and hottest moments of her life. Never once did she mix the two parts of her soul together, but she knew she would never be the same after sharing that with Reed. Her orgasm rocketed through her, magically linking the two separate parts of her being together, forever going forward as one.
Pulling herself from her thoughts, she continued to ignore the seeking eyes of Paige and moved to unwrap the other one. As her fingers touched the brown paper, she stopped and realized a part of her didn’t want to unwrap it; she felt she should unveil it when she was alone. This particular piece was so personal and special that perhaps only her eyes should see it. As she processed the thought, Paige came up and ripped the paper off.
Trying to hide her disappointment, Colby watched as Paige continued to grab at the paper, pulling and tearing it from the art beneath. Colby’s memory did it no justice. Knowing her cheeks were tinged crimson, she became suddenly paranoid that Paige would immediately know what it was and demand details, so Colby waited for her response.
Paige tilted her head and scrunched her nose as she examined the piece in front of her.
“Um, well, it’s different . . .”
This had Colby tipping her head back and laughing. Stepping backward so she was now next to Paige, she too cocked her head to the side and let her mind replay exactly which body part left each of those incriminating marks. Sure, she supposed, to an unknowing person it looked like smudges of paint mixed and smeared in every direction, but to her, it looked sensual and mesmerizing. She had phantom memories of exactly how each mark felt.
“Not going to lie, Col, this one is not my favorite,” Paige said as she walked over to the trash barrel to stuff the scraps of paper inside. Then hopping up on the counter once more, she stabbed a piece of flavorful chicken with a fork and popped it into her mouth.
May not be your favorite, Paige, but it definitely is mine.
The following week, Reed found himself at Gage’s house for a game of poker with his brothers and Jamie. They’ve held these card tournaments for as long as he could remember, but with Gage and Hunter now hitched, it had been a while since they’d played. Needless to say, it was a nice change of pace to get back to it.
Somewhat surprised when he received the call from Gage a few days ago, he accepted the invitation to join. His oldest brother offered his house, astoundingly considering his young kids, but he insisted, stating Delaney would keep the kids upstairs with a movie and promised them no interruptions. Honestly, Reed thought this impromptu startup of poker was more his sister-in-law’s idea than Gage’s. Ever since Gage found out that Delaney was pregnant again, he had been practically attached to her hip. Knowing this, Reed was sure Delaney was planning this little activity for her dear beloved to give herself a break for a night. Reed had to hand it to her—not only was she striking, but she was a smart one too. She knew if she said jump, Gage would respond with, “How high?” So mentioning to him to host a get-together with his brothers for poker would seem to Gage as if she was doing it for him.
Looking at his hand, confident that his pocket Queens were enough to take this hand, Reed let his thoughts wander away from the table and fall to his current caseload.
Not that he didn’t enjoy his brothers’ company, but Reed prided himself on his ability to multi-task so to speak.
Pulled from his thoughts by the deep rumble of laughs that filled the room, he took a long sip from his beer bottle as he dropped his cards and began to finger the moderate pile of chips after the short amount of time he had been here.
“Brother, you have no idea what you are talking about. Dude, she could rock my world any day of the week and hourly on the weekend,” Mason said as he threw some chips onto the pile in the center of the table.
“Like that little thing would give you the time of day. Besides, we all know she isn’t the female you want to rock your world,” Casey answered, knowing he was just riling his twin up.
“Funny!” Mason said as he threw a small amount of pub mix from the table’s bowl at Casey. However, no one would mention that he hadn’t denied Casey’s assumption.
“Come on, you mean to tell me you didn’t take a good look at that ass? Damn, you could bounce a quarter off it,” Mason continued, mimicking the motion of tossing something.
“Yeah, like she will allow your quarter anywhere near her,” Jamie chimed in, receiving a tap of his beer bottle from Casey while getting a dousing of pub mix that he happily caught in his mouth, much to Mason’s displeasure.
Reed grew somewhat tired of Mason’s usual locker room talk. “Whoever you guys are talking about, just remember, you are toeing the line of sexual harassment.”
Mason snorted from across the table as he cockily looked at Reed and countered, “Yeah, yeah, Counselor, just wait until you lay eyes on this little honey. Perfect. I’m telling you. Even you, Mr. Sexually-Secretive, won’t be able to look away.”
Casey found this response humorous or perhaps it was the whole conversation because he struggled to keep his light laughter at bay. “Well, you had better get in line real quick, Mase. From what I saw at the sheriff’s station the other day, good old Poirier shares your sentiment. He was practically foaming at the mouth.”
Mason’s face showed his thoughts on this information being of any significance. “Please . . . Poirier? I could flirt circles around him. He is not competition.”
“Says you, but you didn’t see her flushed cheeks or averted eyes when he was next to her. Dustin definitely wasn’t the only one intrigued,” Casey said as he folded his hand and rose to get another beer from the fridge.
“Whatever. I’m not going to waste my time worrying about losing a girl to Dustin. Back to the topic at hand and that is her level of hotness. Come on, Hunter, chime in. She is fine, isn’t she?”
“I’ve only met her once the other day at the restaurant, not to mention my wife would castrate me if I agreed, but as a physician, I can say she definitely is in fine physical condition.” Hunter smirked as he took a pull of his own beer.
“Don’t you think she is a little young? What is she, twenty-two or twenty-three?” Jamie questioned, raising the pot.
Gage took a sip of his drink before swirling the ice cubes around the glass so there was a slight clink before adding, “So is it just me and the DA here who hasn’t had a visual yet?”
Casey answered as he swung his leg over the back of the chair and sat down. “Yeah, Sheriff, but don’t let your pretty wife hear you sound so upset about it. And for your information, Mr. Dwyer, she is twenty-five.”
“Anything over twenty-one is fair game in my book,” Mason added, around a mouth full of pub mix.
Ignoring the ill-mannered twin, Gage responded confidently. “Trust me. No matter if you told me this girl was Aphrodite reincarnated, she couldn’t compare to Delaney.”
Reed tipped the longneck back and mentally rolled his eyes as his brothers debated the degrees of this woman’s at
tractiveness so blatantly. His eyes roamed the room, hoping to focus on anything that would drown out the ongoing conversation. He wanted to just get back to the reason he was here—play some cards and win some money.
“Delaney is striking, just as Molly is, but Colby is right up there with such elite beauties,” Mason said as he observed his hand.
Reed choked on his beer. His head whipped back around; uncharacteristically and lacking all his usual suaveness, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Hunter, who was to his immediate right, hit him on the back a couple of times before Reed held his hand up to signal he was okay.
“What’s her name?” Reed asked, hoping his voice didn’t give him away.
“Colby Johnston,” Mason answered, taking a pull from his beer and deciding he too was going to fold this hand.
Reed took a deep breath, grateful that it wasn’t his Colby.
“Jackson, you asshole, not Johnston,” Jamie said, throwing his beer cap at his dark-haired best friend’s head. “You want in her pants, but you can’t even remember her name.”
Reed felt sweat breaking out across his brow and a tingle run up his spine at the mention of her name. His head buzzed with the thought of the girl he thought he would never lay eyes on again suddenly being the newcomer to Clearwater Falls. He wasn’t ashamed of anything they shared, but the thought of having his well-guarded personal life so close to his family life didn’t sit well with him. Not to mention how he refused to contemplate the notion of Mason pursuing her.
So? The girl you regularly fucked has moved to your hometown. No big deal. She never struck you as the type who would kiss and tell. But then again, she was never really in a position to do so where it would affect you, now was she?
Reed tried to repeat the first part of this mantra to himself. However, the more he said it, the more the concern from the second part drifted to the forefront of his mind.
“Reed, your turn,” Gage said, unaware of the mental trauma Reed was currently going through.
