Pretty Hurts

by Shyla Colt

  ***

  Edgar

  I smile at the kids squealing as they dodge the streams of water shooting up from the ground in the fountain area. The area is teaming with activity, and I’m a people watcher. I observe the teenage couple holding hands and whispering to each other. Ah, to be young and clueless again. Her face is flushed and his eyes are full of the adoration a young man wears before society tells him showing that much emotion isn’t masculine.

  I scan the area, and my eyes rest on the woman coming toward me with gently swaying hips and a curvy frame. I laugh when I realize its Efia. She’s sexy as sin with long legs, wide hips, and a small waist. She’s wearing a floppy beige sun hat that does nothing to hide the fact that she’s bald. I’m proud of her. She’s come a long way over the past couple of months. There’s further to go, but I like to believe I’ll be around to witness it, and not just as her barber.

  I stand, and she waves at me.

  “You look amazing,” I say honestly.

  “I think you’re inspiring my fashion choices,” she replies as she takes in my cuffed pants, black creepers, and a white T-shirt.

  “I’m okay with that.”

  “You should be. You have excellent style.”

  I offer her my arm. “I figured we’d grab lunch and a few drinks at the Dive before we hit up the exhibits?”

  “Sounds perfect to me.” She hooks her arm through mine, and I become insanely aware of the side of her body brushing up against mine. The base of my spine tingles. Her floral fragrance teases me. I lean in slightly and inhale. It’s intoxicating. My mouth waters and I swallow down the lust ramping up as we reach the ticket booth. I definitely need a drink or three.

  “I got this. You can get the drinks,” I say before she can protest.

  “Deal.”

  After I purchase our tickets, we enter the building and head straight to the Dive. The low light cavern has a spectacular view of a built in fish tank that runs along the wall.

  “You want to sit at the bar?” I ask, eyeing the families filling the majority of the tables.

  “I think that’ll be the best way to go.”

  When I press my hand to the small of her back, a jolt of electricity flows up my arm. I jerk my hand back and she peers at me. Did she feel it, too?

  We find a spot at the end of the bar and I pull out her chair and she flashes me a smile that makes something in my belly tighten. She climbs onto the stool. I push her in and join her. We peruse the menu and end up ordering a sampler and Coronaritas—two margaritas that have a Corona bottle tucked into them.

  The cool liquid hits my tongue and makes my taste buds dance. It does nothing for my heated flesh.

  “How’s work been?” I ask, clutching onto a safe topic.

  “Really good. I have a new client I’ll be working with that might end up being a long term thing. It’s kind of,” she glances around the room before leaning in and lowering her voice, “naughty though.”

  “What? Porn?” I whisper back.

  “No, boudoir photos. Sexy photos done tastefully in a pin-up style.”

  I can’t help but think of her lush body laid out on a bed in white sheets and nothing else. My pants grow tight. I will my dick to calm down.

  “Wow. I didn’t realize that was a thing.”

  “This is an exclusive boutique. The have two regular make-up artists and one is getting ready to move to another state. I’m hoping to put my best foot forward. I love travel, but having a steady gig is appealing. It would let me pick and choose the out of town events, versus having to take them to pay bills.”

  “So you’d be around more?” I ask, thinking of the weeks I didn’t get to see her because she was off doing a shoot.

  “I would.” She tilts her head. “Would that be a good thing?”

  “A very good thing. I miss you when you’re not around.”

  She blinks and her face softens. “I miss you, too.”

  The admittance is a huge step. I know she’s as into this thing between us as I am.

  “Am I part of the reason you want to be close to home now?”

  “If you are?”

  “Then I’d be happy about it.” I trail my finger down the top of her hand. She shivers.

  “Edgar? What are we doing?”

  With me running the business and her working all over the place, we hadn’t been on many physical dates, but we talk daily. Its felt like courting long distance.

  “What do you want us to be doing?” I reply.

  “No, I asked you first,” she says, lifting the drink to her lips.

  “Darling, I don’t think you’re ready to know what I’d like us to be doing right now.”

  “And if I am?”

  I growl quietly. “You’re playing with fire. I’m trying to be the gentleman you need me to be. I know what you’re going through right now.”

  “But I don’t think about any of that when I’m with you.”

  I rub her full bottom lip with my thumb. “I don’t want you to look back and regret this.”

  She grabs my wrist. “I won’t. But I will regret if we don’t try.”

  We’ve been dancing around this conversation for weeks.

  “If we do this, I’m not holding back. I want to make you my girl. I’m going to be frank about that ’cause I plan on doing whatever it take to get us to that point. But you have to give me a fighting chance.”

  “I will. I’m ready,” she says.

  Cupping her face, I lean forward to brush my lips against hers. Her eyelids drift shut, and she leans in to me. I add pressure, turning the exploration into a light kiss. I see the waiter returning with our tray out of the corner of my eye, so I pull back. Her eyelids flutter open, and the glossy gaze convinces me now is the right time. I run my hand down her back and return to my space. Her days as a single woman are numbered.

  ***

  She’s like a mermaid. Completely enchanted by the aquatic animals, she peers through the thick-paned glass windows with a wistful expression on her face. A sting ray skims the sand beside her face, and I grin. Maybe he’s caught up in her spell, too. I can’t blame him. I reach out and twine our fingers together, and she turns to me and gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

  “What?”

  “Just admiring the beauty,” I say.

  She peers up at me from beneath long, lowered lashes and I admire her almost coyness. It’s a different side of the bold beauty I’ve come to know. She’s a complicated puzzle. Every piece I overturn comes together to create a whole picture. I like a good mystery, and I never minded having to work for what I wanted. It made me appreciate it more when I finally got it.

  “Stop.”

  “Speaking the truth,” I say with a shrug. I tug her hand. “Come on, let’s go watch them feed the stingrays. It’s one of my favorite things to do here.”

  “Did you plan this whole day around that?”

  “No, but I made sure we’d have time to do it,” I answer with a goofy grin.

  “You’re adorable. Come on, let’s go see your stingrays.”

  We make our way over to the stingray reef pool. It brings back family memories. We grab our food and line up with the others on the side of the tank. The stingrays know it’s time to eat. They swim up to the edge, accepting the offerings from our fingers.

  “They’re so cute,” she coos.

  “My nieces and nephews love to do this,” I say.

  “You spend a lot of time with them?” she asks.

  “I try. They’re good kids, and I try to let Mom and Dad get some time in alone every now and then.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  “Family helps each other out.”

  “My brother and I aren’t as close as you and your siblings. Mostly because they’re living in Austin.”

  “Yeah, the distance makes it hard. You have a nieces and nephews?”

  “One of each; Charlotte’s five and Greg is seven. They’re cute as hell, but so much work. My hats off to Amanda an
d Aren for all they do on a daily basis.”

  “I agree to that.” We finish with the rays and move over to the handwashing station. “Shark train and then we’ll call it for the day?”

  “Perfect.”

  Ten minutes later we’re boarded onto the train that takes you through the tunnels of the aquarium. It’s the closest you can get to being in the ocean without getting wet.

  “Look at the sea turtle,” she exclaims, waving at the gigantic, yet chill creature floating merrily along in the cerulean depths.

  “I’m not sure if it’s Finding Nemo or the way the sea turtles look and move that makes them appear so freaking chill.”

  “A combination of both.” She turns into me with sparkling eyes and I lean forward to rest my forehead against hers as I run my fingers down her arm. Having the right to touch her like this has me handsy. Her skin is soft and warm from the evening heat that refuses to let go of its hold on the city. As the train reaches its final destination and we exit, I can’t help but feel a little bummed. I don’t want the day to end yet, but I don’t want to push for more either. We had a huge leap today. I don’t want a backslide.

  “Can I walk you to your car?”

  “I’d like that a lot.”

  We amble toward the parking structure, and I search my brain for the right things to say.

  “I had a really good time with you today.”

  “I did, too.”

  “I want to see you tomorrow before our week starts and the insanity begins, if you’re up to it.”

  “Yes.”

  “We can lay low, movies and dinner at my place?” I ask.

  She arches a brow.

  “No Netflix and chill, actual movie watching and dinner,” I reassure her.

  She laughs. “In that case, yes. What are we eating?”

  “I’ll cook you a traditional Gilborn meal.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Hey, I can cook well, thank you very much,” I say.

  She giggles. “We’ll see.” We reach her car, and she unlocks the door. “I’m a bit of a foodie, so you have your work cut out for you.”

  “Oh, throwing down the gauntlet early?” I ask.

  “I’ll tell you what. Next week, dinner will be on me.”

  “Done. Now you’re going to make me bring my A-game and hit up a Mexican market on the way home.”

  “Oh, I love Mexican.”

  “Then I’m already ahead. Any particular dish you’re partial to?”

  “I do love Enchiladas Verde.”

  I mentally thank my Abuelita for all the things she passed on to not only my mother, but me and my siblings as well. Proud of her heritage, she passed along so much knowledge it insured her legacy would live on. The Rodríguez family has a Verde sauce that could win awards.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” I open the car door and take her hand as she steps in.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

  Yes, you will, beautiful.

  “Yep. Text me when you get home, so I know you made it okay?”

  “I will.”

  I step back. She blows me a kiss, starts the car, and drives out of the parking space.

  I should’ve gotten her to the aquarium sooner. I laugh at myself as I retrace my footsteps, mentally making a list of the things I would need to make her a traditional meal. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Maybe it works the same way for women.

  Chapter Five

  Efia

  With a full belly and a slight buzz from the white wine, I’m content and relaxed as I rest against Edgar’s side. He hadn’t exaggerated his cooking skills. The man threw down in the kitchen. One bite of his enchiladas and I was in heaven. The Verde sauce that came from an old family recipe rivaled what I’d eaten at restaurants. After helping do dishes, we migrated to the living room to watch television.

  His arm around my shoulders is nice. I toy with his fingers as the movie winds to a close. His hands, like the man himself, are a contradiction of hard and soft. The callouses on his fingers come from cutting hair and woodworking.

  “Edgar?”

  “Mm-hmm?”

  “Can I see your shop?” I ask curiously.

  “Sure. It’s in the back. I converted a shed. It has electricity and enough space for me to pursue my interests. It’s nothing fancy.”

  “That’s okay,” I say with a shake of my head.

  Standing, he offers me his hand, and I take it. The invisible sparks fly as the air between us crackles with possibilities. He drops my hand, and I feel the loss intensely. His jaw ticks and his nostrils flare; his dark brown eyes darken to nearly black.

  Waves of desire crash against me, and I lick my lips.

  He’s been the perfect gentleman so far, which I appreciate. Only, I’m daydreaming about watching him come undone. He places his warm hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the house to the back door. His heat sears my flesh. My breasts swell, and my nipples tighten as desire builds inside of me. There’s no relief to be found when we step into the muggy night air.

  We walk to the tan structure. After unlocking the lock, he lifts the door and flips the light on. I drink in the space. My eyes dart from left to right, trying to take everything in. The shelves are filled with miniature sculptures. Drawn to it, I walk toward the left side of the structure which has been set up for whittling and woodwork. I run my fingers over tiny horses. The smooth finish and exact detail speak to his talent.

  “These are amazing.”

  “Thank you.”

  I continue my exploration. The right side of the shed looks like a mad scientist’s laboratory with its hoses, containers, and funnels. I spot brown beer bottles and what look like tin mini-kegs.

  “This is your brewing station I’m guessing?” I run my hands over the copper tubing, imagining him with safety goggles and a white lab coat. Smart and creative is a sexy combo.

  “It is.”

  “How long does it take to make a beer?”

  “Depends on the type you’re making. It can be anywhere from two weeks plus. Well, adding an additional two weeks for bottle conditioning.’

  “Bottle what now?” I ask.

  The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Bottle conditioning. At its most basic, it’s allowing the beer to naturally carbonate.”

  “How does that work?”

  “By letting the yeast eat the sugar which causes fermentation. During this process, the C02 will bubble up and escape, leaving you with your end product of beer.”

  “I’d like to see that some time.”

  “We’ll brew one together.”

  His easy agreement makes me smile. “How long have you been doing this?”

  “About four years. I got a brew kit for Christmas, and I was hooked. Are you a beer drinker?”

  I wrinkle my nose. “I like beer as much as the next person, but I’m more of a classic cocktails kind of woman. Give me a decent liquor with a splash of this and a splash of that, and I’m happy. Think Mint Juleps and Bee’s Knees. I tend to play bartender at parties.”

  Turning, I spot an unfinished piece of wood on the work table in the center of the room. I walk over and trace the smooth angles, wondering what it will one day be.

  “That’s going to be for you,” he says.

  “Me?” I peer at him, surprised.

  “I get the wood, and the pieces speak to me. The minute I got the Butternut sample in, I knew it was for you. Smooth, soft, and a beautiful brown that has malleable properties but a coarse grain which makes it strong,” Edgar says. He runs the tip of his finger over the wood just centimeters from where I hold it.

  “That’s how you view me?” I whisper.

  “A beautiful mystery I’d like to strip down? Yes.” His eyes burn into mine, and my chest grows tight. “You keep looking at me like that, darling, and I’m going to give you what those big brown eyes are asking for.”

  “A-and that is?” Is that really my voice all husky?
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  He pins my body against the table, placing an arm on either side of my body. I grip the edge for support. My heart beats double time as his woodsy, masculine scent envelops me.

  “This …” He traces the seam of my lips with the tip of his tongue. I open, yielding to him with a sigh. His tongue darts inside of my mouth, and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me flush to him. I moan. He tastes like beer, honey from the Sopaipillas, and man.

  Winding my arms around his neck, I lose myself in the kiss. Our tongues slick together. I tilt my head, exploring his mouth. He lifts me up cupping my ass and squeezing my cheeks. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I rock against the bulge in his jeans. My panties are soaked, and my body is tense in anticipation of more stimulation.

  “Edgar.”

  “I love the sound of my name on your lips, darling.” He sets me down on the table and pushes my skirt up around my waist.

  “Now let’s see how many times I can get you to say it.” His fingers trail up my legs, leaving behind licks of fire. He massages my inner thigh, moving higher until his knuckles graze my panties. I jerk. “So wet.”

  He nips my bottom lip and lowers me to the table, nudging my legs even farther apart. “Can I make you feel good, darling?”

  “Please.”

  He goes to his knees, removes my panties, and tosses them over his shoulder with a devilish grin.

  “You won’t be needing those anymore.” He leans in and inhales deep. “You smell so good. I have to taste you.” I tense. We’re moving fast, but I want every minute of it. “Let me have your nectar, little flower. We don’t have to go any further than that tonight.” I relax. He runs a finger down my slit. “So smooth and slick.” Pleasure zings through my body. It’s an electric pulse that matches the ache in my center. He tilts my ass and licks me from crack to clit. I cry out, stunned by his wild abandonment. I’ve never had a man give me head like this.

  I swear he’s trying to put a spit shine on my pussy. His tongue leaves no part of me untouched. He flattens his tongue to my clit and flicks it fast and hard.

  “Oh, yes. Edgar. Just like that.” I thrust my hips, fucking his face. His soft beard heightens my sensitivity as it brushes over my flesh. He moans and the vibrations send me to the brink. I clamp my thighs around his head and roll my hips, seeking more. When he drives his tongue deep into my pussy, I explode. My brain melts as I convulse, letting the pleasure roll me over.