Wrong Number

by Laura Brown

I took stock, and stretched, a lazy, well-rested kind of stretch. “Good. Thank you.”

  His jaw bunched. “Don’t stretch.”

  Damn, now I wanted to. “Why?”

  That was when I caught it, the heat in his eyes. He answered me by fitting his mouth to mine. Last night had been sweet. This morning was raw, primal passion. My hands were in his hair before I could think about it. Jake had me on my back, wrapped in his arms, our legs tangled, as his lips turned my body into an inferno.

  I needed to stop us. Instead, I tilted my pelvis to his, connecting with his hard length. He kissed me harder, pressing me down on the mattress, and I knew I needed to find my sanity in the next five seconds or I would never find it. And “sex with the boss’s son” wasn’t a good excuse for being late for work.

  I broke the kiss and shifted back. He let me go.

  “I have to get ready for work.”

  Jake dropped his head to his pillow.

  “You okay?”

  He spoke into the pillow and I had to lean over him.

  “I can’t hear you if you don’t face me.”

  He turned his head. “Just complaining about being in a very aroused state before a ten-hour day.”

  My gaze slipped down, but we were both still covered by blankets. I bit my lip, imagining him far too easily thanks to a certain set of pictures on my phone.

  “You better go before I make you late.”

  I flicked my eyes to his, and the promise shining in the depths of his brown eyes. Only instead of fixing my shirt and getting out, I flung myself at him. Our bodies lined up together as our kisses fought to get closer and closer. My hands went to his bare chest, his to my exposed hips. We were trouble together.

  He pulled apart this time, though his hands remained where they were. “You should go.”

  “You have to let go of me first.”

  His lips curved. “Not likely.”

  My heart stuttered. The statement had little to do with his hands. “Tonight?”

  “I thought you didn’t know what you wanted?”

  “I don’t.”

  He nodded and let me go. “My leg will be in rough shape tonight.”

  I glanced down. Both his legs were somehow still covered by his sweats. Didn’t pant legs rise up in the night? Mine did. But then I got distracted by the tent and had to pull my eyes away.

  “What do you need to do? I could pay back the massage favor?”

  Wariness settled into his face. “That’s okay. Maybe another time.”

  Something had shifted. And I wasn’t sure what. He tried to move so I straddled him, keeping him in my gaze. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’ve never had to deal with the leg.”

  “So. You deal with my ears. I deal with your leg. That’s the plan.”

  “Your ears look normal.”

  “Not when I have my hearing aids on.”

  He said nothing. I moved one foot, rubbing it against one of his legs, hoping I got the right one. Then I caught sight of his nightstand and the time staring back at me.

  “Shit. I’ve got to go.” I hopped off him and pulled on my pants. Time was of the essence, so with my back to him I stripped out of his shirt and back into my own clothes. Not like he hadn’t seen some of my chest anyway.

  I picked up my hearing aids and fit them to my ears, the feedback and intrusion of sound taking some adjusting to.

  “Avery,” Jake said.

  I paused by his bedroom door. He looked as though he wanted to say more, but his mouth didn’t even twitch.

  I moved back to him and kissed him, running my hand over his morning stubble. “Thank you for helping me get some sleep.”

  Then I collected the rest of my belongings and headed out to my car. I had just enough time to arrive home, hop in the shower, and get to work. With any luck, my day would keep my mind off whatever was going on between Jake and me.

  *

  Clang!

  I closed my eyes against the sound of a metal bowl banging on the counter. Every clatter, every clank, reverberated in my head. The music and thump of bass, the talking, the machines, all of it amplified in intensity. With both hearing aids working, I picked up every sound at turbo level; the noise an unwelcome intrusion into my thoughts. I had gotten used to the sounds of the bakery, forgetting it was at half-mast. I had been excited to gain my ears and communicate better, but I felt as though it was worse. Hearing anything beyond the kitchen sounds would be a miracle.

  I paused and used the back of my wrist to rub my temple, giving serious consideration to taking off an aid. Or two. I cursed the damn aid for breaking in the first place. If I had started with both, I’d be used to this by now. Instead, I had a whole new adjustment period to go through.

  An adjustment period that threw me off my game. Or perhaps that had something to do with my body begging me to get back into Jake’s bed and finish what we started this morning. Heck, finish what we started in all those text messages.

  I forced my mind to focus. Burnt cupcakes and cookies weren’t going to do anyone any favors. Certainly wouldn’t help me continue to expand my bakery duties.

  My ears picked up voices more than before, and I caught fragments of conversations. I had to really strain and focus to put all the pieces together, so I mainly caught a random word here and there. I’d have to learn the quieter times to really get a feel for my coworkers.

  Amidst all the random words, my name filtered in. I turned to Hannah standing nearby. “I’m on your bad side again, aren’t I?”

  I turned my head, not sure if she’d focus on my ears or not. “Not quite. I got my hearing aid back.”

  Hannah clapped. “So you can hear again? Wonderful.”

  I laughed and reached for the next ingredient. “Not quite. The hearing aids help, but I’ll never hear as well as you.”

  A pan or a pot or something fell behind me, and I had to close one eye at the high-pitched metallic noise connecting uncomfortably with the projection from my aids.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just loud and painful. How can I help you?”

  Hannah glanced around, then leaned in toward me. “Okay. It’s none of my business, not really, but I wanted to talk about Jake.”

  My hands froze, halting my addition to the mixer. “Is there a problem?”

  Shit. I should have known better than to get close to him, even if we’d crossed the line before we met.

  “No. Not like that. It’s just…” She shook her head. “Forget it. I shouldn’t be saying anything.”

  I resumed pouring. “Hannah. Just spit it out.”

  “Okay. Okay. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

  I dumped the rest of the liquid in and cursed myself for getting distracted. “Meaning?”

  If my heart rate would return to normal, that would be a miracle.

  “Invested and ready to put his heart on the line. Not since…” She raised her hands and waved them frantically. “Again. None of my business. I know you’ve only been here a short time and if he wants to dive off the deep end, that’s his decision. But that’s what he does, dives and gets hurt. I guess I’m just asking you not to hurt my brother.”

  Something Nell had said clicked. “Still trying to protect him?”

  Hannah became interested in her shoes, the longer strands of her hair covering her face.

  “You know he’s strong and well-adjusted, right?”

  Hannah shook her hair out of her face and studied me with far too much intensity. I kept my eyes on the mixer.

  “Have you seen the leg?”

  My cheeks pinked and I shook my head.

  Hannah sighed. “Damn, he’s never been really comfortable with it, thanks to how so many people reacted to it.”

  Jake carried himself with such confidence, I tried to imagine how bad it could be but realized I didn’t care. Whatever it looked like, he was still Jake.

  “It’s not my place to butt into your sex lives. Just know what you’re getti
ng into. I don’t want that annoyingly silly smile to be off his face just yet.”

  My own lips curved at the thought of Jake’s smile.

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  Then she was gone, leaving me with a lot more on my mind than the cupcake batter in the mixer.

  *

  I paced my apartment, restless and antsy. What I wouldn’t give for another box to unpack, but they were long gone. I had even unpacked from my trip home, done a load of laundry, and fallen asleep during a baking show. The thought of visiting Jake again crossed my mind, but I knew exactly what would happen when we saw each other again, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.

  I settled for the next best thing.

  Me: Survive your day?

  It took a few minutes, but I got a response.

  Jake: I did. Miracle of miracles.

  Me: Still having issues?

  Jake: 1) I don’t consider that an issue. 2) What are you offering?

  I laughed and snuggled deeper in the couch.

  Me: Whatever makes you think I’d be offering something?

  Jake: Scroll up.

  I squirmed, having trouble rectifying these two sides of me. One wasn’t supposed to be real and suddenly it could be. It tempted, but in that distant, far-off realm, the one never to be real.

  Me: That wasn’t me. That was someone else.

  Jake: Wrong Number is you. Can’t separate yourself from your fantasies.

  Me: Oh, that’s my fantasy now?

  Jake: You tell me.

  I bit my lip, staring at his words. Did I reach for comfort and safety, or chance being honest?

  Me: Yes, it was a fantasy. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be comfortable with it all.

  Jake: Good. Because odds are I can’t manage wall sex without dropping you.

  Me: Fine with me. If you’re into that whole whispering thing, you can stop that right now. And if I do have my hearing aids on, don’t breathe on them. Nothing kills the mood faster than sounds from a wind tunnel.

  Jake: Noted.

  Me: You hid your leg from me.

  My thumb hovered over the send icon, before I closed my eyes and pressed down. Hannah may have been nosey, but I suspected she was spot-on. Time to use the texting closeness to my advantage.

  Jake: You didn’t share your ears.

  Me: True, but we didn’t share anything sound related. You kept the leg out of the pictures.

  Jake: The burns don’t go up that far.

  Me: Show me.

  A nervous energy hit me, noting that this was somehow more intimate than our previous images. And I had no idea how he’d respond.

  Jake: You don’t really want to see my leg.

  Me: But I do. It’s a part of you, isn’t it?

  Jake: Yeah, an unfortunate part.

  It killed me how closed off he’d suddenly become. The openness and teasing vanished as he tried to keep his leg hidden. I didn’t care what it looked like, it was a part of him and therefore special.

  Me: I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?

  Jake: As much as I’d like to see your legs, I’m not sure that will be equivalent.

  Me: Well, you’ve seen my ears already, so I’m not sure what I could offer of an equal standing.

  Jake: I could think of a few things…

  My body warmed and I writhed lower, mind lost in this morning, when I squirmed into Jake.

  Me: Name your price.

  He sent me a winking emoji. I had to really think about how far I would go, knowing anything I sent he’d one day see in person, if I was lucky.

  Me: I don’t see a request there.

  Jake: You could come over.

  I could. After my nap I was wide awake and more than a little wound up. But I sensed we needed this first.

  Me: Your call. I’m seeing that leg one way or another. The question is. Which way do you prefer?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jake

  My screen turned black, obscuring Avery’s text from view. I glanced down at my leg, propped on my coffee table, just a hint of skin visible between my sock and jeans. The scaly, rough skin of long-healed burns.

  My father’s voice rang in my head, when he saw the freshly charred skin, the direct result of him falling asleep with a damn cigar in his hand. “Ruined. My boy is ruined.”

  I learned quickly that most people had a negative reaction to my leg; Dad had simply been the first. My leg looked a million times better now. But it wasn’t normal, and I did my best to avoid any more reactions than absolutely necessary. When intimacy called for removing clothing, I either kept my pants on or preferred the dark. Diana had only caught a few glimpses here and there and she wisely said nothing.

  I bent and rolled up my jeans to my knee. The burns continued halfway up my thigh, getting lighter higher up. I pushed my sock down. My shoes were off, and I debated removing my sock. My foot was the worst. Part of the reason why I never wore sandals. And the reason had only partly to do with comfort.

  I removed the sock. The skin on my foot would forever be puffy and pink, though not nearly the gruesome sight from when the fire first happened. I had tried countless times to accept the improved state, but like the scars, my father’s words ran deep. I picked up my phone.

  Me: You don’t want to see this.

  Avery: Yes. I do.

  I gave her every out, and she refused them all. I could ignore her and keep myself covered, like I had most of my life. Our texting connection demanded more of me. If it all went south, at least I’d know now. My hands gripped my phone too tight as I angled the camera, getting my leg from the knee down in the shot, and took the picture before I decided to screw it all and turn off my phone. The flash obscured some of it, and I sent it before I could talk myself out of it.

  My leg throbbed, knee to toes. Some of that the result of a ten-hour day. A good soaking would ease the worst of it. The rest of the throbbing was all in my head—the overactive analyzing, of feeling like my leg was, well, not on fire, never again on fire, but under scrutiny. I didn’t like attention there. It usually spelled bad things—surgery, therapy, my father leaving. Time slowed to a crawl, allowing me to overanalyze every second Avery took to respond. I needed that response, whatever it ended up being.

  My phone buzzed and I took a deep breath before checking.

  Avery: With all your talking, I expected something much worse.

  I glanced at my leg, at all the dips and uneven stretches of skin.

  Me: The flash lessened the view.

  Avery: I doubt it. But it looks like something that once was very painful.

  I didn’t go there often, not since the nightmares stopped, but there was a time I practically lived on hospital-grade painkillers.

  Me: It was. And it still can be a royal pain in my ass.

  The initial pain had morphed into discomfort and limitations and social issues. Most days, I took it all in stride. Those in my personal circle knew me and my leg. But introducing new people, like Avery, to it always risked opening up that can of worms.

  Avery: Would a kiss make it better?

  Me: Where?

  Avery: Knee, ankle, toes. Take your pick. Or I could do all.

  My dick twitched and my heart stuttered. No one, and I mean no one, had ever done that. Mom hadn’t even kissed my booboo away. Because that was one booboo a kiss couldn’t begin to heal.

  Me: You serious?

  Avery: Yup.

  I stared at my leg and tried to picture Avery doing exactly what she texted. I couldn’t.

  Me: I don’t believe you.

  Avery: Then I’ll have to show you.

  I had no idea how she would do that with a picture, but I was more than game to find out. Bonus if it involved an image of Avery’s beautiful face on my phone.

  Nothing came through. I waited and when five minutes passed, a chill entered the room that had nothing to do with my heating system. I had interpreted Avery’s message the wrong way.

  She was
coming over.

  The cold spell traveled, eradicating any sense of excitement. I yanked my pant leg back down, as if that would fix the chill. More time with her, a chance to finish what we started this morning, should have been my driving force.

  It wasn’t. I was nervous.

  She’d seen the leg but through my phone. I didn’t want anything to take away from a taste of her.

  The leg would do just that.

  I should have sent her a message, tried to stop her. I did nothing. Nothing except bounce my good leg and tap my fingers on the armrest as I waited ten more agonizing minutes before my doorbell rang.

  I got up and limped to the door. My pulse wasn’t behaving, making me feel like an idiot. Or a teenager sneaking a date over while their parents were away.

  The wind rushed in the vanilla scent of Avery when I opened the door. Her smile greeted me, but all I felt was a hell of a lot of tension. Whether she shared any of it, or was aware of it, I couldn’t decipher. Her gaze ran down my body. I started to warm when she settled on my foot, and the cool foyer tile reminded me I hadn’t put my sock back on. I couldn’t look down, couldn’t confirm what she saw.

  “You’re telling me you have a problem with people seeing that?” Avery cocked her head to the side and returned her eyes to mine.

  A surge of relief, and perhaps bewilderment, hit me. Somehow this response of hers was real. Needing to confirm and touch her, I brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. She flinched.

  “Microphones are back there. You just brushed one.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged. “It’s okay. Goes along with that whole breathing in my ear thing I warned you about.”

  She looked at my foot again and I resisted the urge to cover it up.

  “Any precautions I need to keep in mind?”

  I shook my head.

  “Good.” Avery’s hands went to my shoulders. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this tense.” She dug her hands into my muscles, and I fought not to groan. “Gonna have to repay the favor. Get on your bed.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Last I checked, you didn’t even ask me to come here, so I think we can agree I’m here because I want to be.” A vulnerability crossed her face. “Unless you want me to leave?”