Sin's Haven

by Carlene Love Flores

  Please, this night has to get better.

  In her peripheral, she saw his throat adjust when he swallowed. Before she knew it, her right hand left the steering wheel and sought his out in the darkness. She found it and felt his fingers lace with hers then settle on his knee.

  Tiny goose bumps raced down her neck and arms, across her back and over her breasts, all the way down her belly to her toes, waking the sleeping woman who had been calling her heart and body home.

  Chapter Eight

  “Here, let me get the door,” Hazel said and slid gently past Ben who towered over her, even though it was obvious he was in too much pain to stand at his full height. What in the world had someone done to his back? She fiddled with the key in the lock, dropping her apron.

  He bent over and groaned again but was able to grab it. “Hazel,” he said, handing it name side up to her.

  “Yes, that’s me. And that’s mine. Thank you but I could have gotten it. I mean, because you’re hurt. I could have…” Stop it, Hazel. You’re bumbling.

  Ben managed a small smile, but his eyebrows pinched together when he did. “It’s okay. Thank you for bringing me here. I’m looking forward to seeing how a normal person lives.” He frowned.

  So their conversation was off to a shaky start. Truth be told, she’d preferred the silence of their quiet ride here. He might be standing upright and pulling off small talk, but the guy had to be in serious pain. The gouge at his lower lip was still bright with his blood and a scratch near his eye drew her attention to the beautiful, popping green color she remembered from Saturday.

  Hazel breathed through a mind socking reminder of that night.

  Finally she opened her door and ushered Ben inside.

  Every step he took brought his shoulders up and inwards, like he now regretted being at her place.

  “So,” they both said at the same time.

  “I’m sorry, you go ahead,” he said.

  “Okay. So, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll get something for your face ... and your back.” Hazel showed him to her couch where he bit his lip as soon as he started to lower his butt to the cushion. She was at his side in a second. “Here, let me help.” It took that one touch. Hazel let the ache from wanting him have its way with her body for a few seconds and then remembered. He wasn’t hers. They were here to talk.

  “Does web-mastery impress you by any chance? Because I’m pretty spectacular at that,” he said as she helped lower him down, inch by inch.

  She couldn’t help but smile at his charm as he tried to put as little weight on her as possible. She knew this was the case because if he had put even a third of his bulk on her, she would have buckled. He was being so careful with her when he was the one hurting. Hazel couldn’t help but remember what it felt like to be close to a man and think of what a considerate lover Ben would make and how very soon, he might actually be bringing up their supposed night. Unease about the lie she’d fed him made her stomach queasy. She took a few deep breaths which might have caused him to think he’d failed and let his weight bear down on her shoulder. He made a move that dropped him to her couch without her arm, but it had cost him.

  “Man,” he said, grunting the short syllable out with a flinch.

  “Let me see your back, Ben.” He had to be hiding something worse than a busted lip. “Please? Why don’t you slide out of your shirt and I’ll go get a warm cloth. Be right back.” She sensed he was apprehensive about taking his shirt off, which made her feel even worse about inviting him, someone she might feel a connection to but barely knew, back here.

  On the way to the sink, she wondered what he must be going through, thinking he’d slept with her. His gentleness and lack of typical guy moves reminded her that he might be gay. Which she had no problem with. Although it could have been the motivation behind whoever had done this to him. Those jerks. But something about Ben being homosexual just didn’t sit right. Kind of like how she knew Jay hadn’t been a stereotypical weak-minded person for taking his life, even though everyone else assumed it. But if Ben did like men, this was going to be a long night because she found the lanky, quirky, yet hurting man so incredibly appealing. Had since first seeing him at the window.

  He sat stiffly on her couch, looking around now and then when his neck allowed him the movement. There were about two feet of space between his back and the back of her couch which meant the area was tender like she’d expected. Her duty now lie in having a look, patching him up, having this talk he needed to have and then parting ways, hopefully as friends. She turned the kitchen faucet all the way to the left and let her dish towel soak up the scalding hot water. Meanwhile, Hazel watched him and fought the urges she couldn’t have for this man.

  ****

  Hazel. Ben had been repeating it off and on since Manny had unknowingly gifted him the name in the club’s parking lot. Cinnamon red hair that brightened her face even when she’d looked him over all worried, curls tight and loose and long depending on where they fell, pretty clear blue eyes, strong shoulders. The cream colored top she wore was so easy on his throbbing eyes, he should thank her for it, and her plain blue jeans didn’t distract from her shapely long legs, just made them look smoking hot. She was simple and he couldn’t help but think she was also too good to be true. After all that wasted time on a girl he’d never had a chance with, here was this woman.

  There could have been ten jerks with boots and fists and a gang load of more pain tonight, but even that couldn’t have stopped him from feeling happy inside. Music had already been playing quietly when they’d entered her apartment. Maybe she left it on all the time like him. But of course, of all the Chili Pepper songs that could have conceivably played right now, “Give it Away” wrapped her small apartment in a cloud of blood, sugar, sex and magik.

  He guessed the universe had a kickin’ sense of humor that way.

  A sharp pain shot through his back like he’d been whacked with a pole and he bit his bottom lip right as she came over with a wet looking towel and a bag of ice. “Thanks, Hazel.”

  “You’re welcome…Ben. Um, I wasn’t sure which might be better, depending on how your back looks, so we’ll try both.”

  She held up her towel and her ice pack.

  “You still have your shirt on,” she said quietly.

  “Sorry. Chili Peppers,” he said as he unbuttoned his vest. “Got me thinking of home.”

  “Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

  He watched her eyes not leaving his as he went to shrug off his vest. As soon as the pain scrunched up his face, she tensed and leaned closer. The vest fell and then he tried pulling his tee up and over his head but had to stop halfway. Since when did Hazel have little hell demons with red hot pokers torturing her guests? That’s what his back felt like just then where he’d been kicked with that dang relentless boot heel.

  “Here, Ben, stop. Let me help.”

  He didn’t have to say okay. Hazel took over and the pain was still there but now so were her hands, tugging his shirt up.

  But at the point when she needed him to lift his arms all the way up, he couldn’t do it. Dammit.

  “Sit tight,” she said and returned from her kitchen with scissors. “Are you very attached to this t-shirt? Because I think we might need to snip it.”

  He wasn’t attached to anything right now except for her warm cherry vanilla scent and his desire to man up before she couldn’t see him for anything but a big old wimp. Although, being at her mercy had its perks.

  “Nope, don’t need this one. Got plenty at home.”

  “Home, you’ve mentioned one you miss and one where you apparently have plenty of spare white tees. Care to share where either of those are? I’m guessing California for the first.”

  He’d tell her anything she wanted if she came any closer. Ben started talking just to keep from staring at her chest. Without the cover of the apron, her gorgeous creamy flesh had nowhere to hide. His body was going to respond to this woman no matter how serious the conversation
they needed to have. This much was obvious and something he couldn’t control as his mouth watered, skin heated and bulge throbbed. “Yeah, um, I’m from southern California. How did you know?”

  As she snipped carefully over his shoulder, up the line of the sleeve toward the neck band, she answered, “The Chili Peppers always remind me of California. So what brings you out here?”

  “Work.” This was killing him.

  “Cool. Work is good,” she said as the sleeve she’d just cut fell off his shoulder. Her mouth pressed into what he thought was going to be another one of her knock-out, gorgeous smiles but it faded quickly.

  The cold metal of the scissors pressed against his bare shoulder where she rested it, sending competing sensations over his entire body. How had he kept his hands off of her for any amount of time Saturday night? Obviously he hadn’t for very long and was finding it difficult now. She was so inviting, so easy to be around. And the way she talked to him, she was a flirt. Erby had been a flirt too, with him, with everyone. Yeah, that was true but Hazel had already let him in, to her most private place. He didn’t know how or why she’d done that, but she had. He just prayed he hadn’t hurt her in anyway. Again the three days it had taken him to catch a break from band business ate at him.

  This time she pushed his hair aside and said, “Tilt your head, hun.”

  He did as she asked, anticipating her next touch.

  His neck began to stiffen and he was sure she’d finished that side as he heard the snip of the scissors so close to his skin. Ben had seen plenty of girls stare at the Sin Pointe guys like a last meal, but he’d never been on the receiving end. With the shoulders and sleeves of his shirt now hanging over his chest, Hazel was checking out his neck in the sexiest way. Like he looked good to her. Oh yeah, that felt nice. Her hands were more than welcome on his skin. But something must have happened because her look changed and her hands went from the warm palms to just the tips of her fingers. She blinked a few times, crinkled up her brow and then went back to the no-frills task of deciding where to cut next to free him of his shirt.

  What had happened in that second?

  Ben remembered her phone message.

  She hadn’t wanted to meet him like he’d suggested. She’d made it a point to call him and make that clear. If he hadn’t shown up at her club tonight, and then proceeded to get assaulted, he may have never heard from her again.

  A chill swept through her apartment, reminding him of this.

  As much as it sucked, he had to be realistic. No way did he want to fool himself again like he had with Erby. It could be that their one night together was all Hazel had wanted. That this, right now, was just her feeling bad about what had happened to him tonight. Pity attention. He cleared his throat, hoping when she looked at him, it was as a woman looking at a man and not someone she felt sorry for.

  She was staring down at the scissors in her hands.

  “Ben, your back. I, I need to take a look at it.” She set the scissors down. “Turn around and I’ll just pull the back of your shirt up.”

  Her eyes turned sad. She was on the verge of tears.

  Chapter Nine

  Hazel couldn’t believe the horrible things that had happened to this man since he’d crossed her path. Her warm towel was now cool because of the time she’d taken ruining his shirt. The rag sat on her lap, making a soggy spot on her jeans and the sleeveless shirt hugged his chest, making it look like he was wearing a tattered tube top. And yet he was the sexiest man she’d laid eyes on in so long.

  Ben did as she asked and turned so that she could see what had been done to his back. A warm compress wouldn’t have helped. This nasty bruise needed ice and showed up like an angry red blotch against his pale skin. She forgot to warn him that she was going in with the ice. Ben’s upper body tensed as soon as she pressed it along his left side. He wasn’t racked with bulging muscles but his sleek build reminded her of the long, sexy bodies of the Olympic swimmers. She shouldn’t be craving closeness, not tonight of all nights, but she was.

  “Sorry, I should have told you,” she said, meaning it in so many ways.

  “That’s okay. Hey, Hazel, are you okay? I guess now’s as good a time as any for us to talk.”

  She blew out and watched a trail of goose bumps take up on his skin. Of course, because she had a freezing cold ice pack stuck to him and now she was making it worse by blowing on the poor man. Would this guy ever catch a break with her? But to answer his question, was she okay?

  The reason they’d had the fundraiser Saturday was because the anniversary of Jay’s death was tonight and neither she nor Mark wanted to have her up on stage dealing with those emotions. Instead, here she was with Ben, trying her best not to let it out in front of him. She was okay, but this might not be the best time for talking. And she’d worked from six a.m. until a few minutes ago, at two a.m. Every muscle in her body was done. The hold she’d kept over her emotions wasn’t far behind.

  Ben eased back around to face her. “I appreciate you doing this.”

  “Your face,” she said, uncomfortable with his gratitude, seeing again what some jerks had put him through because he’d been waiting for her. The wet rag, now cold, would at least feel good on that lip. She pressed it gently to his mouth. “I’m so sorry, Ben. For everything.” She emphasized everything. “I’ve only known you a few days and it keeps ending up bad for you.”

  She continued to dab gently at his facial wounds.

  “Not all bad,” he said, waited a moment and then looked away.

  Her throat felt like it would close up on her. “No, not all bad.” She’d imagined how wonderful being with him would have been. Had he done the same? Absent any actual memory of the night?

  “About that.” He blew out. His inability to hide his nerves touched her so deeply. “I owe you an apology. I’ve never done that to a woman before.”

  She’d been worried about that. “I understand, Ben. You don’t have to explain yourself.” Nerves had her dry lips sticking together and her responses not fully thought out. But he’d just answered the question of whether he liked women or men, proving she’d lost all sense about other human beings.

  Hazel considered telling him it hadn’t happened, that he could go back to his life with whoever his partner was and not be worried that he’d actually been with a woman. But he’d just said their night hadn’t been all bad. She knew he meant the part about being with her. And his hand had fallen on her knee while she wiped at his lip. She should at least help him out with any future female contact he might have.

  “Ben,” she said and dropped her free hand to cover his on her leg. “I know you’re not meaning to do this. Even though I really appreciate how open you are and touchy-feely. I used to be that way too. But this, your hand on my knee, it might be something you want to avoid when you’re around women. It’s really hard to ignore and sends the wrong message.”

  “The wrong message?”

  “Yeah.” But his expression told her he didn’t understand. “Your hand there makes me think you like me.”

  He cleared his throat. “I do like you.”

  Still not getting it.

  “I mean, like you’re interested in me. As a woman.”

  He tugged a hand back through his bangs, sliding his wool hat off and then replacing it. “I am. That’s why I left you the note. After I got yours. And gave you my number. I know I suck at this whole guy-girl thing but I didn’t realize I was this bad.”

  She blinked but had to know. “You’re not gay?”

  “Are you being serious?”

  “Oh my God.” Her hands flew up to cover her face in sheer embarrassment. Ben wasn’t gay. This marked the third time she’d humiliated him. “I’m an idiot.”

  Literally, when she looked up he was scratching his head with one hand and the wool cap was in his other, tucked to his heart.

  ****

  Ben could see she felt horrible. He could tell her it wasn’t the first time someone had thought that a
bout him and been wrong, but what he wanted was to show her. After he made sure she was okay. Her eyes still looked troubled to him, distracted. Half the time he’d been here on her couch, she’d gone from seriously eyeballing him to pulling away with tears welling up. It dawned on him that this was what happened when a guy slept with a woman without even knowing her name. He’d put her in this place. It was his job to get her out of it.

  “Hey, chin up, buttercup.”

  Good, she smiled, that worked. Now don’t let me screw the rest of this up. He could get through the few things he really wanted to know about her, no matter that she couldn’t stop looking at his pecs, or lack of pecs but still, she was definitely checking him out. These would have to be rapid fire questions because her looks were killing him.

  “So what’s your favorite color?” he asked.

  She wasn’t full blown smiling but her face had relaxed. “Green.”

  “Oh, that’s a good one. One of the best, I hear. Where were you born?”

  Smiling softly, she said, “Music City, USA.”

  “Ah, local girl tried and true. Cool. I like that. Um, favorite food?”

  “Ben, you’re really finding this stuff amusing, aren’t you?”

  He set his hat on the arm of her couch and nodded his head. “One hundred percent.” He reached for her hand and even though it tweaked the pain in his back, kept it there until she set her fingers over his.

  “Okay, but no judging.” Was she blushing, over food choice? Oh, this might be intense. He hung on her next words, dying for her to finish. “I love Mark’s nachos so much, I eat them every night at the club.”

  God, she was so freaking hot and crazy to be sitting here talking to him like this holding hands. Her lips moving, answering his questions reminded him how badly he wanted to taste her. And if he was imagining their connection, he’d at least have a clear memory of the deliciousness this time.