by Casey Lane
“Mingle?” His laugh was short. “I saw you enter the bar and perform your little walk about. Is your idea of mingling to boldly walk up and proposition a strange man to have sex?”
I shrugged a shoulder, and lost any desire to explain my actions at his tone. I was also uncomfortable talking about sex with another man in this house. “Let’s just say I was on a time table and leave it at that.”
“I’m sorry for your loss years ago, but tell me if I have this straight. You put on a disguise, gave me a fake name, and used me for sex. Acadia, answer me truthfully,” Rod’s tone didn’t change exactly, but I clearly heard the underlying message that I’d better not consider doing anything else. I suddenly understood how he could ride herd on a team of wild men like Ray Dean and T-bone. “If we’d spent the night and played together,” Rod’s voice now deepened to that honeyed tone that had seduced the herd of women in the bar and made them wish he would ride them, “and did all the sexy things I had in mind that no man has ever done with you before, was it also part of your time table to sneak away afterwards?”
As a result of growing up a child of a raging alcoholic father, I excelled at lying. As an adult with little to fear until tonight, I had made it a point to tell the truth. When I was silent on a subject or let somebody assume whatever conclusions they wanted, I didn’t consider that lying by omission because lies came easy. I considered that being truthful by shutting up, which was much harder to do.
Since I had decided to sneak away before we made it back to his room, I was able to meet Rod’s narrow-eyed stare without guilt. Besides, I honestly thought most men would enjoy being used for their penis, not offended like Rod appeared.
I blew off the taunting ‘sexual things no man has ever done with me before.’ Rod’s head hurt, and what red-blooded man out there wouldn’t get defensive when their egos were challenged? I’d been married for years, for God’s sake, and Law had done tons of sexual things to me. How unique could a guy get?
Pushing aside the niggling voice that pointed out Law had never done me in an elevator, and wanting only to end this topic, I prevaricated, “Uh, I guess when you put it that way; it does sound a little tacky. Sorry.”
We had a stare down for a few seconds. My God, his yellow eyes really were boring twin holes into my soul. I had apologized. What more could this man, this famous football player that probably boffed a different beautiful woman every night, expect me to say?
I broke eye contact and summarized neatly. “It doesn’t really matter anymore, does it, since anything between us is over? Plus, you left me to die in that bar. I think we can call it Even Steven on the disrespecting front.”
Okay, maybe my voice was a little dry.
Some men get loud when mad, Rod laughed softly, but coldly. “I didn’t leave you to die. You had a gun. I went to help a poor girl whose throat was being ripped out by a madman.”
“And I didn’t force you to accept my proposition or promise you anything more, so it’s all a moot point. It’s over, let’s drop it and concentrate on the important stuff, shall we? Can I get you some Advil for your headache and show you to a room to shower? You need to get any infected blood cleaned off and I need to get downstairs.”
I thought I segued rather graciously into a new subject, but Rod moved a step closer to me. “As the blonde Mary Jensen tonight you were hot, but what got me were your eyes.” His own eyes were familiarly warm and sincere. I tensed. “But now that I see your long black hair, Acadia, with your black brows, it all makes sense. I’ve never seen such beautiful eyes. Are they gray or are they silver?”
I knew that seductive smile delivered what it promised, and then some. I was very aware of the fact it hadn’t been much more than an hour since I’d gotten a small taste. I still felt the extremely powerful pull of Rod’s sexuality, but instead of arousing me right now, it only accentuated the emptiness inside me.
It was my bad luck to have discovered tonight that zombies were real, that I was extremely pragmatic, and that sex without love was like eating a juicy rib eye steak without ketchup. Sure it was still delicious, but it wasn’t quite right.
Rod’s finger came near, but didn’t quite caress my cheek. Good thing because he still hadn’t showered. “I haven’t decided on their color yet, but one thing I do know--the attraction we felt for each other isn’t over, Mary-Acadia King. Not by a long shot.” Before I could say anything he straightened to his full, impressive height, crossed his arms, and his drawling tone went coolly matter-of-fact. “I also want to know why the hell you lied to the guys and brought us here tonight. Why involve us in stealing a bus? Do you know what repercussions there will be if the media finds out?”
I raised a pacifying hand, but my words had an edge. “Trust me, my eyes are plain gray. You are very handsome, Rod, and…accomplished. I’m sure you aren’t used to women rejecting you, but I’m being upfront here. Whatever attraction sparked between us is over.” Rod’s slight curve of the lips spurred me on. “Look, I have no time to pussyfoot around, and it’s for the same reason that I lied to get you and your friends here tonight.” Resentfully watching his confident smile grow more amused at my word choice, I was dismayed at my very real desire to punch him. This was not like me and I took a calm breath before speaking again. “Please listen to me. We are on the verge of a zombie apocalypse.”
That wiped the cocky smirk from his face. “What the hell?”
“Yes, that’s right, I said zombie. I believe what happened tonight was ground zero for a virus or something, some outbreak in our area. Rod, in that bar I saw a customer come back alive after being ripped apart worse than poor Betsy. He started acting like a crazy and almost bit my face off. I shot him in the head!” Drained, I added tiredly, “I don’t think the media is going to give two hoots in hell about any of us in a day or two, but for what it’s worth, I broke the only security camera I saw in the ramp. We all covered our faces when we drove out the exit.”
“Excuse me if that doesn’t reassure me much.” Rod’s voice was sardonic while he rubbed the back of his neck. Despite my frustrated annoyance, I sympathized with his constant rubbing movements; the man obviously had a bad headache. Still, he needed an attitude adjustment.
I mimicked his crossed arms. “You weren’t so concerned about cameras or the media in that elevator tonight.”
Rod’s face lit up with a broad grin. “Why, Ms. King, you naughty, naughty girl.” His voice practically purred with rich satisfaction. “You wanted me so much that you didn’t even care if there were security cameras or not in that elevator!”
“My God, why did you know there weren’t cameras?” I demanded, even as I blushed hotly. I was disgusted with myself. I’d probably just had sex with a man that routinely screwed strange woman from bars in elevators while it had been an once-in-a-lifetime experience for me.
Raising a brow, he responded softly, “Who said I’d known either?” At my surprised expression, Rod smiled slightly as he massaged the back of his neck. “What happened to the other two women, Gigi and Catalina?”
“Uh, I have no idea,” I answered, curious at his remark, but very relieved at the abrupt change of subject. “I looked for them, but never saw them again after you guys took off.” I didn’t offer any false hope they escaped the bloodbath, but smirked. “Were they women you met at the bar tonight, too?”
Nodding unapologetically, Rod leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Ah, hell, this is totally insane.” I was watching his face when he opened one eye and looked back. “I suspected things were bad, but zombies? Seriously?” At my nod, he blew out a long breath. “Okay, Acadia, point me to the shower. After that, I want to hear about everything else I missed that happened tonight.” He ran a hand through his long hair, but his mouth quirked up. “You really shot a zombie man in the head?”
I nodded soberly, relieved we were past the worst and could part as friends. I held up and wiggled two fingers.
Rod laughed softly. “You shot two zombies?”
“It was horrible!” It was appalling, but I wanted to laugh in return and arch my back while preening at the teasing admiration in his voice. What was wrong with me? There was nothing to be proud about. Innocent people out for a good time had gotten viciously ripped apart and half eaten to death. I killed one of them again for good measure. I was a pragmatic murderess.
A trick of lighting in the hallway made Rod’s eyes glow golden with warmth. He murmured, “Boudicca, the warrior queen.”
“Oh please,” I protested on a scoff. “It was much more like Ms. Palsy Hands who peed her pants. Not that anyone would notice under the stinking guts I was already wearing.”
His intense gaze and broad grin told me that I was the most interesting woman he’d ever met and that he saw my inner brilliance like no man ever had before.
To put an end to the flirting Rod seemed to do as easily as breathing, I snickered and said, “Follow me.”
Debating only briefly, I turned back into my room since it was the easiest. I hesitated again, but then marched to Lawson’s closet to find sweats and an oversized T-shirt that would fit Rod close enough. Law had been a big man at 6’3’’, but Rod was taller, and their age difference aside, he was also more muscular of build.
I showed Rod to the master bath. It was still humid from my shower and smelled like flowers and bleach. The big, blonde man mercifully kept his mouth shut while he glanced casually around the white and gray Carrara marble tiled bathroom.
I got out more towels, a trash bag, and a bottle of Tylenol and Advil. “Take however many you need to feel good because this is going to be a busy night. I brought you guys here to keep you safe, but also for your help tonight. If you have somewhere else to be, I’ll get you there in the morning.” I couldn’t resist the dig, “No different than if we’d spent all night in a hotel room.”
The sardonic twist of Rod’s mouth said what he thought of that statement, but he only eyed me skeptically through the mirror while he washed his hands.
“Okay, no different time-wise,” I emphasized on a soft laugh and his image grinned widely in return. I looked away first, motioning to the shower. “Have at it. Throw your clothes in the garbage bag. We’ll all be down waiting for you in the kitchen.” I paused, not wanting to bring this up, but needing his word. “You won’t tell my family or your teammates about the elevator, right?”
Rod’s answer was to pull his shirt off over his head.
I slammed the door on my way out, but still heard the sound of his low laughter. The image of his sculpted chest, a line of dark hair, and the bold black ink of a tattoo snaking down his shoulder and around a flexed bicep stuck in my head.
Rod could believe what he liked. Attraction or not, it wasn’t happening between us. Even if I could forget the age difference, this was no time for some hot, torrid affair. I felt no guilt teasing him a little. He would be gone in a few hours, and I was under no illusions about a man with Rod Ramaldi’s sexual charisma and experience. He would forget my stunning pewter eyes, or whatever he called them, before my farm was a speck in the distance. His fragile brain, the ability to charm the panties off women, and an expertise at throwing a small brown ball didn’t put Rod anywhere near the first page of people I thought would be an asset on the farm while we fought to survive. But until he left, I’d take advantage of his strength to lug supplies.
Any thoughts of Rod were erased completely at the interesting sight of Ray Dean Wilson waiting at the top of the stairs. He was wrapped up toga-style in a red Christmas tablecloth. The red cloth was covered in tumbling elves and trimmed in red fringe that clashed violently with his orange hair and freckles. Deb must have taken a severe dislike to him.
His scraggly mullet sprayed water droplets when he shook his head vigorously like a dog, as if to clear his vision at my brisk approach.
“Good golly, would you lookie at all that black hair!” Arms thrown wide, Ray Dean belted out, “Raven hair and ruby lips, sparks fly from her fingertips. Woo-hoo—witchy woman, she got the moon in her eyes!”
I smiled in spite of my worries. Ray Dean was certainly a character. He continued to look me over in disbelief.
“Huh. So that was a wig you had on? I did wonder why your hair was crooked when we was all runnin’, but thought I was seeing things. You should think about colorin’ your hair yellow because that looked real pretty tonight.” He waggled ginger brows. “Not that black ain’t pretty, too, but I do like the blondies!”
“I’ll keep that in mind in the unlikely event I should ever want to impress you, Ray Dean.”
We started down the stairs together while he laughed good-naturedly and informed me that I talked funny. That really made me smile, but I only replied, “You do have a good singing voice, though.”
“You should see what else I can do good, darlin’.” His laughter ended with an “oomph” when my elbow landed in his gut, but then he brightened. “Hey, that Deb sure is a sweet lady. Hope I didn’t scare her none when I asked her to stay and scrub my back.”
That explained the tablecloth. “I’m sure she was terrorized. Deb doesn’t date, much less scrub the backs of gigantic pro football players.”
“Huh.” Ray Dean was clearly disappointed. “So she’s a muffer.”
“What!” I exclaimed, but then immediately wondered whether I’d be doing Deb a bigger favor by letting this big lunkhead Lothario go on thinking she was gay.
Ray Dean shook his head sadly. “I felt a real connection with her, too, and she only has those blonde streaky-stripes in her hair. She’s not even no full blondie.”
Pausing at the bottom stair in the main hall, I asked Ray Dean if he minded telling me his age. He said he was twenty-seven, the fourteenth of fifteen kids.
“The last twelve of us were boys,” he added proudly, patting for his phone before remembering he had no pants on. “I’ll show you a family picture later. We are one fierce-lookin’ clan.”
“Ray Dean,” I laughed in exasperation, “Deb is forty-three.”
“You don’t say? That’s the same age as my second sister, Rae Anne. I like Rae Anne.” He didn’t appear put off, but mournful. “Too bad Deb’s a lezzy because T-bone’s been tellin’ me since my divorce that what I need is to start datin’ a more mature, natural woman.”
Afraid to ask anything more, I changed topics. “If you want to head home to Kentucky in the morning, and if the airports aren’t safe, I can loan you a vehicle.”
Ray Dean patted my shoulder with a hand the size of a catcher’s mitt while he shook his head. “Hey, that’s very nice of you to offer, Acadia, but I have a truck at my townhouse over in Eden Prairie. I called my mama just a few minutes ago and I told her about your farm and those bitin’ freaks at the bar. Mama’s got all the family around her down there. She thinks I should stay put where it’s safe for now. The team ain’t comin’ home until Friday night, and I don’t want to be leavin’ before then. Not without some of my bros. They’ll be countin’ on me to be here.”
“You’re welcome to stay here, but let me know if you change your mind tomorrow. I believe it’s only going to get more dangerous to travel in the future, not less.” I hesitated, but added gently, “It’s possible the team won’t be able to get back here Friday night, Ray Dean.”
Ray Dean frowned while he worried that thought over, but then grinned. “Yeah, but it’s possible they will, so I gotta wait for my bros.”
I pointed Ray Dean in the right direction to the kitchen and said I’d be right there.
Looking about me as I walked to the library, I have always been aware of my duty, as Lawson King’s wife, to ensure the house and farm thrived under my reign. Loving every square inch of this property only strengthened my vow that I’d do everything within my power to honor that duty.
King House dates back to 1892. It was custom designed by a fashionable architect of the time after the King family became filthy rich. The farm and the quarry contributed a fair amount to the family coffers, but the big money came fro
m Lawson’s great-great grandfather’s uncanny flare for land speculation. He had the house built as a surprise wedding gift for his new bride.
King Farm was homestead in 1862, and before this current King House was constructed, there were three other houses built first on the property over the course of that thirty year stretch. Each was progressively larger as the King family grew in size and fortune.
The first was a little log cabin now located in the area I call the Pioneer Village and available for tour when I held public events on the property.
The second was a small house built of the stones and boulders dug from the ground when the first fields were tilled. Salty has called that place home for years and it’s nearby, just beyond the outbuildings of King House.
The third was a white clapboard farmhouse situated on the northeastern border of the farm and near the quarry. As the crow flies, this farmhouse is a few miles away from King House and where my step brother-in-law, Robert lives.
The grand King House where I live is described by the Dakota County Historical Society in their literature as Victorian in style. To me, the exterior of King House resembles nothing more than a big pile of Sioux quartzite blocks. It was built like a fortress and ugly as sin.
Inside, however, the architect had redeemed himself. The house was beautiful and inviting. Designed off a center hall concept, the grand staircase was said to be old world craftsmanship at its finest. The rooms were spacious and airy. Many of the furnishings were irreplaceable antique heirlooms, but a family has always lived here, so the sofas and chairs were comfy and inviting.
The rooms were two deep on each side of the center hall. I had to walk through the formal living room to get to the library.
King Farm has a warren of rooms in the cellars and outbuildings for every conceivable purpose, but Law had liked to clean his guns spread out on top of old newspapers on a library table in this room. It was one of my favorite rooms in the house, as well.
