by Jules Court
But he still couldn’t stop picturing her coming. He picked up his phone and flipped to the picture she’d sent him. Blonde hair spilling about her pillow, eyes half closed the way they’d been when she’d been pleasuring herself.
He picked up his sketchbook. A few slashes of his pencil and there was her hair, not enough of a wave to be properly categorized as curly but not pin straight. Her eyes, a little too wide-set for perfection, the arch of her eyebrows. His pencil moved furiously as she came to life on his page.
When he was finished, he tore out the page and held it up. “I’d like to know you,” he said.
Chapter Four
Elizabeth’s week began with a drunk barfing all over her scrubs during her Sunday night shift and then steadily worsened. In hindsight, washing vomit off her scrubs had been the high point. But now it was Friday and her shift was almost over. She’d survived. Just one last angry patient to deal with.
She took a deep breath, put on a professional smile, and reminded herself that she helped people. “I need you to remain still so I can get an accurate blood pressure reading, Mr. Donnelly.” She wrapped the Velcro cuff around his skinny arm.
Her patient glared up at her from the hospital bed. “Where’s the meds? Can’t you see I’m in fucking pain, bitch!”
She kept her smile on and her voice cheerful only through long practice. “Just try to relax, Mr. Donnelly. The doctor will be in shortly.”
Normally, all the distress, grief, anger, and hostility found in a hospital rolled right off her back. When patients and even doctors berated her, she shrugged it off or tried to empathize. After all, the patients were scared and in pain which would make a saint testy and the doctors—with a few notable exceptions, like her friend Priya—were just assholes. No use getting mad at an asshole acting like an asshole. But this week, she was ashamed to admit it had gotten to her. She’d had to bite her tongue more than one time to keep from snapping back.
Just push it down and smile.
Back at the nurses’ station, she finished up her charting and reminded herself she had the whole afternoon and all day Saturday off to do whatever she wanted. But the thought didn’t cheer her up like it should have.
Instead, all signs pointed to a long, lonely weekend. Megan had gone back to school on Sunday and promised to give college life a shot by staying and hanging out with her roommate, not coming home for a while. It was exactly what Elizabeth wanted her to do so she should be happy not moping. And it was time for Elizabeth to experience living alone—no responsibilities, no one to pick up after, force to eat her vegetables, check to make sure she’d done her homework. Just sweet freedom.
She was just logging off the computer at the nurses’ station when a frazzled Priya rushed toward her, white lab coat flapping. “I need a favor,” she said, skidding to a stop in front of Elizabeth.
“You got it. I’m done here.” She didn’t mind staying a few extra minutes to check a patient’s vitals for a friend. It wasn’t like she had someplace to be.
“Dr. Boyle called in sick.”
“And you need me to help with your rounds.”
“No, I need you to go meet Brian’s brother and tell him I can’t leave work. He’s out in the waiting room. Two ambulances just pulled in and I’ve got to run. Can you just tell him I can’t make it?”
“Sure. What does he look like?”
“Dark red hair. He’s coming from work, so he’ll probably be wearing a fire department T-shirt. You can’t miss him. Thanks!”
A creeping horror slithered down her spine. “What’s his name?” she yelled after the departing Priya.
“Will!” Priya yelled back over her shoulder as the double doors swung shut behind her.
What were the odds that there were two Wills on the fire department with red hair and only one of them was her friend’s boyfriend’s brother? Not good for her.
Elizabeth stepped out into the waiting room reluctantly. To say this was going to be awkward was an understatement. Just thinking about how she’d been so mean to him made her stomach churn a little. She’d just hung up on him, which he hadn’t deserved. He was funny and beautiful, but she didn’t need a boyfriend right now. He’d been safe when she thought he just wanted to get laid.
Before Megan left, she’d thought it would be nice to date again. She’d even let Priya fix her up on a blind date, which turned out to be a disaster, but now she knew she couldn’t. Not yet.
Will was easy to spot. His head was bent down over a magazine and the overhead lights glinted the red in his hair. She smoothed the front of her scrubs and took a moment to try and compose herself. Unfortunately, it also gave her a moment to recall how it felt to come knowing he was watching her.
Her face flamed and she tried not to squirm. She looked around the faces in the crowded waiting room and it felt like they could all read her thoughts. About how much she’d wanted to see him naked, to feel his skin under her hands—Stop! Just get your exploding ovaries under control and pretend this is no big deal. Light and breezy.
She moved toward him. “So, you’re Brian’s brother.” Her voice came out a little too high.
He looked up and his pretty green eyes widened. “Elizabeth?”
She gave a hopefully jaunty wave even though he probably hated her. “That’s me.” Shaking her head, she said, “I should’ve known you’re related to Brian. Your hair’s darker and your bone structure is a little different, but you two are similar. You’re just better looking—don’t tell Priya I said that.”
He’d be well within his rights to tell her to go eff herself, but there was no anger or annoyance in his voice when he asked, “What are you doing here? And how do you know Brian?”
“I work here. I’m a nurse. And I’m friends with Priya. And that’s why I came out here. She wanted me to tell you that she can’t meet you. Another doctor called in and she’s backed up with patients right now.”
He jumped up from his seat, tossing the magazine aside, and a horrified expression crossed his face. “Does Priya...”
She glanced around to make sure she didn’t have any coworkers in earshot. “Know that we...? She doesn’t know we’ve met because I didn’t make the connection until I saw you.”
He smiled ruefully. “I was going to say, know that you rejected me.”
“I didn’t reject you. I rejected a date.” She was close enough to smell him above the hospital disinfectant, and he smelled wonderful—like Christmas morning, all evergreen and spice. She resisted the urge to lean in and sniff him like some feral dog. This is what had been missing from what had still made it into her top five sexual experiences. Scent. Touch.
“What’s the difference?”
There was something about him that made it okay to just say the things she wanted to. “I’d totally bang you.” Like a screen door in a hurricane.
“Thanks, that’s flattering,” he said with a laugh.
“It’s not personal. I’m just not looking for a relationship.” Not looking to get tangled up in someone else, to lose herself so completely that she became nothing more than an attachment to him. Just some extra limb—helpful to him, but useless on its own. Because eventually she’d be on her own.
“It was dinner.”
She faked a breeziness she didn’t feel but desperately wanted to. “Which leads to talking, which leads to feelings, which leads to moving in together, which leads to sitting on the couch in sweatpants watching Netflix on Friday night. Which, don’t get me wrong, I like sweatpants and Netflix, but I’m ready for a change.”
“So what do you want?”
“Freedom, justice, and the American Way? Seriously, I just want light and casual.”
“Just get out of a relationship?”
She didn’t want to talk about Megan and the whole dead parents thing. Not when he was
flirting again. Flirting she liked. Flirting was fun. “It’s one I’ll never get out of and I don’t want to. But I did just get a little more flexibility.”
She was reluctant to walk away. This was where she should say “see ya” and be thankful that he wasn’t being a dick. But she wanted to stay and keep talking to him. She liked the way his smile lit up his face and the way his eyes crinkled at the corner. Not to mention the cut of his T-shirt showed off a nice set of biceps. She was okay with being shallow. In fact, that’s all she wanted to be.
“What were you and Priya going to do before she cancelled on you?” She was just curious. It wasn’t that she wanted to go along because the thought of going home to an empty house was unsettling. She’d wanted that empty house.
“Looking at venues for my parents’ wedding anniversary party. It’s going to be a surprise party for them.”
“Want company?” she asked impulsively.
“I thought you didn’t want to hang out with me.”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just not interested in dates. I’m leaving work and I didn’t have anything planned, so I can help you look at venues—that is, if you want me to.”
“You have an odd idea of fun.”
“I also knit scarves—but not hats, because I can’t do turns—do the morning crossword puzzle, watch reruns of Murder, She Wrote, and floss regularly. I am all about fun.”
“Then this might be too much excitement for you.”
“I’ll take my chances.” The entire time they spoke a buzzing was going on under her skin. An electric excitement that felt like pure happiness. She could enjoy it for today.
“Give me a minute to change out of my scrubs,” she said before he could say he didn’t want her. “I’ll meet you back here.”
Chapter Five
Will never realized he was a masochist until this moment. Why was he flirting with a girl who played hot and cold games on an Olympic level? Sure, she was funny, sexy, and odd in the best way, but he was ready for something real and it wasn’t going to happen here.
When she came back, he’d tell her it was mistake and that they should just part ways right now. And what did it mean, that stuff about a relationship she didn’t want to get out of? He considered himself broad-minded, but when it came to dating, he didn’t share. If she had something open going on, he wanted no part of it.
She walked back into the waiting room wearing jeans that showcased those mile-high legs and a smile more incandescent than the overhead lights. “I’ll drive,” he said. “Are you in an open relationship?”
She sputtered, “What? Where did that come from?”
“You were being cryptic.”
“Women are allowed to be mysterious.”
“About stuff like bathroom habits, not whether they’re polyamorous. That’s stuff that should be disclosed up front. That’s the rules.”
“Are the relationship police going to arrest me?”
He grinned. “Would you like to be cuffed?”
“Are you offering?” she asked in a way that could only be described as purring.
It made him want to haul her into the nearest broom closet. But he wasn’t that guy anymore, he told himself firmly. “My truck’s out front,” he said.
Once they were in his truck and he was pulling out of the parking lot, she asked, “So, where are we headed anyway?”
“Medford. I need to pick up a picture from my parents’ house.” As part of his anniversary gift to his parents, he was going to paint a portrait from one of their wedding pictures. “That cool?”
She shrugged. “It’s your afternoon.”
“Ours now,” he said.
“You’re pretty smooth, aren’t you?”
“I used to think so.” Now he could better be classified as just plain dumb. But then again, he was the guy who ran into the burning building instead of away from it. And she was a five-alarm fire.
Being in an enclosed space with her was a mistake. The very air felt charged with her particles, like if he took a deep breath he’d be tasting her essence. He shot a glance over to where she was pulling the elastic from her hair. The motion pushed her breasts forward. Red lights flickered in his peripheral vision.
Those are taillights.
“Fuck.” He stomped on his brakes, almost rear-ending the car in front of him.
He managed to keep it together the rest of the way there and pulled up in front of the small three-bedroom house he’d grown up in. Despite the mild weather, the first few leaves on the maple tree in the tiny front yard were beginning to turn colors. In a few weeks, the rest would follow in a blaze of yellow and orange and red.
The front door was unlocked and he let himself in with Elizabeth following. He’d only taken a few steps into the front room when he heard the music. “Quick, we’ve got to get out of here!”
“What’s going on?”
“Enya.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door after him.
“What is Enya?” she asked, but didn’t resist.
“A New Age singer from the ‘90s, but that’s not what’s important.” He hauled ass down the porch with Elizabeth’s hand still in his. He reluctantly dropped it when they reached his truck. “My parents are—” he paused to give a full body shudder, “—getting it on. Enya is their doing it soundtrack.” He climbed in the truck and turned the key.
She buckled her seatbelt and asked, “Why is that gross? I think it’s sweet that your parents still have an active sex life. How long have they been married?”
“It will be thirty-five years. MacGregors are like swans—we mate for life.” He gave another exaggerated shudder. “Very horny swans.”
“Then why aren’t you mated?” she asked as he pulled away from the curb.
“I need the right swan.” One that would look past the surface. “Why aren’t you mated?” Maybe she would give a real answer this time.
She looked out the passenger window, and he figured she was ignoring the question. But just as he was about to break the silence, she spoke. In a serious voice, one he hadn’t heard from her yet, she said, “I don’t want to be the sidelined love interest in someone else’s story. Her life, purpose, and value are tied to some hero and her happiness is dependent on another.” She shook her head. “Nope. Not for me.”
“Two people can share a story,” he said gently. He’d been amazingly lucky in his life to have been surrounded by examples of love everywhere he turned. From his parents right down to his siblings, he’d witnessed how opening yourself up to the right person made you more, not less.
She turned back toward him, her face once more a canvas depicting sunshine and cheerfulness. But he felt as though there was a picture painted beneath. One of pain and loss hastily painted over but the traces remained. “So how many people are you expecting for your parents’ party?” she asked brightly.
He shrugged.
“You don’t know? How do you not know?”
“We didn’t talk about it.” The texts and calls between him, Brian, and Emily this week had been long but not particularly decisive. They’d had a little trouble with consensus.
“What did you talk about?”
“We got in a fight over whether we should ambush our parents with the minister so they could renew their vows.” He spied a spot only a few feet down from the Thistle, the neighborhood pub where his parents had escaped their kids for the occasional pint—and as one of their kids, in retrospect, he wondered why they hadn’t been there more often. He pulled in and cut the engine.
“That’s probably something your parents should decide.”
“That was my position, but my brother and sister always think they know best.”
“Not like you,” she teased.
“That’s right. I’m the one who knows best.�
�� He jumped out of the truck and circled to open the passenger door for Elizabeth, but she didn’t wait. She opened it just as he touched the handle. But she allowed him to hold the Thistle’s front door open. “They wanted it to be a surprise party and asking about vow renewals would ruin the surprise,” he said as he walked in after her.
The fireplace and warm wood paneling gave the Thistle a cozy atmosphere. Elizabeth halted right inside the doorway. Will took her arm, trying to not react at the tingle that went up his arm from the skin on skin contact, and steered her toward the bar.
He slid onto a stool and Jimmy the bartender slapped coasters down in front of them. “Hey, Will. How’s your Pops?”
Really happy right about now. He turned the automatic grimace at the thought of his parents having sex into a smile. “Doing good, thanks.” Elizabeth sat down next to him. “You want a beer?” he asked her.
“It’s only one o’clock.”
“That’s why I said beer, not whiskey. And after what I almost witnessed, namely my parents going at it, not having a drink is not an option.” He swiveled back toward the bar. “Two Guinnesses, Jimmy, and I need to talk to the manager about hosting a private party.”
“Manager should be in in about a half an hour if you want to wait,” Jimmy said, pulling down two pint glasses.
“How do you even know I like beer?” Elizabeth asked.
“What makes you think one of them is for you?”
She was perched on her barstool with her body turned toward his. She leaned in slightly. When Jimmy slid the first Guinness in front of her, she picked up the glass and licked a bit of foam off the top.
Images rushed into Will’s brain, and he shifted uncomfortably against the sudden pressure of his zipper against his hardening cock. She put the beer back down with a sly grin. She knew exactly what she was doing.
In twenty minutes, tops, they could be back at his place tearing each other’s clothes off with their teeth. He wanted to be inside her, those long legs of hers wrapped around his waist as he drove her to a breathless orgasm.
