by Mara Jacobs
“You betcha, eh,” Katie said, in a deep Yooper accent. She let go of Lizzie’s hand to wrap both her arms around her husband’s neck. “And I couldn’t be more happy. I am so blessed.” She leaned in and kissed Darío, making Charlie both uncomfortable and envious.
“Get a room,” Lizzie said, breezing past the couple and making her way to the beer. She seemed to notice Charlie for the first time, and he joined her at the counter, giving Katie and Darío some space as the couple continued to gaze at each other, kiss, nuzzle and just generally be mushy.
“How’ve you been, Charlie?” Lizzie asked him as she pulled two bottles of beer out, wiped them off on the towel next to the sink and opened them up.
“I’ve been okay. How about—”
“Hey, you’re single, right? Are you here alone?” Lizzie interrupted him.
“Umm…”
“You have to think about whether or not you’re single?”
“No, it’s just…” He thought about his night with Phee. And her stupid rule about no mundane details. He’d spent the last three weeks playing that over and over in his mind and was now sure that she’d never had any intention of seeing him again, that she’d done it to protect herself.
Which was fine, and he understood it. But, God, that night had been so honest, so real. And now he wondered if it all wasn’t all a lie on her part.
“Yes, I’m single,” he said to Lizzie. “And here alone.” He put a teasing tone in his voice as he continued, “But I thought you were happily married, Lizzie.”
She swatted him on the arm. “Oh, you’re just the cutest thing, Charlie Simpson.” She took a drink of beer and studied him. After a second, she handed him the other beer. “I’m here with Finn’s sister. She’s a tiny blonde wearing a gorgeous red dress. Find her and bring her this for me. Her name is Phoebe.”
He raised a brow at her, and she smiled. “Do it. You can thank me in your wedding toast.” He laughed, and then his throat caught just a little bit as he remembered all the thoughts that had run through his head in the hours between leaving Phee at the diner and returning Saturday night to find her gone. Yes, he had to admit, even random thoughts of marriage had crossed his mind during that great day.
All to be shattered later that night.
He started to hand the bottle of beer back to Lizzie. “You know what? I don’t think I’m in the best mood—”
Lizzie pushed the bottle back at him. “Red dress. Can’t miss her. Do it.”
Man, he could see how she made a living telling professional athletes and politicians how to run their lives. He gave in, said “Congratulations” to the still hugging and kissing Katie and Darío as he passed them and exited the kitchen into the great room.
He scanned the room looking for a tiny blonde in a red dress and his mind went back to the tiny blonde he wished were in the room. God, Phee would look incredible in a red dress. Maybe a little strapless number that would caress those hot curves.
But nobody in the room matched Lizzie’s description of her sister-in-law, and Charlie moved to the other side of the room, leaning against the built-in bookcases that surrounded the huge stone fireplace.
He’d been here a couple of times during the renovation when Petey had wanted his feedback, but he hadn’t been back since the flooring and paint had been done, and certainly not with all the furnishings and accessories in. The great room was a great room—earth tones complementing the stone fireplace, splashes of color here and there. It looked like they’d rearranged the furniture a bit for the party, clearing out a spot right in front of the huge window that overlooked the lake. The huge Christmas tree stood in the middle of that area, and boughs of holly framed the fireplace. The furniture was pushed back and curved around, leaving a spot open, almost like someone was going to sing later or something.
Charlie wouldn’t put it past Petey to fly in some hotshot pop star to perform at his holiday as a surprise to his guests, and possibly even to Alison.
There didn’t seem to be any evidence of a band or piano or anything, though. The stereo system was behind Charlie, and he made his way over to it, placing the beer for the blonde on one of shelves next to it. Holiday music was currently playing on someone’s iPod in the docking station, but several CDs were scattered on top of the receiver as well, as if waiting their turn. One in particular caught Charlie’s eye, and he opened the case and put the CD in the player. When he had it set to the right track, he cut the iPod and switched the audio to the CD.
The beginning horn section of Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” sounded, and Charlie took a swig of his beer, remembering the last time he’d heard the song.
Chapter Six
The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the Bad Girls Live.
~ George Carlin
Friday night after Thanksgiving.
“And number five? That would have to be Top Gun.”
“Seriously? Top Gun is in your top five? Over Princess Bride? Over Citizen Kane?” Phee asked him.
Charlie shrugged. “I didn’t judge yours. Sense and Sensibility? Seriously?” he said, mimicking her tone.
She giggled. “Come on. It’s a classic.”
“But not nearly as cool as Top Gun.”
Their hands were tangled, had been in some form of contact since folding the napkins nearly two hours earlier. Except for when Phee had crossed to the jukebox and put what must have been twenty quarters in, since they’d had soft standards playing for them while they’d talked. And talked. And talked some more.
Charlie couldn’t ever remember being so at ease, so comfortable.
“Oh, I love this song,” Phee said as “Let’s Stay Together” came on.
“Me too,” Charlie said. “Gotta be in my top five of all time songs.”
“Songs. That’s one we didn’t do,” Phee said.
Though he had loved the evening they shared, Charlie didn’t want to talk anymore. And he didn’t want to just hold her hand. He slid from his seat, not breaking his hold, and tugged on her hand as he stood. “Dance with me,” he said.
“Here?”
He nodded. “Why not?” He tugged again, and she followed. He led her to the middle of the floor, out of view from the one window where the blinds weren’t drawn. He pulled her into his arms, holding her right hand, her left resting on his shoulder.
It felt so right, so natural to be dancing with this woman. It seemed unreal that he’d only met her hours ago. They fit.
“This is nice,” she murmured, and stepped even closer to him, her breasts grazing his chest.
“Mmm-hmm,” he mumbled, sliding his hand up her back as Al Green sang about never being untrue.
She looked up at him. “Does it seem weird that we just met?”
“Yes and no,” he said honestly. She nodded, getting it, and then placed her head on his chest.
They swayed together, hands slowly exploring, her head burrowing into his shoulder. All too soon the short song came to an end, and Charlie silently prayed the next song would be a slow one so he wouldn’t have to let this girl go.
Ever.
The intensity of his thoughts—his feelings—should have scared him, but it didn’t. They stood tentatively in that moment between songs, not wanting to break apart. And then the music started, and it was “Let’s Stay Together” again. Phee’s head sprang up from his chest, surprise in her pretty brown eyes.
“You didn’t play it twice?” he asked, but already knew the answer.
“No,” she whispered.
Her mouth looked so soft, so sweet, and Charlie knew he had to taste her. He lowered his head slowly, giving her time to turn away, but she didn’t. No, the sweet, lovely girl in his arms rose up slightly and met him halfway. Her lips were warm and as soft as they’d looked. She tasted of coffee, deep and rich.
She opened to him right away, and he swept his tongue into her mouth, hers happily meeting him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, his around her back.
&n
bsp; “Charlie,” she whispered as he broke the kiss to move to her neck. His name had never sounded so sweet.
Nibbling up and down her neck, he heard himself groan. His hands roamed down her back, trying to touch every inch of her, wanting to remember her—this night—forever. Slowly, his hands moved down to her ass. That shapely, enticing ass which had mesmerized him from the first moment he saw her walking away.
He should stop. He had just met this girl, and he was pawing her all over. He was the nice guy, every girl’s buddy, someone who’d never made a move on the girl he was supposedly crazy about.
And suddenly, with crystal clarity, Charlie saw the difference in what he’d felt for Deni and this burning, aching need he felt for Phee. Even after only knowing Phee for so short a time.
This was not the sweet, good-natured feelings he had with Deni that he had thought would grow deeper. This was already deep, deeper than he’d felt about a woman before.
A panic went through him about leaving town, leaving Phee, after this weekend. The urgency played out in his touch, his grasp of her little curvy body, as he slid his hands lower, needing to feel the skin of her legs. Praying she wasn’t wearing hose or any other kind of barrier.
She wasn’t. Her legs were blessedly bare under the skirt of her uniform. A skirt he hurriedly slid up and over that delectable butt, feeling the silk of her panties. But even that was too much of a barrier. His hands started to pull at the offending scrap of material, but Phee pulled away from him.
“Charlie,” she said, breathing heavily, making him realize he was, too. He was just about to apologize, to tell her he’d stop, when she added, “Not here.” She looked around wildly, then took his hand and led him past the jukebox—their song now winding down for a second time—and through the closest door, which was to the men’s room.
“Phee, I…” But he didn’t know what to say to this little blond sprite that had awakened him to feelings he hadn’t thought possible.
“Shhh,” she said, placing a finger against his lips. She backed up, still leading him with her other hand. She stopped when she ran into the vanity behind her. Her hand left his and she reached down and slipped her fingers just inside his belt, tugging him toward her.
He bumped into her, pushing her against the sink counter. Phee moved her hand behind her back as she untied her apron and placed it on the counter beside her, the change from her tips in the apron pocket jangling against the laminate countertop, some of the coins rolling out and onto the floor.
“Leave ‘em,” she said when Charlie made to retrieve them. “This is more important,” she said, taking his face in her hands. “Isn’t it?” she asked softly, looking up at him.
She wasn’t asking him if sex was more important than the quarters still rolling around the floor. She was asking for something much more, and Charlie had absolute certainty in his answer. “Yes. More important,” he said and she smiled. She started to kiss him again, but he added, “Most important.”
She got it, and whispered, “Me, too.”
Her hands trembled a little as she reached for the hem of Charlie’s sweater, and he noticed his were trembling too as he started to unbutton her uniform. Only to find the buttons were fake, decorative only, and that he was not able to peel the polyester disaster from her to touch, taste and gaze upon her pale skin.
“Zipper’s in the back,” Phee said, then kissed him with a growing passion that matched his own. “Get this thing off me,” she added, though Charlie was already unzipping.
Her skin was so soft, and he ran his hands up her arms after peeling the uniform down her body. He felt her kick the thing away from around her feet. He hated to break away from the kiss, but he needed to feel her against his bare chest. Regretfully leaving her lush mouth, he made quick work of his knit tee, then quickly returned to kissing her.
Holy shit! Her body pressed against his might have been the best thing he’d ever felt. Curvy and warm and soft. She smelled of vanilla and a just a bit of…bacon? Which made him even harder.
His senses were whirling. He needed to see her. Stepping back, he broke their kiss and looked at her. Just…looked at her.
She stood before him in sensible white cotton bra and panties. “I wasn’t expecting to be showing my underwear tonight,” she said, embarrassment in her voice.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, meaning every word. A small blush crept up her chest, to her neck and then to that adorable face.
She hopped up onto the counter. Charlie reached to help her, but she was already perched and reaching for him. He stepped between her open legs, his hands resting on her waist. She began to unbutton and then to unzip his jeans. Her small, warm hand reached into his boxers and grasped his hard-on. “Jesus, Phee,” he hissed, then bent to kiss her again.
He couldn’t get enough of her. Her mouth. Her full breasts, which he now held, squeezed and teased with his hands. He pulled the cups of her bra down, not even bothering to unsnap it, needing his mouth on her too badly.
“Charlie,” she moaned as he sucked a hard nipple into his mouth. Her foot ran up his thigh, her knees spreading wider to give him better access. She pushed his jeans and boxers down over his hips, freeing his cock. She grasped him once again and started slowly stroking.
He continued feasting on her breasts, moving to the other one while trying to keep his cool so he didn’t come too soon. He wanted this to last.
But then she twisted away from him, her hand leaving his erection. “What?” he said, gasping for air.
“Just…this…” she said, reaching for her apron.
“What?” he said. The blood had left his brain, and he couldn’t think beyond getting his mouth back on her and his cock buried deep inside her.
She pulled some quarters out of the pocket. Apparently not all of them littered the floor. She handed them to him and then pointed to the wall. And a condom dispenser.
Charlie chuckled as he fed the quarters into the machine. “Classy place you work in.”
She laughed. “Don’t I know it. But really, are you complaining?”
He took the packet from the dispenser and ripped it open. She took it from his hands and rolled it on him. She rocked back and forth, helping him as he peeled her panties off. He stepped into between spread legs once again. Taking her face in his hands, he looked at her and asked quietly, “You sure?”
She swallowed, licked her lips and nodded. “Very,” she said as she guided him to her.
“Holy wah,” she whispered as he pushed into her. A fleeting feeling of familiarity at hearing those words rushed through Charlie’s head, but then she clenched around him and he didn’t—couldn’t—think about anything other than making love to Phee.
Chapter Seven
I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was six.
Mother took me to see him in a department store and he asked for my autograph.
~ Shirley Temple
Three weeks later
The strains of “Let’s Stay Together” wafted upstairs to Phoebe where she sat in the guest room that Alison had assigned to her earlier when she’d dressed for the party.
God, she’d played that night over in her head so many times in the past three weeks, but hearing that song gave her a physical pang of emptiness. And horniness.
She’d never had a one-night stand before. In fairness, she hadn’t really thought it would only be one night while Charlie held her in his arms. And it might not have been if she hadn’t received the call about Clea. She’d never know.
“Oh, there you are. I sent a good looking young man to bring you a beer, did he find you?”
Phoebe shook her head. “No. I came up here for a minute to…to…” She looked around desperately, trying to think of a reason that she needed to escape the party.
“To have a moment to yourself?” Lizzie diplomatically offered.
“Yes, exactly. They’re great people, and I want to thank you for bringing me, making me get out of the house.”
“But whatever has been bothering you isn’t going to go away by a cute boy bringing you beer.”
Phoebe smiled. “Because he’s not the right boy.”
“Understood.” Lizzie joined her where she sat on the edge of bed. “Are you sure you want to leave Port Huron?”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s not there anymore anyway.”
“Where is he?”
Phoebe’s voice caught as she tried to speak, and she finally just held her hands up in a “who knows” fashion. “Oh, honey,” Lizzie said, putting an arm around her.
She told Lizzie the story, or most of it. She mentioned the instant chemistry she’d felt with a guy she met in the diner, how they talked all night and had made a bone-deep connection. She didn’t tell Lizzie she’d had sex on the bathroom counter, but judging by Lizzie’s blush, Phoebe figured her sister-in-law got the point.
“And I blew it. I totally blew it. I thought I was protecting myself in case he didn’t show up the next night. No risk, right? He shows up, we spill all our personal info, then become damn Facebook friends or something. Or, he doesn’t show, and I don’t get all obsessive about him, because I can’t.” She felt something wet on her cheeks and realized they were falling tears.
Lizzie squeezed her even tighter, but waited for Phoebe to go on. “And then the next day…”
“Finn called about Clea,” Lizzie finished for her. “Oh, Phoebe, I’m so sorry. There’s no way Finn—or Clea for that matter—would have wanted you to drop everything and come home. Especially if they had any idea what being at the diner that night meant to you.”
“I know. But I wanted to come home for Gran. It was important to me.”
Lizzie nodded, stroking Phoebe’s bare shoulder. “Pheebs,” she said quietly, “why didn’t you just wait and come home the next day?”
It was the question Phoebe had asked herself every day in the past three weeks. She knew the answer. She just hadn’t admitted it, even to herself. “I was scared,” she said.
