by L. S. Murphy
A band warmed up on the stage outside. Riker took my free hand and weaved through the tables toward Josh. My toes were numb, but my hand was warmed by his light touch. When we sat down, I didn’t want him to let go and was disappointed when he did.
And that was not good. I shook my head to clear it, which made me dizzy.
“Hey, Rena. Long time no see. How’s it going?” Josh’s voice was too high and too happy.
I glared at him.
“She’s having a bad night,” Riker answered as if this should explain it all.
Josh nodded. “Been there, done that. So what’s got you down?”
I downed my whiskey, plus Riker’s, and felt the world spin beneath my feet. What could it hurt to tell them? “I got fired,” I slurred. When did my speech go all wonky? “My biggest client fired me. For no fucking reason.”
Riker looked at me like I’d gone off my rocker. Or maybe he looked at me like I’d just told the funniest joke on the planet. I wasn’t so sure. He was leaning sideways and his face was all fuzzy. He reached out and put his hand on my arm. It felt warmer than the whiskey in my belly.
“You don’t hold your liquor well, do you?” Josh asked with a laugh that sounded like the wind chimes my mom had on her front porch. I hated those wind chimes.
“I do so.” A waitress sashayed by and I ordered another. I liked this. I felt free. “I feel fabulous.” Riker’s hand was still on my arm. I stared at it for a minute, then up at him. “Do you mind not manhandling me? Or is that how you get your kicks?”
Riker leaned in and whispered in my ear, “I’m the only thing keeping you from falling on the floor.”
I grinned and put my lips near his ear, replying in the same manner. “Keep telling yourself that. I think you just like the way I feel.”
“Maybe.” His hand slid up my arm, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.
I turned my head slightly, inhaling the spicy smell of his aftershave. My lips brushed along his jaw and I felt him shiver. It was exactly how I imagined he would react. A thrill raced through me, beating my conscience into submission.
“Rena, you’re drunk,” he whispered, but he didn’t pull away.
“I prefer to think of myself as uninhibited.” I let my hand fall on his thigh, feeling the thick muscle tighten.
“I thought you hated me.” He scooted closer, pressing his rough cheek into mine.
I chuckled. How could I hate him? He’s smart, sexy, and sweet. I don’t hate him.
Josh cleared his throat and Riker sat back in his chair. I stared at him, not sure what exactly was going on. Then I remembered where I was and who I was with, and I let out an inner groan. I had the whole angels on the shoulder issue, and the devilish one was winning. This wasn’t right. But I didn’t want to stop this game we’d begun.
The band started playing the blues and it felt so appropriate at the moment. I swayed to the music, ignoring Riker as he adjusted his chair and put his arm behind me. The waitress came and went, leaving behind two more whiskeys. I downed them both before Riker could reach for his. It was a good thing my apartment was within staggering distance. The song ended and the band jumped right into another one. Another drink, another song.
That was all I remembered from the night when I woke up the next day in somebody else’s bed.
The sun streamed in through the floor to ceiling windows, gently waking me from a deep sleep. I felt great as I opened my eyes. Then I realized my bed was in the wrong spot. I rolled over slowly, the full effects of a hangover hitting me as the sheets slid across my bare legs. My focus cleared and I was in a bedroom exactly like mine, except flipped and stark white. It didn’t make sense.
The shower shut off in the bathroom down the short hall. I covered my head, leaving enough room to peek out without being seen. If I was going to do a walk of shame, I wanted a clue as to who caused it. Besides Jack Daniels, that is.
Riker hopped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped firmly around his waist. He glanced toward the bed before turning his back to me. It took everything I had not to scream in frustration and run out of the room. It wasn’t possible that I’d given into the one-night stand fantasies I had about him. I wasn’t that weak. Was I?
How in the hell did I end up here? I tightened my grip on the duvet.
The towel fell from Riker’s hips, and not surprisingly, there wasn’t any clothing on underneath. It was hard not to check out his rear, but my eyes only grazed over it before moving to where his leg should’ve been. It had been severed beneath his left knee, jagged scars cutting along the back of his thigh. I wondered, not for the first time, what happened to make him lose his leg.
He sat in a worn leather chair and pulled a pair of black boxer briefs into his lap. I couldn’t see what else he was doing, but it didn’t take a Nobel Prize winner to figure it out. When he stood, it was on two legs. He glanced back at the bed, a smile creeping onto his flushed cheeks. Holy hell, Riker was surface of the sun hot on a normal day, but seeing him fresh from the shower made my legs sweat.
No matter how much I wanted to avoid this moment, it was time to wake up. I pulled the duvet down, realizing for the first time that I wasn’t wearing my own clothes. I looked down at the USMC t-shirt over a pair of plaid boxers and groaned. The bed buckled beside me.
“How’re you feeling?” Riker asked without his usual sarcasm.
I took a deep breath and sat up to face him. “Like I was hit by a train.”
He laughed and my ears rang.
I closed my eyes, ready for the truth. “What happened?”
The bed shifted again. I felt his breath on my neck, sending shivers to my toes. “Nothing.”
“What?” I leaned back enough to look him in the eyes.
“I shouldn’t say nothing, sweetheart. You did stick your tongue down my throat.”
I cringed, not at what he said but the crude way he said it.
“The next time you wake up in my bed, I want you to remember how you ended up here.” He eyes burned with the intensity of a volcano.
As I processed this, I thought for the briefest of moments that Riker was going to kiss me. And for the briefest of moments, I wanted him to. But he didn’t, and that hurt more than it should’ve.
Riker stood up with a self-important smirk, grabbed some clothes from the chair, and went down the stairs. I waited for a count of twenty before getting out of bed, the memories of the night before rushing in. Touching his thigh, his lips to my ear, and the softness of his hand in mine. Guilt uncoiled in my chest. He wouldn’t have done anything without my prompting. Here I was in his bed, checking him out like a piece of sirloin at the meat market. Riker wasn’t lying about my virtue staying intact. I laughed at the absurdity of that thought. My virtue was so far behind me, a rearview mirror wouldn’t help me see it.
Still, I wondered exactly how I ended up in Riker’s bed and in his shirt. I don’t know why I trusted him, but I did.
My clothes were strewn on a chair by one of the windows. I slipped on my jeans and gathered the rest. Riker would get his shirt back later. Maybe. As I crept down the stairs, I hoped that Riker would be gone. And I wondered why he had the loft bedroom instead of the more convenient one on the main level.
I stepped off the last stair, feeling relatively home free, until I saw Josh in the galley kitchen. I tried to tiptoe toward the front door, but he turned around and smiled through the open window that looked out into the living room.
“Sleep well?” He grinned and sat a plate on the counter full of eggs and bacon.
I glared at him as he motioned for me to take one of the stools. Dropping my clothes over the back of a worn green recliner, I sat down reluctantly as he put a cup of the best smelling coffee beside the plate. My mouth watered and my stomach rumbled.
“Eggs cure the worst hangovers.” He shoveled a large forkful into his mouth from another plate. “Especially the way I make them.”
I eyed the eggs warily and sipped the coffee. There was a hint o
f something in it that made my mouth sing.
“Chicory,” Josh answered before I even asked. He grinned again. “Why do you think Riker keeps me around? He couldn’t cook to save his own ass.”
I dared to take a bite of the eggs and finished half of the plate before I realized it. “Josh, these are amazing.”
“Glad you like them. Mom’s happy at least one of her kids can cook. My little sister doesn’t know an egg yolk from an egg white.” He rinsed his plate in the sink and shoved it in the dishwasher. “Can we talk for a second?”
I kept myself from licking the crumbs off the plate as I nodded. Josh filled my mug and took the plate from me.
“Riker likes you,” he said as he closed the dishwasher door.
What is this, high school? But I wisely kept my thoughts to myself.
“He’s been through hell and back, then more hell.” Josh leaned against the stove and crossed his arms. This serious demeanor was foreign to me. Josh joked and had fun whenever I’d seen him. Seriousness was new. “He puts on a strong front, but…there’s more to Riker than his sarcasm.” He looked up at the ceiling. “He’d kick my ass if he knew I said anything, but I thought you should know where you stood. He’s a good guy.”
I didn’t get it. I mean, I understood why Josh was protecting his friend, but why did he think I’d hurt Riker? We were…neighbors, maybe friends. I didn’t know what we were, but we weren’t anything romantic even if I did wake up in his bed. Even if the thought crossed my mind a few times.
“What happened last night?” I asked. Even though I believed Riker, confirmation would be nice to hear.
He let his head fall to his chest. When he looked up at me, it was with the biggest smile I’d seen him wear.
I groaned inwardly again and told him what I remembered. “Just tell me, Josh. Don’t make me beg.”
He laughed. “You were pretty out of control. Riker kept you on a short leash. If any other guys started flirting with you, or you with them, he pulled you back.”
“Who did I flirt with?” God, I’m such a bitch.
“Me, for one.” He smiled when I looked at him like he needed to be institutionalized. “You only started flirting with other guys when Riker cut you off from the whiskey. Other than that, you never left his side.” Josh shook his head and started cleaning the kitchen. “When he finally got you out of McGovern’s, it took both of us to carry you back here.”
“Did I do anything…”
“Besides making out with Riker? Not really. Just normal drunk stuff.”
Making out with Riker. I kissed him. He kissed me back. I wonder if he was any good. I shook the thoughts away. “How’d I end up?” I pointed to Riker’s bedroom. “Why didn’t you put me in my place?”
“For one, you couldn’t tell us which key was to your apartment. You’ve got like twenty on your keychain. You really should clean that off. And you insisted on coming here.” He chucked the sponge into the sink and started drying the counter with a towel covered in ducks. “Riker had no problem getting you upstairs. You kinda pulled him that way. He handed you those clothes you’re wearing, and came back down here. You yelled a few choice words, and that was that.”
“So nothing happened?” Relief, shame, humiliation, happiness, and fear, all coursed through me. Nothing happened. Then something surprising caught me off guard. I regretted that nothing happened even though I was glad nothing did. This is too confusing.
“Nothing happened,” Josh reiterated, stressing each word. It was like nailing a coffin shut.
I shuffled into work on Monday with my head hanging. It might be my business, but Jeannette kept everything afloat. I didn’t want to tell her that I’d lost the biggest client we had.
And I didn’t have to.
“Why is Alexandria Mitchell calling about your designs for Cecilia Hood’s media room?” Jeannette asked as soon as I sat at my desk.
“You can tell Alex to kiss my ass. She’s on her own.” I grabbed the design layout for Higgins’ inner office.
Jeannette leaned over my desk and slid the pencil from my hand. “What happened?”
I didn’t look up as I answered. “She called and fired me. No reason.”
“It happens. With Higgins and our other accounts, we’ll survive.” My head snapped up as she strolled back to her desk.
“But…but this was the one. The account that would put us over the top, make us the elite designer in St. Louis.” I scrambled to my feet and hurried over to her desk. “Don’t you get that?”
Jeannette glanced over her chic frames. “I get that Cecilia Hood was a big account. I get that you have it in your head that it only takes one to put us over the top. But Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither was Alexandria Mitchell Designs. You worked for that woman for two years before setting out on your own. You know how she got to be the elite. And you said you’d never stoop to her level. Now, you will act professional. You will call Cecilia Hood and explain that once she cut ties with our company, she lost access to our designs. When Alexandria Mitchell calls again, I’ll handle her.” She shooed me away. “Now go. I’ve got a few things to get straight.”
I felt like an insolent child being sent to her room. But Jeannette was right. Alexandria Mitchell would lie, steal, and cheat to make an extra buck. On more than one occasion while I worked for her, she stole the clients I’d brought in and I’d lose the commission. The final straw was the day I’d brought in Zapitoni, the leading marketing firm in the country. They were relocating into downtown St. Louis and wanted their new offices to be like a playground. I’d won them over, and Alexandria took them from me. She called it “teamwork” and downloaded the designs I’d started from my computer before cutting my ties on the account completely. When I confronted her about the commission I was owed, she scoffed at paying me for work she did. Two months later, Rena Woods Designs opened for business.
After finishing the plan for Higgins’ inner office, I called a few older clients to check in. That netted me two more jobs on redesigns for rooms another decorator completed before the clients came to me. When I left the office at five, the bounce in my step was back.
The only thing that deterred my enthusiasm was two weeks’ worth of laundry I’d been avoiding. I looked around my bedroom and was glad that Riker hadn’t been in here. It would’ve been more humiliating than getting sloshed in front of him. I changed into some old track shorts and my Run Across Missouri t-shirt, tossing all the scattered clothing into a basket as I ran around the room. The Sunshine Laundromat was half a block away from my apartment. Monday nights were usually slow, and tonight was no different. I took my dry-cleaning to the counter and settled into a book as my delicates swirled in the machine.
“Hey,” Riker said, sitting on the bench beside me. He put his empty laundry basket on top of a washer. “How’s it going?”
A blush crept to my face as I stared into his deep brown eyes. “Fine. You?”
“Good.” He glanced down at my legs. “Nice shorts. Didn’t know you’re a runner.”
“Not so much anymore.” I relaxed and smiled as the memory of completing my first marathon flashed before me. It was harder than I’d expected but worth every blister. “Once I started my business, there wasn’t enough time.”
“You should get back into it.” He bumped my arm. “It’s a better stress reliever than getting wasted.”
“So’s sex, but I don’t do that every day, either.” If I could’ve slapped myself right then, I would have. The words flew out of my mouth without a single thought.
Riker’s eyes widened and he grinned. “Pity.”
I turned away from him before he could see how easily I wear my embarrassment.
“Seriously though, if you ever want to get back into running, let me know. I run every morning.”
“Really?” My head snapped around so fast I could’ve gotten whiplash. “You run?”
“Yeah, every morning at five. That surprise you?” His face was blank, but there was a shiel
d over his eyes like a defense.
I shrugged. “Not really. Most guys I knew in the Corps liked to run even after they got out.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s true with most of the guys in my unit. Who’d you know in the Corps?” he asked, sincerely interested.
“My uncle, for one. Lifetime Marine.” I glanced at Riker, considering how much to tell him about my family. What could it hurt? That’s what friends do, right? “My aunt had a love-hate relationship with the Corps. She loved her Marine, but she hated it when his job took him away from her and my cousins for long periods of time.”
Riker’s face scrunched into a scowl as he considered what I’d said. “Being with someone in the service can’t be easy.” He shrugged and dug his nails into his shorts. “But I’m sure it would be worth it if it was the right person.”
I almost laughed. “Yeah, that’s what my aunt always said. Now that he’s retired, she kinda misses him being out of the house.”
Riker chuckled again. “It’s not easy on our end, either. The married guys spend most of the time talking about their families.”
I’d never heard him talk about it, and I often wondered how he lost his leg. Maybe he’d tell me if I asked. Then again, by the way he reacted when I first glanced at his prosthetic, he probably wouldn’t. It must be hard on him. I decided against asking. “And what did you do?”
“Got drunk a lot.” He met my stare. “And wished I had someone to come home to.”
We spent the wash and spin cycles talking about my uncle. Riker told me a few stories from boot camp, laughing at some of the things he did as a recruit. Josh and Riker flew out to San Diego together and had been best friends since. When they came home on leave for the first time, Riker stayed with Josh’s family. He didn’t say why exactly, but he laughed about how Josh’s little sister kept hitting on him.
It was nice to talk to him. There wasn’t any playful sarcasm and not once did he call me sweetheart. We moved our clothes to the dryers and the conversation turned to me.
“You aren’t from around here, are you?” he asked as he closed the door of his dryer.
