by T. I. Lowe
“What are y’all up to?” I ask as soon as Leona answers her phone.
“Just grabbing an early supper. How about you?”
“Trying not to have a heart attack,” I say. “I need some time. Can you tell Will I’ve come down with a nasty bug, and he has to stay away from me for a few days?” I hate lying to him, but I just don’t know what else to do at the moment.
“You want to talk to him?”
“No. I can’t. Not right now.”
“Okay, honey. You just get yourself better. We’ll see you in a few days.”
I hear Will in the background say, “Tell her I love her.”
“Tell him I love him too. And Leona, I love you too.”
“Awe, you know I love you more,” she says, and I hear the smile in her voice.
As I set the phone down, Jen walks in and sits opposite of me. She’s watching me with her concerned hazel eyes. I lay my head on top of the desk. “What am I going to do?”
I feel her pat my arm. “You are going to have to tell both of them. This isn’t fair to either of them or you.”
And she’s right, but I just can’t bring myself to do it yet. I raise my head and rub my tired eyes. “I’ll be over at Aunt Evie’s for the night, if you need me.” I stand up and follow Jen to the front counter to help power down the computers.
“Where’s Dillon?” she asks as she closes the front window blinds.
“Passed out in my cabin. I think the last leg of this tour took a toll on him.” I don’t tell her about Mave, but I’m thinking he has been a bigger effect on Dillon than anything. The man is loyal to a fault, and I know he is taking Maverick’s problems personally.
“If that fine man was in my bed, there’s no way I’d leave him alone,” Jen says with a smirk.
“I’m not even going to reward you with an argument on that one. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I head out the door and back to my cabin. I tiptoe in and find Dillon sprawled out, face down on my bed, in only his boxers. He is sound asleep and his feet are dangling off the end of the bed. I guess he is where he will be until tomorrow at least. I grab a change of clothes before easing back over to the bed to get a better look at him. His arms are tucked under his pillow so I can’t see the artwork on them. I’ll have to wait on getting a good look at them. I do spot a small change with the tattoo of my name on his upper back. Discreetly tucked under the L is the date of our last night together. Seeing this makes my throat thicken with emotion. I want to run my fingertips over those significant numbers, but I refrain myself and slip back out the door.
I walk the few streets over to Aunt Evie’s and unlock her door. I walk in. The floral scent of her still lingers in the air, as though she has just passed through, even though it’s been five years. I’ve left it just as it was, except the fridge has been cleaned out and unplugged. I walk over to her small dinette table and set my clothes down before picking up her hymnal. I flip a few pages and see her notations every so often. She loved helping with the music in our small church, and she loved it even better when Dillon played her beloved hymns.
I have to sit down as too many memories haunt me all at once. Aunt Evie was my rock and I thank God for giving her to me. I just wish He would have let me keep her longer. I sure could use her advice right now. She would have told me like it is, too. One thing I always admired about that woman is she never pitied me or Kyle. She picked us up that fateful day, dusted us off, and guided us towards a better life.
She always had a way of words too. One saying she had that always cracked us up was, “Don’t go thinking how much greener that grass is on the other side. ‘Cause just as soon as you hop over that fence, you gonna land in a big pile of cow poop.” In other words, things aren’t always as good as they seem. And more times than not, you discover you don’t have it as bad as you thought.
Another one of her sayings that has always stuck with me is, “Always be true to God and always be true to yourself, and everything else will truly work itself out.” I think it’s time I use this advice. It’s time for me to be true, to not just me, but also to the men in my life. I’m torn between what I want to do and what I need to do. I have to figure out a way of reconciling the two before it all blows up in my face.
I get up from the small table and head to my old room, leaving this problem to sort out until tomorrow.
Chapter Fourteen
I wake with a start before the sun is even up, and I know he is standing over me before I even open my eyes. The man has such a presence, and my skin pricks at his nearness. I just keep lying here and decide against opening them all together. I just want to keep dreaming so I don’t have to figure out reality. His warm fingers glide over my exposed thigh, but I try to not respond.
“I know you’re awake. Stop pretending,” he says in a husky voice full of sleep.
I roll over and peep an eye open and find him staring down at me. “What are you doing here?” I ask. He is in only his boxers and I have the mental picture flash through my head of this giant of a man stumbling over here, half naked, in the dark. I only hope no one saw him. I can just see the tabloid headlines now, ROCK LEGEND DILLON BLEU CAUGHT STREAKING!
“I think the question should be, ‘What are you doing here?’ I woke up alone, Jewels. I’m really tired of waking up alone,” he murmurs. And he really does sound tired.
And I swear the man has just crammed himself next to me in my small bed and is cuddling me like a blame teddy bear. We lay in silence and the next thing I know he is back asleep. Great. Now what? I’m about to try to squirm from underneath him, but stop. He’s seeking me out because he needs me. So I try to get comfortable the best I can and hold him right back. I lay here listening to him breathe and feel his even heartbeat underneath my hand until I finally doze back off too.
It seems I just closed my eyes when I am opening them again to the sound of my phone ringing. I roll over and find that I am alone. Did I dream him up? I can still smell his cologne on my skin so maybe not. I scoop up the phone and answer it when it starts going off again.
“Hello?” I answer groggily.
“You feeling better?” Will asks, hesitantly.
“A little, but I think it’s best for you to stay away another day. I don’t want you catching it,” I say as I wander towards the front of the trailer to find my guest, but he is nowhere to be found. I rub my hands over my face. The anxiety of it all is starting to build.
“I miss you,” he nearly whispers, making me feel even worse.
“I miss you more. Just one more day. I love you,” I say hoarsely.
“I love you too.” He hangs up, and I wonder if he can sense something is up with me.
I can’t focus on that right now. I have to focus on figuring out what I’m going to do about Dillon. I change into a clean pair of jeans and, just for kicks, a Bleu Streak T-shirt. I slide on a pair of shoes and head over to my cabin.
I spot Ms. Raveena in her yard, watering her little garden. I throw my hand up. “Good morning.”
“Oh yes it has been.” She chuckles. “You tell that Dillon I enjoyed the little peep show he gave me this morning. He sure has grown into one fine looking man and can fill out a pair of boxers like no other.” She’s nodding her head, and you can tell she is replaying those images in her thoughts. I don’t blame her. They have to be pretty spectacular.
I have to laugh at this. I guess hotshot was quite a sight walking around nearly naked. “Umm… Did anyone else get to see that show?” I ask, hesitantly.
“Just me, as far as I know, dear.” She turns the hose off and wanders closer in my direction.
“How long ago was that show?” I look around for any sign of the streaking giant.
“About an hour ago. Tell him he can mosey on back by anytime.” She’s giggling like a school girl and is fanning her face with her garden gloves. The woman is in her late seventies. Too funny! But we are talking about Dillon Bleu. That man could get a corpse riled up.
I walk the few streets over, la
ughing all the way. I find his Harley still in the same spot as yesterday. I ease inside and the place is abandoned. Humph. I glance out at the back deck. Empty.
I give up my search and set a pot of coffee to brewing while I go take care of my tangled hair and morning breath. I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually. The guy doesn’t know how to sit still too very long.
After the coffee is finished brewing, I grab a cup and sit on the porch to take in the stillness of dawn. It’s my favorite time of day. It’s as though I have a secret with the day when we share these first private hours together. Now is normally the time I write my small article for the paper. I get to do this weekly. It’s about whatever strikes my fancy. Writing is my creative outlet, and I’m so thankful I have this small opportunity. Thank goodness I have already submitted it for this week. My mind is a jumbled mess, and who knows what kind of article I would end up producing.
This week’s article is about a woman and her brave battle with breast cancer. I spent a few days getting to know her, and now she is my hero. She endured well over a year’s worth of treatments and surgeries and hundreds of appointments and came out victorious. Ms. Spivey is celebrating her heroic accomplishment with a celebration cruise with over one hundred friends and family members. She has inspired so many along the way, never complaining openly and giving God all the praise—even through the loss of both her breasts and her hair, and close to two years of her life. But talking to her, she only feels like she has gained in that time. Her acquaintances said she was known for saying it could always be worse. She’s definitely my kind of woman, and her story needed to be celebrated. I wanted the world to know about her inspiring life, so I wrote a lengthy piece, thinking it would get edited and cut down considerably. I was pretty shocked when I received a proof layout yesterday morning showing me it got the entire front page of the Lakeshore Times. I’m pretty proud of that. It’s my first front page and her story is so fitting to be my first. It’s not the New York Times where she should be shared, but I’m honored to do it in my town’s paper all the same.
I’m going back over it all as I down the last of my coffee. I’m about to go grab another cup when the colorful work truck takes a corner way too fast and barrels down the coquina path past me, rustling up a thick cloud of dust in its wake. The next thing I know, it does a neat one-eighty, shooting back in the opposite direction before coming to an abrupt stop in front of me. I’m down the steps in one beat and am about to fire someone, when I spot Dillon trying to unfold himself from behind the driver’s side of the tiny truck.
“How in the world did you get yourself in that truck, and how did you manage to steal it from Blake?” Really. Dillon has to be at least five inches past six feet, and that truck is almost too small for me. And I’m well over a foot shorter than him.
Blake wheels up behind the truck without seeing me. “Dude, that was epic! You gotta show me how to do that!” Blake is a junior in high school and helps me before school to earn gas money. He hops off the golf cart and stops dead in his tracks when he finally spots me as I stand here, with my hands firmly planted on my hips in frustration.
Dillon is laughing. It’s obvious he’s nearly giddy to see me have to be an adult. I stay silent as I am still trying to figure out how to handle this, when he speaks. “It was my fault. I stole the truck.” He’s trying to rein in his laughter and failing terribly.
“Liar,” I say to him then turn my attention to Blake. “You need to finish the garbage collecting and we’ll have a talk about this after school.” He lives in the trailer park with his grandma. He’s a good kid, just easily influenced. I should really try to keep him away from Dillon as much as possible.
“Dillon Bleu already helped me do all of it, and he helped me hose off the pool and dock walkways too,” Blake says proudly. Oh no. He’s star struck, too.
“Listen, Blake. I’ll let this little incident go, if and only if, you promise to keep it to yourself that Dillon is here. I don’t need a circus breaking out over him. You got it?”
“Yes ma’am,” he says in agreement. I glance over at Dillon, who is fighting a smile something awful at me just being called ma’am. Jerk. He gives in and chuckles, but tries to cover it with a cough.
Blake fist bumps Dillon before climbing in the little truck and heading slowly back to the maintenance shed. Like slow driving is going to help me forget what just transpired.
I glance over to the golf cart left behind.
“I did steal that. I’m sorry, ma’am. I promise to return it, ma’am,” he says with a smirk on his face, making me punch him in the arm.
He holds his hands up in surrender and follows me back into the cabin. “You still hit like a girl. You’ve gotta stop tucking your thumb in, ma’am.”
I head to the kitchenette for some more coffee. I hand him a cup and we walk onto the back deck to enjoy it. I glance at the clock on the way out. It’s only seven. It already feels like a day’s worth of mess has happened.
“Why are you up so early?” I ask as we watch the sun slowly burn off the lake’s fog.
“I just had the best night’s sleep in over five years. I’m good,” he says as he props his feet on the rail and scans the lake. He seems good too. He looks refreshed. The dark circles have all but disappeared.
“You’ve been back one day and are already causing mischief. What am I going to do with you?” I look at him sternly.
“Oh, I can think of a few things I would love for you to do to me,” he says, showing off those darn dimples. I can’t tear my gaze away from them. I’m in absolute trouble. I know I keep repeating this, because it’s what I keep thinking. I. Am. In. Absolute. Trouble.
He is wearing a black T-shirt and I can finally get a good look at his forearms. I pull his left one over to my lap and run my fingers over the intricate lettering. It is two words in a language I don’t recognize. Vita Benedetto. “What does that mean?” I ask him as I study it.
“It’s Italian for blessed life,” he says as he looks down at it, too. I should have known it was Italian. It’s completely sexy.
Dillon notices my gaze has moved to his right inner forearm, so he sets his coffee cup down on the rail and places his arm in my lap so I can inspect it too. This tattoo is an elaborate cross. It reminds me of a wrought iron crucifix with scrolling medallion artwork. I trace the patterns that wind in and out. “A cross?” I ask.
He watches me skim my hand over his skin. “Yeah. It’s to remind me of what all God’s done for me. And that no matter what, He’s got my back.”
I try to make a poorly timed joke. “Wow. I’m surprised you didn’t leave him here with the rest of us.” My teasing instantly falls flat. I wish I could suck the stupid words back in.
Dillon’s brows pinch together as he takes a deep breath, as though he’s trying to calm himself. “No. I asked Him to come along on my adventure just as I asked you.” Dillon stands up and runs his hands through his hair in irritation before glaring at me. “He willingly agreed to stand by me, unlike you!” He storms back through the cabin and right out the front door.
I sit stunned. Well, I guess I deserve that. That was stupid of me. Totally stupid. I don’t know what to do, so I sit here and do nothing. Dillon is here for me, obviously, and all I seem to be able to do is try my darnedest to push him away again.
I fish my phone out and shoot Jen a text that I won’t be in today. I’ve sat out here on the deck for nearly a half hour, giving Dillon time to cool off. I obviously pushed a touchy button. I pick up my empty coffee cup along with his abandoned one and bring them inside. After placing the cups in the sink, I take a deep breath and set out to find Dillon and apologize. I’ve been debating where I want to start since he stormed out.
I don’t have to go very far to find him. He is kneeling by his bike, wiping the chrome down. “I’m sorry,” I blurt out.
Dillon looks over his shoulder before returning to his task at hand without saying a word.
I walk up to him and run my hand alon
g the leather seat, admiring the gorgeous beast of a bike. “So a motorcycle is your choice of transportation,” I say, trying to get him to talk to me.
He stands up and stows the rag in a side pocket. “It fits in a compartment in the tour bus. It’s convenient.”
“It’s sexy,” I say.
This gets him to look at me. He studies me for a few beats before asking, “Take a ride with me?”
“Umm… I don’t know, Dimples.”
He pulls out a helmet and passes it to me. “Come on, pretty girl. Take a ride with me.”
I take the helmet and shove it over my head as he slides on a pair of sunglasses. And then I walk up to the massive bike and try unsuccessfully to climb on. Dillon grabs me up by the waist and places me on the seat. He merely lifts his leg a bit and swings on in front of me.
“Sexy,” I say to myself. The man oozes it.
He turns his head to the side and asks, “What’s that?”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly, causing him to chuckle. He knew what I said and I’m not repeating it.
He turns a key and the beast comes to life in a loud vivacious roar. I can feel it vibrating all through my body. I’ve never been on the back of a bike, or the front either for that matter. I’m nervous all of a sudden and place a death grip around Dillon’s waist.
He pats my arms. “Relax, Jewels. I got you.” With that, he peels out of the trailer park, and it feels like we are flying. I’m too scared to open my eyes, so I keep them pinched shut for quite a while. It seems we have hit a long patch of highway, so I peek and see trees flashing by in a blur. I grab hold of him tighter and close my eyes back.
“Relax,” he says again over his shoulder.
“Slow down and keep your eyes on the road and maybe I can.”
“You’re no fun.” I hear the laughter in his voice, but I feel the bike decelerating some, so I try to loosen my death grip on him a bit.
