by Complete
He picked up the knife lying beside a cutting board lined with an English cucumber, tiny carrots, and cherry tomatoes. “Salad?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He sliced the cucumber in half. “My family owns a chain of Italian markets in New England, and six months ago I decided to head south and open an extension store.”
“How come?”
His smile faded as he turned the cucumber and began making precise slices. “I love them, but sometimes … well, I like my privacy. Silence. A loud, Italian family doesn’t afford much of either.”
Although I wouldn’t have a clue to the truth of his words about a family, I made a noise of agreement while swallowing down more wine. “So you escaped the cold north for the boon docks.”
“And I’m glad I did.” He placed the cucumbers on top of two bowls of spring greens and lined up some carrots on the board. “The peacefulness here…” His shy smile appeared again as he diced. “I wish I could explain how it makes me feel.”
“Try.” I sipped as his brow furrowed.
“It just feels like home.” He snorted a half-laugh while putting the carrots into the bowls. “Boston is a bustle of activity. People everywhere. Non-stop noise.” He tossed a few tomatoes on our salads. “The first time I told Mom I couldn’t think because of all the commotion, her jaw dropped. I was five.”
“Big word for a little kid.”
“Yeah.” Bastian put the cutting board and knife in the sink and pulled open the oven door. A blast of warmth and spicy deliciousness danced across the room, causing my mouth to water.
Minutes later, we sat at his dining room table, stuffed shells and crusty slices of Italian bread from his store’s bakery on our plates. The first bite of cheese and tomato sauce brought a groan to my lips.
“Wow,” I said, once I swallowed. “You seriously made these?”
His gaze flitted away as another small smile appeared. “Yes.”
“Just … wow.” I speared up a bite and closed my eyes, enjoying how the pasta melted in my mouth. “Grandmother’s recipe, huh?”
“She made sure all her grandkids knew how to fend for themselves in a kitchen.”
“How many siblings do you have?”
“Two older brothers, Cole and Zane, and a younger sister, Lia. She just got married this past May and is trying for a baby all ready.”
“Uncle Bastian.” I smiled across the table at him, loving the light in his eyes.
“Can’t wait.”
An ache grew in my chest as I imagined having such a family. Frank, while my real father, hadn’t been much of one after my mom passed away. Sure, he’d fed me and made sure the heat bill got paid, but that was about it. Rarely did anything but negativity or name calling spew from his mouth, and I didn’t know the meaning of the word affection.
“Tell me about your brothers,” I said, picking up my wine to douse the sourness of my thoughts.
Bastian complied and continued to answer every question I asked about his family. Unlike the guys I’d dated in the past, he didn’t talk about his achievements and money, instead sharing funny stories about his siblings.
“No more.” He placed his fork and knife on his scraped-clean plate a half-hour later and sat back in his chair, wine in hand. “Tell me about you, Eve.”
A pleasant tingle slid down my spine as he said my name. My leg started bouncing beneath the table. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.” He lifted his glass to his lips, eyes intense and focused on mine.
Heat licked between my thighs like I hadn’t enjoyed in years, and my mouth dried. Needing to be honest though, I expected the rich city boy might be turned off by my upbringing.
Arousal and anxiety warring, I nodded, trying to still my nerves so my speech would be clear. “I grew up not far from here, on the wrong side of the tracks.” I checked for pity on his face but found nothing but interest. Stealing myself against what came next, I continued. “My mom passed when I was ten, and my father raised me the best he knew how, I suppose. When I turned eighteen, he tossed me out. Haven’t been back since.”
A black cloud of bitterness swelled within my mind, and I swallowed down the rest of my wine. “I inherited a life insurance policy from my mom. It wasn’t much, but the money afforded me a nice down payment on this house among other things.”
“Other things?”
My smile grew. “I started up a non-profit foundation to help kids with cleft lips in third world countries pay for reconstructive surgery.”
His head tipped to the side and his brow rose. “Really?”
“I could have spent the money on my own face, but the thought of a child growing to my age without having the chance to be seen as normal…” I shrugged as my throat tightened and my smile faded.
“You’re an amazing woman, Eve.”
A quick glance up revealed sincerity in his eyes, so I held in my snort. “It’s nothing another person like me wouldn’t do.”
“Of course it is. Most women would have spent every penny trying to perfect their image.”
I shifted on my seat and stared at the remaining bite of ricotta and tomato sauce on my plate.
“Not that you’re imperfect in any way.” His words tumbled out. “I mean … shit.”
“It’s all right.”
“Sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair and expelled a breath. “Tell me about the farm you work on.”
“I got the job at Henderson’s right out of high school and grew to love the animals and land.”
“It’s what you were born to do, isn’t it?”
I cocked my head to the side and peered at him. “What makes you think that?”
“Might sound strange, but you seem at peace with yourself, like you’re comfortable in who and what you are.”
“And you’ve figured all that out in the last six or so hours?”
He bit back a smirk and glanced away.
“Been watching me?” My unintended words heated my face.
He chuckled as his shoulder lifted. “I’ve noticed you, sure.”
Yeah, right back atcha, there, hotness. “So what do you do for fun, Bastian?”
“Besides waiting for glimpses of my beautiful neighbor?”
Warmth radiated through my body. “Ha ha. Answer the question.”
“I read. A lot.”
“Me too.”
He leaned forward and put his empty wineglass on the table. “I noticed your paperback collection.”
“My weakness, you mean. The library’s yearly sale breaks my bank every time.” Warm fuzzies tickled, but I kicked them back over my wall as his focus slipped down to my mouth. “What else do you do?”
“Go for long drives in my car with the top down, enjoying the fresh country air.”
“You’re a Boston man. You must love sports. Clubbing. Going downtown where all the action is.”
Bastian shook his head and lifted his gaze to my eyes. “I’ve always enjoyed the country more.”
“So you don’t miss the city life? At all?”
“No.”
“Huh. You’re an odd one.”
His smile faded. “That’s what my family thinks, too.”
“I, uh, didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know you didn’t.”
Heart like a lead balloon, I stood and started to stack the dishes.
“I’ll do those later.” He poured the last of the wine into our glasses. “Want to sit on the porch swing with me?”
The idea of a romantic swing beneath late summer’s stars sounded just about perfect. It also sounded dangerous. Irresistible.
I nodded, and boyish glee lightened his eyes once more.
Bastian
I refrained from laying my arm across the swing’s back as I settled onto the striped cushion covering the creaky, wooden seat. The skittishness in Eve had dissipated somewhat, but she still hesitated in meeting my gaze.
While I found her reserved, quite nature attractive, my d
ream of ending the night by cradling her face in my hands and kissing her lips would have to wait. Her breath had hitched and her cheeks flushed whenever we touched, but I suspected getting inside her head and making her relax around me enough for such an action would take time.
Although I couldn’t relate to the hurt she portrayed when speaking of her father, I understood the loneliness within her stormy eyes.
I’d never met such an unselfish woman, and I realized over dinner that I needed to know more. All. Every detail of her life. I wanted to laugh and cry over her shared memories.
Crickets kept us company, along with the occasional bark from a neighboring dog. Eve chatted about her work on the farm—shearing, forking up shit, and weeding—giving me an excuse to stare at her face. The woman didn’t know how beautiful she was.
So Eve had a scar and speech impediment. Wasn’t like she was gruesome to look at or tough to understand. She was just … unique. Different in a good, refreshing way.
When she yawned for a second time, I forced myself off the swing and held out my hand. She stared at my offering of help for a few seconds before accepting.
Energy sizzled up my arm at her light touch, and before she could pull away, I twined my fingers through hers and tugged her toward the porch steps. “I’ll walk you home.” Nervous laughter accompanied her attempted tug from my hand, but I tightened my grip.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you would be too, but it’s the gentlemanly thing to do.” Silence settled like a ten foot wall between us as we crossed the street.
We reached her stoop, and I released my hold on her hand and shoved my hands in my pockets. “Thanks for a great night, Eve.”
She went up one step, paused, and turned, putting us on an even level. Her house’s porch light backlit her head, and I struggled to make out her face in the darkness. “Next Friday I’ll cook dinner. You bring the cannoli.”
I wanted to throw my arms up in touchdown style, but settled for a grin. “A date?”
“If you want to call it that.” She turned, and three steps later disappeared behind her front door.
* * * *
With the ice cracked, I made sure to be around to catch Eve coming and going on Saturday. We waved, smiled, and tossed a few sentences across the road to each other while collecting our mail. Sunday, her car door slammed before I got up. A quick peek out the window beside my bed afforded me a view of her car’s taillights in the pre-dawn darkness.
Bored by lunch time, I headed into the store, even though I didn’t need to. The manager I’d hired a little over a month earlier had things well in hand. Hungry for the opportunity and a go-getter, the retired vet had seemed to need the job more than the dozen other applicants I had considered.
I stopped by the combined bookstore/café I’d frequented before moving away from Charleston’s noise. While sipping my coffee, I browsed the new releases, often needing to re-read the back cover blurbs due to my wandering mind. After fifty bucks blown between two novels, a piece of homemade quiche, and two more cups of coffee, I headed home, enjoying the sun and the wind ruffling through my hair.
My gaze glued on Eve’s driveway as I rounded the bend, and my heart fell upon finding her car still gone.
She’d told me she didn’t work on the weekends, but I’d noted one of the two days she always took off early in the morning. Most times she’d return not long after dinner, hiking boots, backpack, and a ponytail giving me a hint to her whereabouts.
I sat in my recliner with a new novel and a cold beer, but gave up on the story before reaching the third chapter. The second book pulled me right in, and I got wrapped up in the demon hunter’s ability to snare the sulfur-spewing creatures from hell.
Headlights approached, and my focus snapped up. My heartbeat accelerated, but I didn’t move. My favorite chair gave me a perfect view of Eve’s house—through partially opened blinds.
Sure enough, her Subaru pulled into the driveway, and the motion sensor floodlights atop the corner of the house kicked on. Dressed in her usual outing attire, Eve climbed from the car and arched her back. She tossed a quick glance over her shoulder before heading inside, and I grinned like a fool.
Minutes later, an upstairs light turned on, illuminating her bedroom through sheer curtains. I put my book on the side table, clicked off the lamp beside me, and settled back in my chair as I’d done the previous two weekends.
Perv.
Catholic guilt had me wanting to avert my gaze, but I couldn’t help myself. Eve called to me like a siren.
Off came the tank top, and my cock twitched. She shimmied out of her shorts, and all the blood in my body raced south. While the curtain hid definite lines, I drooled over the hazy profile of Eve as she stripped off the rest of her clothing before disappearing from view.
I waited, my fingers dug into the chair arms to keep from grabbing my throbbing cock.
Ten long minutes later, Eve reappeared, a towel wrapped around her midsection. Her bedroom light clicked off, and I tipped my head back to stare at the dark ceiling. As with the previous two times, I wondered if she pulled on panties or slid a satin nightgown over her head. Or did she sleep in the nude, the soft cotton sheets caressing her clean skin?
With a groan, I pushed to my feet.
Minutes later, the shower’s hot spray hit my face, and I wrapped my hand around my cock. Conjuring images of Eve writhing beneath me with her lower lip between her teeth, I pumped faster. Her back arched as she gasped, her nails digging furrows across my shoulder blades.
I imagined her crying out my name, and my knees nearly buckled as I came.
“Fuck.” I propped my arm against the tile and leaned my forehead against it while milking the last drop from my cock.
Release, but not fulfillment.
I wanted to breathe in the scent of her skin, feel its smoothness beneath my hands. Peer into her eyes and watch the wall she kept between us crumble to the ground.
Patience, I told myself while lifting my face once more into the pelting water. She seemed the type who would be worth every agonizing second.
* * * *
Upon arriving home Wednesday night, I loosened my tie and walked back down the driveway to get my mail. Eve’s front door opened, and she slipped outside with a smile and wave.
“Hey,” I called, pulling open my mailbox.
“Hey, back.”
“How was work on the farm?”
She pulled a stack of envelopes from her own mailbox. “Invigorating. How was the store?”
“Boring as hell. Couldn’t wait to get back to the trees and quietness.”
Her laughter floated across the road. “That’s why I go hiking every weekend.”
Just as I’d thought. “Isn’t it a little dangerous heading into the woods alone?”
“Taekwondo,” she said, peering over at me with a cocked brow. “Haven’t you noticed my weekly Thursday night absence?”
My face heated, and I focused on the two pieces of junk mail in my hands. I wanted to deny tracking her every move, but couldn’t lie. I shrugged.
“Don’t worry. I carry a knife on my hip and one sheathed in my boot.”
“Remind me never to mess with you.”
She laughed again and turned up her driveway, her swaying ass sending a shot of lust straight to my groin.
* * * *
Friday dawned, and even Papa’s shitty attitude during our conference call didn’t dampen my good mood.
“We’re still in the red with start-up expenses, Papa, but business has picked up. That stand I rented at the Italian festival two hours north of here was a great success. A dozen or so of the coupons we handed out show up every day.”
“How’s the staff shaping up?” Gruff and gravely, Papa’s voice revealed he needed more coffee. Or sleep.
“The three assistant managers you lent to help train them did an excellent job.” I didn’t add that I was glad the Bostonians had returned home the previous week.
“Ercole hand-picked them himself.”
I rolled my eyes over the pride lacing his words. While I loved my oldest brother, the good son who never did anything wrong, I got sick of hearing about his perfection. Another of the reasons I preferred to live away from the family.
If only I’d been born a hard-hearted, selfish bastard like my other brother, Zane, life probably would have proven a bit easier on my sensitive nature.
“Any idea of when they’ll be ready to function on their own?” Papa asked. “Your mother is hounding me about getting you back where you belong.”
My stomach dropped. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked that question. Too much of a chicken shit, I didn’t tell Papa I had no intentions of returning to the northeast any time soon—if ever. “While I trust the staff, I’m not ready to leave them just yet.”
I had plans of opening another store in Knoxville the following summer, but needed to prove to Papa our sales climbed first, that my little “adventure” had been worth all my effort. And his investment.
“I’m sending Zane down there next weekend.”
My brow furrowed at the thought of needing to entertain my brother, but I waited without complaint for Papa to continue.
“If we’re going to cater to the southerners, we’ll need our fliers and such to reflect their tastes and wants.”
“Zane’s a talented graphic design artist.” I ran my pen across my knuckles. “He hardly needs to come all the way down here simply for ideas.”
“I want him to get a feel for the land. The people,” Papa said in his do-not-argue voice.
Zane would get a feel for the people all right. I wanted to remind Papa of his middle son’s wild streak.
I jotted down my brother’s flight information, annoyed about not being asked if his visit would interfere with my own personal plans. Not that Papa would care, anyway. Business came first. Pleasure second.
Not so with Zane. I expected I’d have to show him around Charleston—exactly what I didn’t want to do.
Eyes on my Rolex, I listened as Papa threw out more instructions, suggestions, and—finally—a few words of praise.
I sped home an hour later than I wanted, the top of my convertible down. September loomed ahead, and warmth still covered the land like mid-July in New England. I pulled into my driveway with minutes to spare.
