by J. M. Snyder
He sighed again, just because he liked the sound of it. Now he’d have to go to court. His insurance would go up. Hell, he might even have to go to driving school. Someone shoot me now.
Outside his window, he heard the steady crunch of gravel as an officer approached the car. I’m sorry, sir. Can you step out of the vehicle? We’re taking you in…he could almost hear the words in Lt. Mackenzie’s gruff voice. The man would have a hand on his holster as if he expected a fight. You have the right to remain silent…wasn’t that how it went? Hands behind your head. You have the right to an attorney. Oh fuck.
Someone leaned down on his car door, but it wasn’t Lt. Mackenzie who spoke. “I thought I told you to lay off the gas.”
Mark looked up at the sound of Lt. Tench’s deep voice. He stared into those light eyes in disbelief—his memory hadn’t done them justice. The guy was so much hotter than Mark remembered, and Mark simply stared. Vaguely he was aware of Tiffany’s giggle behind him, of Doug whispering, “Thank me,” but he ignored them both.
What do I say now?. His name, his number, the reason he was here—it all evaporated as he lost himself in those leonine eyes.
“Well?” Lt. Tench asked. “Bubba said you had an explanation. Figured it out yet?”
“Um,” Mark said. So suave, Peters. He swallowed hard. “You’ll never believe I was—”
“Looking for you,” Doug offered.
The officer laughed. Mark blushed and turned on his friend, his eyes flashing. “I’m gonna hurt you.”
Doug leaned across Mark, pushing him back in the driver’s seat. “No, really.” He spoke quickly, in a hurry to get all the words out before Mark shut him up. “He’s got it bad for you, man. Talked you up nonstop, doesn’t even know your name—”
“Wade,” Lt. Tench said.
Mark glanced up only to find those intense eyes focused on him.
With a slight frown, the cop added, “You don’t strike me as the shy type.”
“I’m not.” Mark pushed Doug back on his side of the car and took a deep breath to steady himself. So ask him already, a voice inside his head whispered. What’s the harm in it? Doug’s already said you have it bad for him. Damn big-ass mouth. He’s dead if this guy says no.
Forcing a quick grin, Mark said, “Okay. He’s right, okay? I think you’re fine…” He let his gaze run down that uniformed body and felt his smile widen. “I think you’re damn fine, and I’ve been kicking myself for not asking you out, but I thought you’d only think I was trying to get out of the ticket, and I wasn’t. I’d like a chance to get to know you better, you know? And maybe—”
“Just cut to the chase,” Doug told him.
Mark glared at his friend.
Before he could tell him to shut up, Lt. Tench stepped back from the door. “Can you come out here a minute?” he asked.
Mark pointed at his chest…me?
With a slight smile, Lt. Tench nodded. “Just for a second. Don’t worry, you’re not under arrest.”
Doug sniggered.
“Shut up,” Mark grumbled, but he unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door. As he stepped out, he glanced at the other officer, still in his patrol car. “He’s been in there forever. He must be writing me one hell of a ticket.”
Lt. Tench leaned back against the concrete median dividing the highway, and Mark let his gaze roam down that body, sheathed in navy blue. “I told you not to go speeding around.”
Mark stepped up beside him and leaned on the median; the breeze created when cars drove by tugging at his open flannel shirt. Suddenly he didn’t know what to say or do, where to look, so he stared at his hands folded together and tried not to glance at the flashing lights behind him.
When Lt. Tench spoke, his voice was so low, so close, so intimate, that Mark jumped as if goosed. “So your friend was right?”
“What do you mean?” Mark asked.
Lt. Tench slid closer. “Were you looking for me?”
Ducking his head, Mark grinned. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry?” Lt. Tench made a show of leaning toward him. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Yeah,” Mark said again, louder this time. He raised his head and looked at the officer’s light eyes, his arched brows, his lips.
God, those lips.
He wondered what they tasted like, what they would feel like on his body, how soft, how sweet. He wondered if he’d ever get a chance to find out.
“So...” Lt. Tench’s voice trailed off.
Mark searched for something to say. “So,” he said, nodding. That sounded good.
Behind them a car door opened—the other officer, coming back with his ticket. Ask him out. You can’t afford to let this chance slip away again…in more ways than one. You can’t be getting stopped every few days just to see him.
Lt. Tench laughed. He nodded to Lt. Mackenzie, who leaned down on Mark’s car door to give them some privacy. “That’s a pretty shirt, Ms. Johnson.”
From inside the car, Tiffany giggled. “Thanks, Bubba. How’s your mother doing?”
Beside Mark, Lt. Tench cleared his throat, easily snagging his attention. “You said you wanted to ask me something.”
I did? “Oh, yeah. Um…”
He stared at the highway—there were fewer and fewer cars on the road now; it was getting late. The sun had already begun to dip behind the trees that lined the road. “This is hard,” he mumbled. “What if you say no?”
Mark’s hand rested on the median. Covering it with one of his own, Lt. Tench countered, “What if I say yes?”
The hand on his squeezed encouragingly, and Mark took a deep breath. The words tumbled out in a rush. “Do you want to maybe go out or something? I don’t know, a club, dinner, a movie? Tonight, maybe, or whenever you’re free. Maybe not tonight because it’s such short notice but if you want, whenever really, just please…”
He stopped himself before he could begin to ramble. Too late, he thought, holding his breath. Those pale eyes never wavered, and Mark couldn’t tear his gaze away from them. “Say something,” he whispered. “I’d love to, fuck off, I’m not like that, anything, please.”
“I’d love to.”
Mark felt his knees go weak and he leaned against the median, relieved. Hot damn, he just said yes. He grinned wildly.
“Tonight’s fine,” Wade told him. “My shift’s over in a half hour. You know Bubba’s still going to give you a ticket, right?”
Mark laughed. “I don’t care.”
He turned his hand over beneath Wade’s and laced their fingers together. “Tonight, then. A half hour?” When Wade nodded, he told him, “You can call me. Let me give you my number—”
“I already have it,” Wade replied. Mark watched a thin blush color the cop’s cheeks. “You were right. I thought you were trying to get out of the ticket, flirting like that. If I had known you meant it…”
Mark turned and eased an arm behind Wade, resting his hand on the median on the other side of the officer. It would be so simple now to just lean over and kiss him, to taste those lips for himself; who would stop him?
He’s still on duty, Mark reminded himself. Later. He said tonight, didn’t he? Tonight I’ll kiss him and I won’t come up for air. I’ll kiss us both breathless. Damn, he kept my number?
“I’ll show you I meant it,” he whispered, giving the cop a playful nudge. “Bring those handcuffs, what do you say?”
Wade laughed and Mark couldn’t wait to take him up on the promise he saw in those eyes and that smile.
THE END
Summer Kisses and Ice Cream Dreams
I’m on break, leaning against the counter behind the soda machine and stirring a drink more ice than soda, when the bell above the door chimes. “Back to work, Sean,” my boss Chad tells me.
Ignoring him, I glance at the customers. Three friends—one of the Romanos from the pizzeria down the boards and, with him, a couple. The girl is pretty in her bikini top and shorts but the guy, with his arm draped around her shoulder
s, is only the sexiest boy I’ve ever seen. I told myself I wasn’t going to do it again, fall for someone in the summertime, but before his ice blue eyes even glance my way, I’m gone.
“Welcome to the Good Shoppe Lollipop,” Chad announces. I groan into my drink; I hate the name of this place. “What’ll be tonight, guys?”
I watch the stranger with his arm around the girl as he looks over the menu. His neck curves gracefully, his Adam’s apple a fleshy knob I want to suckle. I can imagine what it’d feel like to trail my fingers down that smooth throat, to brush that short blonde hair up from his nape and kiss behind his ears. I’m going to have wet dreams about him tonight, I just know it.
“We’re thinking,” the Romano kid says, leaning over the ice cream case. Tony, I think it is. Big and burly, head full of dark curls. Nothing like the lithe blonde and his girl. When he sees me staring, Tony asks his friend, “Hey Andrew, what was that thing you wanted to try?”
His name is Andrew. He looks at me dead on, then clears his throat and shrugs. “Something warm and sweet,” he says, his gaze burning into me. “With lots of cream.” He turns to Chad. “You have anything like that?”
God.
Chad frowns at the menu. “Well…” If he tells them about the hot fudge sundaes, I’ll just die. Warm and sweet, lots of cream. And he’s already got a girl? Damn. “How about a hot fudge sundae? Perfect way to end a perfect day, don’t you think?”
I roll my eyes. Of course I have to work for Mr. Comedian. Andrew stands there smiling because he knows he wasn’t talking about the sundaes, and he knows I know he wasn’t talking about ice cream…hell, from the smirk on her face even his girl knows what he’s talking about, and if I wasn’t already hiding in the corner behind the soda fountain, I’d sink into the floor and just disappear. My knees are weak from that pale gaze, that deep voice, and any moment now I could melt away like chocolate. I imagine myself as chocolate beneath his hands, melting into his touch, moaning his name, his lips like cherries on my skin, his tongue a swirl of sensation across my body. Tony’s as oblivious as Chad. “Fudge sounds good.”
Andrew shrugs as I shake ice from my drink into my mouth. “Maybe I’ll go for something hard,” he says. The ice cracks loudly between my teeth when I bite down on it.
Tony frowns. “You want something warm and hard?”
Damn it to hell, I’m blushing, I know it, flushed and red—I’m not prepared for this. Any other night I’d flirt back; it’s summer and there are a million guys on the boardwalk, but this one makes me ache as if I’m waking from a good dream, one I don’t want to lose in the daylight. If he didn’t have a girl with him, if the Romano kid wasn’t here, if Chad wasn’t here, maybe I’d flirt back. If I could even look at him and remember how to speak. Tony squints at the menu and has the audacity to ask, “You want a Popsicle or something?” Looking around Andrew, he asks the girl, “You want to split a sundae with me, Lori?”
“Sure.” She ducks out from under Andrew’s arm and, with a twitch of her hip, bumps him over as she squeezes in between her friends, edging him closer to my end of the counter. “Move over.” Andrew complies, sliding down a little, down towards me. To Chad she says, “We’ll get a sundae then, and give this boy something hard to suck on.”
Just let them leave already. Get me through the rest of this night and get me home before I come just thinking about this guy, and Jesus please don’t let Chad say—“Are you done your break yet, Sean? ‘Cause I need a sundae.”
“With nuts,” Lori says, winking at me, and Andrew laughs. “And lots of cream.”
Fuck.
I busy myself making the sundae, trying to ignore them as I work, but I feel hot stares on my ass when I bend over for another can of whipped cream and his girl laughs again, a little breathless giggle. When I set the sundae down on the counter, I don’t look up. My cheeks are red and I’m not going to look at him, I can’t, I won’t…
He touches my hand as he takes the sundae and I wait for him to say something, but he’s silent. Finally I look up at him, and he smiles slightly. “Thanks, Sean.”
His friends are seated at a table on the other side of the room, Chad scoops out a cone for a little girl, and we’re alone at the counter right now. You’re welcome, I want to say, but I’m lost in his eyes and when I open my mouth to speak, nothing comes out. Then his smile widens…how stupid do I look? Standing here staring at him, his hand warm over mine, the ice cream cold through the metal bowl beneath my fingers. “Anytime,” I whisper. It’s all I can muster.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” As he joins his friends, his girl waves my way, just a little wiggle of her fingers that makes me hate her, because tonight she’ll be in his arms and I’ll just have my empty bed and my hand, and the memory of the short time he was here.
* * * *
He haunts my dreams, like I knew he would, and I wake up angry because I’ll never see him again. It’s only June, but my whole summer is shot to hell—I’ll ache for him every night, and anyone I meet won’t live up to what he could have been to me. Yeah, I’ve had boyfriends before, guys I met on the beach or on the piers when the rides were in full swing and the summer night stretched away like taffy, sweet and sticky. But there was never anyone who made me hurt just looking at him the way Andrew does. I never imagined I wanted another summer fling or sweet God, something more, not until he came into the shop and tore my world out from beneath me before disappearing into the ebb and flow of the crowd.
As I walk to work the next day, I look in every face I pass for his, hoping to see those light blue eyes, so like clear sea-glass winking in the sun. Even though I tell myself it’s stupid, he’s gone, give it up already Sean, forget about him, my heart quickens whenever I see short blonde hair or hear the deep bass tones of rich laughter. By the time I get to the shop I’m pissed because I didn’t see him and it’s my own fault for even looking. Who am I to him? The boy who made his girl’s sundae. At work Chad glares at me when I come around the counter. “You’re late.”
“Five minutes,” I tell him. Before he can say anything else I push through the double doors to the back room and sit down on the closest milk crate. I need to forget Andrew. He said what, three words to me? Maybe five? And I’ve had a hard-on ever since, I can’t move without my pants chafing my crotch and my mind is filled with thoughts of him naked and glistening above me, his hands like a promise on my skin, his teeth biting my nipples. I can imagine him entering me, I feel it, a rush of desire that curls through me until I want to cry because how can I live knowing he’s somewhere in this world and not with me?
Chad kicks open the door. “Customers, Sean.”
I push myself up wearily. “I’m coming.”
Tying on my apron, I’m about to shove through the door to get to work when I hear a familiar giggle. A bright, girlish voice says, “Hi there! Remember me?” My heart catches in my throat and I step up to the doors, pressing my nose against the dingy glass…
It’s her.
Andrew’s girl. Lori. Leaning over the counter, smiling up at Chad, who has a clear view down her tank top and doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s looking. “How could I forget a face like yours?” he asks, turning on the charm. Who’s he kidding? It’s not her face he remembers.
She laughs again and gives him a coy look. “That boy you had working here last night.” She means me. When Chad nods, she asks, “Sean? Is he here?”
To my surprise Chad shakes his head. “He’s not in yet.”
Liar. I’m tempted to push through the doors and prove him wrong, but what’s she want me for, anyway?
Maybe she’s asking for Andrew.
Because that thought twists my stomach into knots and flutters my breath, I don’t let it go any further. The idea that Andrew sent her in here looking for me is too much. It’s too wild…I shift to the window in the other door and try to see if she came in alone. I tell myself I’m not disappointed when I don’t see anyone else but her and Chad and …
And Andrew outside, leaning against the window, watching her closely.
Shit. I duck down and try to think, but my mind’s not cooperating. He’s outside. He’s outside waiting for her and he sent her in here to ask about me and—
No.
Thank God there’s a reasonable voice somewhere inside me, even if it’s just a tiny little squeak. No, he’s with her, I don’t know what they’re doing back today, but it’s got nothing to do with you.
Then why did she ask for me?
I have no answer to that.
Why did she ask for me? I hear her tell Chad to give me this number only she doesn’t say it’s her number, she doesn’t say to call her. I’m reading too much into this, into everything. Why would he be interested in me?
For the same reason you’re into him. He saw you and fell just as hard only you don’t know it, you won’t know it until you go out there and Chad gives you the number and you call it to see who answers. And I bet it’s not her.
I wait until I hear the bell ring and Chad kicks at the door again, telling me to get to work. When I push through the doors there’s no one in the shop, but I can see Andrew and Lori through the window as they walk away down the boardwalk. Even though I know the answer I have to ask, “Who was that?”
“Some girl.” Chad tosses me a napkin with a tight feminine script on it. ‘Not who you think,’ it reads, written in red ink, with a local number and an ‘A’ like a scarlet letter written on it. Andrew. So it is from him. He did send her in here looking for me.
I fold the napkin into my back pocket, and when Chad asks if I’m going to call, I shrug like I don’t know. Who am I kidding?
* * * *
When night falls, the boardwalk comes alive outside our windows. The rides light up the darkness and vendors call out to the tourists, win one for the little lady, step right up, give it your best shot. As Chad props open the door, I pick up the phone and dial the number I’ve already memorized. The phone rings in my ear and I watch Chad struggle with the placard that proclaims we have the best sundaes on the boards. I could four rings, five, I’m just about to hang up when someone answers. “Romano’s,” a man says, the Brooklyn thick in his voice…she gave me the number to the pizzeria?
