“Where is she?” I ask. “Have you seen her? OR my pants?” I ask as I look around.
“That was some show you guys put on last night. I think everyone on the island got laid last night thanks to you,” he chuckles but sobers quickly. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Holt?” I know what he’s talking about. It’s a bad idea to go after Aliza what with all the baggage she’s carrying. And a family that hasn’t been in the ground for very long. But I can’t help myself. And after last night, I can’t wait. She’s mine and I will wear her down.
“It’s a real bad idea,” I tell him. “But I can’t turn back now.”
“I don’t suppose you can,” he smiles at me. “I can tell you it’s worth it. But you’re going to get hurt before you get the prize. This right here is a recipe for disaster.” And he is not wrong.
“Sure is, my friend. Sure is. But what’s life without a little risk?”
CHAPTER 19
Aliza
“This is Sara speaking, your head flight attendant today. We have a non-stop flight from Miami to Dallas Love Field. We would be flying into Dallas/ Fort Worth, but y’all are cheapskates and bought tickets on this airline instead of a real carrier,” the chuckles throughout the cabin of my fellow airline passengers grate on my already pounding head. When am I going to learn that whiskey isn’t the answer, I’ll never know. “Your Pilot today is Captain Dan Jones formerly of the United States Air Force so he assures me he’s done this before. You’re First Officer is Sam Elliott, not of the cowboy movie fame, but of the actual cowboying, so he thinks all flights should be like riding an angry bull. Good luck with that. We will be starting our drink service shortly after takeoff. Please buckle your seatbelts now.”
Sweet Moses, I hope she’s kidding. If not, I’m going to puke all over this plane. My hangover is killing me. My head feels like it’s been split open with a pick ax. There is a sourness churning in my stomach and rising up from my belly. I grip the armrests tight in my fists, my nails biting into the harsh metal as I squeeze my eyes tight against the bright interior lights of the cabin. I push the back of my head into my seat and press my thighs together. Things ache in places they shouldn’t. Oh, they should after what I did. But I shouldn’t have done it to begin with. Those sweet aches should have died with my husband. But they didn’t. The wants and needs should have died with him too. But they didn’t. Last night, when Holt surprised me on the beach, I wanted him and I took what I wanted. And now I have to live with the consequences. Or maybe not. But how would Holt feel if I took my life shortly after we were together? Would it hurt him? I can’t hurt him.
I open my eyes and turn to look out the window where it is still gray outside. I knew when I woke up in the middle of the night on that beach in Holt’s arms, I had made a mistake. A grave mistake. Will he ever forgive me? So I did what I should have done before I let him own my body, and ran.
Holt made me feel things I haven’t felt in so long. He just made me feel. I have been numb for so long and he lit a fire in my body and I don’t want to snuff it out. Every touch, every caress was like nothing I have ever felt before. And that makes me feel horrible. I loved Sam with all of my heart, I still do. And my life with him was great. And I mean great everywhere, in the bedroom, in the car, one time in the garage when we weren’t sure the kids were asleep yet. It was great. Amazing even. But with Holt, I wasn’t sure where his body ended and mine began and I didn’t want to find out. Our passions burned hotter brighter than I have ever felt before and now it’s not just the whiskey from last night burning my gut.
It shouldn’t be this way. I shouldn’t feel more from a man, albeit a sexy man, but one that is not my husband. And the worst part is, I want to do it all again. From the moment I got home from the funeral and cracked open Sam’s favorite bottle of whiskey to numb the pain, I have been chasing that numbness ever since. Every day. People think I’m mourning, surviving. They don’t know that I’m drowning in my grief, in a bottle. It hurts and after my first taste, I don’t know how to stop. But just like the whiskey, my thirst for Holt chafes in my parched throat. I had one little taste last night and now I want more. I shouldn’t but I do.
Holt chases away the darkness. He cares for me with a gentleness I have never felt before. And he reaches for me with a fierceness. The strength and sheer power that he keeps tightly reined in is at a breaking point when he’s with me and the little devil on my shoulder is telling me to push his buttons and watch him snap. Because when he does it will be a beautiful sight. That body was made for sin and I don’t seem to have a handle on on my will power. At all anymore. Holt is my newest addiction and I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.
***
My plane lands and I grab my purse and file in line with everyone else to disembark. I do not look at anyone. I do not make eye contact with anyone. I do not talk to anyone. What I do do, is stew in my mind. Over Sam. Over Holt. I hate it. My chest aches with a pain that won’t go away. Ever. Sam is gone.
I know this suffering is my cross to bear. Selfishly, I stayed home that day to hangout with my friend instead of going to the last soccer game. If I had been with my family in that car, I know I couldn’t have saved them, but I would at least be with them now. I should be with them now. But I can’t. The darkness that I live in my every waking moment can’t consume me completely. It won’t. It has condemned me to live a half life, not living but also not dead. And I’m weak. I can’t stop it.
I grab my carry on and make quick work of getting to the baggage claim. I keep myself separate from all of the other passengers. I see other passengers smile at each other and make small talk. When someone looks at me to try and engage me in anything I quickly look away. I breathe out a sigh of relief when my suitcase comes wheeling around and practically run to the parking lot, straight to my car.
I use the three hour drive from Dallas to Tall Pines to think over my life and how only I could make it worse at every possible juncture. I need to get back to work.
I love being a web designer and my clients have always loved me too. I took time off after the accident. It was understood. I was grieving. And eventually, I came back, did a little work here and there. I didn’t need to. Sam, always a planner, my sweet Sam, had left me a large sum of money saying that when they graduated from high school, we would give them the twenty five thousand dollars as a down payment towards whatever they wanted to do in their lives. So, I found myself, at thirty five years old, sitting on almost two million dollars, with the house we scrimped and saved for paid off with its huge eat in kitchen and gorgeous fenced in backyard, perfect for a young, but growing family, and I have no family. I am all alone.
Yes, I need to get back to work. Work will keep me busy. And busy will make me tired. Hopefully, too tired to be thinking about the loneliness that I find myself in with no toys to trip over or funny little scrunched up noses at my pot roast that made me so very mad. I miss those sweet, little noses that turned up at meals I had prepared, meals they would not even try to eat. I would give anything to go back. But I can’t, so I’ll find more work.
Work will also keep me from thinking about Holt, right? Jesus, I hope so. I can’t believe I slept with him. What was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking, that was the problem. And while we’re on the subject, what was he thinking? Following me like that. I have never seen Holt look like that in all my life. Like a predator stalking his prey. No one has ever looked at me like that. Not even Sam. And he loved me.
By the time I pull into my driveway, my hands are shaking. I quickly put my car in park and turn the keys. My bag can stay in the car, I don’t care. I just need to get inside the walls of my house. My safety. The only place where I feel my family any more in this town. My hand is shaking so badly, I can barely get the key in the lock of the front door. I drop everything on the table just inside and slam the door closed. The lock rings loud in the dark quiet of this empty house.
It’s late. I shrug off my coat and walk straight to Sam’s bar in the corn
er of the living room and pour myself two fingers of whiskey. The glass and decanter rattle in my hands, but I don’t care. I slam the decanter down on the bartop and shoot back the whiskey. I take the first deep breath in twenty four hours after I swallow as I start to relax. The warmth of the whiskey worming its way through my body, inch by inch.
But as always, the calmness the whiskey brings is short lived. So I open my laptop and sit down on the couch. I fix up some new web logos and branding. A little tweaking here and there really, and it looks good, it does. My clients I managed to keep will be happy. But I’m still restless.
I look at the clock, it’s nine PM. So I close my laptop and jump up. I pace about a bit. Nothing will stop the need in my body. So I move to the bar and pour myself another whiskey. It no longer burns on the way down like it did the day that we buried my family. The warmth spreads but this time, there is no calm feeling. I pace the floor some more. Nothing. It’s getting harder to breathe. So I walk back to the bar and pour myself another glass and shoot it back. The warmth spreads again, but still no calm. I scratch at my chest where my heart used to be nothing.
I look about the room wildly, for something, anything to latch onto. But what I see is an 8X10 photo from my wedding day in a beautiful silver frame my grandmother had given us, it was by far the nicest thing we had in our first apartment in the early days. It sits over on a table in the corner surrounded by smaller pictures of our parents and grandparents on their wedding days. I pick up the frame that I loved so much and hurl it at the wall across the room, where it splinters and shatters. I scream out at the loss. Everything I touch is broken. Everything I love is ruined. I look at the clock, it’s almost midnight and I’m restless. I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe. I need...I need Holt.
CHAPTER 20
Holt
After my walk of shame off the beach with Cody laughing his ass off the whole way. And, news flash, I still don’t know where my damn shorts went. I hopped from shrubbery to shrubbery, hiding from whoever might see me with my half hard cock flapping in the breeze.
I finally make it back to my hotel room where I quickly shower and toss on my favorite pair of jeans and a polo shirt because Angie told me if I showed up in either a uniform or a t-shirt this weekend she’d rip my balls off and watch me eat them. To this Mable just laughed and said she’d never been more proud. I shake my head and smile at the memory. While Angie is arguably adorable, she is also a little mean when she’s pregnant.
I slide my feet into my sneakers and grab my wallet, room key, and cell phone. Not one message, phone call, or even a fucking e-mail from Liz. But that’s ok. She’ll come to me, I can feel it. And I’ll be waiting. With that thought, I head to meet everyone at breakfast.
I take the short stone path from my room to the restaurant. The sun is shining a bright blue and I settle my gold framed aviators on my face. Not the trendy ray-bans everyone has, but the American Aviators of my years in the service. Small palm trees and carefully trimmed shrubs with little pink and white flowers line both sides of the narrow cobblestone path.
I take a deep breath of the sea air and smile. A calmness settled over me this morning when I woke up on that beach. I finally came to the realization that Aliza is mine and has been. I have been caring for her from the minute I stood on her doorstep to deliver a crushing blow and I have loved her from that bathroom hallway in a bar over a decade ago.
I pull open the door to the dining hall and all of my calmness is sucked from my body. Aliza isn’t there. And by the look on Cody’s face, she’s gone. So my girl pulled a runner, huh? That’s okay, I’ll find her.
“She’s gone,” Cody tells me something I already know when I sit down at the table. I just nod not willing to voice my frustrations.
Soon the room is full of family and friends. We all order a lavish late breakfast to say our farewells before we pack up and head home. Most are staying just a few days longer, but I don’t have that option. My duty to my town and its people has me hurrying back home.
After brunch, I hug and wave to all of my friends before hurrying back to my room to throw my clothes in my small green sea bag and head out the door. I take a quick cab to the airport where I was lucky enough to catch up with Mack and Hawk, two pilots I know from our old glory days.
I move through the airport and am directed to the last terminal in the building. No one is sitting by the gate, but a beautiful brunette flight attendant eager for my attention. And I can’t bring myself to do more but offer up a friendly smile. Last night, I finally had a taste of the one that I want and nothing else will compare ever again.
She takes my ticket and directs me to the gate behind her. I walk down the metal tube and reach a doorway attached to a smaller plane. When a friendly face peaks around the corner and smiles at me. Her green eyes lighting up.
“Well look what the cat dragged in,” she smiles. “Long time no see, LT.”
“Agreed, but it’s Sheriff now,” I wink at her.
“My mistake, but I still outrank you,” she laughs.
“And Rank is a big deal to the Captain,” Hawk snarks from behind her. Her smile immediately falls.
“Well, she picked my sorry ass up out of many an undisclosed location, so I suppose she has that right,” I say softly trying to regain Mack’s smile. “How are you Mackenzie?” I ask. There’s definitely something going on with these two.
“Oh, you know me, I’m always fine,” she shrugs. Hawk grunts and then goes back to his check list. “Now, sit down and buckle up. I still like to go fast,” she winks.
“You sure you can handle a fixed wing, Captain?” I ask good naturedly.
“Ha!” She calls. “I can still fly anything and everything and you fuckers both know it!” she easily lapses back into the way we talked years ago.
So, I do as she says and buckles up, before I know it, they’re depositing me at the airport not thirty minutes from Tall Pines. I grab my bag and make my way to the hatch. Mack walks out of the cockpit and hugs me.
“Don’t let it be so long between visits, Captain,” I tell her.
“Right back at you, LT.”
I head to the parking lot where I find my personal truck, having left my department vehicle locked up at the station for safety reasons. It wouldn’t do come election season to have someone report that I let the department truck get stolen from an airport lot.
It’s late when I pull into my driveway, just after eleven. I drop my keys and my sea bag by the front door and Diablo greets me with a happy Meow. I pick him up and flip him over. Weird ass cat likes to be carried around like a baby. I drop him on the kitchen counter and open a can of wet food for him, dumping it into a dish.
As he happily scarfs it down, I wonder if I’ll hear from Liz today. She ran and I’ll give her that play, but tomorrow, I’ll go looking for her, For tonight, I’ll give her her space. I absent-mindedly stroke his kitty fur while he chomps sloppily, wondering what curve ball she’ll throw me next, when there’s a knock at my front door.
I take a quick look at my watch, it’s just after midnight. I smile to myself, it can only be one person. I walk slowly to the door, letting her know I know why she’s here and when I open the front door, she does not disappoint.
“Holt,” she breathes and then launches herself through my open front door, wrapping her body around mine. I have to take a step back to keep upright while taking her weight. She’s small framed and doesn’t weigh much, but she caught me off guard.
I take another step back and slam the door shut. Her hands pull at my hair as she crushes her mouth down on mine. I step forward again and her back hits the closed door. She grinds her hips into my cock which has been hard since this morning, but could drive nails from the moment I opened the door and saw her sweet eyes looking at me like she was a dying man and I am her last meal.
Her hands make quick work shoving my polo over my head and I help her by tossing it to the floor of the doorway. She rakes her nails down my chest and abs and it make
s me involuntarily flex my hips into hers making her gasp. I take that opportunity to lick into her sweet mouth. She, again, tastes like whiskey and woman.
I break away to pull her t-shirt over her head. I unsnap her bra and toss both to the floor. I lift Aliza higher on my waist up against the door so I can take her pink nipple into my mouth and she calls out as I do, slamming her head back against the door. I press her deeper into the door, using the leverage to undo the button on her jeans and roughly lower the zipper. I shove my hand down the front and immediately encounter her wetness. She’s soaked. For me.
I kiss Liz again, but don’t let it go on and on, stopping to shove her jeans and panties down her legs. She steps out of them and kisses me again as she reaches for my own jeans. She manages to get three of the five buttons undone before her slim hand reaches in and circles my cock stroking it again and again.
I grab her wrist and shake my head no. Liz pulls her hand from my grasp, then from my pants and places her palm on my belly, pushing me back and back and back. Pushing my jeans and shorts down as we go. I step out of them just before the backs of my legs hit the sofa. I feel my eyes widen in surprise. Well played, Liz.
She pushes me down and I sit in the middle of my sofa, wearing only my dog tags and my watch, with my cock straining towards an equally naked Liz. And she is a sight. Standing totally unashamed, her eyes brightly gleaming, she straddles my lap. Instantly leaning in to land her mouth on mine, as she does she moves her hips back and forth, sliding her heat against my hard cock.
I lick into her mouth and grab onto her hips. She roughly raises up and without warning, impales herself on my cock. I groan into her mouth, but Liz is not to be deterred. She rises up and slams herself down again. And again quicker and quicker. I realize, she’s racing towards a goal. A climax and then she will bolt again. She raises herself and when she slams down, I’m ready and I thrust up into her to deepen our connection. She throws her head back, her long hair tickling my thighs. I see I have her attention now. I circle my hips and grind her onto my cock.
Whiskey Lullabye (Southern Heartbeats, Vol. 2) Page 7
