Hunt uncorks more wine. I move like a parched sailor for a pour. This is just what I needed. There might be more therapy going on today than in the last few years combined. Who knew an amazing guy, a thunderstorm, a fire, and some messing around could get me to open up like the Grand fucking Canyon?
“Oh, come on! You’re all the things I would imagine a woman would want to be but can’t. Won’t.”
“Yeah, like batshit crazy? I’m the poster child for empowerment. You know, well, me and Oprah.”
He laughs deep in his throat. I snort. Twice. Elegance personified. Hunt laughs harder when I do it again.
“No, like heart-on-your-sleeve lovely and working-to-overcome-things beautiful. I believe there’s a simple art to loving imperfect people.”
“Yeah, it’s called starry-eyed stupidity.”
“No, it’s called being human. The problem is some people lack compassion. We’re all imperfect and broken in ways. And we heal differently. I think you already have. And you’re learning what you do and don’t want. And I now know how much you really, really want me.”
“You’re probably not going to get laid today, but nice try.”
“Fine. I’m willing to risk too. So about that thing...the silly grin. You never told me.”
“Oh, right. Do you ever pretend you’re someone else? You know, in a bar or when you’re traveling? In an elevator? Have you ever taken on a new identity for fun?”
“Maybe when I was a kid. Halloween.”
“Soooo, I went to Europe last year as a different girl, I sort of tapped into my performing arts background. It was another anniversary of their deaths, and I couldn’t deal. I was just starting to try so many new things, getting more brave. Then I felt myself slipping. You know how you can get away in movies or books for a few hours? Well, I took a month off of my realities. I needed to become someone else. I think it really helped me begin to find myself more.”
He nods and smiles. I swear to god the guy could stay standing in a hurricane. Does anything throw him? Mr. Cool About Everything.
“How interesting, and what a great idea to push yourself.” He grins and proudly looks me up and down.
Butterflies stir in my gut. Just like that, I’m drunk again, and I don’t think it’s the wine. And, when he plants a quick kiss on my lips, then two more, I’m certain I’m right. Who knew freedom could feel so freeing.
“Who were you? I’m so curious. I don’t know if I could do it. Step inside someone else for a month.”
“Sure you could.” I wave a hand at him as I chuckle. “Actors do it all the time. Writers and artists, and rock stars as well. All kinds of people do it every day. It was actually a blast. My name was Cat Whiskers. I needed fun, needed to pretend big time. And I went for it all the way. I even wore a wig most days! I was having my own Alice in Wonderland experience.”
“Are you making this up?” he asks, suppressing a smile.
“No. Why would I make it up? Scout’s honor.” I hold my fingers up. “I bought a new journal while I was there and began writing down my thoughts, things I wanted to become, stuff I needed to do. I was moving along rather nicely, until my bruncle, who I’ve since disowned and refuse to talk to, sent a package to me after I got home. He found Sebastian’s paintings of me while he was clearing out the house. He said such awful things to me. It sent me backward.”
Hunt curls an errant piece of hair behind my ear, his hand resting on my lobe for long seconds. “I’m sorry. How long ago was that?”
“About six months ago. Then I turned another corner. A good one, and I tried to see those oil-painted masterpieces as part of my timeline. Most people would burn them. But I decided not to feel shameful. They are of me. And, when we created that art, I felt beautiful. Naïve as I was. Someday, I’ll do something with them. I don’t know what. But something, because it’s the before. When I was more…whole.”
“It’s incredible you’re finding beauty in that odd experience,” he says as he throws a large piece of wood on the fire.
I wrap up our leftovers and place the remains in the saddlebag. Maybe we’ll stay here all day, sleep here even. That would be quite a step. I’m like bamboo, growing at a crazy pace, and all of it makes me giddy. What the hell was stopping me? Me and me alone, I guess. I let the event hurt me, let it rip me apart. I gave Sebastian everything he wanted, his little virgin fiancée in purgatory right beside him and Sunny and their love child.
“Imagine how many women you could inspire with your story and evolution. You could write about it, make it your thesis. Publish it. You are a survivor.” Hunt settles in next to me, wrapping us under one blanket as we stare into crackling flames overtaking wood.
“Okay, slow up. Man, you are not kidding about the way you rush into things.”
“It’s a great idea. Admit it!” He crashes his shoulder to mine. “You could start with a blog and build it from there.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know if I have the kind of balls it would take to do something like that. Share myself so openly. I think people might be disgusted by me and the art. Regardless of the fact that it looks like the stuff from museums around the world. He was that good. A master artist. But this isn’t the sixteenth century. And let’s face it, history makes art seem okay. Regardless of the subject matter or context.”
“It’s not about balls. It’s about heart. And you have heart. You’re a writer and a performance artist. This is right up your alley. Come on, Cat Whiskers. Take the risk.” Hunt nuzzles his nose against my neck.
My heart beats strangely fast as goose bumps scatter across my skin. His effect on me is startling.
“Who would you pretend to be for twenty-four hours?” I ask as he grips my fingers and nibbles my knuckles. “Anyone at all. Everyone has fantasies. Rock star… Whatever.”
“Believe me, I have plenty of fantasies. Generally speaking, they don’t include rock stars.” He kisses my neck, sucking my earlobe seconds later. “I’m much more filthy than that.”
“Fine. Be a porn star. Live that fantasy.”
Hunt scrunches his nose. Then a childlike, full-faced grin rises on his lips. “Okay! I want twenty-four hours to live my fantasy, and I want to do it within the next week or so.”
“Awesome!” I clap my hands and grin like a prom-bound schoolgirl. “Who are you going to be?”
“I can’t tell you yet. Need to gather props, the razzmatazz, and all that.”
“Fine. You’re on! Should I come up with something too? I mean, you know, we pretend together?”
“I’m game if you are.” He kisses my cheek and nods. “Let me choose your character. Would you be okay with that?”
“I like it. Yes. Okay.” I put my hand out for a shake, which he meets and gives me an amused-filled grin.
My body pulses with energy at the idea of doing this with him. Letting him decide everything for twenty-four hours. I’m really off-roading now. Plan shman shmoop!
Chapter 42
Eight-letter word for captivating~ *adorable
HUNT
Easygoing days fly by, with horseback rides and hikes, swims in the river, and dinners around our campfire. Happy hasn’t invited me to sleep in her tent, and I haven’t pushed, though I’ll ask tonight. As I nurse a beer and Happy soaks in a glass of wine, we gaze at the stars while lying on a blanket, side by side. I’ve always liked being next to a woman who’s comfortable in silence. It says things about a person I don’t notice when nonstop talking occurs. In her case, it says that, even though she’s working through things, she’s okay with herself. The way she reveals her beauty in small morsels has me captivated and on my toes, waiting for the next piece. Like a gift, I receive and appreciate every one.
She flips to her side, and I stroke a finger along her cheek then stop on her wet pout.
“Can I kiss you?” I ask, leaning in.
She moans as my lips brush her neck and her jaw. “Do you like kissing me?”
“Yes. Everywhere.” I suck her botto
m lip into my mouth, my tongue meeting hers. Running a hand through her hair then palming the back of her neck, I bear down on her mouth with a deep kiss. Christ…what she does to me. “Happy.” I groan as I pull her body to mine. “I want you. I need to be with you tonight, all night. Just to lie with you, to feel you against me. Your hands on me. You want that?”
“To sleep together in the same bed? Tonight? I—”
“We don’t have to do anything at all.”
Her eyes widen. Shit, she’s never slept in a bed with a man. Of course that’s why she looks like I just took something without asking.
“I’ve loved this whole time so far. Every time I’m near you. Even the times you’ve made me nervous. Like when you examined me. God, I was nervous. Mostly because I wanted you, but you seemed like someone I couldn’t have. My plan and all. And, now, I’m nervous for different reasons.”
“Nothing wrong with being nervous if it excites you. But, if I do anything to push you too much, you tell me. I don’t want to be a regret. I want to be a choice. I want to be the man you want something with, and not just something. Everything.”
Her eyes well up with tears. Then she smiles, and the parts of me I thought might not get claimed again by a woman are stolen as fast as I acknowledge them. I kiss her forehead, and she dips her face, but I tilt her chin up because I have so much more to tell her. Maybe too much, but too much is what she deserves. She needs an outpouring of love so strong that it forces all the hurt and pain she’s endured away.
“I don’t care that this is soon in our relationship,” I say. “I’ve never thought feelings consider time. They just happen whenever they want to, arriving in any form or size. And, when they hit hard, like they are, I listen. I can’t ignore the immensity of what’s going on in my heart or my brain. When you smile at me, like you do, with that look which says you want me, but you aren’t sure about everything yet, I want to strip you down and prove to you I’m everything you think I could be. And more. My insides are twisted over you, knotted up in tangles I don’t want to loosen. Not ever.”
“I’ve never had anyone say the kinds of things you do. I don’t know why Sebastian asked me to marry him or why I said yes. He was always sweet, but what did he want? And why did he not want me like you seem to?”
“Maybe you were meant to be mine all along.”
Color flames across her cheeks.
I bury my lips in her hair then whisper, “Maybe you’ve always been mine or always will be.”
In reaction to her shaking shoulders, I pull the blanket up higher to cover her. Is she cold, or is it nerves?
“Tell me about your first? Was it unforgettable or awful?” she asks, her breath warm against my cheek as I hug her to me.
“My first. Oh man, yeah. It was great.” I chuckle in remembrance. “Luella Lopez. She was a beauty. Could calf-rope, steer-wrestle, bareback bronc-ride. And lasso teenage boys. I had my eye on her from the time I was twelve. Then, years later, we lost our virginity together. And then Tuck Roscoe stole her. From me and Clara.”
“Clara from the kitchen?” Happy sits up, her mouth open.
“Yeah. Clara’s daughter. Tuck and Luella were messing around drunk in his pickup. It plummeted into a ravine when it was bumped into neutral. Tuck jumped. Luella didn’t make it. They had to put in a road at the bottom just to get her out.”
Happy’s eyes darken with pain, and her voice comes out shaky. “That’s a little too familiar. Jesus. I’m sorry. Where was the ravine?”
“Up near the house.”
“That’s why Clara left?”
“Yeah. That very day. I’m betting she’s never been back up there. My grandfather flew out and tried to convince her to move to San Fran. She was never going to do that, so he bought her place and set her up in a cabin on the river a few miles down the road. I’m sure Luella’s clothes are still in her bedroom and her pink bedspread is still perfectly placed on her bed.”
I massage my temples at the thought of it. Everything frozen in time. And why haven’t I done anything about it? I’m not even sure I could answer that one.
“Kind of creepy to imagine all that.” She cringes. “That place must hold a lot of memories for you. Old and new I suppose.”
“Indeed it does, so many memories.” I let out a long sigh, wishing I could let some of the memories from that place go. “Your turn. Tell me about your first.”
She scrunches her nose then buries her face in her hands. “Very funny.”
Even in the dark, in the dancing firelight, her blushing skin glows. Her innocence captures me to the marrow of my bones. “Tell me what you want it to be,” I say.
She takes in a sharp breath, her shoulders tensing. I tickle her outer thigh, working my fingers up and down the seam of her jeans.
“Not a lie.”
She pinches and twists the skin on the back of her hand. I kiss that red spot then rub it as she stares at my finger moving across her skin.
Happy sits cross-legged, our hands resting on her ankles. “I guess that’s the main thing. I convinced myself it should be a one-time thing. But that’s cheating myself of any hope or possibility. I deserve possibility.” Her eyes flash up then remain on mine as a smile tugs the corner of her mouth.
“Yes, you do. What else do you want it to be?”
She twists her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. I want to fill the space with words, but I bite my tongue and wait. Her eyes drift along my body, but then they stop on my mouth.
After licking her lips, she quietly whispers, “Unforgettable.” She lowers her lashes, her eyes holding purpose when she says, “I want to feel every emotion even if I’m a little afraid of that idea. I’m not afraid of sex. It’s all the other stuff.”
Like the girl is sporting a pickax, she thieves more chunks of my heart. Does she have any idea? Maybe? I doubt it.
Calming myself down as she sips her wine, I tell her, “Yeah, I know. Well, I’m sure, when you’re ready, it will be all that and more.”
I hate to build it up more than she already has, and I don’t want to add any stress to it, as I know it’ll be beautiful. But what if she decides it’s not mine to take after all? What if she changes her mind? My stomach sinks at the idea. I hate to have staked claim on her virginity, but the truth is, in my mind, I own it. If another man dares cross that path in the next few days—Tuck Roscoe—they will lose any manhood they have left.
“Perhaps you’ll be surprised by everything about it.”
“I’m a little wary of surprises as you know. Mostly because the kind I’ve experienced come with a sickle and black-hooded robe.”
Sebastian. What a crazy fuck he must have been. Every time she speaks about him, her body gets rigid. Her eyes sink. And something in her voice alters. Warm becomes cold and horror filled.
“He surprised you with his stunt?”
“Always the dramatic artist, my Sebastian.” She pushes her fingers through her hair then twirls a lock around them. “He invited me for lunch, told me he had a surprise. I was seated at a window side table overlooking the Chicago River. It was before Christmas, just days after I told him we were going with my plan and not his. I remember staring down over the frozen river, thinking how magical everything looked from my perspective. There was a small, black box tied with a red ribbon sitting on a plate in front of me. I felt so grown up, thinking I had convinced him to stay. We were working things out before we got married. I was proud. Though pissed at my sister…mother.” Happy bites her lip and crashes her face onto one palm.
“I was served a glass of champagne by a waiter. Then, minutes later, the box rang. I remember thinking how fun it was to be surprised. Sebastian was on the phone, and I’ll never forget his words. ‘Angel face, look out the window, at the parking garage.’ I laughed, then I heard a muffled noise I couldn’t identify. I didn’t find out until they pulled them from the river. It was Sunny, mouth taped, handcuffed to the steering wheel along with him. He said something like, ‘You’re
gonna get fucked today. All these years and not once did I touch you.’ I asked him if he was drunk or kidding. He told me he’d never joke about fucking me. He said it was going to be wet and bloody and painful, and that he would be the one to fuck me first and the hardest. Then he told me to keep my eyes open, because he wanted me to feel it deep inside.”
Happy stares into the fire for long seconds, squinting, her entire body trembling. “It was like watching a slow-motion movie. Via the phone, I heard the screech of tires spinning, the crash of metal and glass. And I screamed like I was being gutted as his car flipped off the edge of the soaring parking ramp. I don’t remember how I got down there or much of anything else. Except the mangled car being pulled out of the river. I’m not sure how long it was before that happened? An hour? More? I just remember seeing blood and wondering why there was so much since they were in the water. I was the one to identify them, and when the police asked what the nature of my relationship was to each of them I said two words: ‘malicious’ and ‘finished.’”
Chapter 43
I am in charge of my happiness
Happy
A quicksand emotion washes over me. An impossible-to-escape sensation of pain and suffocation swallows me whole. Let it go. But I can’t. The memory of that day is an anchor. Every time I think about it, chunks of my heart rip off all over again. That horrid day, I learned what death smelled, tasted, looked, and sounded like. Death and all the accompaniments. Like an endless buffet of rancid food. And here I am, alive. So why is the-falling-drowning-and-burning-all-at-once-heavy thing still lingering inside me? At least I don’t crave death like I did that first month they were gone. Death—god, it sounded good. How pathetic I must have felt. But, to me, it sounded light, sweet, and perfect like a champagne cocktail.
“Tell me where it hurts the most?” Hunt asks.
I dig my nails into my wrists. “The most? I don’t know exactly, maybe the parts I fear I’ll never get back. He stole so much. Memories and my innocence. Trust. Will I ever be able to fully trust?”
Of Winged Creatures & Nesting Grounds: (A Quirky, Sexy, Dirty Doctor Romance) Page 19
