Always Box Set

by Ward, Susan

  Slowly, I eased her beneath me on the bed and her kisses and touch passionately answered the controlled moves of my body. Touching her was like dropping a match on an accelerant. Her hands roamed me, anxious and wanting, and her rapid arousal made me rapidly hard.

  Against her neck, I whispered, “Slowly, lovely Linda. We have all day.”

  She melted beneath me and unfurled, pliant in my fingers. However this chance encounter had started, whatever it was, it didn’t matter. The way her mouth and body gave in to my lead made me more than ready to make love to her again.

  Later, she lay curled on my chest as I slowly stroked her back.

  “You have sage eyes.”

  Linda lifted her head from my chest and made a face. “My eyes are brown, not green. I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment.”

  “I meant it as a compliment. Your eyes are wise.” I gently kissed her. “You’ve seen a lot for a girl so young, you carry it in your eyes, and yet you are one of the gentlest women I’ve ever run across. And definitely kind.”

  Her cheeks reddened and she hid her face back against my chest. Crap, I was trying to be low-key romantic and for some reason that upset her. I could feel her closing up emotionally.

  “How do you know?” she rebuked. “You just met me. Maybe I’m not kind at all. Maybe I’m just looking for a story to tell my girlfriends. Maybe I just want to get laid by a musical genius with a really hot body for his age.”

  I realized the insults were her defense mechanism and that she thought I’d been toying with her. “Thanks a lot. I’d be completely offended if not for the hot body part.” I lifted her chin so she had to look at me. “Don’t be flippant. I’m being serious here. You’re a pretty amazing woman.”

  That only made her more uncomfortable. Minutes passed before she relaxed. She traced my chest with a finger, kissed me, and looked up again. “Why were you drunk last night? I read somewhere you’ve been sober for ten years.”

  Crap, not what I wanted to talk about.

  I ran my fingers through my hair. “An alcoholic is an alcoholic forever. We don’t need reasons to drink. It was a relapse. Reasons are crutches to enable drinking. I prefer to focus on the reasons not to drink.”

  Her eyes grew cloudy. “You seemed very sad at times. Why were you sad?”

  Shit, another unpleasant question.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  She nodded, her eyes fixed on me, and damn, the girl was hungry to know more about me, not in a rude and invasive way, but in a sort of trying to understand me process. Not completely bad, even if it wasn’t how I would have preferred it.

  I tightened my arms around her, tucking her more closely to my body. “It’s hard being alone in this house with my regrets. It caught up with me last night. It was my son’s birthday.”

  Her expression changed into that oh fuck, how could I have asked that? kind of a thing. Maybe I shouldn’t have answered her truthfully.

  “We all make mistakes, Linda. We all have to live with them.”

  She rubbed her cheek against my flesh and I could tell she was feeling awful. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry. Everyone says I’m curious to the point that I’m rude.”

  “Not rude. You’re a caring person. That’s a rare thing to find these days.”

  “How can you say that? You don’t even know me.”

  “I don’t know you, huh?” I moved away from her to sit cross-legged on the bed facing her. “You are twenty-one years old tops, though you try to act older, and you try to act tough so people won’t see how unsure and easily hurt you are. You’re in college somewhere. Either working your way through school or on scholarship. You’re very intelligent. I’m betting on scholarship. Someone hurt you really badly. You carry that pain. It’s in your eyes. And because of that you let men use you, you give yourself cheaply, when all you really want is to somehow end the pain.”

  Her entire face turned burnished red.

  “I’ve told you. There is one thing I know: women. But more than that, it’s troubled souls. I read those pretty well, too.”

  Her eyes flashed. “How boring people must be for you, being able to see everything and never needing to know anyone. You can live the rest of your life completely alone with only random encounters because you read us all so well and we must bore you.”

  Everything inside me came to a screeching halt. I was hitting landmines in her and I didn’t want to because I liked her. Jesus Christ, it was ridiculous that I was stumbling Jack with her. Linda had picked me up on the beach—I was definitely not in hard first date kind of territory—and I wasn’t doing a damn thing right this morning.

  There was heavy silence in the room and I debated which way to go. Finally, I smiled and reclined on a hip. “So where do you go to school?” I asked casually, changing the direction.

  Her gaze sharpened—ah, she wasn’t expecting that.

  “USC. And if we’d bet money, you would have won. Full scholarship.”

  Wow—it was impressive, full scholarship from USC.

  “What do you study?”

  “Why are you asking? Do you really want to know this?”

  “Sure I do. You’re an interesting woman. I can only read you”—I made about a half inch space between my thumb and index finger—“this much.”

  “I’m an English major. But I don’t know why. I had to pick something because of my scholarship.”

  “See, that one surprises me. I would have thought a girl like you would have a carefully thought-out plan. Isn’t there something you wanted to study?”

  “I used to dance.”

  “Exotic?”

  She slapped me on the arm and I was glad she could tell I was teasing.

  “No. Ballet. But I blew out a tendon.” She pointed to her left leg. “Pretty much ended my dancing career. I wanted to be a ballet dancer.”

  “You certainly have a dancer’s body.”

  She made a face. “Is that a polite way of saying I’m flat chested?”

  Shit, this girl had no self-confidence at all, and for some reason it made me feel guilty that I’d put the moves on her last night and, illogically, even more curious about her.

  She was a remarkable girl, drop-dead gorgeous, but wounded and vulnerable. There was something in her background that made her lack self-esteem.

  “Your body is perfect. What isn’t perfect is how you see yourself.”

  I made a decision that surprised me.

  The last thing Linda needed was to be fucked again. With how she looked, that was probably the limit of what guys her age wanted to do with her. She was that hot. Just looking at her was enough for instant liftoff in my boxers, and hell, I was thirty-eight.

  What she needed was a dose of being treated well.

  I grabbed my jeans and pulled them on.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, worried.

  “To make you breakfast.” I checked the clock. “Or maybe I should say lunch. You are hungry, aren’t you? I’m starved.” I dropped a light kiss on her mouth and moved away from her. “Why don’t you take a bath and clean up while I cook for you?”

  I went into the walk-in closet. She needed something to wear other than a sheet. Shoving hangers aside, I tried to figure out what she would like, but I was pretty sure none of this was right for her.

  I scooped up some garments from Lena’s side of the closet and laid them on the bed.

  “These should fit you. Pick what you like. If you’re going to stay here for a while, I’ll need to take you shopping. But we can’t go shopping with you wearing a sheet, not even in Santa Barbara.”

  I was almost out of the bedroom when she said at my back, “You’re an interesting man, Jackson Parker. I don’t know what to make of you.”

  I turned and held her playful brown eyes in a chiding stare. “Don’t make anything, Linda. Let’s just have a little fun.”

  I went into the kitchen and started
cooking breakfast. I wasn’t sure what she liked, and my culinary skills were limited. Barbecuing and mostly Mexican food. I decided to make spicy omelets since Linda was from Southern California.

  I was nearly done preparing breakfast and setting the table when I heard a throat clear behind me and I turned to see Linda standing noticeably uncomfortable in Lena’s dress.

  Oh fuck, giving her my wife’s clothes hadn’t been a smart move, and while they fit her fine, I could see she felt weird about wearing them. It was certainly unsettling for me to see her in them.

  “I think I should be making breakfast,” she said, a trifle silly. “I look like June Cleaver in this.”

  I set down the knives and forks on the table. “You look lovely, Linda.”

  She stared down at the pale pink floral dress.

  “Didn’t your wife own any jeans? I’m assuming that these are her clothes and not some sort of costume for naughty role playing or something.”

  Role playing? That was a new one for me, but the last time I’d tomcatted around was the sixties.

  I shook my head, amused by her and myself. “No role playing. My wife’s. And no jeans. Not that I know of. Lena was a very elegant woman. I don’t think I ever saw her in jeans. You’re welcome to look if you’d like.”

  Her features tightened, showing her unease. “To be honest, I would rather not be wearing this.”

  “To be honest, I’d rather you not be wearing it as well.”

  She puffed up, tilting her head, indignant. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know. But I can’t take you out shopping in a sheet. You have to wear something.”

  I gave her a fast once-over. Shit, what could I dress her in? The light touch of her finger on my cheek pulled me from my thoughts.

  “I’m sorry. This must be as strange for you as it is for me.”

  A sudden onslaught of emotion made a lump rise in my throat and I took a step back from her because now I felt like a shit to both my wife and this girl.

  “Just a little,” I finally managed to say softly. “How do you feel about wearing something of the housekeeper’s? You look about the same size as Maria.”

  She shrugged and sank down at the table. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m the one who ran off wearing only a sheet.”

  “Wait here.”

  I went to Maria’s room, something I never did, and rummaged through her drawers. I pulled out things I thought might work and took them to my bedroom.

  Back in the kitchen, I said, “Success. Jeans and a few other things you might prefer. I put them on the bed for you.”

  I sat in the chair across from her and reached for my coffee. I tried not to look at her and failed dismally.

  Christ, what was I doing?

  In twenty-four hours, I’d gone from drunk in my room, to spilling Lena’s ashes, to letting a girl pick me up on the beach, to fucking her all night long…and now taking her shopping?

  I grabbed my fork and started eating my eggs.

  “Do you want me to go?”

  Her soft voice startled me. “No. Why would you ask that?”

  “I don’t know. It just feels like something has changed. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

  I shook my head, not really sure what I wanted. OK, that wasn’t completely true. I didn’t want her to leave yet. That much I knew with certainty.

  “Stay, Linda. Stay as long as you like. I mean that. I don’t do things I don’t want to do.”

  “OK.” She leaned back in her chair, locking her eyes on me. “But why are you being so nice to me? Helping me out of this stupid jam I’ve put myself in. Making me breakfast. Taking me shopping. I’m nothing to you.”

  I wish I knew. “Why are you so suspicious? Why can’t we just be what we are? And why can’t we just roll with it?”

  “Because I’ve never met anyone who is kind without a reason.”

  Her cynicism surprised me.

  “You are. Besides, I consider us friends. That makes you important to me.”

  Her brow puckered in consternation.

  Damn it, Jack. Friends?

  I was behaving off-putting enough without rolling strange, random comments into the mix.

  I stood up, taking my plate with me. “Are you finished?”

  She nodded, and I grabbed her dish and made a fast retreat to the sink.

  I needed to slow this down.

  I needed to think.

  I started washing up the mess I’d made cooking breakfast. Linda remained at the table. I felt her watching me, and I knew how I was behaving was troubling her.

  Shit, if I was going to spend the day with this girl, I wanted it to be a pleasant thing for both of us. Something told me Linda needed some pleasant moments, and Lord knew I did. The last thing I wanted was for this to be something weird or creepy for either of us.

  I needed to say something fast to get this on track again.

  I looked over my shoulder at her. “There are no chance meetings, Linda. Every person who comes into your life comes into your life for a reason. You just have to be receptive to finding the reason.”

  She crossed the room and grabbed the dish towel. “Where did you learn that? A commune?”

  Commune?

  For some reason the way she asked that and waited expectantly smoothed out the edges in me and lifted my mood.

  “You do have a sassy mouth on you. Are you trying to insult me or charm me?”

  She gnawed on her lower lip—the gesture cute.

  “I’m not sure.”

  I wasn’t sure about anything either, except that I really wanted to kiss her again. I touched my lips to hers briefly, then said, “Go change. Let me finish this and take a shower so we can get out of here for the day.”

  Forty

  I was on my first date in nearly twenty years. Well, that’s what I called it in my head. I didn’t know what Linda thought we were doing as we drove out of Hope Ranch toward the mall.

  It was also the first time I’d left my propriety since burying Sammy. There was a lot going on with me in that car, a lot I didn’t understand—like why today everything had abruptly changed—and not the least of which the girl sitting beside me.

  Cautiously, I peeked at her out of the corner of my eye, noting how cute she looked in one of my baseball caps and glasses that I kept in the backseat for when I drove with the top down. I felt a slight twinge of something.

  When I suggested Linda put them on, she’d made a snappy comment about me wanting to hide her from the neighbors, and I’d made a fast retort that they were for the sun. But neither answer was true. I wasn’t sure if there was press out there at the end of my driveway still, and I didn’t want us showing up in print together, not before I knew who this girl was and what the hell we were doing.

  The hiding me from the neighbors comment stung. It told me as much about how Linda saw me as it did how she saw herself. I didn’t like either.

  And I didn’t like how worried she looked, even though she did a fair job hiding her anxiousness behind a whole lot of bravado and too many cuss words for a woman so beautiful.

  Ah—but she was interesting. No denying that.

  “How long have you lived here?” she asked, breaking the silence between us.

  “My entire life. I was born and raised in that house.”

  “Really? I can’t imagine getting to live in one house my entire life. Doris and I moved almost every year until I was in high school and she bought the condo.”

  “Where in LA are you from?”

  She shrugged and crinkled her nose. “Reseda.”

  Reseda. It didn’t surprise me. A tough area of LA for a tough girl, and it made it more impressive that she was on scholarship at USC.

  “And your family?” I asked.

  “Just my mom and me.”

  “What does Doris do?”

  I could tell she didn’t want to talk about herself. Reluctant
ly, she said, “She’s a waitress in Encino.”

  She grabbed the case of tapes from the floorboard and pretended to focus on what was in there.

  “And your dad?” I prodded, because whether she wanted to or not, I couldn’t let up because I needed to know at least the basic information about this girl if what we were doing was going to continue.

  She looked away. “I don’t know and I don’t want to talk about it.”

  The way she bit that one out told me there was no dad in the picture, not ever.

  “What about a boyfriend? A girl as stunning as you surely has a boyfriend.”

  “I don’t want to talk about him either.”

  I laughed, since another girl wouldn’t have honestly tossed that one on the table with me and never that way.

  “Guys giving you a bit of trouble, are they?”

  “Nothing but,” she said with a saucy look, then pulled a cassette from the box. “I can’t believe you have the Sex Pistols and The Motels in here. Christ, there’s even Romeo Void.”

  I started to laugh. “Why shouldn’t I have them?”

  “I don’t know. I just expected something different from you.”

  OK, she was feeling me out also. Not a bad sign. Fair. I sort of liked it, and young women definitely seemed to be a hell of a lot more blunt in 1980 than they’d been when I was single. Straightforward honesty had also been a trademark thing with me and women. And it had always worked, so there didn’t seem a reason to change it.

  I picked up her hand and kissed her fingers. “I’m a pretty basic kind of guy, Linda. You remember that and we’ll get along just fine.”

  She fought to hold back a smile. “Who says I want to get along with you?”

  I met her gaze squarely. “Your eyes.” I shifted my gaze back to the road and pulled into a parking lot. I grabbed my wallet from the glove compartment. “You are trying very hard to make me like you. The question is why?”

  “You need to ask why?” she countered flippantly.

  Yep, girl, I do.

  Instinct told me something wasn’t adding up here.

  Time for another dose of honest Jack.

  Frankly, I didn’t know if it was a smart move, but I didn’t know another way to be.