The Duets

by Quinn, Meghan

  Shaking some sense into myself, I step forward and say, “That ball is way too big.” He gives me a knowing smile, sure of how much he affects me. I clear my throat. “You need to make them much smaller. Like this.”

  I show him the proper size, make sure it has a good roll, and then set it on the baking sheet.

  Hands in the bowl, paused, he smirks at me. “Kiss me.”

  And just like that, he has me metaphorically falling at his feet, so enamored. And I’m so incredibly glad I took this leap of faith, because this man has me wanting to spend every moment I can with him. How can I not?

  Kiss me.

  I do just that.

  * * *

  “You really didn’t have to help with the dishes.”

  “I wanted to.” He finishes rinsing the last plate and sets it in the dish rack, as I watch him from my perched position on the chair he brought over near the sink for me to sit in.

  “The least I can do is dry.”

  He shakes his head. “Just relax, Rory. Let me take care of you.”

  It isn’t the first time he’s said that to me tonight. When the food was ready and I was going to serve our plates, he told me to take a seat and let him take care of me. It seems like a simple saying, but in my world, it’s worth its weight in gold. I by no means want to be waited on, but the simple fact that someone wants—is choosing—to be there for me, especially since I’ve put someone else before me for so long . . . it means a lot to me.

  “You’re really sweet, you know that?”

  “Don’t make that known to the world. My cadets would never let me live it down.”

  I take a sip from my water glass. “Are you tough on them, yelling all the time?”

  “Not all the time, but yeah, we’re tough, especially on the freshmen. They get roasted pretty much all year and have zero privileges.”

  “Really, like what?”

  From the stove, he snags my yellow dishtowel and starts drying off the wet dishes resting in the drain. “Well, they don’t really get any weekend passes, so they have to stay on campus all the time. They have to keep their dorm room doors open, things like that. The point is to break them down and then lift them up.”

  I gnaw on that. I can’t imagine going through such rigorous training. I thought getting my massage therapy certificate was hard, but it’s probably candy compared to the basic military training Colby had to go through.

  “Was it scary?” I ask. “Going through the basic military training at first?”

  He shakes his head, shoving his large hand inside a cup to dry it off. “Nah, I enjoyed it. It was hard, quite the challenge, but I felt like I was a part of something for once.”

  “Did they yell at you?”

  He chuckles. “All the time. The first week you’re constantly being berated for every little thing you do. For not looking at an officer properly, not standing upright enough, not wearing your hat at the right angle. So much stupid shit that is now ingrained in me. I don’t even have to think about it, I just do it.”

  “Like making your bed and folding your clothes.” He nods, quieting down, focusing on the dishes. Did I say something wrong? His body completely morphed, and I wonder if maybe I touched on a sensitive topic. Wanting to move forward and not lose him in the conversation, I ask, “What about now, what kind of privileges do you get?”

  Clearing his throat, he keeps his focus on the dishes but answers, “Seniors have unlimited weekend passes, we can have a car on campus, we can have electronics in our dorm rooms—things like that. Simple things that were stripped from us when we were fourth-class cadets, or freshmen.”

  “So you’re living the life now, huh?”

  “Oh yeah.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I feel like I have my Colby back.

  He finishes the dishes and drapes the towel over the oven door handle and then takes a look at the time on his watch. “I should get going.”

  Disappointment washes over me. For some reason, I thought maybe he would be staying the night, or just a little bit longer. It’s not that late . . .

  “Leaving already?”

  He nods. “Yeah, have to wake up early to get in my PT and then I have some studying I have to do. I want to make sure I’m ready for undergrad flight training, so I’m putting in some extra work.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone more dedicated than him . . . the amount of hours he puts into his studies and his future. I’m sure his effort exceeds anyone else at the academy. I could be wrong, and I could be partial, but in my mind, Colby is the best of the best.

  “Okay.” I stand from my seat and walk him to the door. “Thank you for coming over tonight. I hope you had a good time.”

  “I had a great time. Thank you for teaching me how to cook my first meal. It meant a lot to me, Rory.”

  I step forward, linking his hands with mine. “You’re welcome.” Tugging on him, I ask, “When do I get to see you again?”

  “When do you want to see me again?”

  I don’t want you to leave. I don’t say that, though, because he made it clear he has plans for tomorrow, and even though I want to be selfish and keep him here for the night, I’m going to respect his plans. He made it known when we met that he didn’t want any distractions, and I want to make sure I honor that. Because if anything, Colby is a man of honor. I want to be someone who he knows is motivating him, spurring him on to be the best pilot he can be. The best version of himself.

  “Tomorrow?” I ask shyly.

  Bringing our hands to his lips, his mouth presses a sweet kiss along my knuckles. “Tomorrow it is. I have an idea for something we can do. How about I pick you up around six? You available?”

  I nod, excited. “I’ll be done with work by then.”

  “Good.” He pulls me in close to his body, bringing one of his hands just below my chin, tilting my head back. “I’ll pick you up then.” Colby bends the last few inches and puts his mouth on mine, his lips soft and pliable, gentle and calm. There is no rush; there’s contentment in his kiss, like he could be molded with my mouth for hours.

  Passing his tongue over my lips, he parts them effortlessly. He strokes my tongue with his and deepens our kiss, pressing our linked hands behind me, against my lower back, and pulling me in even closer. The hand gripping my chin slips to my cheek, where he holds me in place, moving his mouth back and forth, using fire to show me how much he likes me . . . igniting a flame inside me.

  A light groan rumbles through his built chest as he pulls away, lifting his mouth away from mine, leaving me desperate and needing more. Hungry.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rory.”

  Before I can even think to stop myself, I say, “You’re mean.”

  Chuckling, he brushes a piece of hair behind my ear. “How am I mean?”

  “Leaving me when all I want is to snuggle into your large and warm body.” I’m lying. I want the heat I felt at the Garden of the Gods. I want his body pressed against mine. I want him in my bed. But I sense that he doesn’t want to rush this. Us. And I’m okay with that.

  The expression on his face softens as he pulls me into a hug, pressing his chin to the top of my head, holding me in his embrace for longer than I expected before he speaks up. “Dream of me.” He presses a kiss to my head, gives me one last squeeze, and then takes off.

  He has me so brilliantly hooked, and it’s absurd how much I want to run down the stairs and bring him back up here. I want to be in his arms, and I want to receive more of his kisses, his hugs, his sweetness. Him. But I’ll wait. And without a doubt, I’ll dream of him.

  Chapter Twenty

  COLBY

  “What part of Colorado Springs did you grow up in?” Rory asks, holding my hand, looking so fucking good I’m having a hard time concentrating on the road.

  She came barreling down the stairs of her apartment wearing black leggings, boots, a dark green sweater, leather jacket, and her hair curled at the ends, tucked under a black winter hat with a pom-pom on top. And wrap
ped around her neck is a soft green and black scarf. The ensemble immediately had my pulse picking up. It isn’t overtly sexy in any way since she’s covered up, but the way her clothes fit and outline her frame so perfectly make it hard to look away, especially when her excited eyes connect with mine.

  Focusing on the road and trying to drive us through the Colorado traffic without getting in an accident, I say, “Southeast. You?”

  “West. My parents live in Old Colorado City with my brother, right around the corner from my apartment, so not too far away. They still live in my childhood house, and before you ask, no, they don’t have my room anymore. They turned it into a guest room. Not that they have many guests who come and stay, but my mom thought it would be nice to have one.”

  “What did they do with all your stuff?”

  “I either took it with me when I moved out or donated it.” She pauses and then asks, “What about you, do you still have your childhood—” She stops mid-sentence and shakes her head. “Stupid question, sorry.”

  I grip the steering wheel tightly, hating how, even though I’ve worked incredibly hard to keep my heart and head out of the house I grew up in, it still affects me. I can’t think about that house without awakening anxiety.

  Finally I say, “It’s not a stupid question. I actually have no clue if my childhood room exists. But I didn’t leave anything of importance when I left, so it’s not like if I went back, I would be reminded of any amazing memories. My memories are kept in boxes in a storage unit right now.”

  “You have a storage unit?”

  I nod and turn down Tejon Street, looking for a parking spot. “Yeah, I’ve had it ever since I graduated high school. It holds some of my stuff and some of the things my grandpa couldn’t take with him to the nursing home.” I think about the storage room and the many planes it houses. “You should see it. Full of model planes, ones you can fly and ones for show, it’s a plane enthusiast’s wet dream.”

  She laughs, the sound so beautiful that it brings me back into the conversation, easing the anxiety in my chest.

  “You and your grandpa are close.” I hear a smile in her voice and it makes me appreciate her even more. She understands the deep love I have for him, because she feels the same for her own family, particularly Bryan.

  I nod, finding a parking spot on the street. Pulling forward, I signal my intent and begin the process of parallel parking. “We are really close.” I ease the car into the spot and turn the truck off. “I’d definitely say he’s my best friend.”

  Slowly, a gorgeous smile crosses over Rory’s face. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. Just a boy and his grandpa.”

  “Pretty much. Give me one second.” I hop out of the truck and round the hood to open the door for her. When I take her hand, I say, “Gramps always taught me to treat a lady with respect too.”

  “Well, I need to write him a letter and tell him what the gentleman you are.”

  I take her hand in mine and guide her across the street to the center of Acacia Park where the city erects a temporary ice rink every year.

  “Do you know how to skate?”

  She looks toward the ice rink, her expression full of joy. “A little. There was a short period of time where Bryan tried out skating. He wasn’t very good, but he enjoyed going on the ice, at least for a while. It was short-lived, but when we were going to the ice rink every day, I learned to stay standing and move forward, but that’s the extent of my ability. Please tell me you’re good at skating.”

  “I wouldn’t have brought you to the ice rink if I wasn’t damn good at skating. Trust me, I’m not about to take you on a date that makes me look like a fool.”

  “Falling flat on your ass in front of your date isn’t a top priority of yours?”

  “Not so much. Come on, let’s get some skates.”

  We spend the next few minutes waiting in line, watching the skaters move around the rink effortlessly—well, not all of them—and bantering about which burger joint to go to after we’re done skating. It’s between Bingo Burger, my suggestion, and The Skirted Heifer, Rory’s suggestion. I couldn’t care less with which one we choose, because all I care about is that Rory is happy and enjoys herself.

  Once I pay for our rented skates, we put them on and head onto the ice. Rory holds onto me for support, her arm linking through mine, her body understandably wobbly at first touch of the ice.

  “Oh my God, I’m so rusty. I’m going to tip us both over, and we’re going to be the laughingstocks of the park.”

  “We’re good; don’t worry. I got us.” I steady her and have her grip onto the side of the ice rink until she can truly balance on the skates. “Do you feel like you can move forward now?”

  “You can’t let go of me,” she says, her head whipping around, her face looking panicked.

  I loop her arm around mine, locking it into place. “I’ll never let go, Rory. I’ve got you.”

  Slowly, we start to inch our way forward, Rory hanging onto the side of the rink and to me for an entire lap until she starts to feel more confident and uses me as her only support.

  “There you go. See? Not bad at all.”

  Her eyes focused on the ice, shaky in her movements, she says, “I think you brought me here so you could get all up in my business.” She takes a breath. “News flash, Colby. I would have been all up in your business on a couch. No need to go to such extremes.”

  A loud laugh pops out of my mouth, throwing off our balance for a second, but I catch us both before we fall.

  “Oh my God, don’t laugh,” she squeaks, making me laugh again. “Colby, stop it. My leggings are very thin, and I’ll have a frozen ass all night if I land on that ice.”

  I can’t hold back the chuckle that sneaks out. “We can’t have a frozen ass, can we? Although warming it up wouldn’t be a hardship.”

  With sass dripping from her, she replies, “Like I said, something you could have done on the couch.”

  We make another pass around the rink. Rory’s control is not getting any better, but I’m loving how close she is, how tight she’s hanging onto me.

  “How about we get your mind off skating, because you might be focusing too much.”

  “Or I’m not focusing enough,” she counters. “What is that godforsaken cologne you use, and why does it smell so good?”

  “Keep saying things like that”—I laugh—“and see where it gets you.”

  “Stop laughing.” She shakes, her balance being thrown back and forth. “But seriously, the cologne. It’s got to have some kind of pheromones in it, because I feel like a feral cat in heat when you’re around, sucking down that smell.”

  “A feral cat?” Humor consumes me. “You took it to that level, huh?”

  “I did, and I’m not ashamed.” She waves her arm out to the side, trying to balance herself. “We are so going to The Skirted Heifer.”

  “Hey now, we haven’t decided on that yet, and to my knowledge, you said you had experience on the ice.”

  “I thought I did. This is some kind of trickery ice, and I also blame the wind.”

  “There is no wind.”

  She grips my forearm. “Want to be a pal, Colby? Admit that there’s wind.”

  Laughing again, the sound becoming more and more familiar on my ears, I deadpan, “Whoa, this wind is a real bitch. Maybe we should think about ending our passes over the ice.”

  “You’re such a good man.”

  I feel like a good man when I’m with her, and the feeling is foreign. But welcome.

  * * *

  “Admit it, you like these burgers better.”

  I avoid licking my fingers and instead, wipe them off with a napkin. “So you can gloat until the end of time?”

  “Exactly.” She pops a fry in her mouth.

  I shake my head, humor in my every move. “Not going to happen.”

  “Oh, you’re super stubborn, aren’t you?”

  “Only when I want to be.” I wipe my mouth and eat another
fry, savoring the bold, not-so-healthy-for-you flavors. The Air Force Academy keeps us fed with meals that follow the basic nutritional guidelines. I don’t have much time to search out any other food during the school year, so when I get to treat myself, I enjoy the moment.

  “Would you consider this our second or fourth date?” she asks, looking at me with a mix of curiosity and humor in her gaze.

  “Why, do you have a quota you have to reach before you move forward?”

  “No, just curious. Technically, our first meeting doesn’t count, bowling could be considered a date by mistake, there was Garden of the Gods, which didn’t end well, then we had dinner at my place and now tonight. That could be counted as four.”

  “What about our letters?” I ask, joining in on the fun. “Those could be considered dates. They were intimate, we talked, and sometimes I drank water while reading them, which could be considered a meal.”

  “Oh, good point. I definitely ate dinner while reading your letters. Wow, look at us, racking up all the dates and we didn’t even realize it.”

  “Practically newlyweds,” I tease but then grow serious. “I will tell you this, Rory.” Unable to stop myself, I reach across and stroke her soft cheek. “You’re the only girl who’s ever made my heart skip a beat, that’s for damn sure.”

  Looking up through her eyelashes, she peers into my soul, those green eyes of hers splitting me in half, leaving my heart in her hands.

  “You’re the only guy who’s ever made me feel like I’m actually worth something.”

  I tamp down the anger, because this is no time to be angry over the dickheads she dated previously. “You must have dated some real idiots then, because I saw your worth the minute I walked out onto the deck at the party.”

  She pushes the food to the side and runs her fingers over one of my thighs, the sensation sending a bolt of arousal straight to my cock. It might have been a while since I’ve been with someone, but this is different. This is Rory. I don’t just want to have sex with her. I want to worship every last inch of her body. “The party you didn’t want to go to. What if we’d never met there? Do you think we would ever have met?”