by Penny Wylder
I hold out my hand, waving it lazily through the air. “All I'm saying is that maybe it's not me you're actually worried about. Maybe you’re worried about what you'd do if you had the chance.”
There's fire in her eyes now. She huffs under her breath, grabbing the handles of her bags angrily. She whips around on her heels and starts to storm off. She's heading for her room, only it's not the right one. Anna is heading straight for my room.
She stops short, and glances back and forth between the two rooms. I walk up behind her, making the distance between us no more than a half foot.
“It's too soon for that. We just met. I can't let you in my bed on the first night.”
Anna's head whips over her shoulder, and she grunts softly under her breath. Pushing herself past me, she drags her bags to her room, and slams the door shut.
I'm smiling. My cock is pulsing with desire. I'd love to show this girl a good time. It looks to me like she needs someone to loosen her up a little bit.
I can be that guy. A little release might do her some good. You can't take life so seriously. There's no point in planning ahead. That's how I live my life. I take one day at a time.
And I know that whatever happens, is supposed to happen. This girl needs a little taste of what life looks like when you let it come to you. It would be good for her to just go with the flow.
Who knows, maybe I'll get the chance.
3
Anna
I can't, I just can't with this guy.
I'm standing in my new room, my hands on my hips with my heart still pounding inside my chest. It's a strange mix of desire and anger. I'm not sure what to do with it.
Day one and already nothing is going as planned. I thought a lot of different things about doing this, and now I'm questioning all of it.
How the hell am I going to survive with this guy here for lord knows how long? Especially if it turns out gray jogging pants are his everyday attire. I'll never be able to look at him without my eyes wanting to drop to the bulge between his legs.
I run open palms over my head and down my face, then look around the room. It reminds me of a bed and breakfast in some small town back home. Old, used furniture that's been polished so many times it now has a foggy sheen. The dresser against the wall in front of me has a giant mirror pinned above it.
There are generic pictures of flowers and the ocean on the walls. Each one is labeled with a small tag. The ocean pictures were taken in Cape Cod back in the early nineties. The sunflowers are from Colby Farm in Newbury, and the one with daffodils is from the Parsons Reserve in Dartmouth.
The room is a palette of yellows, blues, and whites. Blue walls, yellow bedding, long sheer white curtains. The floor is solid wood oak that creeks softly as I move to the bed and sit down.
I glance at my bags but decide not to do anything with them right now. Instead, I dig my phone out of my purse and call Betty.
“Hello?” she says, her voice groggy like she's just waking up.
“Hey, did I wake you?”
“No, no, it's just the drugs they're giving me here. Man, if I could have gotten stuff like this back in high school. . .” her voice trails off and she giggles. “I'm kidding, but seriously, these nurses are keeping me pain free.”
“That's good. Yeah, your brother,” I say, dragging out the last word, “told me what happened. I'm so happy you're okay.”
“Mostly okay. My leg is screwed up right now, and my head looks like I became the subject of mad scientist.”
“Did you get them do any upgrades on you? Bionic leg or mind control plate?” I chuckle and she laughs with me.
“I wish. Unfortunately, I'm stuck with the same old leg. Although I did ask after surgery if they replaced it with a gun like in that movie. The doctor just laughed and told me to stop watching zombie films.”
I'm feeling a little better. A good laugh always helps, and Betty is good at that. That's the first thing I noticed about her when we started talking before I took the place. She's got a great sense of humor.
“Hey, sorry I didn't tell you about my brother.”
“It's fine, you were in an accident.”
“I know, I just feel bad I wasn't there for you, and it was him instead.”
“He did take me by surprise. I almost screamed for someone to call the cops.”
She giggles, her voice raspy through the speaker. “He's always been a pain in my ass, but he's a good guy. He is a playboy though, so you might want to give him some space, let him do his thing. But he'll help you with anything you need. Hey!” she yells out. “I've got a great idea.”
“Oh yeah? I'm a little afraid of what you're going to say with all the drugs you're on.”
“Right! Me too sometimes.” She laughs one hearty laugh. “But seriously, this is good. Dash knows the city so damn good. Better than me, even, and I know it pretty damn well. How about he takes you out and shows you around?”
“Oh, no, that's all right. I can go explore on my own”
“Nonsense, Dash can do it.”
“Really, it's fine. I appreciate it and all, but I don't want to burden him.”
Oh no no no. No thank you. I'm good.
“Stop, you won't be burdening him at all. Tell him I said he needs to do it. He won't argue with you about it, I promise.”
“Yeah, I'll think about it. Right now, I just want to get some rest. I had a long flight and could use a good sleep.”
“Call me tomorrow. I get bored as hell in here. The doctor said it might be a couple weeks before the whole leg cast can come off.”
“So, you don't know when you're getting out yet?”
“Not yet. Right now, my leg is dangling from the ceiling like a damn chandelier.” Betty giggles and yawns at the same time. “All right, I'm gonna pass out too. Talk tomorrow.”
After hanging up, I set my phone on the nightstand next to the bed and flop back. The stiff pillows puff up with a thunk, and the mattress springs squeak with my weight. I don't even change or wash my face. I fall asleep almost instantly.
The sound of a loud beep rouses me awake. I sit up quickly and lash out to strike the alarm on the nightstand that isn't going off. It's not the alarm making that noise, it's a car on the street below.
It's seven in the morning, the sun is shining bright through the open windows. From up here, it almost feels like home—almost. I climb out of bed and walk to the window. Looking out straight, the bright blue sky, the thick puffy clouds rolling by, and with the sun still rising over the horizon, I can see Kentucky. But that's where my old life ends, with this view.
I drop my eyes down, finding my new life in the busy morning street. It's a totally different world. With my forehead pressed to the glass, cars and buses are coming and going in both directions, people are moving like working bees, zipping by on bikes, and walking with their phones glued to their ears.
A sliver of fear mixes with excitement. This is nothing like my life before. Everything is moving, constantly making noise with no down time. I'm afraid I won't like this new place, and I'll want to escape back home. In the same breath, I'm excited to explore. To be in the middle of the belly of a place. To hear all the sounds and immerse myself in every aspect.
I need a shower.
I open my suitcase and shuffle through until I find a nice halter top sundress. I poke my head out the door, and see that Dash is nowhere in sight. I'm not sure if he's here or if he left for work. I don't have any clue what his schedule looks like, or if he works at all. For all I know he's going to be a couch ornament until Betty gets here.
I tip toe to the bathroom with everything I need. My clothes, shoes, blow dryer, and small pouch of makeup are tucked under my arm. The apartment is pretty quiet, except for the subtle hum of the fridge.
The bathroom is simple. Celery green walls with seashell decorations, and no window. There's a single pedestal sink and a wicker cupboard over the toilet. I set my stuff down on the toilet seat, and take a towel out of the cupboard.<
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After a nice hot shower, I change and do my hair and makeup. My plans for the day are to walk around the city and take it all in.
I open the door with my stuff in my arms and stop in my tracks. Dash is leaning against the counter in the kitchen. He's wearing dark blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a baseball cap with a giant B in the center.
“You finally ready?” he asks.
“Ready for what?”
“For your tour of the city.” He holds out his arms and smiles. “Welcome to Boston, I'm Dash Carter and I'll be your tour guide today.”
“Wait, what? I didn't—”
“Ask me? I know, my sister did. So, here I am.” He looks down at his phone and pulls the keys from his pocket. “Let's go, I know this great coffee shop up on Newbury Street.”
“I have no idea where Newbury Street is.”
“I know, and that's why I'm here. You're going to know this city inside and out by the time I'm done with you.” He opens the door and fans his arm for me to pass through.
I look him up and down again. Taking in the casual, but oh so sexy look he has going on. I'm doomed. I can feel it. This man looks good in anything he puts on his body.
Lord help me, I think to myself as I smile and go into the hall. At least he's not wearing gray sweatpants.
Dash locks up the apartment. I start for the stairs. “Where are you going?” he asks.
“The stairs.” I point and arch a brow.
“Or we can just take the elevator.”
“There's an elevator?”
He chuckles and jerks his head for me to follow him. “You're in the city now, where being innovative is also a bit lazy.” We walk around the corner, and there it is.
“I wish I had known that yesterday.”
“Well, now you know.” He pulls the metal doors open using the thick leather strap and spreads the iron cage doors apart. “After you.”
“So, this is what you call an elevator? It looks more like a death trap. You sure this thing is safe?”
“No, but it's been here since the building was built, so I'm assuming it is.”
“That's reassuring.”
I step into the box, and he shuts us in. Dash pushes the giant red button on the wall and the elevator clunks and jerks, almost throwing me off my feet.
“Holy shit,” I say, reaching out and grabbing his arm instinctively. I needed something sturdy, and he's right here. It only makes sense.
He grins and places his hand over mine. “Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you.”
A spark sizzles up my arm, sending a rush of tingles swirling through my chest. The tips of his fingers linger there, the sensation growing stronger as it keeps washing down my body.
I pull my hand away and clear my throat. “I appreciate that. But you don't control the elevator.”
“True, but who really has control of anything? Life is a series of risk.”
I rub the back of my hand, trying to erase the feeling of his touch that's still tickling my skin. “I can agree with you on that, but I still think luck is a part of life, too.”
The elevator stops and he opens the doors. “Well, at least we're agreeing on something. That's a start.”
“A start to what?” I ask.
“To whatever you want it to be.” He grins and winks, reaching out to grab my hand and pull me along. “Come on, the coffee shop is right around the corner. We can still make it there before they get hit with the lunch rush.”
We walk about a block, and my feet are aching a little bit, but not too bad. I've wanted to wear these heels for ages and never had a place to go. Heels like these have no place on the farm back home.
He pulls the door open on the coffee shop and I'm hit with the bold scent of espresso, fresh coffee, and sweet pastries. Small tables are scattered around the front dining room. There's live ivy growing up the corners of the walls and crawling across a hanging wood track on the ceiling.
The glass display cases are full of fresh baked muffins, glazed cinnamon rolls, cranberry pistachio cookies, apple tarts, and gorgeous cakes. Instantly, my stomach grumbles and my mouth waters for a coffee.
“What do you want? It's on me.”
“No, you don't have to do that.”
“I don't have to, I want to. Order whatever you want, just nothing over ten dollars.” He chuckles and smiles. “I'm kidding.”
“I figured.” I lean over and peer into the glass case. Pointing at the strawberry cheesecake turnover, I say, “I want one of those and a nitro cold brew.”
Dash orders himself an egg and cheese sandwich and a medium hot coffee. We find a table near the window and sit down to eat.
“So,” he says, blowing air across his drink, “Kentucky, huh?”
“Yeah. Why? Do people from Kentucky not come here often?”
“Hell if I know. You're the first I've ever met from there. But your accent is going to have people asking you where you're from all the time.”
“Is it that noticeable?” I grin and wipe my fingers. “I mean, I guess I do like to pronounce the Rs in my words unlike you Boston folk.”
“That's true. We like to leave them out. But you have that little twang in your voice, and I bet you say things like hey y'all.”
“And I bet you say things like caa instead of car.”
“You got me there. And we say paak instead of park, haba instead of harbor. We just don't have time for all those R's.” Dash gives me a big smirk and nods. “What did you do back home?”
“I worked on my parents’ horse farm.”
“That sounds cool.”
“Not as cool as you think. I mean, I liked it, but spending all day, everyday shoveling hay and cleaning stalls can be boring.”
“I can see that, but to be honest, I think if you do the same thing every day, no matter what you do, it becomes boring. I spend every day counting boxes and pallets and loads from trucks.”
“You should do something else, then. That's why I left and came here, to try something new.”
“Yeah, maybe. But right now, I've got to be here for Betty.”
“Really? Your sister can stop you from living life?”
“No, but that's what you do when you're family. You help. Trust me, I'm no more happy to be here than you are to have me here. But that's life. Shit comes up.”
He has a good heart.
I can see it. I can feel it. Those simple statements tell me a lot about him. Yeah, he might be a playboy. But he has morals and loves his family. That's sexier than what he looks like and how hard his body is.
But hot damn, that body. His biceps bulge as they roll under skin when he lifts his cup to his mouth. Dash sits back in the chair and stretches his arms above his head. His shirt tightens against his chest and taunts me with what I know is underneath.
“You're doing it again,” he says.
I flick my eyes up and he's staring at me with those bold clear eyes. The blue is radiant, full of dark and bright shades. I hold my breath, not sure what to say. He caught me checking him out again.
Damn it.
“I'm not doing anything. You have cheese on your shirt.” Quick thinking, Anna.
“I do?” He looks down, and there's a small strip of cheese strewn across his chest. “I guess I do.” He pulls it off and eats it anyway. “That doesn't mean you weren't still checking me out though, because you were.”
“I was not. I just couldn't stop staring at the cheese.”
“Yeah, I'm not believing it.” He tips his chin into his chest, his lips curving up into a playful grin. “I saw the way you were looking at me. Your eyes were not on the cheese.”
“You're so wrong—”
“No,” he says, cutting me off. “It's okay. I know I'm hard not to look at it.”
“Full of yourself much?”
“Sometimes.” He lifts his cup in front of his face as he takes a sip and looks up at me from over the rim. Lowering the cup, he holds it in both hands. “And you should be too
. Look at you, you're gorgeous.”
“I don't think your sister would want to hear you were hitting on her friend.”
He waves a hand in the air and huffs. “My sister doesn't need to know everything. Does she?”
I sit quiet for a long second, my lips pursing tight. “I suppose not.”
“Good. So, let's go hit this city. Now that we understand my sister doesn't have to know everything, I can show you a really good time.” He downs the last of his coffee and throws out our trash.
“So, where to now?” I ask as we step back out on the street.
“A special little place I think will make you feel at home.”
I follow him down the street, walking side by side. We talk a little about what it was like for him and his sister to grow up just outside of the city. It was pretty normal, nothing wild or crazy. Surprisingly, not much different than my childhood. I guess it doesn't matter where you grow up, some stuff is just kids being kids.
He graduated, barely, but Betty graduated with high honors and was valedictorian of her class. He's two years older than her, but he's always been protective of her. Once he beat up some kid who kept picking on her, turns out the kid actually liked her, but Dash didn't know until the kid started crying and blurted it out.
He was your typical boy growing up. Played football, got in a little trouble here and there. Nothing too intense, but he wasn't innocent. And I can still see it. I can already see that wild side in him, and I've only known him for a day.
Dash hops over a small wall and holds out his arms.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Climb up on top and jump down. I'll catch you.”
“Catch me? No, I don't think do.”
“Well, you can't jump the wall in those things.”
I look down at my dress and heels. He's right. And I know he's right. But I'm a stubborn girl. I like to do things for myself.
“I'll figure it out. I can do it on my own.”
“Or you can just let me help you.”
“Or I'll figure it out.” I reiterate. “I've got this,” I say, attempting to hold my dress to cover my lady parts and swing one leg over the wall.
