Calculated Risk

by Rachael Duncan

  “You don’t have to worry about that with me. You can come over as often as you need.” She pauses and stares at me for a moment and I wonder if I went a little too far. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy having her here, even if it’s only been three times now, but who’s counting?

  She gets right to work by sliding the chair out from the corner and removing the seat cushion. I sit on the couch behind her and enjoy watching her work. I can hear her humming softly to herself, breaking up the silence. I like it. I like her.

  “Can I help?” I offer up. As much as I enjoy watching her bend over and such, I feel a little useless just sitting here doing nothing.

  She looks over her shoulder. “If you want to learn how to reupholster furniture, sure,” she says with a shrug. “I could use some help.”

  I get up from my spot and walk to her. “This,” she says as she holds up a staple gun, “is your new best friend. Other than the fabric and sewing machine, it’s the key to making this happen.”

  “Got it.”

  “Since you chose a solid fabric to match the couches, this will be pretty simple. The hardest part will be the arms, so we’ll start there first.”

  “Got it,” I say again.

  She drapes, sketches an outline on the fabric, and pins it, and I’m not any more helpful beside her than I was on the couch. Only now, I’m holding the stapler like a tool. I lean in, pretending to get a better look at what she’s doing, but really I just want to be closer to her. Her vanilla scent hits my nose and it takes everything in me not to bury my face in her neck right now.

  I’m not sure how much time goes by, and I don’t really care. As I wait for her to tell me what to do, we ease into conversation. Even though we talk about nothing important, it’s still nice to see her relax around me while she works. After she gets the arms sewn together, she gestures for me to come closer to show me a simpler task I can complete. Her scent messes with my head being this close. All I want to do is take a taste and see if she tastes as sweet as she smells.

  “Alright, this is where you come in,” she says, pulling me from my thoughts. “I’m going to hold this tight, and you staple it to the bottom so that it’s hidden by the cushion.”

  “I think I can handle that.”

  We work together seamlessly until the project is done. Standing back, I admire our handiwork, pleased with the outcome. “It looks like a brand new chair,” I say.

  “It’s almost like magic.” Her whole face is lit up and I can tell this is definitely her passion. And it should be. She’s amazing at this. “This was one of the more difficult pieces to recover. The chairs at your kitchen island and dining room table would be way easier if you ever wanted to re-fabric them. You just pop off the seat cushion, remove the old, and staple on the new. Takes just a few minutes and no sewing.”

  “You’ll have to come over and show me how one day,” I offer as I rub the back of my neck.

  “Yeah, maybe.” She looks away and back at the chair.

  An awkward silence falls over us and I hate it. I search my brain for something—anything to say, but nothing comes to me.

  “Do you mind if I use your restroom?” she asks.

  “Sure, just go around that corner and down the hall. It’s the last door on the left.” I point in the direction she needs to go. With a tight smile, she turns around and disappears out of sight.

  I pace the room and run my hands through my hair. I’m at a crossroads and I don’t know which way to turn. Do I go for it again, or keep hanging back and try to play it cool? The playing it cool method is damn near killing me. I want her so damn bad it hurts. And not just physically, although visions of her naked roll through my mind constantly. No, I want all of her. I like her drive, her passion, her intelligence, her humor. I like it all.

  I want it all.

  Time to make my last move. With renewed purpose, I make my way toward the bathroom so we can get this sorted once and for all when she’s done. As I’m rounding the corner, I run right into her. She yelps in surprise and almost falls over, but I’m able to wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to me, keeping her from tipping backward.

  Every inch of her front is pressed against me. It’s the closest I’ve been to her since we were dancing together at that bar three months ago. I can’t tell if it’s my heart beating that I feel, or hers, but I swear we both stop breathing as we stare into each other’s eyes.

  Surprisingly, she’s the first to crack, grabbing my face in both hands and sealing her lips against mine. Within seconds, I’m taking the lead and pushing her up against the closest wall. My tongue darts out and touches her lips and without hesitation, she opens up for me. Nothing has tasted as sweet as she does and I swear I’ve gone to heaven. She makes me see lights and feel it all the way in my damn toes.

  All of our frustrations, pent-up tension, and longing are released in this moment. This kiss is hard, it’s frantic, it’s all consuming. I’m lost in her and I never want to be found. But before we get too carried away, I want to make sure we’re both on the same page and this isn’t some lapse in judgment for her.

  Slowing the kiss, I give her a quick peck on the lips and another on the nose. “We need to slow down a minute,” I say breathlessly.

  She swallows hard and nods.

  I cage her in between my arms so she has no choice but to look at me and answer my next question. “What’s going on here?”

  A flash of panic crosses her face as if she just realized what we were doing. Her mouth opens and closes a couple times, but no explanation follows.

  I let out a sigh before speaking. “Look, I know I’ve done some . . . unconventional things as a way to see you, but I’m not into playing games. You know I want you. I’ve made no secret about that. What I can’t figure out is that I get the feeling you want me too. I mean, am I delusional? Am I imagining all of that?” She looks down and shakes her head. Tilting her head back up with my finger, I say, “What’s holding you back? Just be honest with me. That’s all I ask.”

  Unlike with our kiss, there’s a great amount of hesitation and I see the internal debate written all over her face as she searches my eyes. I hold her gaze confidently, hoping she’ll trust me enough to open up.

  She closes her eyes on an exhale. “I haven’t been with a man in over a year. I don’t date. I don’t give out my number. It’s just me and my cat, and I like it that way. There’s no obligation, no complication.” She stops for a second. “No chance of getting hurt.”

  I want to know what happened to her and who’s the bastard that made her put up these walls, but I don’t want to dig too deep today.

  I lean back and hold her hands in mine. “There’s so much we don’t know about each other, but I want to change that. Is it a risk? Yes, every relationship starts out that way. Take the risk with me, Lydia. The biggest ones often lead to the best rewards.”

  I think an hour goes by before she responds. “Okay.”

  I blink a few times, not sure I heard her right. “Okay?”

  She nods. “Yeah, I’ll take the risk with you.”

  I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pick her up and kiss the hell out of her. Soon, I set her back down. “You better get out of here before I do bad things to you,” I whisper in her ear. I’m satisfied when goose bumps spread down her neck. My self-control is only so strong when all I want to do is pin her up against this wall and fuck her until she can’t walk. Her face turns red as she bites her lip to hide her smile. “I’ll call you later,” I say as she grabs her stuff and I adjust the painful hard-on in my pants.

  “Alright. Talk to you soon, Marcus.”

  And then she’s gone.

  Time to ice the balls again.

  Lydia

  MY PHONE RINGS, waking me up. I look at the clock and see it’s only six thirty. I’m not happy right now, but when I take a peek at who it is, my lips form a smile on their own.

  “Someone better be dying for you to w
ake me this early on a Saturday, Marcus.” My voice is rough with sleep.

  “What are you doing today?” he asks, completely disregarding the fact that he rudely woke me up.

  “I was sleeping,” I respond as I sit up in bed.

  “Well, you’re not anymore.” I can hear the smile behind his words. “What else were you planning?”

  My free arm goes above my head as I stretch, groaning in the process. “Nothing really.”

  “Great! Be ready in thirty minutes. I’m coming to pick you up.”

  Before I have a chance to open my mouth, he hangs up, leaving me completely dumbfounded. Then it hits me. Thirty minutes? Crap! I spring out of bed and hurry into the shower. Once I get out, I brush my teeth, throw on some makeup, put up my hair, and get dressed. I have no idea where he’s taking me, so I figure a pair of skinny jeans, some flats, and a nice top would work. When I’m done, I give myself a once-over and am pleased.

  I sit on the couch with a huff waiting for him to arrive. My knee bounces with excited nervousness knowing I’m going to see him soon. Marcus never goes a day without reaching out to me. We’ve talked and text messaged each other several times throughout the week, but because of our work schedules I haven’t seen him since last Sunday when I redid his chair. I’m actually surprised he’s not working now given it’s a Saturday and not his normal day off.

  As stupid as it sounds, I feel freer and I have hope that I can finally let go of the past. I won’t have to shoulder the burden of hate and resentment anymore. It seems like a drastic change for only knowing someone a short time, but I know seeing his messages and hearing his voice makes me happy. And a man hasn’t done that in a while.

  I touch my lips remembering the way his felt against mine. You hear people talk about this spark or shock of electricity, but I never believed in it until that moment. As soon as our lips touched, I was on fire from head to toe and all I could do was hold on and wait to burn to the ground. Thank God he had me pinned against the wall, because I don’t think I could’ve stood on my own. In retrospect, I can’t believe I grabbed his face and kissed him. That’s so out of character for me and I’ve never been so forward before, but I couldn’t take it another second.

  Stalker: I’m here.

  I furrow my brow as I read his text. I guess chivalry is dead. I wouldn’t consider myself high maintenance, but if I’m being honest, I’m a little put off that he didn’t come up to the door to pick me up. With a sigh, I grab my keys, phone, and purse, and exit the building. When I step out onto the curb, I halt my progress and his reasoning for not coming to the door makes sense.

  Marcus is standing against his cop car with his arms folded over his chest and one ankle crossed over the other. The part that makes my mouth dry up is that damn uniform. I don’t know what it is, but he could ask me to do just about anything while wearing it and I’d say yes, sir.

  “Is there a problem, officer?” I ask as I walk toward him while trying to hide my grin.

  “No problem here, miss. Just patrolling the neighborhood.” He closes the gap between us and reaches his hand out to me, grabbing me by my waist and pulling me close. I gasp from the unexpected movement. When I look up at him, the entire atmosphere has changed. It’s not playful anymore and the smile is gone from his face even though his eyes shine bright.

  Ever so slowly, he leans down and places the softest, sweetest kiss on my lips. My insides turn to goo as I melt into him. It’s the purest of gestures. This kiss isn’t about sex or fulfilling one’s baser needs. This is tender and kind. He’s so gentle in the way he holds me and touches my lips with his it’s as if he’s afraid he’ll break me.

  He could.

  The thought is fleeting, but it hits me hard because it’s true. Marcus is funny and kind, sexy and smart, and I know that given enough time, I could totally fall for him.

  What if I let him in and he crushes me? I don’t know if my heart could handle that a second time.

  Pulling back, I look up at him again. “I would’ve come and gotten you, but it would’ve ruined the element of surprise,” he explains before he winks. “Let’s go.” He grabs my hand and pulls me to his patrol car.

  “You still haven’t told me what we’re doing today,” I tell him as he helps me into the front seat.

  “I got to see you in your element, so I thought I’d show you mine. We’re going to run to the station real quick, fill out some forms, and you’re going to go on a ride along with me.” He closes the door on me before I get to respond. I’m noticing he does this a lot when he’s afraid I’ll argue, but I’m actually excited about this.

  “What if you get into a shootout with someone or something bad happens?” I ask once he gets in the car.

  He looks over at me as if to say, Really? “This is Apex, Lydia, not Compton.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “I’m aware, but you never know. The crazies live everywhere.”

  “Well, that’s what the waiver is for.” He puts the car in drive and we’re on our way, but my mouth drops open.

  “Marcus!” I swat his arm, which makes him chuckle.

  “I’m kidding. We’ll be fine, I promise. You trust me, don’t you?”

  Trust.

  It’s the strongest thing a relationship is built on, yet it can crumble to pieces so easily. Trust is hard-earned and quickly lost, and in my case, it takes a hell of a lot more time for me to say I trust someone.

  “Lydia, do you trust me?” he asks again, more serious than the last time when I don’t reply.

  “I trust you to not get me killed,” I answer, trying to skirt around the thoughts running through my mind.

  He looks at me from the corner of his eye with an expression I can’t quite read. I’m not sure if he picks up on my evasiveness in regards to trusting him as a whole, but he doesn’t ask again and I’m glad. I don’t want to tell him the truth because no, I don’t trust him completely.

  Yet.

  Patrols are actually pretty boring, which I suppose is good. We drive around for a while just waiting for a call or spotting someone who needs help. The one positive is it’s given us a chance to learn more about each other. I learn that he graduated head of his class with a degree in criminal justice, and I tell him about the time I painted my hamster’s toes—well, feet—when I was six years old. We trade stories, keeping to light topics, and I’m really enjoying it.

  “Did the crew finish your built-ins?” I ask him, referring to the built-in shelves I designed to go around the fireplace to create a strong focal point.

  “Yeah, they finished the recessed lighting too,” he tells me with his eyes trained on the road.

  “Great. What do you think?” I bite my lip waiting for his reply. I want every client to be happy, but his opinion means a little more than most.

  “It looks awesome so far. I took some pictures and was going to send them to you. Go ahead and look.” He points at his console where his phone lays.

  Picking it up, I slide my finger across the screen, which prompts me for his passcode. “Here, you have to enter your code.”

  “It’s seven, seven, eight, eight.”

  “Very complex of you,” I joke.

  He shrugs. “It’s easy for me to remember.”

  I find his pictures and scroll through the images. Images of his living room are the most recent he’s taken. “Wow, it looks amazing!” I can’t hide my excitement. The stark white of the shelves against the soft gray of the walls is stunning, and the stacked stone I ordered for the fireplace is going to compliment it perfectly.

  He chuckles softly, seeming amused with my enthusiasm. We pull over along the curb and he unbuckles his seat belt. I instantly look around on alert for anything that looks out of the ordinary. “Just wait here. I’ll be back in a sec.”

  My eyes never leave him as he jogs across the street. When he reaches the other side, he stops to talk to this little old lady. She’s moving so slow it’s clear she has a hard time getting around even with the aid of her walke
r. Her back is hunched over and she’s struggling to balance this box on top of her walker as she tries to slide it down the sidewalk.

  They exchange some words before he picks the box up, puts it under one arm, and places his other arm around her back to help support and guide her. They both stop at an old, red Buick where he puts the box in the trunk for her. After ensuring she gets in okay, he jogs back across the street and gets into the car. I can’t suppress the smile that takes over my face. That might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Alright, let’s get back to it, shall we?” I nod, a residual grin still on my face as I stare at his profile while he drives.

  I think what I love most about his act of kindness is that he thought nothing of it. He didn’t come back here to seek recognition or praise for helping her. He just buckled his seat belt again and went on with his day. Seth was nothing like that; always wanting people to notice when he went out of his way for anyone. You know it comes from the heart when the reward is in knowing you’ve helped someone. Looking back, Seth was self-serving in even the smallest of gestures. The stark contrast between the two is another tool chipping away at my already weakened armor. It’s weird that I think about him in this moment. I guess it’s natural to compare the two seeing as Seth was the only relationship I’ve ever had. As high school sweethearts, I thought he’d be my only too, but I was wrong.

  Getting off that train of thought, I focus back on Marcus. “You’re kind of a softy, aren’t you?”

  His head jerks back slightly. “Psshh, what?”

  “Behind the big, hard muscles is a big old teddy bear.”

  “No way. I’m hardcore. I’m badass. I’m mean,” he argues while keeping his eyes on the road.

  “Uh huh,” I say, still giving him a hard time.

  “Are you saying that because of what I did back there?” he asks, pointing behind him. “That wasn’t what it looked like.”