by Kate Stewart
Mrs. Tartar twisted her lips in distaste before she rudely dismissed me. I wasn’t looking forward to a week of her scrutiny. She had a definite bug up her ass. I was counting on my island to rid her of it.
Walking back to my house, I saw my porch candles were lit and my playlist was already on. I opened the door to see Ian in the kitchen. He was wearing a navy-blue T-shirt and loose sports shorts. His white smile greeted me. “Hey, didn’t want to disturb your routine.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, thanks.”
“I wanted to cook tonight if that’s okay?”
“Of course, smells good.” I pulled a vase from the cabinet next to him and filled it with water before I slid Banion’s latest creation in.
“You brought me flowers?” he asked teasingly.
“My friend owns a flower shop. I use him to make welcome bouquets for the rentals. Beautiful, aren’t they?”
“They are,” he said as he chopped up some figs.
“What ya’ cooking?”
“Salad and very bland chicken.”
“I’ll take it,” I said, snatching a fig from the cutting board and popping it into my mouth. I picked up a mason jar that sat next to a pile of vegetables. “What’s this?”
“Pomegranate dressing.”
“Wow,” I said before I shook it up and brought a fingerful to my mouth. “Delicious.”
“Yeah, my mother insisted she teach me a few things about cooking when I was growing up.”
“That’s awesome. I had to learn my cooking skills from Paula Dean and with your diet, I’ll be hard-pressed to find a recipe suitable for you.”
“No worries. I’m easy. I also bought some bananas,” he said his deep voice pure temptation. “I’m making you pops for dessert. I figured I’d reward you for being such a good muse.”
“Good muse?” I took a seat on the stool opposite of him. “How so?”
“You always have music going, it’s always lit up over here. I think I might enjoy your bubble while I’m here.”
“They do sell candles and docking stations everywhere. You could create a bubble of your very own.”
He grinned down at his cubed figs. “I said your bubble. Should I get crystals too? Then my man card should definitely get revoked.”
“Nothing wrong with wanting a little calm in your life.”
“I’ve been off the tit for some time, Koti. I can handle it.”
I took immediate offense. “Yeah cause most people can, right? They don’t need a silly routine when they get home to cope with everyday stresses.” I stood abruptly. “I need to go shower.”
“Shit,” regret was clear in his features as I glared at him over the counter. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”
“Rule number one of friendship, don’t ever use something against someone that they tell you in confidence, especially a weakness.”
“You aren’t weak at all.”
“Well, then you have a fucked-up way of delivering a compliment. Backasswards way, friend.”
Stomping down the hall, I heard Ian whisper under his breath, “Swallow your tongue, asshole.”
I kicked off my shoes in my bedroom and glared into my closet. My shower lasted fifteen minutes longer than usual, and I knew I was wasting water. I brushed my hair and threw on an old T-shirt sundress. When I rejoined Ian in the kitchen, another apology, in the form of a glass of wine was waiting for me.
Ian’s eyes flit over my face before he snatched a towel off his shoulder. “It was insensitive.”
“It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
He picked up the glass and held it out to me. “Well don’t get used to it from me, all right?”
I nodded, taking his offered wine, while he grabbed the chicken out of the oven.
“This is really nice of you.”
“Least I could do, since you’re putting me up.”
Ian plated up our dinner and took the cushioned seat next to me on the island. We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes as we ate.
“This is delicious.”
“It’s the dish my mother taught me to make for my dates,” he confessed.
“And here I was thinking you had skills,” I said with the nudge of my elbow. “Still, it’s impressive.”
“My mother was always thinking of things like that. She made me a cookbook for quick reference in case there was a second date.”
“Wow.”
“She trained me well. She said she always wanted her children considerate more than any other characteristic.”
“I think I love your mother,” I said with a mouthful. “Rowan is good people.”
“So tomorrow, will I get a rain check on the dinner I missed?”
“Oh, I get it. This is a favor thing?” I turned to face him and felt the awareness of him shoot through every cell, every pore. He was temptation, his smell, his smile, his beautiful voice.
“In a way. But I was wondering what that dinner might have tasted like.”
“Well,” I said as I took the last bite of chicken off my fork. “I’m not a modest cook with truly mad skills. The fish will be dry, but the wine will be delicious.”
We clinked glasses. “I look forward to it.”
“I’ve got the dishes,” I said grabbing his plate.
“I’ll let you.” He grabbed Disco and nodded his head toward the door. “Going for a walk.”
I nodded as my hands shook in the dishwater.
This is not good, Koti.
Half an hour later, I was browsing through a painter’s magazine of canvas templates and accompanying paints while Ian set up his computer.
“Shit, the Wi-Fi here is barely catching with next door.”
“Waiting on a call from your daughter?”
“Yeah. I may have to go elsewhere.”
The glowing blue light flashed in front of him and I saw his eyes light in recognition. He waved at the screen.
Uncomfortable with the intrusion, I gestured toward my bedroom. “I’ll just go.”
“You don’t have to.”
He signed fluidly at the screen. “Stay.”
“Okay.” I sat back down in my seat and he began talking with his hands. I watched fascinated.
“I’m telling Ella,” he said as he flicked two fingers out and closed them at his heart, “that I’m staying at my neighbor’s as the paint dries at her grandmother’s house.” He twisted the computer and I saw his daughter wave at me excitedly. I straightened in my seat and waved back.
Ella waved a hand over her face and closed her fist before she began frantically signing.
“She wants to know if you’re my new girlfriend.”
I shook my head and wound my index finger next to my ear and pointed at her father to let her know I thought he was crazy. She laughed on screen. Ella was a beautiful little girl with long blonde hair and deep-water eyes. I assumed she favored her mother. And then she spoke. “Dad, what have you done to her?” Her English was clear but tainted in the way where she sounded as if she spoke through her nose.
He mocked offense and then spoke. “Nothing. I’ve done nothing to her.”
“Does she read lips?” I asked.
He looked between us as Ella spoke up. “Yes, Koti, I read lips.”
I moved in so she could get a better look at them.
“He’s lying to you. He’s an awful neighbor. I only let him come here because of this.” I lifted Disco up and heard her loud squeal. Though her voice wasn’t completely clear and she had a slightly off point tongue, she had mastered her speech. “Oh wow. Please, Daddy, tell me that puppy is for me!”
“She belongs to Koti and you’ll meet her when you come,” he signed as he spoke.
“What’s her name?” Ella asked animatedly.
“Disco,” Ian and I both answered before sharing a smile.
“I love it,” Ella said, beaming.
“I’m going to give you some privacy. It was nice meeting you.” I told Ella directly.
> “Nice to meet you,” she waved. I was close to leaving the room when she spoke up again.
“Dad, she’s so pretty. Is she why you haven’t come home?”
I looked over my shoulder to see him jerk his head to cut her off. I made my way to my bedroom and plucked a book from my shelf. I was curious as to why his daughter would be encouraging him to date. And after meeting her, I was curious about far more than that. Ignoring the constant clench in my stomach and the new warmth that spread through me, I successfully immersed myself into the pages.
An hour or so later, there was a soft knock on my bedroom door.
“You decent?”
I was tangled in my body pillow. “Yep.”
“Sorry, I don’t want to make you feel like you have to retreat in your own house.”
“This isn’t my house,” I said with a wink. His gaze moved from the book I was holding to the bare leg that gripped the pillow.
“Trust me, I’m good here.”
“What are you reading?”
“Outlander.”
“Ah,” he said with a smile. “My daughter loves those books.”
“They’re amazing,” I said, sitting up.
“Well, I just wanted to say goodnight.”
“Thanks for dinner.”
“No problem.”
“There’s some extra pillows in your closet.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Goodnight.”
THE NEXT DAY AFTER WORK, Ian wasn’t home when I got there so I did the twenty-minute prep for dinner. Foil, almonds, salt, butter. Simple and delicious. I went to my bathroom and disrobed before I realized I was out of shampoo. Knowing my hair would be a rat’s nest if I used soap, I wrapped a towel around myself and crept down the hall to Ian’s room and knocked out of consideration, which I was sure he would appreciate before I walked into the bathroom to grab the extra bottle. On my way back through the bedroom, I saw an open letter on his bed. Against my better judgment, I peeked. It had Ian’s signature on the bottom. I glanced around briefly before I picked it up.
Tara,
I used to be the guy that gave the other guys hell. You know the guys who whined about home. I was the ballbuster, so to speak, and the perfect wingman, but hell on the family man. I was the one who swore the metal in his hands and his country were all that mattered.
In the mess hall tonight—if you want to call a tent in the middle of hell a hall—I finally figured out the issue with those sad bastards. They weren’t sure if they would get to see the faces of the woman they decided on.
I get that agony. I’m living it now because I decided on you.
Sometimes I wish I hadn’t looked your way when you smiled at me. Sometimes I think it would be better if I were out here with a clear heart and nothing to lose. But, the sweet agony, the burn of missing you, needing you, it feels phenomenal. And I get it. And I’m swimming in it because I know without a doubt, what we have is as real as what the sad bastard next to me has.
I miss your laugh, your face, the feel of your skin, the little moan you give when our lips connect. I miss your shitty jokes and giving you the answers to your mid-term prep questions. I miss the feel of your breasts on my back and waking up to fight you for bedsheets.
There are so many things that a soldier looks forward to, a hot shower, a decent meal, a good night’s sleep, Chapstick, and a day without a bullet whizzing past their head. But even in a third-world country, where these things really matter, when a man has the comfort of a woman’s eyes to concentrate on, the soft feel of her lips and fingers, it’s like a lightning strike of ache that can’t be ignored. I took you for granted even before I left your side. I didn’t stare long enough, I didn’t kiss you long enough, I didn’t tell you how much that smile mattered. Because it mattered. It’s why I chose you.
For the first time in my life, I’m that sad bastard.
It fucking hurts, but in the way that lets me know coming home will be the end of it.
Please send Chapstick.
I love you.
Ian
“Koti?” Ian’s voice sounded as he burst through the door with a barking Disco. I set the letter down exactly as I found it and was at the frame of the door as he walked past it. He stopped abruptly and backed up slowly. His eyes landed on mine before they drifted to the letter on the bed behind me.
I lifted the shampoo bottle. “I was out, so I grabbed some from your bathroom.”
Ian searched my eyes which I was sure were filled with guilt and his jaw ticked to confirm as much. He took a step back and let me through and Disco took the liberty of barking at my feet, doing her master’s bidding. In the safety of my bedroom, I shut the door, my heart pounding and raced to my bathroom and shut the door leaving two closed between us and still I didn’t feel safe. I paced while the hot water ran, in a fit of self-loathing for invading his privacy, before I stepped in and let my skin burn beneath the hot stream.
Something inside me mourned the loss of his relationship while the other part of me longed for the same sentiment. Even more disturbing was that I would want that sentiment from him. I was jealous of his ex-wife and had absolutely no reason to be. And since I’d read the letter, I was more curious than ever about the reason behind his sudden presence in St. Thomas. With the stunt I’d just pulled, I was positive I’d distanced myself further from any answers.
It was wrong, so wrong. And he didn’t deserve my prying eyes. He said he hadn’t felt anything about his wife for years, but if that were true, why would he have an open love letter on his bed?
I shampooed my hair and let the water run as I tried to build up the confidence to leave my bedroom. If he was angry, he had every right to be.
I lathered on some tangerine lotion and threw on shorts and a cami. I half expected him not to be there when I emerged from the bedroom and walked down the hall. He was standing in the kitchen staring at the foil on the counter.
“Did you read it?”
Straight to the point. I should have been prepared for it, but I wasn’t. I swallowed hard and took a step closer. “I’m so sorry. I had no right, I was really just getting the shampoo. Jesus, I’m sorry.”
Gray eyes scoured me. “What did you think?”
“Think?”
I was equally unprepared for that question. “I think…” I frowned as he turned and pressed the broil button on the oven. I spoke up. “I can do that.”
“Answer the question.”
I exhaled unsure if I was ready for the wrath that would follow any answer I gave. “I think you were in love.”
“I was a twenty-two-year-old soldier who could have died any minute. Do you think that was real love?”
I bit my lip and took a step forward. “I don’t know. But the man who wrote that seemed sure of it with his words.”
“Words mean nothing.” Ian whistled, and Disco came running with one of my flip-flops in her mouth. Ian released it and set it on the counter.
“You don’t really believe that. You can’t possibly mean that.”
His face was impassive. “I’m leaving in the morning. She’ll need to stay with you.”
“Ian—”
“Enjoy your dinner.”
Four hours later, the fish sat untouched in the pan on my stove. From my hammock on the porch, I watched the dark waves roll in and leave their foam. I searched the beach every few minutes for any sign of him. His things were still in my house and though it was wrong, I was dying to see if there were any more letters in his room. But I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the fact he was leaving and when he did, we would be on bad terms, or no terms. It was much later when I heard the creak of the porch steps and broke from my sleep. I stood as he paused on the bottom step.
“Please don’t leave angry with me.”
He exhaled and looked up at me, I could see him fight the scold on the tip of his tongue before he swallowed it.
“I’m truly sorry. I regret it. I crossed the line and violated the only t
hing you asked for.” I stood shivering in the air, but it was the emotion that was winning. “Please don’t leave angry with me.”
“Koti, what do you want from me?”
I want you to be happy. I want you not to hate me.
“I want you to say when you come back someday we will still be friends.”
He pressed his lips together and took another step up the porch gripping the railing. “Friday, okay?”
“What?”
“I’m going to see my daughter, I didn’t say I was leaving for good.”
“Oh,” I felt my cheeks flame.
I pushed my unruly hair away from my lips and looked at the blanket I left on the hammock before his eyes implored mine.
“You were out here the whole time?”
“No.” Yes.
Some sort of understanding crossed his features as his eyes slowly raked over me, leaving nothing untouched. A breath passed between us and turned into two and then three until the static between us became too much to handle. I opened my mouth to speak but found myself weak with want. Ian beat me to the punch.
“I’m sorry.”
I took a step back as he caged me on my porch. “For what?”
“For what I’m about to do to you.”
In an instant his lips were covering mine, my small moan of surprise was cut short by his tongue. All too easily, I wrapped around him as he opened the door behind us carrying me in. I moaned as his lips found my neck and I clawed at his shoulders through his T-shirt.
“Are you on birth control?” His voice was pure sex.
“Yes,” I hissed as his fingers dug into my waist when he slammed me into the wall of my hallway and ground his thick cock into my center.
“Damn,” I whispered as his lips and tongue covered every inch of available skin. He ripped at the strap of my cami as if it was a nuisance to get to my nipple and once it was free, he covered it with his lips and tongue. I was dripping wet and could already feel the accelerating pulse between my thighs.
“I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for a month,” he murmured into my neck. “If you don’t want this, say it now.”
