Control

by Mary Calmes

  “Wait.” He twisted sideways, whimpered, and then returned to his original position. “Was that some sort of a euphemism? Or are you seriously driving me home so I can take a bath alone?”

  “Well, if you let me stay, I can give you a massage after the bath.”

  “Massage?”

  I nodded.

  “The happy-ending kind?” he asked suspiciously.

  I snorted. “I can’t tell if you’re hoping I’ll answer yes to that question or if you’re looking for a no.”

  “Yeah, well.” He crossed his arms over his chest, flinched, and then dropped them. “I’m not sure either.”

  “That’s understandable.” I pulled onto Main Street. “You’re hurt.”

  “That’s not my holdup. And I’m not hurt.”

  Right. He was the picture of perfect health. Rather than injure his ego on top of everything else, I kept my opinion to myself and instead said, “What side of the road?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your house,” I clarified. “What side of the road is it on?”

  “Oh.” He straightened. “Turn right on Elm, and I’m the fourth house on the left. It’s yellow. I put in landscape lights, so you should be able to tell even with as dark as it is.”

  After following his directions, I pulled his truck up a brick driveway and parked in front of what had to be the most adorable, quaint little house I’d ever seen. Seeing as how I’d had the same impression of the man sitting next to me, I decided it fit him perfectly.

  “This is you?” I asked.

  “It’s small, but I live alone, so—”

  I moved my hand up the side of his thigh and squeezed his hip. “It’s a gorgeous house. Lots of character.”

  He glanced at me and then dropped his gaze. “Yeah? You like it?”

  Some yellow showed in the glow from the uplights strategically placed in the flowerbeds, but most of the small structure was covered in greenery. The perimeter overflowed with lush plants in different shades of green and multiple colors of the flowers. Black shutters framed windows made of dozens of small diamond-shaped pieces of glass and a brick chimney straddled the space between the two rectangles that made up the cottage.

  I nodded, said, “I like it a lot,” and then I pocketed the keys, slid out of the truck, and hustled to his side.

  “It was my grandparents’ house,” he said as soon as I opened his door. I got close, wedged my arm behind his back, and helped him climb down. He was distracted enough by the conversation to let me help without a single complaint or insult. “My maternal grandparents. They died before I was born, and it wasn’t in good enough shape to rent, especially as small as it was. So it sat empty for a long time until I decided to take it on. It’s been my weekend and evening project for a lot of years.”

  It didn’t sound like the most social way to spend his free time. “I bet your boyfriends get jealous of the house sucking up all your time.”

  Did that sound like I was digging? I wasn’t trying to dig. Okay, maybe a little.

  He shrugged. “There haven’t been all that many of them.” With a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows he added, “I guess my house sucks me up better than most guys.”

  “Very nice.” I shook my head and started leading him toward the arched front door.

  “Oh, come on. You have to admit, that was funny.”

  Whether he realized it or not, he was leaning against me. I rumbled deep in my throat, pleased by that discovery.

  “Okay, fine,” he said with a put-upon sigh. “I’ll give you points for the assist.”

  Distracted by the feeling of his warm body pressed to mine, I’d lost track of the conversation. “Huh?”

  We’d reached his front door, and I had his keychain, but there were so many keys hanging from it, it’d take me all night to figure out which one went to his house.

  “It’s this one.” He snatched the keys from my hand, shoved one into the lock, and pushed the door open. “Home sweet home.”

  Though his tone was sarcastic, “sweet” was actually a great description of the space. We stepped into a small entryway. It was in the center of the larger rectangle making up the main living portion. To our right was a partial wall, just wide enough for a roughly hewn wooden table and a half dozen hooks holding jackets, hats, and scarves. On the other side of the wall I could see a kitchen and dining area. To our left was a similarly sized wall, this one with a small bench propped against it. Above the bench was a randomly placed collection of frames in all different shapes and sizes. Based on the haircuts, clothing styles, and yellowing paper, I gathered they weren’t snapshots of Vy’s friends.

  “Family?” I asked, ghosting my hand over the smiling images of people huddled together, looking happy and connected.

  “Yup. I come from old lines on both sides.”

  He started bending over and a whimper escaped him. By the time I turned away from the pictures and focused on him, he had his usual haughty expression in place, but I knew he was in pain.

  “Sorry.” I crouched down, lifted one of his feet onto my knee, and gently worked off his boot and sock. “I got distracted.” I massaged his calf, pleased when his eyes rolled back and he moaned. “Your house is really—” I looked at the heavy plaster walls painted in a rich cream, the exposed wood beams on the ceilings, the antique pine floors, and the stone fireplace at the end of the living room. “It’s really cozy.”

  “Is that your way of telling me it’s a tiny dump?”

  The question had what I’d come to think of as his trademark defensive aggression, but the tone was different, like he was too tired to argue. I set his bare foot onto the floor, picked the other one up, and removed his remaining boot and sock.

  “You know that’s not what I meant, little bird.”

  “Who’re you calling little?”

  He stiffened and tried to pull away, but I was prepared for that reaction. I held firm to his calves and rubbed my way up the back of his thighs and butt as I slowly rose to my feet. When I was at my full height, towering over him, I met his upturned gaze.

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with being smaller than me.” I palmed his ass and squeezed. “I like it.” Before he could say a word, I lifted him off the ground and cradled him in my arms. “Makes me feel like I can take care of you.” I saw his nostrils flare. “And I really want to take care of you.” I bent my face down, and he tilted his head back, exposing his throat to me. I felt the low growl rumble in my chest and knew the animal I kept caged was pleased. I licked my way from the base of his neck to his ear. “Where’s your bathroom, Vy?”

  “Through there,” he said breathlessly as he pointed to an arched opening at the end of his living room, close to the tall rock fireplace.

  I walked over a colorful braided rug, past a large velvet-covered tufted ottoman, stuffed leather armchairs draped with soft woven blankets, and a burgundy-striped sofa overflowing with pillows in different patterns. As I moved through Vy’s home, I noticed the knickknacks stashed all around—bowls, candles, mismatched lamps in varying heights and sizes. The space was lived in, layered over time with homey touches and found items.

  Something deep inside me, the part that wanted roots instead of wings, woke up and took notice. But I knew the dangers that path held for my kind, which was why I never let those types of wants occupy my mind. I saw no point in longing for what I couldn’t have. Better to find happiness in the life I could lead.

  “Here?” I asked, even though the arched opening at the end of the room was the only way out of the open space. I hoped speaking would distract me from thinking about how good the rocks I’d collected over the years would look on Vy’s mantle.

  “Uh-huh.” He sniffed my neck. “You don’t have to carry me, you know. I’m a good walker.”

  Despite that protest, he rolled into me, held on tight, and nuzzled my throat.

  “I like holding you.”

  The archway led to a room that I guessed had been added on. Unlike the main part of t
he house, which had plaster walls and eight-foot ceilings, this area was all wood planks, with tall vaulted ceilings. The floor was made of bricks and covered in red and brown rugs. One whole wall was windows, with a cushioned seat running the length of them. Another wall housed a brick fireplace flanked by shelves overflowing with books. A king-size bed was pressed against the third wall, and the pile of blankets and pillows on it made me want to climb underneath and hibernate.

  Forcing myself to tear my gaze away from the soft-looking spot, I focused on the opening in the fourth wall. “That’s the bathroom?”

  “It’s not much,” Vy whispered, sounding tired.

  “If it’s anything like the rest of your home, I’m sure it’s really special.”

  I stepped through the doorway into another room made out of exposed wood. An old dresser painted in black-and-white diamonds housed the sink. An oiled bronze showerhead protruded from the wall over a large claw-foot tub, which was wedged into the corner and half hidden by a black-and-white-striped curtain. Fluffy towels were stacked on a ladder-back chair in the corner, and another cozy rug covered the brick floor.

  “Your house is amazing,” I said on a sigh. “I’ve never been in a place like this.” Vy’s home was brimming with warmth, which was fascinating because of how much it contrasted with the icy persona I’d seen him work hard at displaying. When he didn’t respond, I glanced down and saw that his cheeks were rosy. “Did you do this yourself?”

  “I’m in construction. It’s no big deal.” He shrugged. “I know it’s not modern like those houses with walk-in closets and granite countertops and stainless steel everywhere, but nobody comes here except me, so….”

  It wasn’t just construction; it was personality. This was his space, the place he went at the end of the day to get away, and he’d made it comfortable and peaceful. My stomach ached with the need to have such a retreat.

  “It’s perfect.” I squatted down and lowered his legs to the ground. “Wait here. I’ll fill the tub.”

  Once again, he didn’t argue and instead blinked up at me, his face a study in confusion and desire. It was an interesting combination of conflicting emotions, much like the man himself. I brushed his hair off his forehead, gazed into his eyes as I hunched down for a soft kiss, and then stepped over to the tub.

  While I got the temperature right and fiddled with the drain-stopper, I considered what I could do. Already, I was well past my normal “have fun, move on” modus operandi, but the thing about it was, I wasn’t anywhere near ready to move on. Being with Vy had been kind of a roller coaster of emotions and events, but the little bird fascinated me. He was so full of life and energy, and he had this prickly outside seemingly aimed at keeping everyone on guard. But when I looked at his house, when I held him in my arms, I could tell that underneath the thorns hid a sensitive, sensual man. I wanted to be the person he trusted with that side of himself.

  After taking a few calming breaths, I turned around and walked back to Vy. He was leaning against the sink, his eyes half-closed, shirt unbuttoned, and jeans unzipped. Even in the dim light of the bathroom, his skin glowed and his hair shone. He was truly beautiful.

  “Let’s get you into the warm water,” I said as I approached him. “Soaking those muscles will help.”

  He didn’t argue, just let me undress him and lead him into the tub.

  “Are you coming in?” he asked once he was settled in the water, his words slow and thick.

  He was gloriously naked and stretched out in warm, silky water. I wanted to come into the tub and in him.

  “No.” I shook my head, forcing myself to remember that he needed healing, not sex. “I’m going to go poke around your kitchen and make you something to eat.” I paused, considering whether it was rude to invade someone’s space that way, especially a space as personal as Vy’s. “Is that okay?”

  “’Course. Help yourself to whatever you want.” He tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “My house is your house.”

  It took me a while to move after that comment.

  Five

  Vy

  I RUBBED the bridge of my nose in an effort not to combust. “Let me see if I understand.”

  “No no no,” Lou interrupted me. “I want to hear about how you didn’t get laid last night.”

  “The ket is more important,” I told her.

  “No,” she insisted. “You were in the bathtub—Are you screwing with me?”

  I threw up my hands. “They came to you this morning but didn’t have the balls to come to me?”

  “Why do you sound so disgusted?” she asked me as she turned the corner at the end of my street. She had picked me up because my truck wouldn’t start… again. I needed a new battery, but I kept forgetting. “Of course they’re going to come to me. I’m the second. It’s my job. They bring concerns to me; I talk to you.”

  I shook my head.

  “Yes, Vy. That’s the deal. That’s how it is. That’s how it’s always been.”

  “Why couldn’t they address any concerns to me at our monthly union?”

  “Because this won’t wait. Some of these people think their children are in danger, and they think you lost control of your bear.”

  “My bear?” I snapped at her. “They’re calling Robert my bear?”

  “Well, he is, isn’t he?”

  “Did you tell people he was my mate?”

  “No. I didn’t tell anyone—”

  The radio crackled, and then Zach was on the other end yelling her name.

  “Isn’t he supposed to say ‘Roger’ or ‘Over’ or something like that?”

  “Vy, this town is this big,” she reminded me, holding her thumb and finger a few inches apart. “Why would we do that?”

  “Well, answer him, for crissakes.”

  She picked up the radio and told Zach to stop hyperventilating and tell her what the problem was.

  “Ed Sheridan is over at Reno’s again, and I guess he’s really drunk this time. Darcy says he’s got a gun, and Reno’s pissed.”

  Her sigh was long and loud. “I’m detoxing him myself this time, Zach. Tell the sheriff because I’m done with this crap.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll tell him. Do you want me to come help you?”

  “No. Vy’s in the car with me; he’ll go.”

  “Oh good, okay,” he said and was gone.

  I did a slow pan to her.

  “What?”

  “Oh good, Vy can go with you? He’s a deputy. What the hell?”

  “Don’t think about it too long; it’ll make you nuts.”

  “Fine, whatever,” I groused. “Back to the ket—who exactly said what?”

  “Okay,” she began, waving to some people as she passed. “Some people think Robert was the one who caused the crash.”

  “Are they high?”

  “Come on, Vy,” she groaned. “Are you gonna interrupt me every, like, three seconds?”

  I huffed out a breath and shut up.

  “I guess there were some kids watching from the other side of the road, between the trees, and they saw Robert touching the car before it went over.”

  “That’s because he was the one holding it up!” I was incredulous, and there was no doubt. It was clear in my tone.

  “And I know that because you told me, but—”

  “The kids saw it too—Brady, Jodie, and definitely Chris.”

  “Well, Chris’s parents love Robert; they’re ready to move him in.”

  “The only place my mate would move in would be with me,” I warned her.

  “Oh yes, mighty kuar,” she placated me. “I know. Your mate belongs only to you.”

  “That’s the tone you’re using?”

  “I’m just responding to the one you took with me,” she volleyed back. “Why on earth would you have to make that clear to me? I know he’s your mate.”

  I groaned loudly.

  The whole thing was a mess. Poor Robert. He had done a good thing, a wonderful thing,
and this was what my damn ket thought of him? I’d been livid since Lou had first broached the subject with me when we were leaving my driveway.

  “I know you don’t want to share him. I know you want to drug him and chain him up in your basement right next to your furnace and your washer and dryer.”

  “Oh, that doesn’t make me sound like a psychopath at all,” I said dryly.

  “Which brings me back to you in the tub, and he made what?”

  “Grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

  “That’s adorable,” she said, nodding. “So walk me through it?”

  “How is this your business?”

  “Spill. Now,” she ordered.

  I would not divulge any more of my evening. The only reason she knew about the bath was because I hadn’t remembered to drain the water until this morning, and when she used my bathroom, it was still full.

  She had been all over me. “You hate baths. You say dirt goes in the water, and then it gets all over you again, and so what’s the point of even washing?”

  I did have some odd opinions on things.

  “I got hurt a little bit last night, and so Robert thought—”

  “Robert?”

  He was all she really wanted to talk about. How long had he stayed? Did he get in the tub with me? Was I naked? Was he? Did I get laid?

  It would sound ridiculous, so I abbreviated the evening in the telling. I told her that after the bath, Robert cooked for me, and then he had to go. But that wasn’t the whole truth. The real story was how I had dried off, appeared in sleep shorts and an old T-shirt, and how the man had basically pounced on me. He could do it whenever he wanted as far as I was concerned….

  AS I rounded the corner, Robert turned and saw me. He immediately moved the skillet off the burner and darted over to me. Stopping just inches away, I saw how warm his eyes were and how happy he looked.

  “What?”

  “Your house is small and cozy.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded. “I opened the windows, and I can smell the wildflowers and hear the crickets.”