Love Resurrected (Love in San Soloman Book 5)

by Denise Wells

  “Of course I did. I’m not saying you don’t turn me on. I’m saying I don’t want to go beyond first base.”

  “Okay,” he says. He seems upset, but also hides it semi-well. When he moves in to kiss me again, I kiss him back. And we stay like that, for a long time. Just kissing, with a little dry humping and our hands in more respectable places.

  It’s frustrating, even though I’m the one who put the restrictions in place. There is no greater war than the internal one.

  Neil obviously agrees with the frustrating part since he moves his hand up to grab my breast again. I feel like I’m back in high school, in the back seat of Tommy Dorsey’s mom’s Toyota Camry. The push and pull of fooling around before sex.

  I move his hand away from my breast and he lets me. Then his other hand slides into the back of my jeans, inching toward my back and front doors. For a moment I’m tempted to just let him keep going, so I don’t have to keep stopping him. Instead, I push at his chest and move from under him to sit up. My chest’s heaving, breath heavy, and eyes lidded.

  “I said no.”

  “Well, what the fuck, Tenley? I mean, you’re obviously primed, and it’s not like you’re a virgin. Because . . .” He gestures to me and scoffs, as though the idea of me being a virgin is preposterous. I mean, it is. But that’s not for him to say.

  “Wow. Okay.”

  “Look, I’ve fed you twice, you’ve pushed me off both times. I mean what do you expect?”

  “I could ask you the same. What do you expect?”

  “I expect to get fucked.”

  “Well, fuck you, how’s that?”

  His lips thin and his eyes darken. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

  “No problem. Ordering a Lyft as we speak. Asshole!” I stand and grab my purse, searching inside for my phone. I get to his front door before he does and open it, slamming it shut behind me. I make it out to the sidewalk and half a block away before I stop and assess. I mean, what a complete and total dick. Sadie was right, and I hate that she was right. Especially since now I want to call her and ask her to come pick me up.

  Shit. I can’t call her, she’s on bed rest.

  Okay, if I can’t reach Ethan, I’ll call a Lyft, no biggie.

  Ethan’s phone goes straight to voicemail.

  Fuck. He’s probably working.

  Lyft, it is.

  I open the app back up and order a car to my location. Instead of searching for a driver, a message pops up on my screen, alerting me that my credit card is no longer valid.

  Fuck.

  I forgot I canceled all my cards today.

  I’ll call a cab.

  Except, I don’t have a card to pay a cab either.

  I think of all those times people say you should keep an emergency hundred-dollar bill in your wallet and laugh because I always figure there isn’t an emergency that could exist that a credit card can’t fix. Of course, you have to have the credit card to do so.

  Fuck.

  I could walk. But it’s probably seven miles if not longer.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  I look at my phone for inspiration.

  Then it hits me.

  I could call Brad. Nice Brad would come and pick me up. Shit, I think even dickhead Brad would come and pick me up. He’d just complain the entire time. I pull up his contact, my finger hovering over the call button.

  This is a bad idea.

  This is my only idea.

  Before I can think on it too much, I hit the call button.

  18

  Brad

  I’m exhausted after beers with my new friend, Andy. It’s amazing how tiring talking about and hearing about emotions can be, and I didn’t even talk about Kat that much. But after listening to him, as much as I would love to have a part of her still with me, I’m glad we didn’t have kids. One, because it allows me to still be a selfish asshole, and two, because, well shit, refer back to one.

  I’ve got my shoes kicked off, and the TV tuned to SportsCenter, when my phone rings. I’m tempted to ignore it, but then I remember my promise to Ethan, and check to make sure it’s not him calling.

  It’s Tenley.

  God, I hope everything is okay with Sadie.

  “Tenley?”

  “Hi, Brad. I’m so sorry to bother you so late but I kind of need a favor from you, and I can’t call Sadie because she’s on bed rest and Ethan isn’t answering his phone, and I’d call a Lyft, but well, that’s a long story—”

  “Tenley, what do you need?” I interrupt her run-on sentence.

  “A ride.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Um, well, GPS says I’m on Forty-Seventh Street East.”

  “What are you doing way over there?”

  “I was on a date that went bad. I don’t have a ride.”

  “Okay, I’m putting on my shoes right now, but I’m not hanging up until I get there, okay? What the fuck? It’s like, ten o’clock. Did your date just leave you there?”

  She explains why she had to cancel all her credit cards today and can’t order a Lyft or call a cab.

  “I can’t believe you don’t have emergency money stashed in your wallet,” I tell her as I pull away from my house.

  “I will now, believe me.” She then tells me how Neil picked her up, and how the evening went, and how she left. By the time she finishes the story, I’m pulling onto the street she’s on, and angrier than I’ve been in a really long time. You don’t do that shit, especially not to women, at night, in strange neighborhoods with no transportation.

  “He thinks I ordered a Lyft,” she says into the phone as I’m pulling up in front of her. I’m out of the truck before I’ve stopped and rounding the front to open the passenger side door for her. I get a whiff of her vanilla and coconut scent and have to stop myself from deeply breathing it in.

  “Which house?” I ask of the three on the block.

  “I don’t want you to do anything.”

  “Which house, Tenley? I won’t ask again.”

  She points to Neil’s and crawls into the cab. I slam the truck door and tell her to stay put and lock the doors.

  Before she protests, I’m at Neil's front door.

  “Open the fuck up, asshole!” I yell as I bang on the door.

  “What the—” he says as he’s opening it. My fist connects with his jaw before we say another word. First, my right, then a follow-up with my left. One more from my right and he’s on the ground, cradling his head in his hands. I’m tempted to kick him while he’s down.

  “Jesus Christ, Mathews, what the fuck?” he whines.

  “I never want to hear about you calling or talking to Tenley again. If you even so much as look at her, I’ll fucking kill you.” I point at him as I yell, spittle flying from my mouth. It felt good to hit him. Really good.

  “She’s the one who left. Plus, she’s a fucking tease, man. I didn’t do anything.”

  The desire to kick him wins out and hear his moan of pain echoes through his entryway as my boot connects with the soft tissue of his abdomen. I leave without saying another word, slamming his front door behind me. Tenley stands on the sidewalk in front of his house, wringing her hands.

  “I didn’t mean for you to hit him. I mean, he’s a dick and he deserved at least one hit. Come to think of it, I probably should have hit him. I can’t believe I didn’t. Are you going to get in trouble for—”

  “Tenley, shut it,” I growl.

  “Okay, but can I just say, that was a hell of a hit. Where did you learn to hit like that? Is that why you’re so buff?”

  I stop walking and glare at her.

  She stops as well, walking and talking, then pretends to zip her lips shut with her fingers.

  We get back in the truck and she stays quiet for most the ride, except for giving me directions to her house. It’s in a great area and on a hilltop, so her view goes on forever. Had to cost a pretty penny. I head up her drive and park in front of the house, exiting the truck when she d
oes.

  “Did you want to come in?” she asks, surprised.

  “No, I’m just walking you to your door.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  I wait until she has the door unlocked and a light on before I turn to leave.

  “Brad?”

  I turn back as she’s stepping toward me, bringing us so close together, I can feel her breath on my neck.

  “Thank you. And not just for picking me up. But for defending my honor and just being an all-around nice guy about it.”

  “No problem,” I say, turning to face her, right as she’s leaning up to give me a kiss, I’m guessing on the cheek. But she misses my cheek and catches my open mouth, and for just the briefest of seconds, it’s like we are kissing. And maybe we are.

  I pull away immediately, not ready for any kind of physicality with a woman, even though I kind of liked it. Thoughts and emotions battle against one another in my head. Part of me wants to try it again, to see how I feel. The other part of me wants to run back to my truck and drive away, never to be heard from again.

  How is it that I can feel so conflicted on such a simple thing? I’ve kissed hundreds of women, I’m sure, and not once did I experience this much turmoil over it. It’s just skin on skin. Like brushing against someone in the hall, or a hand accidentally touching yours in the elevator. The question is, do I try it again? My dick votes yes, my heart votes no.

  Apparently, my dick wins because the next thing I know, my lips are on hers, or maybe it’s hers on mine, and my tongue is slipping into her mouth. I pull her body flush to me and my cock hardens instantly. Her tongue meets mine in a duel for control and I’m groaning. It’s good. So fucking good. I don’t want to stop.

  But, I do, because this isn’t the time for me to try kissing with someone new. I pull my lips away slowly and lean my forehead against hers, trying to catch my breath.

  “That was . . . wow.” Tenley straightens, her fingers up against her lips. “I . . . are you okay?”

  It’s an odd question for her to ask, but it’s the only one to ask. And the answer is, no, I’m not okay. She’s right, it was wow. And I have no room for wow in my life. Wow complicates shit and has expectations. I can’t deal with either of those things, regardless of what my new friend Andy says.

  “Look, let’s just forget this ever happened. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . .” I pause, but I don’t really know why or what I want to say next. “Fuck. I’ll see you later.” I’m in my truck and backing down her driveway before she says anything more. Before I do anything more. My emotions are at war with my libido. If I’m honest with myself, Tenley felt good in my arms. Kissing her felt natural. Like it did with Kat, only different.

  “I’m trying,” I say aloud. To Kat, because I talk to her when I’m alone. Shit, sometimes even when I’m not. “I mean, look, I even kissed someone. And I liked it. It wasn’t as good as with you, of course, but it was still good. I’m probably horny as fuck. It’s hard to go from you to just my hand. I miss you, Kat. I miss us.”

  I rest my elbow on the armrest and lean my head against my hand, rubbing roughly at my brow.

  Kat had ordered me a flesh-light for when she was too sick to have sex. It’s like a sex doll without the doll. An artificial pussy with a handle, like a flashlight that you can fuck. I used it a couple times in front of her, at her request, but I’ve barely used it at all since she passed. Truth be told, it’s a pain in the ass. I mean, you have to lube up before using it, and moving this big flashlight thing up and down on your dick can be tedious. Plus, after you come, you’ve got to clean the jizz out from the inside of the rubber pussy.

  Besides, I can hop in the shower and bust one out in a matter of minutes, and everything disappears down the drain. No muss, no fuss. Such is the sex life of a single man who doesn’t have sex. I thought about it tonight though. For a brief second, I thought about what it would be like to sink myself deep inside Tenley, have her wrap those long legs around my waist, and scream out my name as I pound into her.

  But it was only for a second.

  That I don’t admit aloud to Kat.

  Instead, I pull into my drive and wait for the garage door to open. There was a time I thought I would raise a family in this house. With Kat. I spent a lot of time renovating with that in mind: spacious master bathroom with soaking tub, extra closet space, jack-n-jill bathroom between the two “kids” rooms, skylights and solar tubes for natural light, and a large open kitchen. There’s also dining, and living spaces, manicured lawns, a guest room/office space, and a garage that would fit two cars.

  I rented it out when I moved into Kat’s house on the ocean. The tenants took proper care of it, except for the lawn and landscaping, something I also ignored until just a few months ago. I like flowers and flower gardens, so bringing those back to fruition has been a solid project that I’ve enjoyed. Now it’s almost back to where it was when I moved out so long ago.

  I’ve flip-flopped and now rent out Kat’s house. I can’t bring myself to live in it, and I definitely can’t sell it, so I leased it to a nice young family who lost their home to a wildfire. They get a helluva deal on it, and I don’t mind that one bit.

  I paid down both houses with Kat’s life insurance, then paid off her medical bills, and still have a tidy nest egg left over because my girl had over insured herself. For my benefit, I’m sure. We didn’t owe much on either house, so I plan to start a savings account for Ethan’s kid. He just doesn’t know it yet.

  I kick off my shoes once again and plant myself on the couch in front of the sports channel. My knuckles are sore from hitting Neil, but not so bad that they are torn up. I wonder if he’ll tell the chief what I did. And if so, whether I’ll get in trouble for it. It was off duty, but we still have a code of conduct to follow at all times. Regardless of what happens I don’t regret a thing.

  I grab a blanket and lounge deeper into the couch, fully prepared to sleep here. Even if Kat never slept in my bed here with me, I miss having her next to me when I sleep. It’s a feeling that is easier to ignore on a couch than a king-size bed.

  19

  Tenley

  I get a text from Brad about an hour after I’ve woken up, telling me he and Nessa will be by around ten thirty to work on the recruitment fair. We had discussed working at my house before—if we wanted to get together on a day where Brad wasn’t working—but I didn’t think we had finalized anything. Not a day or a place. But I guess he, or they, decided without me. Now that he knows where I live, maybe it’s just as easy for him to come here, and he plans to pick up Nessa on his way.

  This gives me just over an hour and a half to straighten up, make fresh iced tea and lemonade, and bake a batch of cookies. Then I can hopefully shower, find something cute but casual to wear, and make myself look good without looking like I tried to make myself look good. The hardest part of being a woman is all the time spent on your appearance, trying to look as though you spent no time at all. Not an easy line to straddle.

  I finish with everything by nine forty-five and crank up the air conditioning to counter the oven having been on to bake the cookies, and make sure I have plenty of ice. Then I shower, change into a cute sundress, and dry and style my hair. I throw on some lip gloss and mascara, then try to dry the sweat forming along the sides of my nose without rubbing off my tinted moisturizer. Also a difficult line to straddle. I have a crush on a man who hates that I exist and my face sweats all the time. Clearly the universe hates me.

  At least now it’s twenty minutes after ten, so I don’t have much longer to wait. I hate waiting for people to arrive when I’m ready for them. By people, I specifically mean Brad, since I doubt I would be nervous like this if it were just Nessa. And I know if it were Sadie, I wouldn’t care at all. I grab a magazine from my coffee table and flip through it, but it’s one I’ve already read cover to cover, so nothing grabs my attention.

  I re-straighten the couch cushions and pillows and step back to survey the room. It’s inviting and warm, I kn
ow, with the large leather furniture in muted tones, puffy pillows, and soft throw rugs, light wood floors, and large windows letting in tons of light. The walls are a soft green with a light wood trim matching the floors, and framed black-and-white landscapes hang in a variety of places. A sofa table and the fireplace hearth both hold dozens of framed photos of friends, family, and I at various ages and locations—my favorite things in the room. Still, I can’t help but look at it with a critical eye right now.

  The furniture is larger than I need, but being a tall girl means I’m not dwarfed by many things I sit in. So, I made sure my living room seating was big and cushy. It’s like I’m getting a great big hug every time I sit down. Including now, as I let my double-stuffed chair envelop me in its arms while I review my notes on what we’ve finished and what we have left to do. At the same time that it seems like we’ll never get everything done in time, I also can’t imagine it will take us too much longer, as the lists are about equal.

  So far, we’ve split the tasks fairly evenly, which has been nice. Surprisingly, at least to me, Brad has done his fair share of the workload. I assumed in the beginning, given his attitude, he would slack off on most of it.

  I put my notes aside and pace my living room, my shoes clicking on the wood floor. I should take them off. I’m sure not wearing shoes is more inviting and creates a casual atmosphere. Except, I don’t want them to think they have to take off their shoes, like I’m one of those houses where you can’t bring outside dirt in, or whatever their reasons are.

  I don’t have a line of shoes at my front door though, which is usually the big indicator that I don’t allow shoes inside. Maybe instead of my sandals, I should wear flip-flops?

  Maybe you should turn your brain off for a while?

  I’m right. I’m overthinking this. I blame Brad. And last night. I mean, one second, I’m moving in to kiss him on the cheek, as a thank you for picking me up and bringing me home. And, given the circumstances, I really thought that was brazen of me. By all things, I mean Brad being Brad.