His face hardens. “Always look, sweetness. Okay?”
I nod again. “How’d you get in? And where’s your truck?”
“I left it on the other side of the gate. I’d been buzzing for a while, but you weren’t answering, and I got worried. So, I hopped the fence and jogged up here.”
“Well, if it’s that easy to get in, what difference does it make if I look before I buzz?” I ask, with a smile. He smiles back. I notice his cheekbone is bleeding, from one of the gravel rocks that spit back at us.
“Your cheek is bleeding,” I tell him. “Let’s go inside and I can put some ointment on it.” He touches his cheek and confirms its bleeding. Then nods once. I take his hand and lead him inside. I have the dogs gated in the kitchen and sunroom, which has a dog door that leads to the dog run outside. So, instead of being licked to death, they simply howl and woo at him, which is what they do instead of bark. Husky love at its finest.
I watch him for an adverse reaction to the dogs. He just smiles and reaches over the doorway gate to let them smell his hand. When we get in the bathroom, I sit him down on the closed toilet seat and grab my first aid kit. Once I get a closer look, I see that he has a few other small cuts as well. None as big as the first one I noticed. I clean them all off with antiseptic.
Being this close to him makes me so aware of his presence. Not just in the obvious way, but how I can feel him without actually having to touch him.
I can smell the soap he used, and the aftershave he put on. He smells like citrus, it’s fresh, manly, and sexy. His scent turns me on, I want to step inside his personal space and bathe in it. My heart starts to beat faster, it’s harder to catch my breath. I can see his fingers twitching a bit in his lap, so I’m thinking I have a similar effect on him.
I put some ointment on each cut. He sucks in a breath.
“Ohmigod. I’m so sorry, does it hurt?” I ask, immediately pulling my hand away.
He shakes his head, then clears his throat. “No.”
I resume my ministrations. His skin is warm to the touch, the surface smooth and cleanly shaved. I want to put my cheek against his just to know how it feels. I take a small band-aid from the kit and pull it out of the package.
“You plannin’ to put that on my face?”
“Is that a problem?” I ask.
“You gonna wrap me in a diaper next and give me a pacifier?”
“No,” I laugh.
“’Cause that is the only way a band-aid is ever goin’ on my body.”
“It could scar otherwise. Plus, I think it makes you look kind of bad-ass.”
“You do?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say.
“Just so we’re clear, I don’t care about the tiny little scar this probably won’t result in. But if you think it makes me look like a bad-ass, then okay.”
“Thank you.” I smile.
He smiles back, and it makes my stomach somersault. He gives me warm fuzzies. What Kat would call vagina butterflies. I put the small band-aid over the cut and run my fingers along the tape edges to make sure they stick. He closes his eyes and sighs lightly.
“Your hands feel good on me,” he says.
“My hands are rough and full of callouses,” I reply.
“And they feel good.”
I smile, but he can’t see me since his eyes are still closed. I smooth over the band-aid one more time then drop my hands. Cole opens his eyes, his look heated.
He’s going to kiss me.
He holds my gaze for a moment, then stands. “About ready to go?”
“Yep.” I try to hide my disappointment, but I’m not sure how successful I am. He makes me feel like a dog in heat, panting after him incessantly while he continues to thwart my advances. Not that I’ve tried to kiss him again. And I’m not going to either. One rejection is enough for this girl. Even if he did have a good reason for doing it.
He takes my hand and leads me through my house to the front door. “I’m going jog down and get my truck, then I’ll come pick you up. Will you buzz the gate open in a few?”
“Of course. But you want me to just walk down with you?”
“No, I do not. I am picking you up at your front door for a proper date.”
“Okay, I’ll be waiting.” I smile. I watch him start to jog down the drive, then run to the bathroom to check how I look.
Harried. Frazzled.
Which is exactly why shots were invented.
I head to the kitchen and pour myself a shot of Jack Daniels because it reminds me of Cole. It goes down smooth. So, I pour one more for good measure. I figure Cole is to the end of the drive by now, so I buzz open the gate. Then I go back to the kitchen for one last shot just to be on the safe side. That tell-tale warmth fills my belly and warms me from the inside out.
Which is when I remember I haven’t eaten since breakfast.
Shit.
But, damn, I feel really good right about now. Three shots good.
I hear Cole pull up. So, I grab my purse and head for the front door. He meets me there and holds his hand out, palm up. I look at him questioningly.
“Keys. I’ll lock your house for you.”
Oh. Wow. That’s a new one.
Okay.” I say. After which he also opens my car door for me, waits for me to get in, then shuts it after me.
“A girl could get used to this kind of treatment,” I tell him once he gets in the car.
“A girl should,” he replies, which makes me smile once again.
He starts the truck but turns to me before accelerating. “I don’t often do this,” he starts. “In fact, I’ve never done this before, but you are welcome to control the music if you would like. I’ve got satellite radio and a few CD’s in this compartment here.” He lifts up a portion of the center console to reveal the CD cover spines.
I look in, then read off some of the names. “Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, George Strait, Waylon Jennings, you must be a country music fan. Right?”
“That I am,” he says.
I hate country music.
“Okay, well, I know who Johnny Cash is but only because I loved Joaquin Phoenix in that movie. I don’t really know who the other guys are. Garth Brooks, that’s the friends in low places guy, right?”
“Yep, that’s him. Not his finest work, but at least you recognize who he is.” He heads north on one of the main roads through town and seems to know where he’s going. I’ve lived here going on ten years and still use my GPS all the time. I look at more of the CD spines.
“Oh, Kris Kristofferson, I loved him in the Blade movies.”
“He is quite the accomplished musician as well,” Cole says. I take the CD cover and flip it over to see the songs. “Oh, ‘Me and Bobby McGee.’ I love that song.”
“Okay, let’s play that one then.” He starts the song. The minute Kris Kristofferson starts talking about how if it sounds like country, then it is country, I know this is not going to be like the Janis Joplin song that I know and love.
“I don’t get it, he’s ruining the song,” I tell Cole. He raises his eyebrows at me.
Maybe not the best time for three shot honesty.
“You know that it’s his song, right? He wrote it, he performed it first. It’s his.”
“I did not know that. But it doesn’t make the song any better. And you said I am in control of music. So . . .” I switch to satellite radio. “70’s on seven it is! Oh, I love this song.” It’s “Lady” by Little River Band. I sing along with the song.
“Isn’t this a little ahead of your time?” Cole asks.
“Music from the 70’s is my favorite, mostly because it was my parents’ favorite and I grew up listening to it. It reminds me of happier times when they were still alive. My dad knew the words to every song to he played. He was a good singer.” I smile at the memory. “He would clean the floors on Sunday mornings, play his music loud while he swept then mopped. I just remember him being happy while he cleaned. The power of music, right? So, most 70’s
rock appeals to me. Makes me happy. But I have to sing along. It’s like a compulsion.” “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” by Jim Croce comes on next. So, I once again demonstrate my musical obsession by back up singing for the band since I know all the words.
He turns off the main road into a part of town that I’m not familiar with at all. I have no idea what’s in this direction. But as long as it’s edible, I’m good with it at this point. I’m hungry.
“Wait, are you saying I’m too young for 70’s music?” I stop thinking and singing to ask him. My three-shot infused delayed reaction hard at work.
“Aren’t you?”
“No. I’m practically thirty.”
“Practically?”
“I just turned twenty-nine. Why? How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
“So, almost forty.”
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” he says. “No need to age me before my time.”
“Really? I’m kind of excited to get old.”
“That’s certainly not the popular sentiment about agin’.”
“I just like the idea of looking back and being happy with my choices.”
“So, maybe not so much ‘bout growing old as having no regrets,” he clarifies.
“Sure, I guess. Hey, didn’t we pass this gas station already?”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. I think I’m lost. I thought I knew where I was going, but I think we just made a big circle.”
“OH. MY. GOD!”
“What?” he stops the truck and turns to me, palming my cheeks and patting down my arms. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I just can’t believe that a man has admitted he’s lost. That, like, never happens. I feel like I should be documenting this.”
“Jesus, sweetness. I thought something happened. Don’t scare me like that. You funnin’ with me?”
I laugh. “Am I funning with you? Meaning?”
“Teasing me. Making fun of me. Being sarcastic. Funnin’ with me.”
“Yeah. Duh.”
“Well, Miss Lexie, payback is a bitch.”
“We’re back to Miss Lexie? Does funnin’ with you lower my nickname ranking?” I tease.
He smiles. “Okay, I see how it is. I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
“I guess we will.” I smile back.
“Well, hell, may as well call for directions now. Since we’re already pulled over and all.”
He calls and gets the right route and we are pulling up to the restaurant in a matter of minutes.
“The Tippin’ Cow?” I read.
Uh, I don’t know about this.
“Yup. It’s gonna be great!” He gets out of the truck and comes around to my side to open the door.
Chapter 28
Cole
“Did I mention how fantastic you look tonight?” I ask. Her face lights up at the compliment.
“You did not.”
“You look incredible,” I tell her.
“Thank you,” she says. I help her down out of the truck and close the door. I delicately push her against the truck, then lean in and nuzzle her neck so I can smell her. She moans lightly. The noise goes straight to my dick.
“You smell amazing,” I whisper in her ear. “I love the way you moan.” I run the tip of my nose up and down her neck once more, then pull back and place a kiss on her forehead before resting mine against hers. She opens her eyes slowly and lets out a long breath.
“Hi,” she says softly.
“Hey,” I whisper back. “Wanna go inside?”
“Yes and no,” she says.
“Me too.” I straighten and look at her. Her big blue eyes looking back at me. I run my fingers through the hair by her cheek.
So soft.
Her stomach growls. We both laugh.
“I guess I want to go inside after all,” she says. “I haven’t really eaten all day.”
I take her hand in mine and we head inside. The hostess shows us to our seats.
“So, is this why you wanted me to wear cowboy boots?” she asks. “Because we were going to a cowboy themed restaurant?”
“Nope. It’s ‘cause we’re dancin’ after dinner.”
“I’m not sure I can dance in cowboy boots.”
“You can two-step in cowboy boots.”
“I don’t know how to two-step.”
“I’ll teach you. It’s easy. Only two-steps,” I laugh. “It’s all about shufflin’.”
“Shuffling?”
“Yep.”
The server comes to take our drink order.
“I’ll take a Jack and Coke,” Lexie says surprising me. I raise my eyebrows at her. “When in Rome,” she says as she shrugs her shoulders.
“Same,” I say. When the server leaves, I turn to Lexie. “I expected you’d get wine. Didn’t you tell me it was sacrilege in California to order a steak with anything else?”
“It is. But I may not order a steak.”
“How can you come to a steakhouse and not get a steak?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know if it happens.”
We look at the menu. I decide on a cowboy steak with some side veggies, and a baked potato with all the fixings. I’m anxious to see what Lexie orders. I’m not going to say for certain that what a girl orders at a steak house has bearing on whether or not we can be together, but it kind of does. The server comes back. I gesture to Lexie to order first.
“I’ll have the dry aged New York strip, medium rare, mashed potatoes, and green beans.”
She’s perfect.
I give the server my order and she leaves us be. I don’t want to talk about what I’m bringing up next, but I feel like it needs to be done.
“So, Trevor’s been hitting it pretty hard, huh? Really messing with your head?”
“Yeah, he has. But I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Trust me, neither do I. But I think we need to get it outta the way if we plan to ever move forward.”
I can’t have her continuing to have thoughts on this guy when I want him processed and gone.
“Ugh.” She throws her head down on the table, banging it lightly.
“Don’t go damagin’ the goods there, sweetness,” I kid. She raises her head and smiles with half her face.
“I don’t know how I didn’t realize what he was like. Who he really was,” she says.
“Well, most oftentimes we only see what people want us to see. No fault in that.”
“For so long?”
“Well, how long was it?”
“Like over six years,” she says with a big sigh. I didn’t realize the relationship had gone on for that long. That shocks me.
“You were together for over six years?” I ask.
“Well, no,” she replies. I breathe a sigh of relief. She continues, “We were together for almost a year in college, and that was normal. I think. Except Kat and Remi would tell you that he was a dick even then and I just didn’t see it. That I made excuses for it. Then he didn’t get into the same graduate school as I did and that’s when he went to New York. We broke up because long distance was going to be too hard. And five more years went by.”
Our server delivers our drinks, as well as some dinner rolls with butter. Lexie pauses her story until after the server leaves.
“Earlier this year he came back suddenly, out of the blue. Just showed up and we picked up where we left off, like nothing had ever happened. And it was great. Until he left one day without a word. No notice, no note even. Not a call, nothing. Just gone. I called, I texted, I emailed, but I heard nothing from him. Not for six months, until he showed up at Remi’s hotel last week. He was here for a day, then said he had to go back east for a couple days, and after that he would be here for good. The next time I saw him was the wine event. The rest you’ve been party to.”
“That’s a lot,” I say. I pick up a roll, break it apart, then spread butter on it and take a large bite. Lexie nods in response. I swallow, then con
tinue talking. “So, then his wife accused you of seducing him in front of a bunch of people, and a day later he shows up at your house expecting you to forgive him.”
“Pretty much sums it up,” she says.
“What do you want to do now, sweetness? Where he’s concerned.”
“I don’t know. I’m not a fan of him showing up at my house like he did tonight. I do have to buzz someone onto my private property, so he shouldn’t be able to just come knocking on my door. But, there is nothing stopping him from coming to the winery at any time.”
“You call me immediately if he does anything like that.”
“No. No way. I can’t call you every time something happens, or he comes by. You have a life to lead, businesses to run, that’s crazy.”
“I’m not really givin’ you a choice, sweetness. Promise to call me.” I look at her directly until she catches my eye and holds my gaze.
“Okay,” she says. “I promise.” She grabs her glass to take another drink, only to find that it’s empty. “Whoa, that went down quick,” she says.
“Another round?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says. “Why the hell not.”
I look at her closely. She seems a little loose for only having had one drink. Granted, I’ve only seen her before when she’s drinking wine, so I don’t really know how hard-alcohol affects her. Our meals arrive, and we spend some time eating before resuming conversation. I’m happy to discover my steak is excellent and cooked to perfection. Because if there is one thing in this world that I appreciate, it’s a well-prepared piece of beef.
“How’s yours?” I ask pointing my fork at her plate.
“Oh, so good,” she moans. “Want to try a bite?”
“Sure.” I watch as she cuts a piece off the steak, spears it with the fork, then reaches over the table toward me. I lean forward so she can feed it to me. She’s right, it’s really good. Juicy, tender, flavorful, only made better by the fact that she’s feeding it to me.
“How’s yours?” she asks back.
I cut off a bite and reach over the table to feed it to her, then watch as her lips close around my fork. Her eyes shut for a moment as she chews. “Mmmm, ohmigod, that’s delicious.”
Love Unforgettable: Love in San Soloman - Book Three Page 17
