“Not that. I'm honored,” I tell her. “Just . . . timing sucks.”
“Oh? Hot date?” she teases, then grows serious again when she sees that her words were closer to the truth than she intended.
“Sort of. A special someone is flying in,” I tell her. “It's her first time coming to San Francisco, and I was hoping to give her a better tour experience than abandoning her to my apartment for four days. She took an extra day off work to come down Friday afternoon instead of at night.”
Jackie hums, tapping her desk. “You want off the team? I can go to Xander and tell him you've got something. I'll be honest, though, I don't think he'll like it. You might just see Dylan jump you on the ladder.”
“Might as well hand Dylan a flamethrower instead. He'd burn the place down faster,” I grumble, and she laughs. “No, I'll do it. Can I at least ask that I take off Friday early enough to pick Patricia up and take her out to dinner?”
Jackie nods, knowing that she can't do much else. “Go ahead. Your office has a couch, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Get used to it. And if I were you, I'd go buy about a case of energy drinks during your lunch hour.”
“And you? What's your family going to say about this?”
Jackie gives me a bitter, sad smile and shakes her head. “My daughter's not going to care. She's doing her gap year in Europe right now and only calls when she needs some more cash. My ex-husband's going to be happy, though. It means he gets an extra thousand a month in alimony that he can spend on his new girlfriend.”
Ouch. I seriously didn't know. I nod and turn to leave when Jackie's voice calls out again. “Cory?”
“Yes?”
“Free advice. If this special someone is serious, long-term material . . . get out of this line of work. If you take a look at the people on the ladder above me, you'll find too many divorces, cheating spouses, and miserable bastards to ever convince a family man to want this job.”
“Then why do you do it?” I ask, curious.
Jackie chuckles darkly and turns back to her computer. “I thought the money and power were worth it. Figured out too late that they weren’t, and now I'm where I am. Think about it. And let's talk after lunch, say two o'clock.”
Friday afternoon, I'm bleary-eyed, reeling like I'm half-drunk, and as Patricia comes out of the airport, I can't help but yawn. I'm crashing, going off too much caffeine, sugar, and every other legal stimulant I can find. Still, seeing her helps, and I try my best to smile as she comes up and hugs me. “I'm glad you're here. Welcome to San Francisco.”
She takes a step back, smoothing the hair out of my face. “You look like you've had a hard week. Is everything okay?”
“No . . . but we can talk about it in the cab. I didn't trust my driving to get us back to my place safely right now.”
Patricia’s frown of concern deepens, but she says nothing as we flag down a cab and I give him my address. We finally get to my building and the cabby swipes my card, and I carry Patricia's bag to the elevator and we go up to my tenth-floor place. “Well, here we are.”
I lead her in, and I can tell she’s at least a little impressed. It's not the best neighborhood in San Francisco, but the glass side on the west faces the Bay, and off to the right, you can see the Pyramid. I wheel her bag through my place and set it next to my bed before shrugging off my suit jacket and tossing it on the bed. It looks so inviting, but we've got dinner reservations.
“There's only about an hour until our rez at Momonashi's,” I say, coming out of the bedroom to find her sitting on my couch, her eyes filled with concern. “We should probably get changed. It's one of those formal-only places.”
“Sit down,” she says instead, patting the couch next to her.
“Can't,” I half-mumble, not admitting that if I sit down, I'll probably fall asleep. Maybe I can chug another Red Bull before we head out. That'll help. “We need to get a move on.”
I go into my kitchen and open my fridge, where I see the last Red Bull can. I pull it out and pop the top, but before I can take a sip, Patricia's next to me, her hand on my wrist. “Cory . . . stop. If you need that to stay awake through dinner, I'd rather not go.”
I try to control my frustration, but still, I half-slam the can down on my counter as I turn to look at her. “What do you mean, you'd rather not go? You know what I had to pull to get a reservation there? It's the hottest Asian restaurant in town!”
I realize I'm nearly yelling, and I stop, looking down. “I'm sorry. I just . . . it's been a lot of stress the past few days.”
I'm exhausted, literally teetering on the edge of collapse, but her hand on my cheek still stirs some of the last vestiges of strength inside me. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“My division boss is taking a forced retirement,” I sigh, leaning against the countertop, “and my new boss tagged me to be on her transition team.”
“Her, huh? Should I be jealous?” Patricia asks, and it takes me a moment to see that she's joking. “Sorry, go on.”
“Basically, they demanded that I work through the weekend. I barely bargained a night out tonight. Still . . . she expects me to be putting in at least eight or nine hours a day for the rest of the weekend too. I tried to speed it up by working around the clock since Wednesday, but—”
“But there's still so much to do,” Patricia finishes. “I know exactly what that’s like. If you do a good job, there's a boost for you. And if you don't, you'll be punished.”
I nod. “I'm sorry. I should have called and told you to stay in Silver Lake Falls, or at least warned you beforehand. But I wanted to see you so much. I was hoping that we could at least have this night.”
Instead of being angry, which I thought was a possibility, she realizes where I’m coming from. “No, no apologies needed. Come on, I’m taking you to bed,” Patricia says softly. “Get some rest, and we’ll talk in the morning.”
I yawn, unable to resist as she gently tugs me toward the bedroom. I stand like a zombie as she carefully strips me down to my boxers and guides me into bed. “Now, lie down,” she says, helping me under the sheets. I'm fading fast, but I still feel her climb in behind me. “I'll wake you in the morning for breakfast.”
I was more tired than I thought as I wake up, stretching and hearing the sounds of bacon sizzling in a pan in the kitchen. I look over at my alarm clock and see that it's just after six in the morning. I've been out for ten hours.
“Oh, my head,” I groan, lying back and rubbing my temples. “What happened?”
“It's called a caffeine overdose,” Patricia says as she comes in, holding a bowl of something that smells delicious. “I've done it once or twice, especially right after Whitney left for Europe. I was so broken up, I didn't want to sleep and drank coffee to stay awake.”
“So I'm an idiot then?” I ask, watching the auburn haired angel who saved me come over and sit down, still holding the bowl.
“You tried to be everything to everyone again, a trait that is both adorable and frustrating,” Patricia says with a smile.
I moan and close my eyes, then open them slowly. “If I didn’t say it last night, I’m sorry I wrecked your weekend.”
“You haven't, and you won't,” she says, stirring whatever sort of deliciousness I'm smelling in the bowl. “While you're at work, I can entertain myself, and then after work, we can either go out somewhere, or as I’ve learned it’s called . . . Netflix and chill?”
I smile and sit up slowly, taking a bite of the oatmeal she made. It's delicious and porky, and I chew slowly. “I thought I smelled bacon. How'd you get it?”
She smiles and gives me a look. “You have an all-night supermarket three blocks down from your building. We've got enough to easily get us through the weekend. I may be a small town girl, but I can handle three blocks in the big city.”
Chapter 14
Patricia
It was actually fun, being housewifely, and I wonder if Cory enjoyed it as much as I did.
&nb
sp; “Face it, you want to do it,” I mutter to myself as I wash myself in the shower. “You want to do it every day.”
And if that's a problem? I've gone over forty years without someone to be my partner, my equal, and someone who gives himself to me the same way I give myself to him. I want that, and there's no two ways around it. While Whitney and I were a team, mornings with her growing up were what most mothers face, chasing a sleeping child out of bed and through the shower enough to get some breakfast in her before bundling her off to school and me to work. I never had a morning routine that included cooking for or taking care of a man too, and it was . . . nice.
Getting dressed, I’m a bit worried though. Cory's been living in San Francisco for five years now. What if he's outgrown little old Silver Lake Falls? What if it's the sort of town he wants to visit once in a while, but doesn't want to live in anymore? Can I be a big city woman after living my whole life in small towns? The closest I've come is spending some time in Seattle shopping or going in for lectures when I was getting my degree.
There's no way to find out other than going out into the city and seeing if I can enjoy myself. I get dressed, just a simple pair of jeans and an imitation Jacksonville Wildcats jersey t-shirt. This may be Dons territory, but the ‘Wood’ and ‘51’ on the shirt make it treasured to me, and besides, it's baseball season. Nobody's going to get too upset.
I check my phone, pulling up a tourism guide to San Francisco, and decide to try out Union Square. It's close to Cory's office, and it looks like it'd be fun. Tucking my phone into my purse, I head off, grabbing a bus that says it's headed that direction.
For the rest of the morning, I'm buffeted, surprised at every turn by some of the wonderful things that make up San Francisco. The first thing I had to get used to was the number of unique people.
I see hippies, bikers, leather, denim, fur, and something that looks like fish scales as I walk around Union Square. The music performances that are just going on freely have every music style, from mariachi to something that I suspect is heavy metal in German or maybe Russian, to pop and anything in between. When I stop to watch a group of what I think are Japanese girls dressed in frilly black dresses but who are singing along to heavy metal music, one of them darts forward and pulls me into their performance area, encouraging me to dance with them. It's craziness, and I just go with it, abandoning myself, trying my best to keep up with their frantic, bouncy dancing and laughing myself pink afterward. One of the girls claps along with me when I try, screaming into her microphone. “Cho Kawaiiiiii!”
I have no idea what she means, but the crowd loves it, and as the song ends, the girls clap too as I wave off and back up. I bump by accident into a woman who laughs and helps me with my balance. “That looked like fun.”
I turn and nod, and I notice that she's Asian as well. “It was. Wish I knew what she meant when the girl yelled into the mike though.”
“It roughly means ‘super cute’ in Japanese,” the woman informs me, laughing. “Guess they like your dancing.”
“Really? Wow,” I muse, waving in thanks as the woman moves off. I continue moving around Union Square, and as the day goes on, I check out some of the shops in the surrounding streets. No matter what I look at, I think that there's no way that so many of these things would be acceptable in Silver Lake Falls, and especially at New Harvest. In fact, Bill Moss would probably be freaking out just from the bus ride alone.
Still, there's a vitality to the way the San Franciscans move about their lives. Whether it's the buttoned down people who look like they might be co-workers or maybe competitors for Cory to the most off the wall, eye-catching street performer, they seem to be moving with acceptance and happiness. They're free, more free than I've ever been.
When Cory buzzes my phone at four thirty, I'm relaxing, enjoying a two-man Shakespearean recreation, and I can’t believe how much time has passed.
Just about done. How are you doing?
Good. Just off Union Square. You mind if I come by since I’m already close?
Come on over. I'll send you the addy. How're you liking Union?
It's eye opening, and more fun than I thought it’d be.
Turns out that it's only a half-mile to the PacFran building. I go inside the lobby, where a security guard is at the desk, looking up from his monitors when I open the door.
He looks at me, professional but friendly enough. “Hi. Nice shirt. Wildcats fan?”
“My son-in-law plays for them. Uh, I'm supposed to meet Cory Dunham here. He works for PacFran.”
The guard hums, then checks his computer. “Okay, just a minute.”
The guard calls and talks to someone quickly and hangs up a moment later. “They’re just finishing up. He’ll be down in just a minute.”
“Okay.”
“So your son-in-law? Really?”
“Really. My daughter's married to Troy Wood.”
“Good linebacker. Glad he's in the Southern Division now. He was tearing the Dons a brand new one twice a year. Well, that and the trade made the Hawks suck ass.”
I chuckle and nod as the elevator opens and Cory comes out, wrapping me in a hug.
“I’ve been looking forward to this all day. It’s time for me to pamper you tonight,” he says, and we make our way to his car. “Quick stop before we go home though. I know where I can pick up some good lamb chops.”
“Where’d you learn how to make lamb chops?” I remark, thinking to the last time I had lamb. It was delicious, but I've gotten used to living cheap.
He starts his engine and glances back over, the warmth of his gaze sending tremors through my stomach. “I’ve picked up some stuff here and there. Heck, tonight, I plan on teaching you a few things.”
After an amazing dinner, Cory clears away the dishes and comes over to the table, where he holds out his hand. “Dance with me?”
I smile, letting him lead me over to an empty spot by the huge glass door that overlooks the city at night. We've both changed, and I'm wearing a red sleeveless blouse and black skirt, with my sexiest pair of high heels, four-inch open-toed sandals that I bought just for Cory to see me in. He’s changed into a dark gray suit, black shirt and no tie, and I feel like a princess as he and I start moving to the slow, sensual jazz.
I lean my head on his chest, listening to the strong beat of his heart. I know what’s going to happen next, and I want it. I want him, but most of all . . . I want to tell him I love him, even if I can't find the words. I've practiced them so many times today, and I wanted to tell him in the car, and during dinner . . . but I just can't get my mouth to open up enough to say the words.
Instead, I kiss him, my hunger for him reaching the breaking point. When his hand reaches down to squeeze my backside, I moan into his mouth, and I push his coat off, letting it drop to the floor, pulling his shirt from his pants and running my hands over his chest, feeling the firm muscle underneath the slightly textured black cotton. I'm hungry, fierce, and I yank on his shirt, buttons flying everywhere and exposing his skin to my hungry lips.
“Mmm, aggressive tonight,” Cory growls, scooping me up and carrying me into the bedroom.
“Something wrong with that?” I purr back, pulling my blouse off. I'd gone out shopping for the sexiest set of lingerie I could find before leaving Silver Lake Falls, and Cory's eyes open wide as he sees the lacy white cups of my bra. “You inspire me.”
“Nothing wrong with that—I could get used to it,” he teases as he gets off the bed, undoing his pants and pushing them down. He surprises me when I see that he's not wearing any underwear, and his cock springs forward, already hard and ready.
I bite my lip as I show him my panties, the first pair like this I've ever owned. I’ve been hoping that I don’t look completely ridiculous in them, but the way his eyes light up is all the answer I need.
He comes over and pulls me to him roughly, kissing me hard. His commanding hunger leaves me weak in the knees, wanting to please him, and I'm hotter, wetter than I though
t I could be after just taking off my clothes, and I clutch at his skin as our tongues battle for supremacy. We tumble to the mattress, kissing and caressing, his hands aren’t rough, but still demanding, guiding me where he wants me and not taking no for an answer. I'm thrilled, my heart hammering in my chest as he pushes me onto my back, his lips kissing down to my breasts. “Cory . . . yes.”
“Not yet,” he teases me, kissing over my stomach. My heart catches when he reaches the waistband of my panties, his eyes twinkling in the lamplight. “Lift your hips or I’m ripping these off.” He smirks.
I lift up, letting him slowly pull my panties off, his hands easing them off my legs and setting them aside. He wastes no time, his eyes showing a hunger for me that I haven’t seen before. Cory’s mouth is already hovering over my pussy, and he looks me in the eye, practically making me beg.
What are you waiting for? I think to myself.
Finally, his tongue reaches out and touches me, and I can't believe it. All thought is driven from me as tingly, amazing pleasure bursts from deep within me, my body coursing with joy and electricity. Cory licks softly at first, slowly tasting each fold of my skin, and I'm moaning, whispering his name, amazed at how good it feels.
“Cory, oh yes, oh, right there,” I repeat over and over as he shows me things I’ve only read about.
He draws his tongue between my lips, higher, higher . . . he touches my clit with the wet roughness of his tongue, and I gasp as a shock of pure, electric joy jolts through me. My toes curl and I throw my head back, unable to form words or even thoughts, lost in a storm of sensation. Cory's tongue circles my clit, then flicks over the tip, never touching the same way twice and each touch sending me to new levels of pleasure.
Tightness builds deep in my belly, and I know I'm going to come, but I'm scared. I've never felt something this big before, and I tense up, not sure if I can handle it.
Fourth Down Baby: A May-December Romance Page 11
