by Traci Hall
“You couldn’t tell somebody?”
“Nothing would change. It’s the good ol’ boy system.”
He ruffled his hair, something he did when nervous she was beginning to realize. “What did you do?”
“I went to work for myself, that’s what.” She sat with pride. Even broke as hell, it was better than being drooled on and treated like the coffee girl. Now she had judges listening to her with respect. She was earning a reputation, but it would take time.
“You obviously love it.”
“I thought I would,” she said, surprised by the words.
Joe sat back and folded his arms across his chest, as if he realized she’d just said something new.
K took a moment to examine the words, and what they meant. Did she want to change directions? “I want financial security. I thought I wanted that glamorous life for myself. But honestly, I’m finding that the wealthy just fight about different things. Things that don’t matter so much, say, to a kid on the street.”
“I met plenty of those,” Joe said. “They get to you.”
“Well.” She pushed her hair behind her ear, not wanting to go further with the conversation. It was too personal. Too close to home. “How about we get out of here?” She stood and leaned across the table to give Joe a direct kiss on the mouth, his lips firm beneath hers. “You, and me.”
*****
Joe couldn’t believe his damn luck. The hottest woman he’d ever met just propositioned him. And he had to say no.
Should he make a concession in his effort toward self-care? His hard-on said fuck it, just do it and enjoy the moment. His mind, and all the time in therapy, said slow your roll, buster. This one is different.
She kissed him again, pressing deeper and he, as a gentleman, had to return the kiss. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her and dragging her across the table by the shoulders to make sure she understood he was turned on. Really turned on.
He released her and she wobbled unsteadily on her feet, her eyes dazed.
“Are you drunk?” he asked.
“No.” She gave him a bemused glance and quickly gathered her purse and phone.
“Me either.”
“Good,” she said with a wink as she eyed his chest. “We can pick up a bottle of wine on the way to Rita’s, if you want.”
“I can’t.” This sucked.
“What?”
“Get wine.”
“Okay…” she said, her words trailing off as she narrowed her eyes.
“Or have sex with you.”
Her cheeks flamed and he put his hand out to touch her—of course, she pulled away.
“I want to,” he said, looking down at his straining shorts, “but I can’t.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“Doctor’s orders.”
“No sex is part of your behavior management program? That doesn’t sound healthy,” she said with disbelief. “You’re a man, with needs.”
“Don’t I know it? The thing is, K, I really like you. That’s the problem. If I didn’t like you so much, then we could just have sex and it would be fine.”
“You aren’t making any sense.”
“Trust me. I am ready to sob like a damn baby. But if I sleep with you, it will be making love, and I know it.” Joe felt the speeding of his heart, and took her hand to put it over his chest. “Feel that? It’s you, K.”
For a moment her eyes softened to a sable brown before she yanked her hand back. “You are messed up, Joe Porter. I don’t want any strings. I don’t want to make love, you hear me? But if you decide you want to have hot monkey sex on Rita’s couch? Call me.”
Joe watched her walk, gracefully, sexy as hell, out of Aruba and hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.
Chapter Seven
He raced after her. “Wait, Kay, I’ll drive you home.”
But she had her smart phone out, and had pulled up Google maps. “I can walk, thanks. I need to clear my head.”
“Kay.” He followed her a few feet before she turned around with clear agitation.
“What?” She tapped her foot, her phone in hand.
“I’m sorry.” He wished he had the words to explain, to make her understand.
“Don’t be.” The white halo of her hair shone in the moonlight. “You have your moral code and it just happens to differ than mine.”
“It isn’t about morality,” Joe explained. “Not right or wrong, but how I’m learning to view relationships. Believe it or not, it’s difficult to have a relationship with a grown woman when everyone thinks you’re a teenager. And you can’t date the teenagers, ‘cause that’s just wrong.”
She granted him a nod of her head. She was listening, anyway.
“Sex is important.” He’d had many short term hook-ups, just for the companionship, but women didn’t like coming in second to a job. He couldn’t blame them, but it made for a skewed version of life.
“It’s becoming less important by the second,” she said. Tap, tap, tap.
“But so is love. I felt something with you today that I’ve never felt before.”
She jerked back as if he’d pushed her. “People don’t fall in love at first sight. That is a ridiculous notion made for fairy tales, and I can’t believe that I’m hearing this come from your mouth, Mr. I Like to Shoot Shit.”
“Maybe.” He could see how she’d be in the courtroom. Speaking in clear, controlled tones as she drove a point home. “I bet you felt that zing of recognition on the beach when I pulled you from the water. And again in Rita’s apartment, before my phone rang.”
She drew in a quick breath and he knew he was right.
“I just think it’s worth exploring.”
“Well, now my offer for sex is off the table,” she said, her shoulders tight.
“Why?” Hopefully she wanted a relationship. With him. He’d help her put Paolo to rest so she could move forward into something new.
“I don’t want a relationship.” She shuddered. “No, no. And no.”
“Why not? Do you plan on being alone for the rest of your life?”
K’s stricken expression warned him he’d crossed some kind of line. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“That’s bullshit. People are supposed to be together.”
“Talk about bullshit!” She gestured at him with her phone. “We come into this world alone, and that’s how we leave it.”
“Like Rita?” He regretted the words the instant they left his mouth.
“Leave her out of it. You know what, Joe? Thank you for dinner. Thank you for pulling me out of the ocean and the ride to the hospital. But we obviously don’t see eye to eye.”
“I’m trying to tell you that I want to know you better. That you matter. Meet me for yoga on the beach tomorrow morning?” He couldn’t let her walk away without knowing if he’d see her again.
“Yoga on the beach?” She brought her hands out to her sides as if she thought he was certifiable.
Maybe he was, but damn, he wanted to be healthy. Mind and body for once in line. “I’ve got a yoga coach.”
“An instructor?”
“Yeah, whatever. Join me. See if you can release some of your anger against the sea goddess. It might help.”
“You know what might help, Joe?” She had her hands at her sides, her phone gleaming like the flash of diamonds in the streetlights.
“Hmm?”
“If we don’t see each other again.” She turned on that amazingly sexy heel, her lean runner’s body so freaking hot. Her attitude, her everything all belonged to him, he knew it. He claimed it. But he had to let her walk away.
*****
Since the condo was just two blocks down along the water, K reached it in ten minutes. The lights reflected off the ocean, and the moon seemed closer somehow than it did in Chicago. It was this place, being so close to the water, that made her so damn emotional. She shook it off and walked into the building.
She waved to the doorman, b
ut a different woman was sitting behind the desk. K introduced herself. “I’m K Aneko, Ms. Hartley’s attorney.”
“Patricia Pangia. Pleased to meet you. Any word? We’ve been worried sick. ‘Course when we call down to the hospital, they don’t tell us anything.”
“I saw Ms. Hartley, and she’s resting well. I’ll know more tomorrow about when she’s coming home.” She turned to the doorman. “She looked…fine.”
He tipped his hat toward her. “Ms. Hartley’s lived here a long time, so she’s like family. I’d be happy to take Princey out for his evening constitutional.”
“You would?” Once she had money, she’d tip him well. “Oh, thank you so much. What is your name again?”
“Luis Rodriguez.”
“Thank you, thank you. I will do it in the morning, though.”
“Why don’t you feed him, and I’ll come up in half an hour before I go home?”
Crap. Had to feed the pets. Made sense. “All right. Uh. I will be working from Ms. Hartley’s apartment for the next day or so.” She didn’t see herself leaving until her client was settled for at least twenty-four hours.
She was glad, too, that Joe hadn’t come back with her. It would have been awkward bringing him upstairs for an obvious booty call. And what was that nonsense about love? Men were not supposed to care about love.
But she’d sensed he wasn’t bullshitting her. All that therapy had to be going to his brain. Too bad.
His answering kiss had seared her mouth, and she could easily imagine ways they could pleasure one another with their mouths alone.
“Ms. Aneko?”
K realized the doorman was holding the elevator for her and shook her head free of one Joe Porter. She’d really wanted to trace all of his tattoos. With her tongue. Sigh.
“Thank you,” she said, walking across the marble tile floor. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”
She entered Rita’s apartment and heard simultaneous barking and squawking. She went to the bedroom first, standing back so that Princey wouldn’t trample her and get her only jeans dirty.
It was a good idea in theory, but the Saint Bernard was a lover and had her flat on her back with wet sloppy kisses in seconds.
“Get off,” she said, pushing at his heavy, furry chest. He backed up and she swiped her face with her forearm. “Ew. Just–ew.”
He made a chuffing noise and sat down, his tail wagging at hyper-speed.
“You don’t have to be so freaking happy, okay?”
But his bright black button eyes said that yes, he did. She got up and led the way to the kitchen, the dog on her heels. Literally. She turned around and pointed a finger at him. “These are vintage,” she said. “Not one scratch, get it?”
“Woof!”
She found the sealed plastic container of dog food, and scooped some in a bowl on the floor next to his water dish. He dug in like he hadn’t eaten in years, tossing the pink nuggets to the side as if they tasted bad.
Leaving him to it, K opened the slider door leading out to the balcony and the parrot. The bird eyed her up and down, then made a spitting noise.
“Nice,” K said. “I don’t suppose you’re the kind of bird that cusses like a pirate?”
“Pretty bird,” Lucky informed her, pecking at the wire on his cage. Then he looked pointedly at his empty food dish.
“Coming right up!” K never planned on running a zoo. The scent of the ocean, a mix of salt and sand and fish, came over the balcony on a swift breeze. She’d never planned on being so close to the water again either.
Disasters happened by the ocean. The force of it was too big. Too unpredictable.
Her entire childhood could be described that way. And yeah, maybe she was so into control because it made her feel safe. Joe’s honesty over their burgers amazed her. What kind of man confessed to therapy? Did yoga for anger management? She’d like to see him do some downward dog, if he ever snapped out of his impressive self-control.
Or maybe they could practice some tantric yoga…she shook her head and filled the bird’s dish. That done, she set up her computer on the coffee table, which Joe had thoughtfully cleared earlier. She went to the fridge for baking soda and made a paste for the wine stain on the throw rug. By the time she was finished with that, she’d connected to the internet.
Luis knocked on the door, announcing himself.
“Come in,” she called. “You’re just in time to give me the password.”
He laughed and told her. Princey bounded toward him, playing with him in a familiar game of tug and pull on Luis’ jacket.
“I really do appreciate you taking him out. It’s been a long day, and I just realized how tired I am.”
“Kick those heels off, and pour yourself some wine,” Luis suggested. “Rita’s got a nice selection, and she’s very generous.” He tipped his hat, and he and Princey left.
K stared at her incoming mail, not really reading what was there. Joe distracted her. Why didn’t he just want to have sex? She’d felt his hard length beneath her lap and knew he desired her. Pele knew she desired him. Pele?
She got to her feet. All of this talk and salt air was bringing up memories better left buried on the island. Yes, she’d once prayed to the various gods and goddesses that supposedly blessed the Hawaiian people. She’d been abandoned by them, and that realization hurt as much as accepting that her parents would never be what she needed. And that Paolo was never coming back.
Who could she count on? Herself, just like she told Joe. She was walking this road alone. Sometimes she wanted company, but not the forever kind. After all, if it existed, she’d be out of a job.
His strength in the ocean today came to mind. She wondered if he’d be the type of man who would stand by a woman’s side as an equal.
He was the one that fought for justice, sacrificing his youth to getting drugs off the streets and out of schools. Her heart sputtered to life but she quickly doused the beginning ember. She refused to believe that love was real. And within twenty-four hours? No.
She went into the kitchen and poured a glass of wine, something white and crisp to keep her awake while she rescheduled the next few days.
Her phone dinged, signaling an incoming text. Jamal’s face lit up the screen, his smile wide and his eyes clear, and bright.
She’d taken that picture after he’d been in Foster House for a month. Sober. Working out and trying to study, though it was hard for him. His basic education ended around the fifth grade level and he was sixteen.
There was a reason she appreciated Joe’s sacrifice. Men like him lessened the risk to boys like Jamal. He’d tried to steal her wallet one night when she was walking home from the train. His voice had shaken as he asked for the money.
K gave it to him, though it wasn’t much. Ten bucks. And then she offered to buy him dinner at a local diner, where she used her credit card to pay for the meal. He’d been robbing stores, breaking in for food and stuff he could hawk at the pawnshop. She was the first person he’d tried to steal from.
And if she had anything to say about it, the last one. “What’s up, Jamal?” K liked the voice to text feature on her phone so she could have her hands free.
Not much. When you coming back?
She’d told the kids at the center that she’d buy them a television and to start checking around for the best sales. They had an old TV now that didn’t really work, and a used game system that had seen better days. It would break their hearts if she didn’t come back with the goods.
“Turns out that there is some work I need to take care of while I’m here. Might be a few days.”
You’ll be back Monday?
“Of course, Jamal. I know how important it is.” Even if I have to walk.
Cya
Short and sweet, she thought.
She called the hospital and asked for Rita’s room.
A woman answered. “Nurse’s station.”
“Hi. This is K Aneko. How is Rita Hartley doing?”
Th
ere was a moment of silence and K imagined the woman was checking the mysterious clipboard. “Ah, yes. She’s sleeping. They had to pump her stomach, so she was a little sore. No dinner, it says.”
K bowed her head. “Thank you. I’ll be in, in the morning.”
“Suit yourself,” the nurse said. “But I’ve got a note to call you with any information, or change. No need to come unless she’s awake.”
“Oh,” K said. “Double thanks. Have a nice night.”
She hung up as Princey raced into the apartment and jumped onto the couch next to her, giving her cheek a long lick. He had a piece of grass stuck on the black of his nose.
“You’re sort of adorable,” she told him, getting up to see what happened to Luis. The doorman saw her coming and raced back for the open elevator door.
“Got him?” he said. “My shift is over. Have a nice evening, now.”
She waved her thanks and went back into the apartment, feeling mellow and vulnerable and wishing she had someone to talk to. Someone like Joe.
K refilled her wine glass and sat down in front of her laptop, realizing that the dog was no longer on the couch, but sprawled in front of the picture window by the balcony.
“Princey, what do you have in your mouth?” She shot up, all mellow feelings gone. “Give me my shoe!”
Chapter Eight
K got up at six in the morning, like clockwork. It was so ingrained that she didn’t even need an alarm. She couldn’t sleep on the lumpy couch, and she couldn’t sleep in Rita’s room (it seemed awkward since she really didn’t know the woman) so she slept in the guest bedroom with Princey.
The dog was delighted to have a buddy, and she was actually glad for the company.
“Don’t get used to it,” she told him. She’d felt so bad for yelling at him after he ate a corner of her heel that she let him snuggle with her. He’d snored softly, but kept away the menehune hiding in the shadows of the strange apartment. Hawaiian leprechauns were how the mischievous dwarves were described, but she’d been terrified of them as a child.
It seemed fitting that they’d visited her here. By the ocean. All of her childhood demons.
