Wet

by Ruth Clampett

“Hot damn, the prince is on his knees! Is this where he peels off her bottoms?”

  I clear my throat since my voice is getting rough. “Yes, it is. And when he’s done and she’s completely bare, she’s even more beautiful than he imagined.”

  Elle’s hands grip the edge of her blanket.

  “He drags his fingertips over her hips. His hands cup her ass as he imagines what it would be like to taste her.”

  Elle runs her hands up along her neck. “Yes, tasting . . . lots of tasting! I want that,” she whispers.

  I immediately get distracted imagining tasting Elle. Hot damn.

  “Hey, wait a minute!” Elle says, her eyes grow wide with a suspicious look. “Are you sure you aren’t secretly a romance writer? This is starting to sound like one of my books.”

  I arch my brow at her. “Did you forget that I’ve read a couple of your books? Believe me, I wouldn’t have come up with this stuff on my own. I’m just tailoring it to our story and with no freaking words like moist folds.”

  “Oh my God, Paul! You’re so awesome. Well, whatever inspired this . . . don’t stop now. This story is h-o-t, hot!”

  “Okay, let’s see where was I before I was rudely interrupted?”

  “You had her naked and all worked up. Is he naked, too?”

  I pretend smack her thigh. “Be patient!”

  I focus again, picturing the couple in front of the shower. It’s not a coincidence that the naked girl looks exactly like Elle. I clear my throat to continue.

  “He leads her to the shower and he’s burning up with want for her.”

  “She wants him, too!” Elle cries out.

  I nod, trying not to laugh at her outbursts. “He turns on the shower and leads her under the spray of the water, before stepping back to take off his clothes.”

  “Oh yeah . . .” Elle purrs.

  “Her gaze follows his hands as he pushes off his pants.”

  Elle fist-pumps the air. “The anaconda is finally free and it’s huge!”

  My head drops to hide my amusement. I haven’t seen her enjoy anything this much in weeks. I better read some more of that crazy shit since I sense this isn’t the last sexy bedtime story I’ll be telling Elle.

  “She stands waiting for him as the water cascades over her lush breasts.”

  “Lush?” she asks with a snicker.

  I frown. “You don’t like lush? So what kind of breasts are we talking about: plush, perky, pillowy?”

  “Ewww! What do pillowy boobs look like?” she squeals.

  I fold my arms over my chest and roll my eyes.

  “Okay . . . let’s stick with lush. Go on, go on!” she says as she cups her breasts with her hands and squeezes.

  I let out a huff. “He pulls her forcefully into his arms, desperate to have his lips pressed against hers.”

  “Oh my God! Can you imagine the epic kiss? The tongue action!”

  “Well, yeah. I’m about to tell you about the tangling of tongues.”

  “I can already feel it . . . from my head to the tips of my toes, and most distinctly between my legs.”

  “Well why don’t you tell me about the epic kiss,” I tease.

  “I’m not a writer like you evidently are, but if I were her I can imagine what it would be like to be held in your strong arms while the water poured over us. And your kiss would be a claim, marking me as yours. Your kiss would be a proclamation that I was not just your present, but your past, and future too.”

  My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. “Wow, poetic, Elle. You’ve sure read a lot of that stuff. Hell, we could write it together.”

  She grins. “See! You’ve inspired me.”

  “So keep going.”

  As she gets a faraway look I can suddenly see how exhausted she is. Reaching out, she grabs my hand and squeezes it before letting out a long sigh.

  “You look really tired. Maybe this is too much?”

  “Actually, you’re right. I think this is all I can handle tonight. Besides I want to go to sleep with the image of that epic kiss.”

  “Are you sure? I was getting ready to really amp it up.”

  “I know, and this isn’t the end of our story. We’ll continue it next time when I’m fully awake and ready for all of your sexiness.”

  “I know. The sexiness can be overwhelming.” I wink at her.

  Her expression suddenly gets serious.

  “What’s going on inside that pretty head of yours?”

  “Thank you for tonight.”

  I shrug. “It was no big deal. Besides, I’ve had fun.”

  “But you’re always doing stuff for me, and what do you get out of it? You’re the least selfish person I know.”

  “You’re making me sound like a saint. Believe me, I’m not. I just like hanging out with you. We have fun.”

  “We do,” she agrees but still seems unconvinced.

  “So enough about how amazing I am. I’m going to head out before you light a candle for me or something.”

  She studies me for several long seconds and then finally nods.

  “Okay, but mark my word, Paul. Someday I’m going to do something extraordinary for you. I have no idea what it is yet, but it’s going to be grand.”

  “Is that so? Why?”

  “Because you deserve all the good things. You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”

  “I think you’re overstating things but thank you anyway. You’re pretty easy to be good to.”

  Her eyes go soft and glaze over.

  I stand up because I don’t want her to cry. I can tell her hormones are on high alert and she needs her sleep. “So you ready to crash?”

  She nestles down lower under the covers, yawns, and nods.

  I lean over and kiss her on the forehead. “Sleep, princess. I’ll check in with you tomorrow from Orange County.”

  She winks. “Goodnight, Prince Paul.”

  The entire friggin’ drive to Orange County I’m wondering what to do about Elle. She’s on my mind all the time now and I sure as hell don’t treat her like ‘just a friend.’ She has to wonder what I’m up to, and why I can’t seem to leave her alone. But more than anything I wonder if I should tell her that I’m crazy about her. Well, not just crazy for her, I’m crazy in love with her.

  Then I know that sharing my feelings could just freak her out considering all she’s facing with the baby and the Viking harassing her. She needs my support and friendship right now more than anything. Plus she’s said several times that she has no intention of falling in love with anyone, so am I ready for a one-way conversation on that topic? If I freak her out with my declaration she may just push me away. I can’t risk that. In my book an unfulfilled heart is better than a broken one.

  By the time I get to the Newport Beach library I’m relieved to have something else to focus on. There’s a series of meetings planned for the day because thanks to bureaucracy, anything that involves the city planning is a hundred times more complicated than independent projects.

  I check in with Elle after lunch, right before the meeting with the board, and her spirits are good.

  “See, aren’t you glad you stayed home and rested?” I say.

  “Actually I had to go to the convention center to deal with some outstanding issues but I’m about to head home, I swear.”

  Oh, this woman.

  I’m careful not to chastise her. “Well, if you’re working at least you sound happy about it.”

  “I’m happy because I just met someone who could change my life.”

  My inner freak-out makes my whole body seize up. She met someone? At the fucking convention center? I clench my fist and focus on trying to keep my voice regulated. “Yeah, who was that?”

  “Her name is Donna and she runs one of the top nanny agencies in L.A.”

  I let out my breath in a wave of relief.

  “Nanny agency? That’s an auspicious meeting.”

  “I’ll say. We started chatting at the snack stand, and you aren’t going to be
lieve it, Paul, but she had a similar story to mine. She had her kid out of wedlock and was at a loss how to manage everything. She ended up leaving her corporate job to start the agency so she would have more flexibility with her child.”

  “All this was revealed at a snack stand?” I ask, not hiding the marvel in my voice.

  “We’re women, Paul, that’s what we do.”

  “Well, that’s awesome.”

  “So she has a soft spot for women like me. We really hit it off and she said she will send me her best people when I’m ready to hire someone.”

  “Wow, that’s terrific.”

  “How’s your day going?” she asks.

  “It’s about what I expected. Everyone is trying to water down the design by committee. What is it about palm trees? Everyone wants palm trees. Can we get past the cliché and move on?”

  “You don’t like palm trees?” she asks.

  “It’s not that, they’re fine. It’s just that there are other trees that deserve a chance in Southern California, don’t you think?”

  “If you say so. You’re my landscape designer guy.”

  “Ha! You didn’t call me your sprinkler man. I’ve gotten a promotion in your mind.”

  “Don’t fool yourself. You were already at the top of the heap.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE HIGH DIVE

  I’m in my car just a few blocks from finally getting on the freeway to head home when my phone vibrates. It’s Elle. I pull over to dig my headset out of the glove compartment and by the time it’s on, her call’s gone to voicemail. I’m about to call her back when my phone rings again. It’s not Elle’s style to call repeatedly, something must be wrong.

  “Elle?” I ask.

  There’s a muffled sound and then what sounds like a sob.

  “Elle? What happened?”

  I barely recognize her voice it’s so weak. “I got served papers.”

  I’m tempted to pull over again as I tightly grip the steering well. “Served by who?”

  “They’re from Stephan’s lawyer.”

  “When did this happen? You were on top of the world just a few hours ago.”

  “I know,” she wails. “The guy rang the bell just minutes after I got home. He must have been outside waiting for me. What do I do Paul?”

  I’m trying to merge on the freeway and I’m going too fast. I have an overwhelming urge to get to her, but with the rush hour traffic this could take a couple of hours. I keep glancing at my car’s clock. “What did the paperwork say?”

  I hear the rustle of papers and sniffles. “It’s a summons and a complaint.”

  “Lowlife fucker,” I growl.

  She starts crying again and I feel like the raw flesh of my heart is being torn apart. “What Elle?”

  “He’s demanding a paternity test. I just looked it up and the kind he’s demanding is very invasive, and there’s a chance of miscarriage from the procedure.”

  “Well, fuck that. I won’t allow it!”

  Elle is gracious enough not to point out that as the pseudo-uncle, I have no claim on what happens with the baby.

  “And if paternity is established he wants partial custody.”

  “Oh for God’s sake.” I keep gunning the car’s engine I’m so full of fury. What will a clean-freak asshole do with a baby? It’s unbearable for me to think of him alone with the kid for ten minutes, let alone for days at a time.

  “What am I going to do, Paul?”

  “We’re going to fight it, that’s what!”

  “I can’t ask you to take that on with me,” she says with the most strength I’ve heard in her voice since she called.

  “You didn’t ask me. It’s what I want so let’s not even waste our energy talking about it. I’m all in.”

  She cries harder and I can hear everything in her tears: she loves this baby and she’s afraid of the baby’s father. I have to protect her, and I’ll do anything to make sure the two of them are safe. It’s all that matters to me.

  “Where are you? Are you almost home? What if he comes by here?” she whispers.

  “Damn. I wish I were almost home. I’m still at least an hour or two away. Is there someone you can call?”

  “No. You and your family are the only ones who know about it.”

  “I’m calling Trisha.”

  “What?” she asks, her voice laced with disbelief.

  “Believe me, there is no one on Earth you want on your side in a crisis more than my sister. I don’t know if it’s the firefighter training or what, but she will stop at nothing to make sure you’re safe.”

  “I don’t know,” Elle whispers.

  “And her best friend is a top lawyer. Trust me. Okay?”

  “I guess so.”

  “He what the fuck, what?” Trisha barks into the phone.

  “Exactly. He tells her he wants nothing to do with it and now he’s trying to take control.”

  “Well, we aren’t putting up with that.”

  I smile. I knew she’d be like this. My sister may not be good for much, but she counts for two people in the tough times. She didn’t even hesitate when I asked her to go check up on Elle until I make it back to L.A.

  “And call Jeanine, will you?” I ask. Her best friend, Jeanine the lawyer, is tough as nails like Trisha. She helped me once when a girl I’d hooked up with started harassing me.

  “As soon as we end this call,” she says, her tone all business.

  I let out a breath of relief. “Good. I’ll call you to check up in an hour. Meanwhile call me if anything else comes up.”

  “Will do.”

  “Thanks, Trisha. I owe you.”

  “Just get back safe,” she says.

  The last thing I remember clearly before the bottom fell out was a call from Trisha when I was inching along the fucking 5 freeway due to an accident in Downey. My stomach was already churning but Trisha’s tone took everything down a notch darker.

  “Did you know Elle’s been cramping since yesterday?”

  “No. What does that mean?”

  “Hard to say yet, but I’m pretty sure it’s not good. I’ve been trying to keep her calm but I just made her call her doctor. She’s on with her now.”

  “Is something wrong with the baby?”

  “I hope not.”

  I don’t like her ambiguous answer. Why the fuck did today have to be the day I was in Orange County? I feel so hopeless. “What can I do?”

  “Just keep your focus and get here as soon as possible. Meanwhile I’ve faxed the legal documents to Jeanine for her to review them. If I need to take Elle in to be checked I’ll let you know so you can meet us there.”

  A surge of emotion wells up in me. Elle can’t lose the baby. She just can’t. “I’m going to kill that fucker for upsetting her,” I rage.

  “Paul,” my sister snaps at me.

  “I mean who the fuck does he think he is?”

  “Paul!” she practically yells.

  “What?”

  “You need to calm your ass down, and for God’s sake don’t bring any of this anger home. She needs us calm and focused. You hear me?”

  She’s right. I’ve never appreciated Trisha more. “Yeah. I’ll be calm for Elle. I promise.”

  I’m still on the 5 approaching Griffith Park, and close to the 134 when I get a text from Trisha to meet them at a women’s clinic on Van Nuys Boulevard. She instructs me to call her once I park and she’ll meet me outside. I’m desperate for some shred of hope to hold on to and her text sure as hell didn’t give it to me.

  When I finally park and get out of the car, my hands are trembling as I text Trisha. I’d been praying the entire last endless leg of my journey, but when I see the drawn look on Trisha’s face I realize that God must not have heard me.

  She walks straight up to me and grabs my forearm. Her sad eyes look even darker with the mascara smears.

  “It’s happening fast,” she says.

  I swallow hard, forcing down the surge of des
pair. “She’s losing the baby.”

  Trisha nods as her grip on my arm tightens.

  I fold over, my palms push against my knees to keep me from toppling over. A sharp shudder runs through me.

  “No.” I don’t even recognize my voice. It sounds like it’s been dragged against asphalt.

  Her hand rests on my upper back. “I’m so sorry, Paul.”

  I take a sharp breath at Trisha’s tenderness. The baby may not be my biological kid, but I realize that it isn’t just my parents who understand what Elle and her baby had come to mean to me.

  I stand back up and look at Trisha. “Elle?”

  “It’s hit her hard, Paul. That’s why I wanted to get to you before you see her. She needs you to be strong.”

  “And there’s nothing they can do?”

  Trisha shakes her head. “It’s common in early pregnancies, up to twenty percent miscarry. There are various reasons why it happens.”

  My hands curl up into fists. “It’s because of that fucking Stephan.”

  “The dad?”

  I nod, feeling like my grimace is permanently etched across my face. I’ve never had a burning desire to see someone’s demise, but I have it now. If I didn’t know that Elle was inside this building and needed me, I’d probably go after him tonight.

  Trisha sighs. “Well I’m sure all the stress he caused didn’t help anything, but these early miscarriages are usually caused by a chromosomal abnormality.”

  I start to pace back and forth trying to get my bearings. I can’t even believe this is happening. Of all of the times I’ve thought of Elle and the baby, this scenario never crossed my mind.

  “I don’t want to hear about any of that, Trisha. I just need to see her. Can you show me where she is?”

  She turns and walks toward the door, and when she realizes I haven’t followed she stops and turns. There’s a measured look between us, as if she knows that once I see Elle my heart will be battered, but I need to pull myself together. I nod and walk toward her, as the fragments of the future I was reaching for fall behind me.

  When I step into her private room the first thing I notice is the quiet stillness. There are no monitors beeping, no hopeful chatter of visiting family, just the silence of loss. Elle is turned on her side away from me and I try to imagine what I can possibly say to her.