My Favorite Souvenir

by Ward, Penelope

  Hazel’s lips parted, and she moved within an inch or two of my face. Her voice was breathy. “Here?”

  I slid my hand around to her neck and pulled her to me, planting my lips over hers. Neither of us wasted any time as our tongues eagerly collided. Hazel had been sitting sideways on my lap, and she shifted to straddle me. Her breasts pushed against my chest, and it felt like we couldn’t get close enough. I tilted my head and deepened the kiss, grabbing her ass with two hands and tugging her even closer. Hazel moaned into my mouth when she landed right on top of my raging hard on. Not unlike its owner, my dick had revved from zero to ninety in the span of thirty seconds from touching this woman.

  I wanted nothing more than to be inside her, but I wasn’t sure where her head was. As much as I wanted it, she needed to be sure of her decision. Though, when she threaded her hands into my hair, yanked, and ground down onto my cock, I got the feeling she was telling me exactly what she was in the mood for.

  Our kiss broke with a pant. “Fuck.” I leaned my forehead against hers. “This isn’t easy, Hazel.”

  She grinned. “No, it’s most definitely hard.”

  I chuckled and dropped my head. “Tell me what you want? Is it okay that I kiss you?”

  She groaned. “I want you so badly, Matteo.” She scooted back on my lap and looked down. Biting her lip, she said, “I think I left a little evidence of that on your pants.”

  Fuck. Sure enough, when my eyes dropped, I found a big wet spot right over the bulge in my jeans. Hazel didn’t have any pants on under my long T-shirt. I raked a hand through my hair. “That’s the fucking hottest thing I’ve seen in a long time. Don’t be surprised if I never wash these pants again. I’m not ashamed to say, I may even sniff them a time or two after you leave me.”

  Hazel giggled, and her cheeks turned pink.

  The towel she had wrapped around her head had fallen off while we’d made out, and her wet hair had tumbled down all over the place. I pushed a lock of it behind her ear and kissed her lips gently once more. “Why don’t we have this conversation when we aren’t in the heat of the moment? That way we’re more likely to be honest with ourselves about where we want to take things.”

  She smiled. “Okay.”

  “I’m going to go take a shower,” I said.

  “But you already took one.”

  “Apparently, I need to wash some parts again.” I winked. “Hope you left your face cream in the bathroom.”

  Chapter 26

  * * *

  Matteo

  That afternoon, I figured there was no rush going to the supermarket since we were meeting my parents for dinner. The Seattle sky was blue for a change, so it turned out to be the perfect day to show Hazel some of the local sights.

  We went to the Space Needle, took a ride on the Seattle Center Monorail, and then on our way back, headed over to Pike Place Market. Hazel had brought her camera, and I wanted to show her the fish market where they threw the fish around before they wrapped them for customers. I figured it would make for a fun photo op.

  While we both had a good time sightseeing, the highlight of my day was really just walking around freely, holding my girl’s hand. Our road trip had been the trip of a lifetime, but we were Milo and Maddie back then. And in New York, we had to sneak around like we were doing something wrong. So being out and about, our fingers laced while I showed Hazel my city, getting to watch her smile as she saw things for the first time, was about the best afternoon I could’ve asked for.

  Hazel loved the fish market and snapped at least a hundred pictures of the workers throwing gigantic mackerel and cod. When she was done, I grabbed us two large coffees and told her I knew the perfect spot to have the conversation we’d started this morning. I walked us a few blocks, around the perimeter of Pike Place Market and down a quiet alley to the backside of some of the fish stores. One store had at least fifty milk crates stacked up behind their door, and next to them was a pungent-smelling dumpster. I grabbed two of the stacked milk crates from the pile and set them facing each other on the side of the foul steel container.

  I motioned for her to sit. “Here we go. This is the place. Have a seat.”

  Hazel’s face wrinkled up. “You want to sit and have our coffee here?”

  “I do. I can’t think of a more perfect location.”

  She laughed. “But it stinks!”

  I sat down on one of the crates. “My point exactly. We’re about to have a conversation about sex. I figure if anything can keep our heads screwed on straight and our libidos in check, it’s sitting next to this thing.”

  Hazel seemed unsure whether I was kidding or not, but when I crossed one leg over the other and settled onto my milk crate, sipping my coffee, her eyebrows perked. “Oh my God, you’re not joking, are you?”

  I shook my head. “I take my discussions about fucking you very seriously. Now take a seat, and let’s get this over with before we both pass out from the fumes.”

  Hazel looked at me like I was nuts, but the smile never left her face. Eventually, she pulled the other crate closer to me and sat. Sipping her coffee, she said, “Okay, let’s talk about sex, Mr. Duncan.”

  Seriously? I might’ve started to get hard just hearing her say the damn word sex. And I really liked her calling me Mr. Duncan. Note to self, we need to play schoolteacher and student at some point.

  I shook my head. Who the hell knew sitting in an alley with the rancid smell of dead fish surrounding us wouldn’t keep my horny dick in check?

  Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and forced myself to focus. “Yes, let’s talk about sex. I love it, and I’d like nothing more than to have it with you. Missionary, doggy style, you beneath me, riding me, reverse cowboy, spooning, against the wall, or snow angel. I’d like to have it all.”

  She laughed. “Snow angel? What’s that?”

  I wiggled my brows. “Maybe I’ll show you after this conversation.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Oh my God!”

  I looked behind me to my right and left, assuming she’d probably just seen a rat run by. “What? What’s the matter?”

  Hazel covered her mouth. “I’m actually getting turned on next to a dumpster full of dead fish.”

  I chuckled. “Oh, yeah. That. I know the feeling.”

  Hazel sighed. “But seriously, Matteo. I want you so much it hurts. My desire for you has never been the problem. I’ve been unable to stop thinking dirty thoughts about you since the first night we became the Hookers. And that was even before I knew what an amazing person you are on the inside, too.”

  I reached forward and took her hand. “I feel the exact same way. That’s why yesterday, when you asked me if I slept with Carina while I was home before I went to New York, I thought you must not really understand how I feel about you. A gorgeous woman could’ve shown up at my door completely naked and thrown herself at me, saying all she wanted was a one-night stand, and still nothing would’ve happened. You know why?”

  “Why?”

  I squeezed her hand. “Because she’s not you, babe.”

  Hazel smiled, but then she looked down at her hands for a moment. “The night of Brady’s birthday, he kissed me.”

  My heart sank into my stomach. Seeing the look on my face, Hazel shook her head.

  “Well, we didn’t really kiss. It was more like he tried to kiss me. I pushed him off, but he tried again.”

  My jaw clenched so tight, I thought I might crack a molar. “Are you saying he forced himself on you? Because that’s not fucking okay. I don’t give a shit if you’re mine or not, I’ll rip his damn heart out.”

  Hazel took my other hand and squeezed both. “It wasn’t like that. At least it didn’t get that far. I told him to stop, and I left.”

  I got up and started to pace. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me any of this when we were in New York?”

  “Because there was no reason to upset you. I’d handled it, and Brady… Well, it was more my fault than his. I’d gone to his house on h
is birthday, and we were getting along well. He just read the situation wrong. After four years of being together, you grow a certain level of comfort at reading the signs, and it’s not like you ask permission anymore. Even though we weren’t together, he thought it was okay. And when I said no, I guess he thought I just needed a little convincing. I’ll be honest, over the years there were a few times when I was tired or not in the mood, and he’d just pushed a little, and I’d changed my mind. So I think in his head, that’s what was going on. Only my mind was somewhere else altogether.”

  I dragged a hand through my hair and kept walking back and forth. I wasn’t normally a violent person, but the rage I felt inside as I pictured what had gone down between the two of them made me want to put my fist through the side of the steel dumpster.

  Hazel stood and walked into my path, halting my pacing. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Hazel, he had no right to touch you, especially not more than once. I don’t give a shit how you justify it, that is not okay.”

  In my fury, I’d gotten up and started to lose my shit, but I hadn’t stopped to really look at Hazel. Seeing her face now, my heart broke. Her eyes were rimmed with tears.

  I cupped her cheeks in my hands. “Baby, please don’t cry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

  She covered my hands with hers and shook her head, sniffling. “This came out all wrong. I didn’t mean to bring up what happened with Brady to upset you. I told you because I was trying to explain that I couldn’t kiss another man, not even a man I was once supposed to marry, even when it was his birthday, Matteo.”

  I pulled her into my chest and wrapped her in a hug. I’d been holding back on taking things any further partly out of some old allegiance to my friend—a friend who cheated on his fiancée, broke her heart when he dumped her, and then tried to force himself on her when he decided he was done fucking around with the other woman.

  But you know what? This was the last straw. Regardless of my feelings for Hazel, Brady wasn’t the type of guy I needed as a friend. And I was an idiot for not using the little time I had with the woman I loved to try to make her mine.

  I looked into Hazel’s eyes. “Listen, I’m going to make this conversation very simple. I want you. I want to walk around town holding your hand, whether that’s in New Orleans or Seattle or New York City. I want your mud masks in our bathroom and your smiles all over our walls. I want you in my bed and underneath me—or on top if you want. I’m not holding back anymore. So when you’re ready, just say the word.”

  We stared into each other’s eyes for a long time. Eventually, Hazel nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  She smiled. “Except what’s the word?”

  My forehead wrinkled. “The word?”

  “You said I just had to say the word when I’m ready. Well, what’s the magic word?”

  I kissed her forehead. “How about hooker? I think that’s fitting, don’t you?”

  She laughed and wrapped her arms around me. “Thank you for being you, Matteo.”

  I chuckled. “No problem, considering I don’t know how to be anyone else.”

  Hazel looked over at the dumpster. Her adorable nose wrinkled. “Do you think we can get out of here now?”

  • • •

  “So, how’s your hotel?” I asked my father, who sat across from me.

  We’d met my parents at Homer’s, a restaurant I’d taken them to last year when they’d visited.

  “Good. I’m happy because they get my sports stations. Your mother’s happy because she found two things to complain about already.”

  My mother had been looking down at the menu. She took off her reading glasses. “The bottled water in the room was opened. Who knows what someone could have put in there. The world is a crazy place these days. And the blinds didn’t close all the way. Your father makes me out to be some sort of complainer, but really I’m not. I’m just—”

  My father spoke over her, finishing her sentence. “Particular. We know, Marianne. You’re just particular, not a complainer.”

  I chuckled. My parents never changed.

  Leaning over to Hazel, I asked, “What are you going to order?”

  “I can’t decide. So many things look good.”

  My eyes dropped to her lips. “I know what I want.”

  Her eyes sparkled, and she turned back to her menu to hide her smirk.

  “What about you, Mrs. Duncan?” Hazel asked. “What are you going to get?”

  My mother leaned forward and wrinkled her nose. “I was thinking of getting the fish, but there’s a weird smell in here. It’s faint, but I caught it while we were huddled in the corner waiting for our table. Smells like maybe the mackerel went bad.”

  I put down the menu and folded my hands. “Oh, no. That’s just Hazel. She smells like dead fish.”

  Hazel’s eyes widened. “What?”

  I shrugged. “You don’t smell it?”

  “I smelled something earlier. A few times, actually. But I’d figured the smell was stuck in my nose. You think I smell?”

  I leaned to her and sniffed twice. “Yep. Dead mackerel.” I smiled at my mother. “Good guess, Mom.”

  My mother looked horrified, while I found the entire thing amusing as hell. Hazel was fun to screw with.

  She quietly lifted her sweater and took a big whiff. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers as she realized the smell really was coming from her.

  Completely freaked out, she tried to explain to my parents. “I…I don’t usually smell like fish. We went to the fish market earlier today. This sweater is a synthetic blend, and I guess it picked up some of the smell when I was sitting next to the fish dumpster.”

  My mother’s brows lifted. “You sat next to the fish dumpster?”

  I could barely contain my smile. This shit was getting even funnier by the minute.

  “Yes. I did,” Hazel said. “Your son thought it would be a good place to have our coffee.”

  Deciding I should probably help Hazel out, I leaned across the table to my mom and nodded. “We were talking about sex.”

  My mother blinked a few times, pursed her lips, and picked the menu back up. I looked over at my dad, but he just chuckled and hid his face behind his menu.

  Hazel, on the other hand, wasn’t too amused. “Thank you for telling me I smelled.”

  I shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me any.”

  “Well, it bothers me!”

  I leaned close and lifted my head in the air showing her my neck. “How about me? Do I smell?”

  She sniffed. “You smell fine.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, I thought it was just you.”

  Hazel glared at me, but eventually she gave in and started to laugh. “I’m going to kill you later,” she whispered.

  I winked. “I look forward to it.”

  After that, my mom and Hazel got into a long discussion about whether the expense of truffle oil was worth it or not, and then Hazel mentioned she had a pet rabbit, and my mother lit up like I’d never seen her before. Apparently Mom had had a pet rabbit when she was a little girl, something I’d never known. The two of them exchanged half a dozen stories, and my mother told my father she wanted to get a pet rabbit when she got home so she could walk it on a leash, too. All in all, by the time the check came, my mom had really taken a shine to my girl.

  “How long are you in town for, sweetheart?” she asked Hazel.

  “Just a few days.”

  “And then what?”

  Hazel and I looked at each other, and our faces fell. Without knowing it, my mother had just asked the magic question. And then what?

  “We haven’t figured that out yet, Mrs. Duncan.”

  My mom reached across the table and patted Hazel’s hand. “I have a good feeling about you and my son, Hazel, and please, call me Marianne.”

  “Thank you, Marianne.”

  Chapter 27

  * * *

  Hazel

  I couldn’t bel
ieve my final day in Seattle had arrived. The thought of leaving Matteo made me sick, but I needed to go home to Connecticut and face the music—whatever that even meant at this point. I’d been avoiding giving Brady any specifics as to my whereabouts. This obviously couldn’t continue forever.

  While spending the past few days together had only solidified my bond with Matteo, neither of us had broached the subject of how the hell we were going to handle Brady or what would happen in general after I returned to Connecticut. We didn’t want to waste this precious time talking about the inevitable conflict looming.

  For our last night, Matteo took me to an open mic event at a local coffee place. With its deep, worn-leather couches and gritty air, it was everything I’d ever imagined a Seattle coffeehouse to be. They also had the best, most robust espresso I’d ever tasted.

  Matteo said he’d always wanted to perform here but had never had the guts in the years since Zoe’s passing. This was his third performance in the short time I’d known him, and it gave me so much pride to feel like I might have contributed to that. I was so proud of him.

  The musicians were given a small area in the corner that was illuminated by white Christmas lights hung on the wall. The darkness of the rest of the room helped keep the focus on the stage.

  When Matteo’s turn came, he got up and performed his own version of “I’m Yours” by Jason Mraz. Of course, I clung to every word, analyzing the song choice. It may or may not have been about me, or about love, or just a testament to fate and surrendering to it. That was definitely something we were going to have to do moving forward—trust in fate.

  When the song finished, the crowd went wild. I rushed up to the stage and wrapped my arms around him. Despite the loud cheers, it felt like we were the only two people on Earth. Holding Matteo under the white lights of the stage where he’d just killed it was the best way I could’ve imagined winding down this trip.

  The mood, though, after we left the coffee shop, seemed to turn melancholy.