by Kylie Scott
It didn't take a degree in rocket surgery to figure out what the news had been. Nell had told Pat about the baby. Pat had lost it and thrown the chair. Despite their separation. Despite their divorce. Shoulders bowed, Pat seemed lost, wounded. Nell looked about the same. It still didn't give him license to start throwing furniture through shop windows, however.
The amount of yelling, drama, and violence in the last seven days had been insane. In total contrast to my family's own studied indifference. As if caring too much was an error, an embarrassment. Fact is, by the time things disintegrated to this degree, my parents would have long since moved on. I'd been given the same option and yet here I stood.
Staying was the right decision. It was.
Meanwhile, Masa swore while Boyd stood back, scowling.
"Christ, Lydia," said Pat, eyes anguished. He rubbed at his face with both hands. "If I'd hurt you ... shit."
A police siren wailed in the distance.
"It's okay," I announced to one and all. Despite all evidence to the contrary. "Everything's fine."
"What a mess," said Nell, a tear trailing down her cheek.
I could only agree.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Baths were a girl's best friend. Screw jewelry, chocolate, and those other things. A big old tub full of warm water had them all beat. Advil wasn't bad either. Despite the monumental bruise covering my side, my hip hardly hurt.
I lay my head back against the rim of the tub, staring off into space. Trying to think constructively about my life, but not really succeeding.
Nell and Vaughan had talked to the police while the rest of us cleaned up the mess. It took a while for Joe to arrive with supplies to board up the window. Joe had stayed with Pat while we drove Nell back to her apartment. All in all, another crazy long night in Coeur d'Alene with the Hewson family and friends.
The voice of doubt had been running through my head. Of course it had. These people were batshit. I was insane to even consider staying here and throwing my lot in with the Dive Bar. Only, when I walked Nell up to her apartment, she'd thrown her arms around me, holding on tight.
I liked that.
As harsh as it sounds, if Vaughan was leaving, sooner rather than later might be for the best. Emotional upheaval and mass confusion where he was concerned had gotten old. He made my vagina happy. Deliriously so. But the rest of me felt tired. Or maybe it was just my head and my heart, the thinking and feeling bits. I'd already faced one major rejection this year, care of my ex-fiance. Two was getting a bit ridiculous.
At first, I didn't register the quiet knocking. Only when it continued, accompanied with Vaughan opening the bathroom door a little to peek into the room, I sat up in a rush, hugging my knees to my chest, covering up all of the essentials. Like he hadn't already seen everything. A cascade of water splashed over the edge onto the floor. Oops.
"Just checking you hadn't fallen asleep," he said.
"No, I'm fine."
"Mind if I come in?"
I opened my mouth to make excuses. But no go. The door opened wide and he stepped in, some thick candles in one hand and two bottles of beer in the other. He set the whole lot on the bench beside the basin, pulling a book of matches out of his jeans pocket. Small flames blossomed in no time. A finger flicked off the light, plunging the room into romance mode.
No. So much no.
"Vaughan." I couldn't manage a smile. I just didn't have one in me.
With a flick of his wrist a bottle cap fell to the floor. "Here."
"Thanks." Icy glass chilled the palm of my hand. "Um. I'm not really in the mood for sexual healing..."
Another bottle cap fell and he knelt by the tub, resting an arm on the rim. After taking a healthy swig, he just looked at me, not saying anything. To have him all up close and personal didn't feature on my list of goals right now. I needed space to figure shit out. Not only to plan, but to understand, what the future would look like here without him.
"Lydia--"
"You know, I don't really want to talk either. Sorry."
"Okay." His eyes were so sad.
The urge to take it all back was huge. But I didn't. I couldn't. Survival skills had to kick in eventually. Protect my idiot heart from getting more wrapped up in him. I was also still rather pissed at him for earlier.
"Thought you should know," he said. "Made a decision. I'm going to head out Monday morning."
"Oh." This was it, the date had been set. My mind emptied, just blanking. It took a moment to find words. "Okay. Right. I'll get organized tomorrow. Get my things out of the way. Nell said I could crash with her for a while. Store my things at the bar."
"I'll help you move."
"Thanks."
We just stared at each other.
He looked away first, glancing at the door. Obviously unhappy. My fingers itched to stoke away the furrows in his brow. To give him comfort and take the same. I'd been lucky with the Chris thing. The way it had come apart, I'd been almost ecstatic. To have avoided falling into his evil marital clasp was wonderful. There'd been anger and embarrassment too. Lots of emotions clouding the scene. But a hell of a lot less heartache than there should have been. Then there likely would be with Vaughan.
"I'll give you your privacy," he said, still not moving.
"We could not have sex."
His brows rose.
"And not talk," I proposed. "Just drink our beers and hang out together. If you want?"
He blinked. "Sure. We could do that."
"Okay."
"Do you mind if I get in?" He nodded to the tub.
"Both of us naked in a tub?" Most dubious.
"Right." He winced. "Might make it a little hard on the no-sex thing."
"Hard. Haha."
A smile. He rose and started toeing off his shoes, pulling off his socks. Basically, not following the recently reached agreement. "I have the answer."
"You do?"
"Yeah. Pull the plug, let some of the water out." With no further warning, he climbed into the tub still dressed in jeans and tee. Not quite normal.
"Vaughan!" I yanked out the plug before we flooded the damn house. "What are you doing?"
"Hanging out with you. Not having sex." The man stood, waiting for the water level to decrease. After a minute, he crouched down behind me, long legs pressing against my back. "Babe, scoot forward a little."
"Shit." I did as told. "But your clothes?"
"They're due for a wash."
I snorted. "I see. Great way to save water."
"Environmental warrior. That's me. This is a bit of a tight squeeze. Hang on." His arm went around my middle for as long as it took to pull me back and up. An easy enough thing to do in the water. Legs stretched out beneath me and I sat on a rough lap. Wet denim made for about as comfortable a seat as you'd imagine. At least I wasn't wearing it. Could you imagine the chafing?
I reinserted the bath plug before we lost all of the water. "Yeah, this doesn't feel sexual at all. Me sitting naked on your lap, bathing by candlelight."
"God, you've got a dirty mind."
I gave him a look over my shoulder. Hopefully it conveyed my complete lack of trust.
"I respect your wishes, Lydia. Nothing's going to happen." Eyes wide and innocent, he drank his beer.
"Mm-hmm."
"Shh. You didn't want to talk."
Asshole.
Spine straight, I sat there, sipping my drink. True to his word, nothing was said, no move was made. Gradually, I began to relax. I blame the shadows cast by the candles. Those flickering flames lulled me. Eventually, I rested my back against his wet-shirted front, got comfortable.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier," he whispered.
"Again."
"Yeah." A heavy sigh. "Again."
"One day, maybe, you might want to talk to someone about all of this. Your parents passing..."
Silence. Lots and lots of silence. I prepared myself for the boom. More yelling and swearing, et cetera. He'd made it perf
ectly plain that he didn't wish to discuss these sorts of things. Yet there I went meddling, diving right back in where my nose did not belong. What an idiot good intentions made of you. Because the thought of him carrying this pain around for the rest of his life hurt. It hurt bad.
So yeah, I waited.
Instead of rage, however, he kissed the side of my face. It was with closed lips. Chaste. Tears welled in my eyes, my breath hitching. Stupid heart.
"Talk to me," I said.
"About what?"
"I don't know. Tell me a story."
"All right." He cleared his throat, his chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm against my back. Pity, being with him always felt so right. My life would be far safer, more straightforward, if I'd been able to retain some semblance of indifference. What had happened to all the cold hard lessons care of my parents? It seemed like ever since I'd seen the home porn of Chris and Paul going at it, something inside of me had come loose. It definitely wasn't desire. Closer to crazy, if anything.
"Once upon a time," he began, voice low and measured. "There was a princess. A beautiful, occasionally annoying princess."
"What was her name?"
"Ah, Notlydia."
I frowned. "Her name is Notlydia?"
"You wanted a story, I'm giving you one. Shut up."
"Whatever."
An even heavier sigh from the man. "Anyhoo, Notlydia was all set up to marry this prince. We'll call him Prince Bag of Dicks."
"Works for me."
"But on the day of her wedding, when she was wearing this sweet dress that served her tits up like they were on a fucking platter--"
"Is this an R-rated story?"
"Please," he said, sliding an arm around my bare waist. And I let him. "R is for rubbish. If you don't get to see any penetration then you're wasting your time. This is XXX."
I laughed.
"So on the day of her wedding to Prince Bag of Dicks, Notlydia kisses him and he turns into a big slimy two-headed toad with terrible breath and even worse foot odor."
"Whoa." I rested my head back against his shoulder. "Poor Notlydia."
"Hell of a plot twist, right?"
"Never saw that one coming."
"Mm." He rested his cheek against the top of my head.
"What happens next?"
"Well, she's completely freaked out, of course."
"Of course."
"And she takes off into the woods. She's running through bushes, jumping fences, climbing trees, you name it. Nothing's going to stop her from getting the hell away from that toad, Prince Bag of Dicks." He took a sip of beer. "Unfortunately, she loses her fancy dress along the way. She's just down to some skimpy underwear and a corset and with all that jogging through the forest, it's barely holding her in. One decent breath and there's going to be nipple out there for all the world to see. Did I happen to mention she'd been voted Best Rack in the kingdom four years running? Anyway, eventually she finds this small cottage. Now, what you don't know about Notlydia is that she has a shady past."
I tried to look up at him. But with the angle, all I got was stubble and cheekbone. "That doesn't sound like Notlydia."
"Be quiet." A hand covered my mouth. "Notlydia's a dirty, dirty girl. Got a bad side like you wouldn't believe. A little breaking and entering is nothing to her. So into the house she goes. But she's all muddy from running through the woods, see? She can't let people see her like this--she's a princess, for fuck's sake."
The hand remained over my mouth. Which was fine, I had nothing to add to his pornographic fairy tale.
"Notlydia gets in the shower and starts soaping herself. There's lots of bubbles and steam, and she's a modern woman so there's a bit of self-love. She even finds time to wash her hair, shave under her pits. Things like that. But then the owner of the cottage wakes up and hears the water running. He stomps into the bathroom saying, someone's using up my hot water. Notlydia cries out, 'Not me, not me.'"
He craned his neck, meeting my gaze. "See, babe, what did I tell you? That Notlydia is a filthy little liar."
I looked up to heaven. No help was forthcoming.
"Someone's using up all my soap, says the owner. 'Not me, not me,' cries Notlydia." He put his lips next to my ear. "She should be ashamed of herself, shouldn't she? If ever a busty princess deserved a spanking."
I bit at the palm of his hand, teeth catching at the fleshy mound beneath his thumb.
"Ow." He laughed, pulling his hand free. "Then the owner said, someone's been fingering herself in my shower."
"Stop!" I put my hands over my ears, trying desperately to hold in my laughter. "This is the worst story ever. The Brothers Grimm are rolling over in their graves."
"Notlydia throws back the shower curtain and says, 'Oh yeah, big boy, that was me. Come and get it.' And they have wild sex all over the cottage." Vaughan's body jerked beneath mine as he laughed his ass off. "The end."
"No way. Notlydia is virtuous and pure. She'd never pull that sort of shit."
"Nah." He chuckled. "It all happened exactly as I said. Dirtiest princess in all the land."
"Like hell. The owner of that cottage was a pervert and a deviant. Why, he would have picked the lock on a chastity belt. She never stood a chance." Difficult to maintain my pious stance, given I'd started laughing so hard tears were pouring down my cheeks. The funny bastard. "I want to know more about this cottage owner. What's his name?"
"I don't know. Let me think..." He rested his chin back on top of my head. "He definitely isn't Prince Charming."
"He could be!"
Silence.
"If he wanted to. Or not. Whatever," I added weakly. Crap. "Let's go back to not talking."
I was a moron.
We'd been all relaxed and laughing. Me and my idiot mouth. Way to go, Lydia. Just shout out any old impossible daydream to the dude who's made it clear there was no future "we." If someone could just direct me to the nearest brick wall, I'd knock a little sense into myself.
On the other hand, it was two stupid words. Surely he could have ignored the last hundred years of Disney perpetuating slick-haired young royals gallivanting around the countryside saving hot babes in distress. For the sake of getting along. God knows, Chris never had any problems ignoring or placating me. I'd seen his thoughtless gorgeous smile aimed my way a hundred times. No, a thousand. If only I'd recognized it for what it was.
Ugh. Just the thought of it made me want to punch the douche all over again.
Maybe I needed a bit more than a week to get over that catastrophe. The money would help. Substantially. I'd never imagined that compromising my morals and taking hush money from such foul woe-begotten assholes would feel so good. Maybe I should sell out more often.
"This, ah, this Prince Charming of yours," he said haltingly.
"Yes?"
Vaughan shifted beneath me, pushing out a heavy breath. "I mean, it doesn't make sense, does it? Why would he be in a cottage instead of a castle?"
"Well ... his parents, the king and queen of the neighboring kingdom, died in a terrible accident." I stayed perfectly still, waiting to see how he'd react.
"I see."
"And it hurt him so bad he just, he didn't want to be a prince anymore."
Nothing from him.
"Bad things happen in fairy tales sometimes."
A grunt.
"It's not fair, but it happens," I said, feeling my way with more caution than skill. "The prince loved his parents and the castle had too many memories."
"Hmm."
"So he ran away into the woods too."
"Doesn't sound like much of a prince if he can't handle his shit," he said.
"Princes are just men too, human beings. I don't think a crown or a penis gives you magical invulnerability to loss and pain." I stared at the wall, thinking the problem through. "Life is hard. Terrible things happen. We all have feelings. We're all just flesh and blood, trying to do our best."
"Running away from problems isn't doing your best
." His voice echoed around the small room, the same as around in my head.
What with holding the Coeur d'Alene title for runaway bride of the year, I had no answer. None at all. So much for my half-assed wisdom.
Hands rubbed the tops of my arms as if I needed soothing or something. As if he wanted out, which involved me shutting up and getting the hell off of him.
"Big day," Vaughan rumbled, drawing me back to the here and now. "Better get you to bed. How's your hip feeling?"
"Fine. It's just bruised." I moved my big butt, crouching at the front of the tub, returning to the "oh god, cover everything so he doesn't see your masses of white flab" position. Pure protective instinct and annoying as hell. There was nothing wrong with my body. I was a strong modern woman, yada yada. Old habits were a bitch to break.
A mighty wave rolled back and forth, sloshing more water onto the floor. He stepped out, dripping all the way. Soon enough the bath mat resembled a sodden puddle. Wet shirt and jeans went splat on the floor.
Man, I loved his skin. All of the art inked into him. The way his body moved, brisk and efficient, limbs moving, muscles flexing. He did nothing unique or peculiar. No acrobatics or aerial feats were involved. Just Vaughan doing his thing, moving through the world, living his life. I couldn't have torn my eyes away.
He wiped off his upper body, then wrapped the towel around his waist. "You need a hand?"
I smiled. "No. Thanks."
He nodded and then headed for the door. My Prince Charming, going, going, gone. It's a pity sex has consequences you can't always anticipate. Changes in emotion, in how you perceive people. Too bad you couldn't buy love.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Sunday, we worked the dinner shift at the Dive Bar.
Due to an event downtown, it wasn't particularly busy. Boyd, with the aid of Kurt the kitchen kid, was in charge. It seemed he liked to do an all-day brunch on the seventh day. Eggs Benedict, ricotta pancakes with banana and butterscotch sauce, potato and corn cakes with spinach, bacon, and relish, and other amazing things. We arrived just in time to catch the end of it as they changed over to the dinner menu, which mainly included pizzas and pastas. Getting to taste test the remains of brunch on breaks was the best. Issues regarding the size of my ass and hips were problems for another day.
No sign of Eric or Nell. Joe and Vaughan worked the bar.
I'd called Nell earlier and left a message on her cell. After the events of last night, I'd probably want to be left the hell alone too. The rest of the day passed swiftly, and was relatively painless. Despite the countdown to Vaughan's departure tick-tocking in my head.
