Hit&Run

by Freya Barker

  “I had to get out of there. I suddenly just couldn’t wait another moment. The memories, the silence, it overwhelmed me, sent me into a panic, so I took off.”

  “And left the door open, scaring the crap out of me,” I tease, reaching out and tugging on her long hair, trying for some levity, but she’s not biting. Her serious eyes are fixed on me as she keeps her distance.

  “Why?” she suddenly asks. “At the very least I should find you questionable, for protecting someone who killed another human being. Something for which he can surely be considered morally reprehensible. Instead you make me feel safe. I had convinced myself I didn’t have time in my life to be sidetracked by fantasies, and yet here you are.” I reach out to her, but her hand comes up defensively as she curls up tighter, her arms wrapping around her knees in a purely protective pose. What concerns me most is the fact there are no tears, just a tight, white face, and eyes that seem to sink deeper while I watch. “I’m not even sure who I am anymore,” she continues, her voice monotone, “since my own moral compass has been unbalanced for many years now, and if I don’t know who I am, how could I possibly know who you are? I’m scared, because I should be worried about that poor innocent man, who may have family somewhere waiting for him, but instead I’m sad about leaving a house that hasn’t felt like a home since my dad died. My head is so full of thoughts, I don’t know what to do to shut them up, and I don’t know why you’re here.” She leans forward a little, studying me intently. “Why are you here, Jake?”

  I’m not sure I followed half of her ramble, but it’s clear Rosie is standing on a slippery slope. I’m well aware how I answer can either give her purchase, or give her a final shove.

  “Because I’m drawn. Because you were first on my mind when I got off the plane. Because I’ve always been okay with a quick fuck, but it’s not all I want from you.” I pause when I see her flinch, and reach for her hand. I’m surprised she lets me, although she keeps to her corner of the couch. “I don’t know what that means, honey. I have zero experience, so I can’t tell you, but I know I’m here because I want to be. Simple as that.” I meet her eyes, and instead of the storm of confusion that was visible there earlier, I now see a hint of curiosity. I decide to share one more thing. “As for morals; I have them. The life I’ve led—the work I’ve done—may have blurred the edges some, but they’re there. Could be I didn’t have much reason to look for them before, but I do now.”

  This time when I give a light tug on her hand, she lets me pull her closer.

  ROSIE

  There is something whispering at me that, once again, I’m letting myself be seduced by pretty words and faint hopes, but that voice sounds a lot like my mother’s, so I ignore it.

  Jake’s arms come around me protectively, and for a little while I let myself lean. The steady thud of his heartbeat under my ear, and his firm hold, anchor me. I let myself be in the moment, just enjoying the feel and touch of a man’s body. It feels natural to tilt my head back, slide a hand to the back of his neck, and pull his head down so I can steal a kiss.

  The instant my lips touch his, I feel the band of his arm tighten around me as his mouth opens hungrily over mine.

  “Rosie...” The deep rumble of his warning voice only serves to spur me on, and without losing his lips, I twist in his hold and turn so I can slip a leg over his lap and straddle him.

  A hand slides into my hair and tugs my head back, as he runs his open mouth along my jaw and down the column of my neck, making me shiver. Pressing his tongue in the hollow between my collarbones, he tastes me.

  Without a coherent thought in my head, I’m letting myself drown in sensation, curling my fingers in the short hairs of his neck, as I grind my hips down on the hard ridge in his jeans.

  “Please,” I mumble, not quite sure myself what it is I’m asking for. He makes the world disappear and it feels so good, I don’t want him to stop.

  “What do you need, honey?” he asks, and goosebumps break out all over my body when he slips a hand down the back of my yoga pants, curling his fingers into the soft, naked flesh of my ass.

  “I thought I’d start bringing some stuff in, while my frittata is cooking,” Grant says from the doorway, barging in with the duffel bag and box from my front seat. “Oopsies,” he adds, when he notices our position on the couch.

  I try to scramble off Jake’s lap, but all he does is slip his hands out of my pants and from my hair, only to grab my hips and hold me in place.

  “Give us a minute?” Jake asks pointedly, as he glares at Grant, who looks right back at him, but with a huge grin on his face. He’s not moving, though. “Grant?” Jake prods and that seems to do the trick.

  “Right, I’m uh...just gonna grab the rest.” With a dramatic wink at me, his big bulk disappears out the door.

  Jake releases his hold on me and I climb off his lap, unable to miss the bulge in his pants. He catches me looking and smirks.

  “Yeah,” he says dryly. “Didn’t want to give the man a complex.” I roll my eyes, unable to contain a chuckle, as I get up and straighten my clothes. I try not to watch as Jake does the same, adjusting himself in the process as he heads to the door. “I’ll go give him a hand.”

  Forty-five minutes later, I pop the last piece of toast in my mouth and look surprised at my empty plate. Last thing on my mind had been eating, but between the easy banter the guys developed while assembling my bed for me, and the delicious smells from the oven when Grant finally coaxes us into his kitchen, I was ravenous. That little gropefest on the couch may have played a part as well. The result is a tentative feeling of well-being, despite this morning’s meltdown.

  “Whelp...” Grant draws our attention with that dramatic intro. “I should be hopping in the shower, because I have a long standing appointment with Trent, the esthetician who does a fabulous job keeping me appropriately groomed...” I hear Jake groaning beside me and I bite down a snicker. “...and flush with naughty fantasies that last me until my next appointment. But since the man will be nose to tip, waxing my fun stick and love spuds, and he’s not a fan of jungle crotch, I need to scrub my junk.”

  “Grant!” I exclaim, slapping my hands over my ears. “TMI, please!”

  “Jesus,” Jake grumbles beside me.

  With his fingertips pressed to his lips and his eyelash extensions fluttering, Grant disappears down the hall.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Jake snags my hand and drags me to the door.

  I stop him at the bottom of the stairs to my apartment.

  “What exactly are we doing?” I ask, not even trying to hide my suspicion.

  “I would’ve known the answer to that ten fucking minutes ago, but now I just want to get out of here and bleach that visual from my brain,” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose with a pained look on his face. It’s all I can do not to giggle. “Why don’t you grab your purse and things you might need from upstairs? We’ll swing by the hospital and play the rest by ear.”

  I melt a little. It’s sweet he offers to take me to the hospital, but I’m not quite sure...

  “Okay, let me get my purse, but...what things?”

  He hooks an arm around the small of my back and pulls me flush against him, bending his head so his lips almost touch mine. “Stuff for tomorrow morning. We’re staying at my place tonight.”

  “Hold on a minute,” I stop him, pushing him back with a hand in his chest. “You’re leaping light-years ahead here. I don’t think I’ve even started processing the fact you showed up. Besides,” I say quickly when I see he’s getting ready to interrupt. “This was going to be the first night in my apartment.” I admit I stick my bottom lip out a bit, something that instantly catches Jake’s eye.

  “New plan,” he says, his eyes never leaving my mouth. “Hospital, then we go grocery shopping—we both need some—we drop mine off at my place, I’ll grab a few things, and then we head back here and cook dinner.”

  I look at him sternly, but when his eyebrows slowly rise in
a plea, I give in to the chuckle bubbling up.

  “So you’re still on the fast train, but you’re conceding on the location?” I tease.

  “And that’s a big deal,” he says solemnly before adding, “since your bed is tiny.”

  CHAPTER 14

  JAKE

  Rosie’s mother can’t verbalize her feelings, but the fury in her eyes speaks loud and clear.

  “Hillary helped me find you a great place, Mom. Your room will have a view of the beautiful garden. They even have a pond with ducks, and a small bench where you can sit and feed them, when you get better.”

  Rosie seems oblivious to her mother’s anger as she goes on to describe the nursing home she’s apparently decided on. Mrs. Perkins is mildly sedated, but clearly not to the point where she doesn’t feel any emotions at all.

  “We’ll bring a few of your things there, so when you move in, you’ll feel right at home.” She gets up and grabs her purse, bending down to kiss her mother’s cheek, but she twists her head away and looks pointedly out the window. Rosie straightens and with a sad smile steps back from the bed. “Hillary said she’d come by and see you tonight when she’s done her shift, and I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Tough visit,” I mumble as we walk out of the hospital. Rosie shrugs her shoulders

  “I guess,” she says as she gets in my truck. “Before this happened, she was pleasant and mostly couldn’t remember who I was, she only got angry or agitated with me when she did remember. Now she doesn’t seem to remember anything, but is constantly agitated. I’m not sure which is worse, although I guess it doesn’t really matter; watching your parents decline really hammers home your own mortality.”

  I have nothing to say to that, I’ve been face-to-face with the reality of my limited time here many times before, but I don’t tell her that, I just reach out and squeeze her hand.

  “What about you?” she asks, turning to face me as I pull out into the street. “Are your parents still alive?”

  The question surprises me, but I guess this is all part of starting something. Building a relationship. I’m not used to sharing, but I understand the need for it.

  “They’re dead. I barely remember them.” I realize my response has come across as a little curt, when I sense Rosie stiffen in the seat beside me.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, and I turn to look at her, but she keeps her eyes firmly on the road ahead.

  “Why are you sorry?”

  She flicks a sideways glance at me before focusing forward, lightly shaking her head. “It’s just one of those things, you know? For the last twenty years, since my father died, I’ve all but forgotten I had loving parents for the first twenty. A bit shameful when you’re reminded there are people like you who never even had that.”

  “But when you grow up without them, you also don’t know what you’re missing,” I counter, sliding my hand between her clenched ones in her lap, twining my fingers with hers. “It wasn’t as bad as you may think. At sixteen I ended up with the Mazurs. They gave me a taste of family life and left me with two brothers.”

  “Dimas?”

  “And Yanis,” I add. “Dimas and I are the same age, we shared a room and became friends almost immediately. Yanis is a few years older and has always been protective. They both are.”

  The rest of the drive is silent, but when I pull the truck into a parking spot in front of City Market, Rosie leans over the center console and presses a kiss to my cheek. She smiles, stroking her hand along my jaw, where I trap it with mine.

  “They’re your family, and you’re just as protective as they are,” she whispers.

  I turn my head and kiss her palm.

  “Come on,” I prompt. “The sooner we get these groceries done and back to your place, the sooner we can test that ridiculously tiny bed of yours.”

  As a distraction that works well, Rosie blushes bright and almost launches herself out of the cab of the truck. One of the things I find irresistible about her is the way not only her freckles, but also the slightest of blushes, stand out against her pale skin. Chuckling, I follow her into the grocery store.

  DOES ANYTHING EVER work out as planned?

  It takes less than five minutes to throw a few groceries in my fridge and grab a quick bag for tomorrow, another fifteen or so to get back downtown to Rosie’s apartment. I rush her through storing away groceries, and just when she slams shut the fridge and I stalk toward her, with only one thing on my mind, the door flies open and Grant barges in.

  Fuck! Forgot to throw the deadbolt on the door. Rookie mistake.

  “So how do I look?” Completely ignoring me, he moves in front of Rosie and lifts his shirt. “Feel it,” he urges her, grabbing her hand and slapping it on his chest. “Smooth as a baby’s butt. Not a freakin’ hair left on my body. I kid you not. That boy knows what he’s doing, I tell you. Gets into all the crevices too. Here, check this out.” He starts undoing the buttons on his fly in front of a now snickering Rosie.

  “All right, that’s enough,” I bark, putting an end to this...whatever it is. “Keep your damn pants on.”

  “Ease up, G-man. Just introducing the lady to the multitude of talents my boy, Trent, boasts. In fact,” he says, turning back to Rosie. “I should make you an appointment. He can make you smooth all over...” He drags those last words out for emphasis, throwing a sideways look in my direction.

  “Over my dead body,” I snap.

  “Not inconceivable,” he retorts, and I almost chuckle.

  “Bite me, Cupcake.”

  “Didn’t we have this conversation before?” he taunts, his hands on his hips. “I thought I made it clear; I like my men less...hetero. In fact, maybe you should get in with Trent too. He might give you a twofer. Get you groomed up a bit.”

  I have no idea what a twofer is, but if it involves the illustrious Trent, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t like it. Rosie, who’s been giggling during most of our banter, suddenly comes to my defense.

  “No way,” she aims at Grant. “I like the fuzz on him. It’s manly.”

  I grin at her while Grant rolls his eyes.

  “Like I said, too hetero,” he explains. “With that scruff, he’s like catnip for soccer moms.”

  “Are you calling me a soccer mom?” she protests.

  “No. I’m calling him catnip.”

  “I need a drink,” I announce, chuckling as I dive into her fridge, where I just shoved a couple of six packs.

  Another thing I discovered about Rosie, she’s a beer lover.

  I can live with that.

  ROSIE

  “Hey, Grant?” I call down the stairs after him. “Can you let them know I’ll be back for my shift starting Thursday?”

  “Sure thing, Rosebud,” he yells back.

  Grant stayed for a quick dinner, easy spaghetti and meatballs, even though Jake seemed less than pleased when I invited him. I know he had different plans, but I’ve been out of the game for so long, I was nervous. With the tension building high all afternoon, I welcomed the temporary distraction. And to be honest, those two are hilarious together.

  I close the door and turn to where Jake is cleaning the last of the pans in the sink, his eyes on me.

  “Back on Thursday?” he repeats.

  “Mom is scheduled to be transferred on Wednesday, after I move some of her stuff to her new room on Tuesday,” I explain, sitting down on the couch where I can watch him. “Thursday I’ll try to sleep during the day so I can get back into my nighttime routine.”

  “Why not try and get a day shift?” he asks as he walks over to the door, and throws the deadbolt before turning to me. “You don’t have to work nightshift anymore.”

  He’s right, I don’t—and it’s not like I haven’t thought about that, because I have—but with my entire life in flux, it’s nice to have one thing remain predictable. At least for now.

  “Eventually,” I tell him, shifting a little restlessly in my seat as I watch him stalk toward me. “But for now I welcome
the familiar routine.”

  “Fair enough,” he mumbles, bending forward and bracing himself with his hands on the couch on either side of me. “Now where were we, before your buddy busted down the door?” He rubs his nose along mine, and I feel his breath against my skin.

  “I believe it was the kitchen,” I whisper, but that quickly turns into a squeal when he playfully pinches my side, before pulling me up off the couch.

  “Right, but we were on our way to the bedroom.” He walks backward, pulling me along with him.

  “We were?” I echo, not quite knowing where to look or how to act. I’m nervous.

  “Absolutely,” he says, opening the bedroom door behind his back and leading me inside, where he folds me in his arms. “Relax,” he mumbles, his face in my hair as his hands start kneading my back and shoulders. “Stop thinking.”

  Easier said than done. I try, I really do, but when I feel his tongue on my neck and the vibration of his groan, I freak.

  “We don’t really know that much about each other. I mean, I don’t even know your favorite food, or where you were born. I don’t know where you went to school, or even how old you are.” While I ramble, Jake lifts his head, eyeing me with a bemused look on his face.

  “Pizza, Salt Lake City, I went to lots of schools but graduated Central High, right here in Grand Junction, never went to college but headed straight into the army, and I’m thirty-eight years old. Now where were we...”

  “Thirty-eight?” I mutter, planting my hands flat on his chest when he leans in.

  “Last I checked.”

  “I’m forty-two,” I share slightly nauseated, waiting for shock to register on Jake’s face, but all I see is measured patience.

  “I’m aware,” he announces. “Not sure what your point is.”

  That shuts me up. I’m not really sure what my point is either. Especially not when Jake returns his focus, and his mouth, to the sensitive skin of my neck. So I’m a couple of years...fine, I’m four years older. Big deal.