by Poppy Parkes
“It’s exactly what I’m craving,” she replies.
“Me too. This place I’m thinking of has got the best fries in southern Jersey.”
“You promise?”
I glance across at Daisy and see her peeking at me from beneath her lashes, her perfect lips curving up into a smile on one side. It takes me half a minute to realize she’s flirting with me. And when I do, warmth fills my belly and my cock, so obedient prior to this moment, twitches. It didn’t have reason to hope for Daisy’s affection before, but now that it does, all bets are off.
“Yeah,” I chuckle, “I do. Scout’s honor. Even though,” I drop my voice to a conspiratorial tone, “I was never a Boy Scout.”
She laughs, the sound music to my lonely ears. It’s been me, myself, and I for so long, busting ass to make things work for me and my sisters, that I never realized how much I’ve craved companionship.
And a girl like Daisy? I never dreamed a woman like her would ever look twice at me, much less flirt with me. The fact that she’s doing so hours after getting dumped makes me believe her all the more. She wouldn’t be acting like this unless she truly felt something for me.
Maybe that’s dumb. Maybe I’m deluding myself. Maybe I’m just a rebound fool.
But I’m living the dream right now, and even if I wake up from it in a few hours, it will still have been a lovely escape.
I grin back at her. “You’re wonderful, you know.”
Questions cloud her face. “Am I?”
“It’s plain to see. Whatever that asshole did or said to you, it’s on him. It’s got nothing to do with you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve met you. Because I’ve spent more than five seconds with you. You wear your heart on your sleeve, and it’s so damn beautiful.”
Daisy’s silent as we drive. I glance over and see that her cheeks are pink and she’s gazing out the window. I follow her lead and stay silent, giving her the time and space to think or feel or just be, whatever she needs.
Ten minutes later, I pull into a spot outside Four Roads, a dive bar mostly frequented by Ocean Point locals. Not many tourists prefer its dim atmosphere and sticky tables to the ritzier options that the shore provides.
Not me.
I like how when I lead Daisy into Four Roads, I immediately recognize a few of the patrons. I wave hello to Tess and Maria, Buccaneer Pier staff I know from way back, huddled at their usual table with a guy I don’t recognize. Dominique, the Barbadian owner, sees me and starts pouring my usual. I signal for her to bring two Porters and she nods, a knowing smile snaking over her lips at the sight of Daisy following in my wake.
It’s not a fancy place. But here I feel safe, able to unwind. I can’t say that about a lot of establishments.
Normally I pull up a stool at the bar. But since I’m here with someone for the first time in my life, I opt for a square table in a quiet corner. There’s a string of Christmas lights winding along the wall above it, and between that and the candle flickering on the table, it’s almost romantic.
Then we sit and I take in how the glow of the lights and the single flame illuminate Daisy’s cheeks and I change my mind, low belly tightening. This feels very romantic.
Dominique appears as soon as we’re settled, plunking a dark beer down in front of each of us.
“I can get you something else,” she tells Daisy in her Caribbean drawl, “if you don’t like what this punk ordered for you.”
I feel myself flushing hot at Dominque’s gentle jibe, but Daisy’s shaking her head, sweet angel that she is. “Thank you. I’ll start with this.” She takes a sip, beer foaming along her upper lip, and it takes everything within me not to lean across the table and lick her mouth clean.
There’s something about Daisy that wakes the primitive human in me and demands that I do everything in my power to keep her safe — and to make her mine. And while I’ve always been a fairly confident guy despite all that life’s thrown at me, this is new. I want to be the gentleman that she deserves but also the raw man that she needs.
“Sorry about the beer,” I say. “I don’t usually go out with women.”
She cocks her head to one side, blue eyes examining every part of my face. It’s alarming to be studied with such intensity — most folks take one glance at me and immediately discard me as inconsequential or decide I’m a thug who needs to be watched like a hawk.
But even though my heart beats faster under her gaze, I don’t want her to stop.
I want her to see every part of me before she judges me worthy otherwise.
I want her to take the full measure of me before she decides if I’m the man for her.
“That sounds lonely,” she says at last, giving voice to my earlier thoughts. And damn if that doesn’t make hot tears threaten to brim in my eyes.
“It is,” I say, voice more of a rasp than I expect. I shrug. “But that’s life sometimes, huh? We make the best of if that we can.”
She stares into the ember depths of her beer. “I thought that’s what I was doing with Mike. My, um, ex,” she explains as an afterthought.
I incline my chin. “The man with you at my stand yesterday.”
“I’m not stupid,” she says, taking a sip of the Porter. “I realize that Mike can be grumpy and come off as a jerk sometimes.”
I incline a single eyebrow but stay silent.
“Yeah, I know,” she says in response, shaking her head. “That must sound so lame. But I honestly thought that’s how relationships work. It’s not perfect, but you each compromise and it comes out okay enough in the end. And I’m so excited to start a family, to be a wife and a mother, I thought I could make it work with him as long as he gave me those things.” She grimaces. “Like I said — lame.”
“It’s not lame.” I slide a hand across the table and gently lay it over hers. “You love him.”
“Loved,” she corrects. After a moment, she groans. “Okay, yes, love. I love him — or the idea of him — because I’m ridiculous. Even though he broke my heart. Even though he dated me for five years, then brought me all the way down here just to break up with me, leaving me stranded.”
“It’s not ridiculous.” I shake my head. “We all make compromises for the lives we want. Sometimes they end up not being the right compromises, but that doesn’t mean we weren’t doing our damned best when we made them.”
Daisy leans forward. “Have you made the same mistake?”
I shrug, taking a swig of my drink. “Like you, I want a family. But life has taught me that wanting such a thing can be dangerous, leaving you open to be hurt bad. So I’ve kept to myself, kept my head down, and not gone after it. You know, to keep my heart safe.”
She lets out an exhalation so powerful that I feel it wafting against my face. I don’t mind, though. Daisy is an angel, and I don’t have any problem with a divine being breathing holy breath all over me.
“I know exactly what you mean,” she says. “I settled for Mike. I see that now. I didn’t think I could find anyone better, and marriage and motherhood with him seemed better than not having those things at all. But then he ditches me, and I meet you, and suddenly I find myself wondering why I ever would have wasted time with a jerk like Mike when there are men like you in the world.”
My eyes fly to her glass, thinking it’s the alcohol speaking, not her. But her pint is still more than half full, and she’s looking at me with fire in her eyes.
“You mean that?” I growl, her flames igniting fresh fire in my gut.
She nods, eyes filling with tears. But happy ones, because she’s smiling and laughing. “I do. I absolutely do.”
I turn my head at her. “How do you know I’m not just some thug taking advantage of a pretty, naive girl?”
“Because,” she says, grinning wickedly as she leans across the table at me, “I’ve met you. Because I’ve spent more than five seconds with you. You wear your heart on your sleeve, and it’s so damn beautiful.”
Daisy’s barely done giving my own words back to me when I bury my fingers in the golden hair at the nape of her neck and pull her face to mine for a deep, hungry kiss. She doesn’t resist, but gives herself to me, opening her lips so I can probe her with my tongue, allowing me to taste every bit of her warm mouth.
I’m not sure what would’ve happened next if the sound of someone clearing their throat didn’t inject itself into my consciousness. We pull away from each other to see Dominique standing next to our table, pen and pad in hand, smirking at us.
“Can I take your order?” she says, not unkindly.
I glance at Daisy to see she’s as red as a lobster but grinning bigger than I’ve seen her smile yet. Then I realize I’m wearing the same lovestruck expression, probably looking dopey as hell, but I don’t care. I just took my first taste of the woman of my dreams, and I don’t intend for it to be my last.
But first, we need food.
“Yeah,” I say, looking again at Daisy to see her nod. “We need fries.”
“And burgers,” Daisy adds.
“Big ones,” I interject.
“To sustain us,” she says, eyes dancing, “because I get the feeling that we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
“Excellent,” Dominique says before she whisks away, and I can tell that she’s not talking about our order.
And she’s right. Everything about this is excellent. Have I mentioned that I feel like I’ve won the lottery? Because suddenly the future is looking golden.
Daisy
I don’t know when I go from liking Dante to wanting Dante.
You know, in a carnal way.
I think it’s around the time he says I still love Mike, that asshole, while covering my hand in his and offering me a different future than the one I’d been imagining.
And a future with Dante by my side? It gleams beautiful and bright in my mind’s eye.
There’s something about him, a way that he has where he makes me feel heard and seen and respected and cherished all at once with very few words. He feels solid and safe and so very kind.
And he’s a damn good kisser.
I want more of him. I want everything he’s willing to give.
We devour our burgers and fries. They’re so good that I lick the salt off my fingers when all the food’s gone. Dante sees, but instead of snickering at me like Mike would’ve, he joins me in doing the same.
“I’m glad we came here,” I tell Dante after he tries to pay and Dominique waves him off, muttering something about how seeing a pretty girl on his arm for once is payment enough. “You’re right, this is way better than any of the touristy spots.”
“It’s real,” he says, leaning back in his chair, hands on his full belly and eyes on me. “That’s what I think the magic of Four Roads is. Everything here is real, true to life.”
“I like real,” I murmur.
“Me too,” he says. He levers his body forward at the hips to capture both my hands in his. “That’s what I like about you. You’re a real person, grounded and true and kind and growing.”
I put on a teasing pout. “It’s not because I’m pretty?”
Dante laughs, but the laughter ends with a growl. “You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. But that’s not all you are.” He hesitates like he’s weighing his next words carefully. “That’s what Mike got wrong about you. He thought you were just a pretty thing. But you’re so much more.”
“And you, Dante Johnson?” I ask, suddenly breathless, heart pounding against my ribs. “What do you see when you look at me?”
He squeezes my hands and doesn’t let go, like he’s holding on while the ocean’s undercurrent threatens to drag him out to sea. “Will you run if I tell you that you look like my future — like everything I’ve been waiting for?”
I shake my head, sudden tears welling in my eyes. “No,” I whisper. “I’m not leaving your side, unless you want me to. Because you’re everything I wanted, everything I thought I was getting with Mike but was not, not even close.”
His fingers travel from my hand up my arm to cradle my cheek, tracing my jaw with his thumb. “Stay with me tonight.”
“Yes,” I sigh, closing my eyes as a strange concoction of relief and excitement churns through me. “Yes, please.”
Dante stands abruptly, chair dancing behind him before settling. “Come on,” he says, plunking down a couple of twenties and offering me a hand.”
I frown at the cash. “But Dominique said . . . “
“Four Roads needs the money more than I need her compliments,” he says. And while some might hear arrogance in his voice, all I perceive is caring. He cares about Dominique and her business, and he’s going to stand up for its well-being.
With clarity as striking as a bolt of lightning flashing through a storm swept in from the sea, I understand that this is how he’ll take care of me, if I let him — absolutely, without fail, without hesitation.
I stand and place my hand in his. “Let’s go,” I answer, not knowing where, but trusting that Dante will never knowingly lead me wrong.
Dante
Daisy’s got me spinning in the best way. I don’t know which end is up, just that she’s my true north. And to demonstrate how much she means to me, I want to show her something that’s as special as she is.
There’s a tradition that the people of Ocean Point have on the third day of July. The Fourth is such a tourist holiday that we’ve made our own celebration.
It’s nothing official, of course. Just a handful of locals getting together to shoot fireworks off on the beach.
As a purveyor of fine fireworks and legal explosives, I have a keen interest in this celebration.
This year, though, it feels even more important. Because now I’ve got Daisy on my arm and our future in my sights.
Instead of driving her to an empty motel room or even back to my place, I weave my fingers with hers and lead her over the boardwalk to the stretch of sand on the other side.
A small group of people is already there, cracking poppers against the wet sand and waving sparklers in time to music with a heavy bass pumping from a boombox set next to a bonfire.
Olek, the Ukrainian guy who mans my favorite horse racing game on Surfside Pier, jogs up to me. “Hey, Dante, did you bring anything, ah, fun for us?” He eyes Daisy suspiciously.
I laugh, clapping Olek on the shoulder. “No, man, how many times do I have to tell you lot? I don’t sell the contraband fireworks. And if you want the goods I do sell, you gotta come buy it.”
Olek sighs, but good-naturedly. There’s not much that can get him down. Maria told me that he and Tess were doing the nasty on the side, but she’s got her eyes on a different guy now and the Ukrainian’s out. Olek’s taking it in stride, just like everything else. Nothing ruffles his feathers. That’s why he does so well working the horse racing game.
“I didn’t think so,” he says with a grin. “But it doesn’t hurt to ask, yes?”
“Yes.” I reach into my back pocket. “But here, take this. Just because I like you.” I press a box of glow worms into his palm.
“Thanks, man!” His grin grows even wider, eyes lighting up like a kid who just got some free candy. He runs back to the other revelers, already opening the box.
“That’s what fireworks do,” I say, leaning into Daisy so our shoulders bump and brush, “they bring the kid out in people. It’s the best thing to watch.”
“I love that,” she says, eyes dancing with the light of the flames now that we’re near enough to feel its heat.
“I love you,” I say, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her into me. “At least, I’m falling in love with you.”
“How do you know?” She raises her face to mine, eyes vulnerable.
“Because I love being around you, and looking at you, and hearing what you have to say, and how you listen to me. That’s got to mean I’m falling for you, fast and hard.”
Her mouth twists teasingly. “Just how I like it
.”
I pull her more firmly against me so she can feel how excited she’s making me. “Don’t joke unless you mean it.”
Daisy’s eyes grow serious, lids suddenly heavy. Her palms travel from my belly up to my chest, then back down. She slides one hand between us to cup my hardness. “I’m not. I want you, Dante.”
I bend my head to her neck, kissing her soft skin before pulling away with a tiny nip that makes her shudder. “Now?”
She tugs at my shirt and nods wordlessly.
I capture her hand and pull her away from the light of the fire and the people hovering around it like gigantic, happy moths. I head for the pier and the blackness beneath it. Daisy follows without hesitation, keeping pace with my quick, loping steps.
We walk deep into the forest of wooden pilings, the shadows from the boardwalk’s planks overhead drawing around us like a velvet curtain. Suddenly our breath is loud in my ears, like we’re in a four-poster bed with the drapes drawn around it.
I turn to Daisy, both surprised and not to find my hands trembling when I reach to cup her face, smoothing my thumbs over her heated cheeks. I push her against a piling and kiss her with everything that’s in me. Over her jugular I pour out my gratitude for and attraction to her, on her throat I lay my regret that we’re only just meeting now, and bite sweet promises on her chest for a future spent making up for the time we’ve missed.
Daisy leans her head back against the piling, giving me access to her. With one hand I squeeze her luscious breast through her dress, and with the other I pull up her skirts, grazing hungry fingers over the beautiful curves of her belly.
Her hands open my belt and unbutton my pants, tugging them and my cotton boxers down. My cock springs free, standing at attention in her honor. She wraps her fingers around my length. I shudder as more blood floods into the shaft she’s milking so expertly.
Growling, I nip at her jaw one last time before stepping back. She releases me and I take the opportunity to pull her dress over her head, discarding it on the sand.
