Beautiful Confusion (New Adult Romance) Room 105 (8 page)

***

The following night, I was ready and waiting, attired in my new dress with my hair piled loosely on top of my head. I didn’t know if I’d ever been this anxious.

I was tempted to go out onto the porch and wait for Duncan, but I didn’t want to seem too eager, even if I was.

When the doorbell sounded, I leaped off the sofa in a flurry of cotton and silk. Carol was in the kitchen, reheating leftovers for her dinner. She was trying to stay out of the way, but I knew she wanted to dash into the living room like a mom on prom night.

I opened the door. There stood Duncan, tall and dark and powerfully handsome, with a single rose in his hand. He extended it to me.

“Thank you.” I clutched it against my heart. It was the same shade of pink that was in my dress.

He was dressed similar to when I saw him at the gallery, with a crisp white T-shirt, a black jacket, and button-fly jeans. His blackish-brown hair was banded in a ponytail.

“You look beautiful,” he said. “And your hair is so sexy. I always thought of those types of styles as bedroom hair.”

“I’ve never worn it this way before.”

He flashed a boyish smile. “It’s a first.”

Lost in that smile, I nodded. “My first date, my first kiss, my first bedroom hair.” And eventually he would be my first lover. I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about that.

He touched one of the tendrils falling free of my twisted bun, and looked at me as if he was actually seeing me for the “first” time, as if everything he knew about me was different somehow.

His intensity was making me light-headed. Was that how he would look at me when we made love? I wished he would kiss me, right here and now, but he didn’t. He released my hair and lowered his hand, leaving me aching for more.

I invited him inside, and he entered the living room.

Before I melted all over him, I held up the rose said, “I should put this in water. I’ll be right back.”

“Sure. Go ahead.” His expression hadn’t changed. He was still gazing at me with masculine intensity.

I went into the kitchen and showed Carol my flower.

“That’s lovely.” She got an antique bud vase from the cabinet. We had a collection of them, even if we rarely used them. There were lots of things in our house that went unused.

I filled the vase, slipped the rose inside and placed it on the windowsill. Tonight when my date was over, I would carry it into my bedroom and put it on my dresser. Then later, when the rose wilted, I would wrap it in plastic and keep it in my underwear drawer.

“Do you mind if I say hello to Duncan?” Carol asked. “I don’t want to intrude.”

She’d already intruded when she’d called him to discuss my relationship with my sister, but that went without saying. She was well aware that she’d poked her nose into my affairs.

I replied, “Of course you can say hello.”

She headed for the living room, leaving her leftovers simmering on the stove. I went with her, eager to be near Duncan again.

He was standing beside the fireplace, gazing at childhood photos of me on the mantel. There weren’t any of Abby. She’d destroyed all of her pictures. I’d told him about it on the day we met.

He heard us come into the room and shifted his attention. He and Carol exchanged an immediate greeting, but it seemed awkward, with neither of them behaving quite like themselves.

Perplexed, I watched them, wondering if Duncan had been more affected by their telephone conversation than I’d assumed he was.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “Your aunt was just saying hi, and I was just…”

“Looking at pictures of me,” I provided.

“Yes. You were a cute kid.”

“So was Abby,” I informed him.

He didn’t reply. Neither did Carol. They were definitely acting weird. I was starting to feel weird, too, as if the three of us were inside a giant bubble, bouncing around the room, knocking into walls and bumping against the furniture.

Duncan popped the bubble, sending me a reassuring smile. “Are you ready for dinner? I made reservations at an Italian restaurant in downtown Riverside. I’m a downtown kind of guy, and I thought it might be fun to explore your city with you.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’m totally ready.”

I collected my sweater and grabbed my purse. I wanted to escape the house before the bubble came back.

We said goodbye to Carol, and as soon as Duncan I were outside I felt better. The air was soft and scented with summer.

Duncan’s mode of transportation, a big black truck, was parked at the curb. He’d painted a big black stallion as his horse of choice, so his vehicle seemed equally fitting. I wasn’t surprised by it.

Once we were on the road, he played music that he’d downloaded. The Lumineers came on, and I bounced back and forth in my seat, feeling like Duncan’s sweetheart. He sang the “Ho Hey” part with me, and we both laughed.

Now that we were free of my house, the date was going well. We listened to Mumford & Sons next.

After that, he played a classic rock hit called
Come and Get
Your Love
, taking us back to a time before either of us had been born.

“Carol plays an oldies station at the store,” I said, letting him know that I’d heard the song before. “She says it goes with the territory.”

“Jack liked this era of music. He told me about this band. They’re called Redbone, and the members are Native American and Mexican American. Redbone is a Cajun reference for a person with mixed race, like half-breed.”

“Do you think you’re mixed?” I wanted to know how he perceived himself.

“I could I be, I suppose, but I don’t look like I am. I don’t feel like I am, either. I have a sense of being a full-blood, but I can’t be sure.”

The warrior I’d created was supposed to be a universal warrior with a bit of every tribe as part of his genetics. Of course I’d only come up with that because I didn’t know anything about Indians back then. My knowledge was still limited. I didn’t even know how many tribes there were.

“People call Natives like me apples,” he said. “Red on the outside and white on the inside. Most Native foster kids are put into Native homes, but they weren’t required to do that with me because there was no record of me actually being Native. I was white as far as the state was concerned, even if the color of my skin said otherwise. It got them off the hook, I guess. It’s hard to find Native foster homes, so they just stuck me wherever they could. Jack never treated me that way. He might’ve had his own ideas about my identity, but at least he was sensitive to my feelings.”

My heart went tight. In Room 105, he would be regarded as a powerful presence. No one would call him names there. But it was foolish for me to keep dwelling on a place that might not even be real. “I’m sorry foster care was so difficult for you.”

“It was just lonely, that’s all.”

I nodded. Without my sister, I would’ve been lost. At least we had each other. Duncan didn’t have anyone.

We arrived at the restaurant, which was housed in a brick building with stained-glass windows.

“Have you ever eaten here before?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, but I like Italian food.”

“I called ahead and made sure that they had booth seating. I want to sit next to you, not across from you. I want us to be able to eat off each other’s plates and feel the kind of closeness people should feel on a date. I don’t want there to be any distance between us.”

He couldn’t have said anything more romantic. He did everything right. He opened my car door for me. He put his hand on the small of my back when we went inside.

The restaurant was dimly lit, with a traditional décor: grapevines painted on the walls and recycled Chianti bottles being used as candleholders. We were ushered to a small, corner booth. I scooted in, and Duncan followed me. He made certain that we were sitting close enough to touch. I breathed in the nearness of him, drawing in the woodsy spice of his cologne. I was wearing fragrance, too, and mine was a fresh blend of fruit and flowers.

The hostess gave us menus and served us lemon-garnished water. She was a trendy redhead around our age, and I liked the way she smiled at us, as if she thought we were a cool couple.

We studied the menus for a while, then the waitress came by. We agreed on roasted bell peppers and mozzarella sticks as our appetizers, intending to share them.

For my entrée I chose cheese ravioli, and he ordered chicken Milano. We planned to share those, too, and eat off of each other’s plates, as Duncan had suggested.

While we waited for our food, I glanced at his wrists. His jacket sleeves were rolled up, and I could see his tattoos.

“When did you get those?” I asked.

“On my eighteenth birthday, which was also my last day in foster care. I got them as a gift to myself.”

“To mark your freedom?”

“And my unknown identity. Most Natives get tattoos that are affiliated with their tribe or their ancestors, but I couldn’t do that. So I created my own designs with symbols taken from different tribes.”

I noticed that both tattoos were identical, with the same bold patterns. “What do the symbols mean?”

He pointed to two black arrows facing opposite directions. “This means war.” He traced the lines of a broken arrow. “And this is often regarded as a symbol of peace.”

I touched the broken one, too. “You used this in the painting you did of the ranch house.” The picture he’d called
Life
. “Did you incorporate it into the painting to create a sense of peace?”

He nodded. “That’s what I was feeling when I painted it.”

Checking out more of his tattoo, I followed the path of a long, squiggly line.

“That’s a snake,” he said.

“What do snakes represent?”

“Lots of things. Defiance, transformation, hidden secrets, magic, sexuality.”

My fingers stumbled over his skin when he said the last one. “Does it mean all of those things to you?”

“Yes. Especially sexuality.” He ran his finger over the top of mine. “I like sex, more than I probably should, but you already know that.”

“Yes, I already know.” Dazed, I arched my body toward his. If I were a cat, I would have climbed in his lap and rubbed against his fly. I would have purred, too.

The waitress appeared, and I snapped out of my kittydom.

She set our first course on the table. After she was gone, I reached for a mozzarella stick.

I bit into it, and my desire came back. Duncan was watching me eat the appetizer, the gooiness sticking to my lips. I scraped off the melted cheese, using my tongue and teeth.

I handed him the rest of the stick. “You take a bite now.”

He didn’t follow my order. Instead he said, “You’re seducing me, Vanessa.”

“I am?”

“Yeah.” He leaned forward and kissed me.

Holy heaven. Just like that. This was it. My first kiss. His mouth was warm and moist against mine. He didn’t use his tongue, but he nibbled at me, as if I was part of his meal. I squeezed my thighs together to keep from moaning.

I kissed him back, mimicking what he did to me. I was learning from the best. I wanted to gobble him up. But I went slowly, reminding myself that we were in a public place.

He ended it softly, cupping my face, just once, before he let me go. Our eyes had been closed, but now they were open, and we were looking at each other. Just inches from us, the candle in the Chianti bottle flickered, white wax dripping over the sides.

“I hadn’t intended to do that here,” Duncan said. “I was going to wait until we were alone.”

“Can we do it again when we’re alone?” I wanted to taste him, as many times as I could.

“Definitely.” He skewered a piece of roasted pepper and offered it me. “But for now, we need to behave.”

If feeding each other was behaving, I was all for it.

We spent the rest of our dinner passing food back and forth. Eating had never been this much fun. Nothing had ever been this much fun. By the time we got to dessert, I was in sugar-rush heaven.

We shared a slice of sinfully rich cake, layered with fudge and topped with mousse. Everything about this night was delicious.

Including Duncan.

After dinner, we went to The Mission Inn Hotel & Spa because Duncan had heard about it and wanted to see it. It was too late to take a tour, but we were able to wander around and enjoy what we could. The Mission Inn was a landmark in Riverside. I’d been there before and knew its history.

In the late 1800s it was a twelve-room adobe boarding house. Then, over the years, it morphed into the enormous structure that it was today, an architectural wonder with eclectic styles. What had begun as a Mission Revival project now boasted influences from all over the world, including Moorish, Italian Renaissance, Spanish Baroque, Chinese, and Japanese details. There was even a wedding chapel with a hand-carved altar. Everywhere you looked there was something to see. The hotel spanned a full city block.

To me, it was like a fairytale castle, with stunning towers, minarets, flying buttresses, domes, fountains, statues, catacombs, bells, sconce-lit passageways, gargoyles, balconies, spiral staircases, stained glass, glittering enclaves, lush gardens, and a skybridge between buildings.

Duncan seemed awed by its complexity. We stopped to admire an artifact in the Spanish wing. The Mission Inn was filled with art. There was a museum connected to it, too.

“This hotel is supposed to be haunted,” I said. “Paranormal activities have been reported in quite a few rooms and in almost all of the hallways.”

“Oh, wow. Really? I love architecture. It’s a pastime of mine. But haunted buildings are even better.”

“Alice Miller is one of the ghosts who haunts it. Her family, the Millers, built the original structure, and she managed the hotel until her death in the late 1940s. She liked to sing while she worked.”

He glanced around. “I wonder if this hallway is haunted.”

“I guess it could be.” As we stood there, surrounded by old-world charm, a similarity struck me. “Parts of this hotel remind me of your
Magic
painting.” Like the big stone structure Carol had associated with damsels in distress.