Dream On (Stories of Serendipity #2) (16 page)

Dalton let out a hard, shuddering sigh.
 “Dad, I’ve always bounced things off of you first, to get your take on things, and I really want to know what you think about her.  I’m so sad you probably won’t get to ever meet her.”  Here he stopped talking again, wiping a stray tear from his eye.  “I told myself I wouldn’t cry in front of you, Dad.  I’m sorry.”  He paused to compose himself, taking a deep breath, and exhaling slowly.

“I’m staying here, Dad, in Serendipity.
 I’m going to stay and take care of Mom, and Renae, and Kelly, and Alyssa, if she’ll have me.  I’ve got to take things slowly with her, though.  She seems a little skittish, and I definitely have to earn her trust...So, don’t worry about things here, Dad.  I’ll take care of everything, the best way I know how.  I love you, Dad.”

Dalton stood, looking down at his father, who hadn’t responded at all during his soliloquy, and he walked to the window.
 He stood there, lost in his own thoughts, until his mother came back into the room.

“Dalton?
 I brought you some coffee.”

“Thanks, Mom.”
 He took the cup, gratefully, and sat on her bed.

“Did you have a nice chat with your father?”
 She asked him carefully.

“Yes, I did.
 Thanks for the privacy.  Did you have a good breakfast?”

“I suppose.”

They sat in silence for most of the rest of the day, speaking when something occurred to them.  Dalton tried to get his mom to go home and get some rest in silence, without the constant beeping, but she refused to leave her husband’s side.  She did lie down on the other bed in the room and managed to get some catnaps throughout the day.  Dalton stayed and chatted with the nurses who came in to dispense medicine and check vital signs.  He left when it was time to pick up Kelly from school.

Wednesday, Dalton decided to go to the Gin.  He couldn’t wait until Friday to see Alyssa again.  Wednesday was karaoke night, and he thought Alyssa might be there with her friends.  He showed up early, wanting to be there when she arrived, if she came. 

He sat at a table close to the door, sipping a Jack and Coke, waiting expectantly.
 He inwardly laughed at himself.  He had never in his life been this excited to see a woman.  

Still marveling at his own excitement, he was surprised when a hand fell on his shoulder.
 Thinking Alyssa had found him before he saw her, he looked up to see somebody altogether different.

It was the woman he had seen here two weeks ago. “Hey stranger,” she purred at him.

“Hey.”  He removed her hand and let it drop at her side, before taking another sip of his drink.

“I saw you watching me dance a couple of weeks ago.
 I was disappointed you didn’t come say ‘Hi.’”

“I’m sorry.
 I was looking for someone else.”  He didn’t look at her, so she walked around and sat in the chair next to him at the tiny round table.  Her knees rubbed against his thighs.

“Did you find her
?”  She put her hand on his leg and started rubbing it up his thigh.

“Not that night, no.
 But I think she’s coming tonight, so…If you’ll excuse me?”  He picked her hand up off his thigh, and stood to go to the bar.  He had to get away from this woman.  

She followed him to the bar, and when he found a spot to stand, she leaned over and started whispering dirty things in his ear.
 He could smell the beer and stale cigarettes on her breath, and he tried to remove her hand from his chest.  She leaned over and tried to tickle his ear lobe with her tongue.  That was when he looked up and saw a pair of icy blue eyes staring at him from across the bar.

“Alyssa!”
 He called to her, waving.  Extricating himself from the woman’s tentacles, he walked over to where Alyssa was standing with her friend Jessie.

“I was hoping you would be here
tonight.”  He stroked her arm, but she pulled away.  Her eyes, frosty pools of blue, still glared at him.

“Sure you were.”
 She turned to the woman, who had followed him over to Alyssa. “Stephanie.”  The bartender placed two shots of tequila in front of Alyssa and Jessie, and Alyssa took them both in her hands, and threw them down her throat, one after another without the salt or the lime.

“Uh...two more, please?”
 Jessie looked at Alyssa in surprise and gestured towards the bartender.

“Are you okay, Alyssa?”
 Dalton asked her.

“Sure.
 Was Stephanie regaling you with tales of her conquests?  Has she told you about my ex-husband, yet?”  

“Stephanie?
 I don’t know her, Alyssa.  I was waiting for you, and she came on to me.  I swear.”  Dalton was beginning to see what was happening.  “Alyssa, please.  Talk to me.”

“You are not the guy I wanted you to be.”
 Her voice had started loud, but dropped to a whisper. “Goodbye, Dalton.”  The bartender had put two more shots of tequila in front her she and Jessie, and again, Alyssa drank both of them, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Jessie looked at Dalton, “Dude, she’s drinking all my tequila.
 Would you please leave us alone for a minute?  At least until I can get a drink?”

“I’m not leaving until we talk.
I can explain.”

“That’s what Steven said.
 Fuck off, Dalton.  You’re great at that.”  Alyssa turned her back on him.

He walked
away to the other end of the bar, where he could sit and watch her.  When Stephanie sent a satisfied smirk Alyssa’s way and turned to follow him, he growled at her.  “Get the hell away from me, bitch.  Touch me again, and I’ll break you in half.”

He watched Alyssa slam another tequila shot, and gesticulate wildly at Jessie, pointing in his direction, jutting her chin at Stephanie.
 He could see Jessie talking to her, explaining something with her hands, smiling at Dalton, in what he hoped was a reassuring manner and taking Alyssa to the bathroom.

When they returned, Alyssa shook Jessie’s hand off her arm, and strode unsteadily to the karaoke machine.
 She whispered in the ear of the DJ, and grabbed the microphone.  After a couple of seconds of finding the right music, Alyssa started singing “Womanizer” by Brittany Spears.

As he listened to her sing, Dalton felt like he’d been sucker-punched.
 There was no way he intended to hurt her like that, and he hated she thought he would.  When the last chorus ended, she handed the microphone to the DJ and left the bar.  Dalton raced to catch up to her.

“Alyssa, wait.”
 He grabbed her elbow and turned her to him. Her eyes were glassy with tequila and her cheeks were tear-stained.  “You misunderstood.  I swear.”

She just stared at him with a glazed look in her eyes, and he realized she was drunk.
 Too drunk to have a conversation.  “Do you have a ride home?”

Jessie came out of the bar then, “I’m sorry, Dalton.
 That looked real bad, what she saw with Stephanie.  Honestly, I don’t think you did anything, but she has been burned by that bitch before, and …”

“It’s okay.
 Let me take her home.”

“Um.
 I don’t think so.”

“Okay, I’ll rephrase that.
 I’m taking her home.”  He picked up Alyssa, who had been standing there, staring vacantly, swaying, and started walking toward his car.

Jessie called out to him.
 “Hey.”

He turned, still carrying Alyssa.

“She’s told me a little about you, Dalton.  Please don’t hurt her.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Dalton replied, unsure of what she meant.

Carefully, Dalton arranged Alyssa’s limp body in his Camaro, realizing she had passed out sometime after he had picked her up.

As he gently arranged her legs in the seat, he reveled in the pliancy he felt through her jeans.
 He couldn’t resist the urge to let his hands linger on the tops of her thighs, rubbing them lightly.  Mentally slapping himself, he tried to focus on the task at hand.

Getting Alyssa situated was a delicate operation, one he had never performed befo
re.  He managed to get her home and uncomfortably dug through her purse until he found her house keys.  After unlocking her front door, he went back to the car to get Alyssa.

As he was carrying her into the house, she stirred in his arms.

“Fug off, Dalton.”  She slurred at him weakly.

“Not tonight, honey.” He drawled at her, softly.

Wandering around her house, carrying her still, looking for her bedroom, he marveled at the difference in the point of view, seeing it from his own eyes, instead of through hers, as he had in his dreams.  Her home was cozy and neat, unlike his own stark apartment in Dallas.  This was actually a home, and he liked it.

Her bedroom was not as neat, but it wasn’t a disaster, either.
 There were a few dirty clothes piled on a chair, where he remembered she had taken them off the mirror in the corner of the room.  He inhaled deeply, smelling the room.  It held her scent, vanilla.  Being in her room was like immersing himself in her essence.  The bedroom was soft femininity.  A chenille blanket was thrown back on the unmade bed that was covered in soft pillows.  The carpeting was plush and a soft gray color. Children’s artwork, lovingly framed adorned the walls.  His eyes strayed to the drawer in the bedside table, where he knew she had hidden her bag of goodies.  Realizing he was still holding her in his arms, he walked to the bed and gently laid her down.

Adjusting the sudden tightness in his pants, he looked at her.
 Even in sleep, the lines of tension showed on her face.  His finger traced the crease on her brow, willing it to relax.  

He wanted to undress her, so she would sleep more comfortably, but he knew if she woke up naked, she would assume the worst about him again, and he couldn’t have that, if he wanted a chance with her at all.
 

In his frustration at himself, he wanted to punch a w
all.  He had a date scheduled.  He shouldn’t have even gone to the bar.  But he wanted to see her again, before Friday.  He was really pissed at himself.

He should have just left well enough alone.

Dalton pulled the covers up to her chin and retrieved a bucket from under the sink in the kitchen for her to throw up in, should the need arise.  

Before he left, he looked at her one last time, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear, smoothing it back.
 She shifted in the bed, and nuzzled his hand with her cheek, whimpering softly in her sleep.

That sound did things to Dalton, which he didn’t quite understand.
 He had heard women whimper before, but not like this.  This was a sound of need -- a need he knew he could fulfill, but he wanted to wait until she was ready.  Dalton had dreamed enough of her life to know she wasn’t ready, yet.  But she would be ready, and he wanted to be the one who was there for her.  He didn’t want some coach sniffing around her skirts to be the one to meet her needs.

Knowing if he stayed there any longer, he would probably crawl into bed with her, he silently left the room and let himself out of the house.

Disoriented, Alyssa swung her legs over the side of the bed, and looked at her alarm clock, which should have gone off twenty minutes ago.
 The numbers on the alarm clock swam before her eyes, and she put her head between her knees to attempt to make the swimming sensation stop.  Losing her balance, she tumbled to the floor, next to a conveniently placed bucket that she promptly started retching into.

When she had emptied her stomach of bile, rancid tequila, and whatever the foamy stuff was, she remembered last night.
 Groaning, she stripped off her clothes, climbed back into bed and reached for the phone to call in sick to work.

Holy cow, she had never called in sick for a hangover before.
 Damn Dalton.  She didn’t want to think about it but couldn’t resist torturing herself.  She could remember seeing Stephanie with her hands all over him, whispering into his ear, kissing it seductively.  After having dreamed similar circumstances from his point of view, she knew exactly what his next step would be.  She didn’t have to strain her imagination much.  She pictured Dalton in bed with Stephanie, working his magic hands over her body, probably pulling out some toys for her, and when Stephanie saw the piercing in his…

Alyssa groaned at the image of pure delight on Stephanie’s face and buried her head under the covers.
 Wait a minute…She didn’t remember getting home last night.  Surely, she hadn’t driven herself.  She wanted to get up and see if her car was in her garage but didn’t have the energy to get out of bed.  She would do it when she woke up, again, as soon as her head stopped pounding.

After a few hours of fitful sleep, filled with disjointed dreams of strong arms and rough fingers, she awakened by a pounding at her door.

Grabbing her robe, and cinching the belt around her waist, she groggily made her way to the front door.

She opened it, and then cursed herself for not looking through the peephole first.
 Dalton stood there, looking positively yummy in his standard uniform, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.  He looked at her uncertainly.