Eluding Nirvana (The Dark Evoke Series Book 2) (34 page)

Unlike Liam and his aggressive and degrading ways, Walker
would never lay a hand on me until I begged; even then he would ask if I was positive that it was what I wanted. The way he would scoop me into his arms and hold me as I sat silently in his lap, telling me to savor the detachment I felt, the detachment which I craved, after he had given it, was the most intimate feeling. In some ways, I liked to think it bonded us in a way that was sacred to
us
.

Despite
all of that, despite how I felt about Walker and our unique bond, as I was looking at myself in the mirror of my bedroom, in an empty house, considering Liam was on another trip, I couldn’t help but silently curse the Irishman to Hell.

Donned from head to toe in
a white, knee-length pencil dress with a suit jacket, a black wig in the style of a bob hid beneath a white pillbox hat as I slipped on a pair of white gloves, I shook my head and sighed.

I
was going to kill him for this.

My focus was torn away from the woman in the mirror when a
beep of the truck horn blared through the night. I made my way around the bed, set my knee on the bench in the bay window and peeked through the heavy, satin embroiled drapes. Signaling for one more minute, I drew myself away from the windowpane, fetched my white clutch purse off the bed, and made my way outside.

He was already st
anding at the bottom of the front steps when I pulled the door closed, locking it behind me. “I am going to kill you for this,” I chided, my silver bear jingling on my charm bracelet as I pointed a scolding finger at his black suited and booted form.

That small
chuckle, which he tried to suppress, was very poorly stifled. “Is that anyway to talk to the thirty-fifth President of the United States, darlin’?” he muttered with faux affront. He crooked his arm for me to link as I stepped carefully down the last step in my white heels.

“An Irish President of the United States, that has to be a first.”

“Will you two shut up and get in the car already? I don’t want to miss the karaoke.” I turned to the source of the irritated voice and gasped, before sheathing my teeth with my lips. “What?” Laurie asked shifting to the center of the bench, as Walker gallantly pulled open the passenger door.

“
Stay Puft? Really? For Historical Characters Night?” I slipped inside.

“Don’t start, it’s a classic. Tell her, Walker.”

Being caught between two distinct outlooks voiced by two women, he wasn’t stupid. Hanging his head with a grin, he faintly shook it from side to side somewhat defeated. “I’m pleading the fifth on this one. Sorry, cuz.”

Laurie scowled adorably as Walker
slammed the door shut behind me, and rounding the hood to slip in behind the wheel.

The entire journey to McGinty’s,
I couldn’t help but stare and offer the small not so secret snort of amusement at the woman next to me. Even so, she earned credit for improvisation. With her tight-fitted white T-shirt topped off with a blue traditional sailor’s collar and red neckerchief, teeny, tiny white shorts, little white sailor’s hat and a pair of what appeared to be cut-off sleeves of a white sweater, she looked like a very hot, Mrs. Stay Puft, one which was in desperate need of a tan.

“What?” S
he hooked her overly long, blue block-dyed bangs behind her ear.

“Nothing it’s just…”
my words faded with a shake of my head.

“I bake cakes right? Cakes are sweet and delicious…like marshmallows, so it’s all very obvious.” Her voice was just as sweet as her costume.

“I just don’t understand how you could make something like that, look…hot,” I shrugged.

Sounding some sort of mewling noise
like she just spotted a litter of puppies, her hand shifted to my knee, and offered a little thank you squeeze.

The familiar sound and vibrations of the truck going over the gravel parking lot of McGinty’s
had the butterflies in my stomach startled awake and fluttering to attention. “You girl’s ready?” Walker asked, putting the truck into park and removing his keys.

One word flew from my mouth instinctively, and had both of them gaping at me with Cheshire cat grins
fixed firmly in place, “’Aye.”

Before I knew it, the words, “Jesus Christ, woman,” was being grunted by Walker. He didn’t hide the fact that my slip of the tongue had caused him to need rearranging in his pants.

Mrs. Stay Puft was already a mile ahead of us as we strolled casually through the lot, my clutch under my right arm, while I linked my left under Walker’s elbow. “You look gorgeous,” he complimented.

I answered with a snort. “I haven’t been to a costume event in yea
rs. I kind of feel ridiculous.”

By the time I had finished, Walker had come to a standstill, and I was
swiftly turned around to face him, my arm still trapped in his crook.

Although his hair was now in a side parting,
which should have made him look ludicrous, he looked breathtaking. I don’t know what it was, but seeing someone who was always dirty and rugged in construction gear and heavy boots, turn suave when sporting a tailored black three-piece suit with the little silver handkerchief in his breast pocket, silver tie and black dress shoes…it made every part of my body tingle. It made my heart beat harder, faster. It made a secret part of me, apart that only I knew, want to risk everything and live in a reckless, impulsive moment.

“You are beautiful, Kady Jenson. You could be dressed from head to toe in white designer, or in a potato sack. Either way, you’re gorgeous. You need to start believing it. That is another duty I’m adding onto the role of ‘Anchor’––”

I frowned.

“To make you realize how gorgeous you are, and what you’re worth.
Shall we, Mrs. President?” he motioned with a sweep of his hand to the entrance. I nodded, and he led me inside.

We strolled arm in arm through the masses of Elvis’, Cleopatra’s’,
1920’s gangster’s and a load of other discerning costumed clientele, until we reached the bar. The pool table which was usually sat between the entrance and the bar was lacking. I’d come here enough times now to know that Carriag always made sure that there was enough room whenever he organized an event, which would pull additional punters in. And that pool table, which held delicious memories that kept me warm on more than one lonely night, took up enough space for at least an additional five bodies.

An older, huskier Irish lilt traveled from behind the bar.
“Come on fellas, let Mr. and Mrs. President through.”

Two Elvi
s’ and a Frank Sinatra gathered their beverages before fleeing the counter, freeing up space for us to approach.

“Carriag I have no idea what possessed you to come up with this event, but you’re going to want to hope that I get amnesia and for
get the entire thing.” I teased, slipping myself up onto one of the recently unoccupied stools with Walker at my side.

“I thought it’d be different,”––
the white cloth draped over his shoulder rose as he shrugged––“And truthfully, it’s the closest I’m going to get with rubbing shoulders with the stars. What can I get you, Jackie?” he asked, scouring my upper body with a sparkle in his eye. I held no reservation that he was a ladies man back in his day.

“Hey, Da, take that look away from my wife.”

Wife? To say my heart failed to cease in my chest at that statement, and that the air I had just sucked in didn’t catch and burn in my throat, would have been the biggest lie in the entire history of mankind. I knew we were dressed up, having fun while portraying famous historic characters, but that lone word…and coming from Walker…

I had to blink back tears which were threatening to spill and plaster a faux, dazed smile over my face. It made me giddy, and for the first time in so, so long, I sat with my head held high, feeli
ng like I was protected…claimed. I felt like I belonged…even if it was just a pretense.

Even if it was just
for one night.

“I’ll have a white wine please, Carriag.” I chanced a look at
my dashing, JFK, who was lighting up a cigarette beside me. “And a beer for my, Mr. President.”

It was fair to say that the night went smoothly. We laughed, we teased, we let our hair down…and unconsciously, we found ourselves falling into the act
of the couple we were posing as. Linking arms, physical contact, fond glances, timid smiles…

When you step into the shoes of a couple who you are
impersonating, a couple who happens to be husband and wife, it becomes more than a costume. For that night, Walker was my husband. I was his wife. The verity of that notion making my blood tingle and my hairs stand on end was something which scared me. Love, attachment, lust…it was all rising to the surface, making its presence known. But it was only an act right? Those feelings had to be present to make the pretense believable.

We were acting out a scene, a scene where those feeling
s had to flow naturally, a scene which, through no fault of my own, was clearing the fog away from hidden feelings that I had possessed, but ignored for so long.

I suppose, I didn’t see
it crossing any lines in our relationship, because for that night, we
were
that couple, and it was expected.

I was sitting on one of the chairs surrounding a round table. Short of
Walker, Laurie, Carriag and I, the bar was empty. I surrendered to my body’s demands and tipped my head back, when Walker seized my right foot, slipped my white heeled pump off and began massaging at the sole of my aching base. Still vaguely aware of Laurie and Carriag chatting about something or other by the bar, it was Walker’s skilled, yet calloused-coated hands which tore the satisfying groan straight from my throat.

Fighting to kick start my reserved energy to lift my head straight, I watched the grin on Walker’s face spread to his eyes. “Is this your way of apologizing?” I
asked.

Less than impressed when Laurie and Walker ganged up on me, and dragged my ass up onto the tiny stage to join in with their rendition of ‘Mustang Sally’ over the karaoke, I cursed like a sailor
, and was told he would make it up to me. Behind the bar, Carriag merely laughing at my feeble attempts of protest, and not coming to my aid as I was hijacked by his son and niece, was something I was going to damn well remember.

“
You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it, darlin’.” I was very much aware of his rough, workman hands skating over my instep, caressing my ankle and skating up my calf to behind my knee as he shifted to the edge of his seat, practically leaning into my personal space with his legs parted. “I’ve been telling you for over a year that I was going to get you up on that thing––”

The
heat radiating from his eyes evaporated every drop of saliva I had, making my lips wither as my lungs fought for vital breath. My gaze combed over his profile, landing at his luring, pale lips.

“
––And I did, darlin’,” he added, before shimmying back into the opposite chair, and resuming the sweet, pleasurable sensation of his thumbs massaging into my sole.

I tipped my head back once again, silently praying for the Lord to help me as I handed
myself over to the blissful sensations he prompted in my body, which also happened to torture my mind.

“Son,” Walker halted
the pleasurable, circular motions, I felt him shift beneath my foot, so I knew he was craning back to look at his father. “I’m going to take Laurie home, could you two lock up for me?”

“’Aye, no problem.”

“The keys are behind the bar. Goodnight, Kady,” he and Laurie called in unison.

“Night both, thanks for a fun night.” And as they left, I was left wondering wha
t it was about being left alone in private with someone of the opposite sex, that makes it so…tempting? The barriers lower, and that persuasive seduction, that appeal, the charging between you and that one person, the mutual attraction, the excitement, the thrill, need, longing and desire…it’s impossible to stray from. It’s impossible to ignore.

“I’m getting a beer; do you want anything, darlin’?”

“No, I’m fine,” I yawned.

“Very well,
” his voice was somewhat strained as he reared up from the chair ahead, relinquishing my foot of his touch. The sound of his dress shoes over the dark, hardwood flooring reverberated around the room as he made his way to the bar behind him. Damn, it was such a sexy sound.

As he did so,
I lifted my ass from the seat, slipped back on my shoe and in an attempt to wake myself up, I headed over to the jukebox.

Perusing the choices displayed, I smiled to myself and bit my lip as I made my selection. The soft intro sounded from the box, my index fingers danced to the
rhythm against the glass before I turned my body to be met by Walker on the customer side of the bar, his left palm shifted from the bottle of Bud and laid flat against the emerald surface. He looked phenomenal, casually standing there in his three-piece suit, his hair combed over, the dark scruff coating his mouth and eyes so piercing, I could feel the warmth radiated from them as he speared his gaze into my body.