Restless Spirit (3 page)

Chapter Four

Adrian dropped the light bulb box into the recycling bin. ‘So what’s on the agenda for you, Tuesday Cane?’

‘You like saying my name, dontcha?’ I handed him a cold can of soda. Nan was so well stocked I might not have to shop for weeks.

‘Yeah. It’s a cool name. All the girls around here are named normal regular names like Lisa and Kelly and Stacey. It’s not every day you meet a Tuesday. But it is–’

‘Every week,’ I chirped, citing his old joke. ‘Ba-dum-dum-duh! Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, I’ll be here all week.’

‘Ha ha. But really. What are you going to do now? Become a lady of leisure? Write?’

There it was again. Write. My Nan must have made me out to be some super scribe. I shook my head and sighed. ‘Nope. Waitressing, probably until I figure something else out. Shepherd said the restaurant might be hiring part-time.’

Adrian’s face grew dark, his mouth clamped down to a tight seam and his jaw flexed. Uh-oh. What had I said?

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Oh, yeah, nothing. You go from happy man to grizzly bear face in less than a second. Sure, nothing at all.’

He shrugged, finishing off his soda and tossing it in the recycling bin after the light bulb box. ‘You’ve met him?’

‘Yeah, this morning. He popped over to say hi.’

‘You didn’t mention that earlier.’ He sounded petulant. Now I remembered why Adrian and I hadn’t hung in there longer. He could be jealous and petty and juvenile. Sweet and sexy and stunning in bed, but sometimes that didn’t override the childishness of his ways in relationships. Maybe he’d grown some.

‘I didn’t think about it. What’s the big deal?’

He looked out into the overcast day at the now-choppy lake and the leaden clouds. ‘No big deal.’

‘So what’s your beef with him, Adrian?’ Now I was curious. I wanted to know.

‘I just don’t like him, is all. You’d do well to stay away from him.’ He stood suddenly and almost tipped the yellow ladder-back chair over.

‘Ooh, small town drama and rivalry.’

Now he looked pissed and I felt bad. ‘I’ve just heard shit about him, Tuesday. He’s a sexual deviant. Stay away from him. I have to go. I promised my dad I’d help him repair a fence.’

And he was gone. Stomping out the front and trying to act like he was just fine with our conversation when clearly he wasn’t.

‘Wow,’ I said to Nan. Or my imagined presence of Nan. ‘He really doesn’t like Shepherd. And I’m just nosy enough to need to know why.’

I showered, threw on clean clothes and laced up my boots. I’d go and apply for a part-time job and ponder this whole sexual deviant thing.

‘So, Virginia’s Tuesday, you want a job at Irv’s Eats?’ Irving Lieberman asked.

‘If you have one, I’d love to be considered.’ There was something about Irving Lieberman that made me smile. He was small, pale and had eyes so dark they were the colour of espresso.

He puffed up his chest. ‘I need a hostess. To greet and seat our patrons.’

I looked around the restaurant which basically was just a diner. Inside the front door four booths sat to your left, five to your right and dead ahead was a countertop with padded stools that seated a dozen. Painted a pale butter yellow with coral and red accents, Irv’s Eats was sunny inside despite the day being cold and overcast outside. White Christmas lights were draped along the ceiling, down the thin venetian blinds and across bunches of hanging plants. The overall effect was Florida eatery meets dorm room meets your favourite aunt’s cosy kitchen come holiday time.

I loved it.

‘I thought you were destined to be a writer, Tuesday.’

‘Dear Lord,’ I laughed. ‘Did my Nan tell everyone that?’

He nodded, indicating a stool which I grabbed. Mr Lieberman walked around behind and poured me a cup of coffee. Then he took the dome off a cake tray. ‘Pastry?’

I had a vivid flash of being eight and sitting at this counter eating a blueberry Danish that basically tasted like heaven made from flour, eggs, sugar and preserves. ‘Oh, gosh. Thanks.’ I snagged the lone blueberry.

‘And yes, to answer your question, Virginia told everyone that. She was very proud of you. She’d bend my ear until the orders piled up.’

‘Oh I’m sorry.’ I bit into the pastry and rolled my eyes with pleasure.

‘No worries, dear.’ He patted my hand. ‘Virginia was a looker. She could’ve bent my ear as long as she liked.’

I laughed. ‘She was beautiful.’

‘My, my yes,’ he said. ‘So …’ Irving clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. ‘Do you think you can hostess?’

I looked around. ‘Of course. This isn’t one of those pity jobs, is it?’

‘Heavens no! My main waitress Delores is pregnant. Ready to pop and mean as a bull. She’s been missing time and I need someone who will be on staff who can fill in for her and hostess and even do little things like deal with distributors or hand out coupons.’

‘A Jill of all trades,’ I said.

‘Or a Tuesday of all trades.’

‘Mr Lieberman,’ I said, sticking my hand out. ‘I’m your girl.’

‘Ah, wonderful! Wonderful,’ he said, pumping my hand gleefully. Then he tugged me in and gave my cheek a resounding smack. ‘Welcome aboard, Tuesday. Glad to have you.’

I grinned and finished my Danish. I was glad to have a job and a purpose. Because if I didn’t have at least something part-time to look forward to, I’d be spending a lot of my time talking to Nan.

‘When do I start?’

‘How about in two hours? The dinner hour is swiftly approaching and Delores just called to say her ankles have swelled to the size of Christmas hams.’

‘You totally just railroaded me, didn’t you Mr Lieberman?’

He held his first finger and thumb very close together. ‘Maybe just a bit.’

‘So what’s the pay?’

It wasn’t enough to live on but it was enough to get by. Adrian had reminded me Nan had left me money. I was her only grandchild and she adored me, the fact that I was her only heir was no secret.

‘I’ll be back in a few hours. What should I wear?’

He rubbed his hands again, reminding me of a greedy little gnome, and went back through the swinging door. Apparently the restaurant was open from six to two for breakfast and lunch and then shut down until five when it reopened for dinner. Small town, private owner, his rules.

He emerged with a red tee that said IRV’S EATS in big yellow script. I grinned and took it.

‘Just jeans and this. Or khakis. Or whatever floats your boat. As long as you wear my sporty tee you can be comfortable. And a tip, wear tennis shoes or shoes that you’re really comfortable in. We’re open from five to ten for dinner and the joint gets hopping. Especially in this weather, folks like to come in and chat and drink coffee or bring their wine and watch the rain.’ He smiled, the proud papa of a very cosy eatery.

‘They can bring wine?’

‘Oh sure, sure. We have the BYOB thing. They bring some nice wine, get some pot roast, schmooze. End the night with some pie or some of my cook’s coconut cake and everyone’s happy.’

‘I’ll be back, Mr Lieberman.’

‘Please, please, call me Irv.’ He thrust the shirt at me and I took it.

‘Irv,’ I said.

On the drive home the Grenada’s windshield wipers were thumping hard. The sky had opened up. ‘Oh, shit. Shepherd.’

I turned off onto the lake road for Nan’s and parked by his house. I ran up to the door, screaming – very embarrassing – like a girl due to the deluge. I was soaked by the time I rang the doorbell.

I rang it again and hugged myself, chills racked my body. ‘Hello?’ I banged on the screen door and glanced at my car. Maybe there was paper in my purse. Maybe I could leave a note. I started for the steps.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ he said from behind the screen door.

‘Jesus! I didn’t even hear you open the door! Are you making it a habit to scare the shit out of me?’

He grinned, pushing the screen wide. ‘Sorry. I guess I’m quieter than one would expect. Come on in before you get pneumonia.’

I looked down at myself. Water dripped from my shirt and my jeans. It ran in rivulets from the end of my hair. My boots were so wet when I moved my toes they made squishy sounds. ‘Um, I’m kind of … damp.’

‘Goodness me, don’t ruin the cashmere carpets,’ he growled and grabbed my wrist and tugged me inside.

I squeaked with surprise but found myself standing inside his warm and cosy house on a very threadbare, very old but still very colourful rag rug. ‘Stand here. I’ll get you some towels. Take your boots off.’

I stayed on the rug and bent to unlace them. The main room in his home had the sweeping ceilings like my main room – it was very similar. But his sofa was coffee brown instead of cream like mine. There were tons of throw blankets on the back that made me want to curl up and hibernate among his cushions. The sofa was flanked by huge overstuffed chairs and matching ottomans. A rough raw wood coffee tale completed it. The windows that made me think of blind eyes were transparent once you were inside. I watched the lake dance under the driving rain and waited on the rug like a good girl.

‘Here. Let’s get you warm.’

‘I really only came to say I was sorry.’ I tried to go on but my teeth were chattering and I realised that I had broken out in goosebumps. A shiver worked through me and I said ‘whoa’ without thinking.

‘Come on. You’re going to seriously catch a chill and then you’ll have to let poor Irv down.’

I blinked at him but dumbly stood and let him unbutton my plaid shirt. ‘How did you know?’

He grinned and I fought an insane urge to touch his beard. I failed. So I did reach out and touch it.

We both stilled for a moment and I felt a rush of wetness that had nothing to do with rain. Maybe Allister Lake had turned me into a sex pervert – that was what Nan always called it.
That man’s a sex pervert
 … And thinking that way made me smile.

Shepherd smiled back and popped the button on my jeans. Hadn’t I just been doing something similar to this with good old Adrian?

He’s a sexual deviant … I heard Adrian’s warning in my head, but instead of fear, I felt nothing but curiosity and lust.

‘Irving called me to thank me for sending you his way. So …’ He pushed my jeans down but didn’t touch my panties. Pale blue, soaking wet, clinging to me. Leaving little to the imagination, clearly accenting a very properly trimmed bit of pubic hair and I swore I could feel my clit – engorged and at attention – pressing to the damp fabric.

His intense brown eyes studied me and I saw the tension in his jaw, barely restrained but sexy as shit.

‘So?’ I barely managed.

‘So, I know you won’t be here for dinner like we’d planned.’ He dropped my jeans on top of my shirt and started to towel me off. First my hair, then my neck. When he dried my shoulders and then over my bra, heat flooded my nipples and my collarbone. I knew that if I looked in the mirror my chest would be flushed a brazen red, the way it gets when I am turned on beyond belief.

‘Oh,’ I said.

Brilliant.

His towel – a well-worn green swathe of cotton – slithered down my belly and then caught my arms up to dry them. He dried over my panties and my hips and when he looked up at me my heart seized up.

There was something about seeing a man that big down on his knees.

‘So I thought we could eat late,’ he said.

The towel joined the pile of wet clothes and I rubbed my thighs together, feeling more naked in my wet bra and panties than I would have were I actually naked. ‘OK. We can eat late. I don’t know what time–’

‘Let’s say eleven.’

Shepherd touched my navel and my body galloped with need. The fine muscles in my belly fluttered and my pussy flexed with anticipation. I bit my lip hard to try and focus. I failed.

‘OK.’ I rubbed my legs together again and thought what a stupid thing to do. It only made the full and swollen feeling in my cunt worse.

‘Am I scaring you?’ He was still on his knees.

‘No,’ I lied.

‘Does it help?’ He touched my hip bones so gently I wouldn’t have been sure he actually touched me had I not been watching.

‘Does what help?’

‘When you clench your thighs together does it help you not want to come?’

His hands were spanning the tops of my thighs and I felt my sex release another rush of fluid. A wet surrender flag waved for him so he would put me out of my misery. I felt a blush rise up my cheeks. ‘No.’

‘And now you’re thinking dirty things aren’t you, Tuesday?’

How did we get here? How did we go from my back deck to a dinner invitation to me shaking and wet and might-as-well-be-naked on his faded rag rug?

‘Yes,’ I blurted.

‘Do you want me to touch you?’

‘I’ll be late,’ I said as if that would save me from myself.

‘You won’t be late. Now answer the question.’ His eyes were so fucking dark. His body so goddamn big. He had a presence – it was the only way to describe it. You could not be near Shepherd Moore and not be 100 per cent aware of it. At least, I couldn’t.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Too bad. I don’t want to touch you,’ he said, looking up at me and grinning.

I thought my cheeks had been hot before, but now they blazed like small furnaces were hidden under my skin.

‘Say please,’ he said. ‘Because there is something I want to do.’

I shook my head, anger and embarrassment and wariness warring in my chest. I gnawed my lip and realised that I could feel his hot breath on the front of my cold wet panties and instinctively, I clenched my thighs … damn it.

‘Say it.’

‘Please,’ I said. I said it fast, like ripping off a band aid. Like swallowing a pill. Like jumping into cold water. I did it fast and tried not to pay attention to the fact that I was doing it at all.

Chapter Five

Shepherd put his hands on my hips and his grip was so strong I had no trouble believing he’d been an ultimate cage fighter. I expected smoke to rise off my skin where he touched me but promptly lost the image when the velvet humidity of his mouth clamped down over my sodden panties and I felt the heated nudge of his tongue to my clit.

So I was right. My clitoris was so engorged that it pressed to the pale cotton underpants. I had thought it was just my imagination but he went straight to it his tongue a heat-seeking missile that slammed me with a rush of pleasure so intense my knees sagged.

He covered my knees then with the span of his large hands and squeezed as if to tell me that if they did unhinge and threaten to dump me on my ass, he’d hold me up.

I made a sound I didn’t recognise. It wasn’t a word, it wasn’t a cry. It was an utterance that could only come from surprise mixed with bliss.

He sucked the cotton and me into his scorching mouth, pressing that tongue of his to that hard nub of flesh until I squeezed my eyes shut so all of my awareness was focused solely on that point in my body. I moved to grip his shoulders and he said in a gentle but brusque voice, ‘Hands down.’

I pushed my fingers restlessly to my own thighs and his hands came up to clamp my ass. He pulled me roughly forward, pressing his mouth to the maddening cotton that kept him from actually touching me.

‘Shouldn’t we–’

‘Hush.’ He squeezed my ass just hard enough for a jolt of pain that quickly bled into pleasure to startle me.

He licked and nudged and sucked in alternating rhythms with different pressures until I was sure the floor was tilting under me. I had to focus on holding my hands down and when he pulled back and looked at me, I was muzzy headed and confused. My pussy throbbed with my racing heart and I felt so swollen I wanted to weep.

‘Does that feel good, Tuesday?’

I could only nod.

But Shepherd wasn’t satisfied and as I was starting to piece together, he liked to be satisfied. ‘Say it.’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you want to come?’

‘Yes?’

‘Are you uncomfortable?

‘Some.’ I put my eyes down, looking away from his probing gaze.

‘Look at me.’

I forced my gaze back and swallowed hard. I was on the verge of begging him. Begging! Asking him to finish me off. Pull me down, climb on top, put it in me. Anything. Missionary, doggy style, suspended from the ceiling. Just do it – make me come.

‘Why are you uncomfortable some?’

‘I was just about to come. And now …’ I shrugged.

‘And now you’ve had a tiny break so it will be that much better,’ he said and smiled. It was the smile of a predator. A beautiful, frightening monster who I wanted to kiss so badly I could taste the wet cotton on his tongue if I concentrated.

He pushed his mouth back to me, sucked, sucked, sucked and then pressed his tongue to that hard bit of flesh and when he bit me, I didn’t sense it coming. A quick controlled nip to my clit that sent a buzz-flash of pain through me and I was coming. Gripping my fucking thighs with my crazy-restless fingers and trying not to cry out. What came out of me was a sigh and a whimper and a moan that made me feel so ashamed and yet so liberated.

When I opened my eyes he was standing. ‘I’ll get you some clothes to run home in. You still have time for a shower and to get back to Irv’s.’

‘But … you …’

Were we done? I didn’t want to be done. I wanted to get my hands on him. Among other things.

‘Will be here tonight when you get back.’

He handed me sweats and a hoodie and I laughed when I pulled them on. I looked like a toddler in her father’s clothes. He stooped, rolled the sweats and I hugged myself with the soft hoodie keeping me warm.

‘I’ve heard–’ I broke off. What had I been thinking?

‘You’ve heard what?’ He tossed my wet clothes in a side room. I assumed it to be a mudroom because I could see boots and a washer and dryer and a coat rack.

‘Nothing.’

‘Come on. We’ve just been intimate, Tuesday. Can’t you tell me?’

I studied him and could see the smile in his eyes though it barely touched his lips.

I shrugged and almost whispered. ‘I’ve heard things about you and your … sexual preferences.’

‘Goats?’ he asked, straight faced.

‘What? No!’ I yelped. My entire face now blazed with mortification.

He laughed outright and I felt my body let loose more moisture. Shepherd Moore did weird fucking things to me – literally and figuratively.

‘So people are telling tales already? Interesting.’

‘I’m sorry. I never should have said. I don’t listen to gossip anyway.’ I turned to go. I had a job to get to. And a weird oral sex experience that still had me buzzing to ponder and analyse.

He put his hand on the door so I couldn’t open it and a splinter of fear stabbed my chest. And I kind of liked it, I realised.

‘You can listen all you want, but what you need to consider is it’s up to you.’

‘What’s up to me?’

He kissed me under my ear and I shivered. He’d yet to kiss my mouth. Then he pulled his hand away and opened the door for me. ‘Whether or not you let what you hear scare you off. Whether or not you’re going to find out about me for yourself.’

I showered and tried not to overthink what had just happened. It had been oddly erotic having him make me come without seeing me naked or putting his mouth or hands or anything else directly on my nether regions.

‘That’s talent,’ I snorted, and rushed out of the shower. No time to dry my hair. I wrapped it in a towel and left it while I pulled on jeans and my new work tee. I swiped my eyes with mascara and my lips with gloss and put some cheeky pink crème blush on my cheeks. Then I braided my crazed hair into two braids and set about finding my motorcycle boots in my mess of moving stuff.

I still had time, no need to panic. And I didn’t feel panicked. At least not about Irv’s or working or any of that. That atmosphere of his place made me feel at home and calm. It was what would come later that made me feel panicky. I’d be alone again with Shepherd. Would it be odd? Would I want to jump him? Did he only get girls off while they had clothes on? Did he shun traditional sex? Is that what Adrian had meant?’

‘Jesus Christ, Tuesday, stop it!’ I said, pulling on striped ankle socks and then my black leather boots. ‘Shit kickers, just for you, Nan!’ I yelled to my empty house. Hey, until I got a dog or a cat or a boyfriend, I’d talk to my grandmother all I wanted. Probably after that, too.

I didn’t even let myself analyse it when I pulled on Shepherd’s hoodie, zipped it up against the wind. The rain had stopped but the fall wind continued to rage. I pushed my face to the soft cotton and inhaled the scent of him. Wood shavings, cold air, leather, and whatever his signature Shepherd scent was. It was all there trapped in the fabric, a dizzying mélange that went to my head and my pussy. Calling up memories of that big man on his knees, his dark serious eyes studying me intently, his mouth knowing where to go instinctively.

I blew out a shaky breath and tried to calm my thumping heart. ‘Good lord. Go to work,’ I told myself.

The Grenada spat gravel as I headed out to Irv’s. I would be on time for my first shift.

Irv hadn’t been kidding. The place was mobbed even though I was just walking in. ‘Am I late?’ I gasped taking off Shepherd’s hoodie and tucking it carefully in my oversized purse. I put it inside the office where Irv pointed.

‘Nah. It was just raining buckets. I opened up a few minutes early so folks could stay dry.’ He pointed to the board. ‘Specials. Order window’s there. Here’s your pad. Waitresses pull their own drinks but everything else is kitchen. I’m the cashier so that’s covered.’

‘I thought I was hostessing,’ I said, trying not to laugh.

He rolled his eyes at me and patted his bald head. ‘Enh. What can I say, with the weather being what it is and Delores is out again. You are her tonight, got it?’

‘No problem,’ I giggled. ‘I was joking. Breathe, Mr Lieberman.’

‘Irv!’ he corrected. ‘And you’re a good egg, just like my Virginia,’ he said.

I cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘Your Virginia?’

He blushed and I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. He looked ready to burst into flames. ‘Hush, no pestering an old man.’

‘So did you and my grandmother ever–’

‘Oh, look! A customer!’ He pointed me toward them and scurried away.

I was going to like it here.