Scarred (9 page)

You are a monster.

You are ugly.

No one will like you anyway.

On the ride back to her home with Ben she was lost in her own mind. Every last one of those statements had kept her out of the eye of the public for too long. She had readers that didn’t know she was a female, because she had spent so much time alone. There were times she didn’t even know what day it was, what month it was and she didn’t care either. Once she had even lost track of an entire season. The last was the reason that she moved to the middle of nowhere in the first place.

Just before she purchased the house, she had fallen into a funk. The last time she had recalled going outside, it was spring and everything was in bloom. Or as much as the concrete jungle of the city could be termed "in bloom". The stalls on each corner were filled with fresh flowers and kissing couples held hands as they traversed the streets.

She was alone of course, as she had shunned the company of other people for many years. But somewhere, deep down, she felt left out. There were newborn babies, joy, and beauty to be seen in the brightness of day. And even with all of the loveliness than abounded, she was still alone. There was never going to be a baby for her, for that she needed a man willing to give her one.

The few people that even noticed her seemed to quickly turn their faces from her. As if Amelia was a physical reminder that while lilies may be gilded on one side, they could be tarnished on the other. It wasn’t until she walked past a bakery in her neighborhood that she and Charles used to love, that her melancholy turned into a full depression, one that she would be gripped within for months.

The window was frosted over slightly, damp with dew too new to bead in the warmer weather. She saw a flash of nut brown skin, the red color of Fisher roasted peanuts the predominant undertone. The coloring was too familiar to disregard entirely and she stopped in her tracks. There was her ex. And he walked back to the table with his wife and apparently, they had a child. A daughter and who from the look of it, was in the gangly stages of pre-pubescence. Maybe eight or so? Amelia wasn’t good with estimating that sort of thing, but the kid was certainly seven or better.

Was it? No, she thought, it couldn’t be.

But as she peered into the warmth of the cozy scene, she knew that she was right. Charles had made a new life so easily, without her. He had made promises to another woman, and gave her the gift of children. While she was left alone with only her company to keep her sane and no child to hold in her arms either.

It was that crucial moment that sent her into the welcome arms of North Carolina, to a place where no one knew her name.

That wasn’t what she had intended at the time, not at all. She stopped at a nearby package store and bought more bottles of rum than she could carry back. She gave the owner double the tab, just so the man would bring her remaining rum to her and leave it at her door. There were at least twenty bottles in all, and she pretended they were for a punch fountain to be served at a wedding.

The man looked askance at her and he knew she lied, she could see it on his face. But he must have felt pity for her and did it anyway. The man, named Jered, delivered the bottles as promised. But she was far too drunk to answer the door. The box was in front of her door the next morning, and the hung-over, bitter version of her dragged the crate inside. She spent a season, the spring to be exact, drinking her pain away as bottle after bottle was chased with too little food and no water.

More than likely, she could have pulled a Leaving Las Vegas, and drank herself to an early grave. But the one thing that saved her life was happenstance at the end of third month she woke up. That moment was engraved on her skull and would be until the day she died.

But she was quickly jostled from her not-so-nice walk down memory lane when the Durango reached the tightly packed gravel in her driveway. The sound snapped her back and when she was escorted so carefully from the SUV, Amelia made her rash offer.

She hadn’t planned on giving the invitation. The thought in fact never crossed her mind. But when she stood in front of her home, the words spilled from her lips as if bidden by a higher power, that of her curious subconscious. Amelia had so many questions that the evening had inspired and she didn’t even know where to start. It would have been easier for her to list what she didn’t want to know, because quite simply she wanted to know everything.

Even while frightened at her own train of thought, she hoped that if she were lucky that she wouldn’t have to go to bed with only her own company to pass the night. For the first time in years she could feel the loving touch of another human.

Amelia opened the pantry door, but scooted away to dig into the fridge. There were dozens of drinks she could offer Ben to quench his thirst. But what she actually sought was the moment to figure out how she could approach the situation without looking like a fool.

How do women hit on men without looking stupid? Amelia was never one for batting her eyelashes and tossing her hair about, even before she was burned. And after? At first, she was lucky if she had a day where each breath she took didn’t hurt. Then when she was healthy enough to live life again, it was as if she no longer fit in as a polite member of society. For her to go from a normal, healthy and happy young lady, the transition was an insurmountable feat that she couldn’t accept.

But for tonight at least, she would pretend that she was that girl again, like she had been untouched by life and untarnished by tragedy.

After he refused her offer of a drink, she was thrown off kilter. It felt as if they were actors in a play, but his character spouted lines from Much Ado About Nothing, and their show was The Taming of the Shrew. But he had quickly struck at the heart of the equation and she was left without even the thin excuse she had given in the first place.

“Uh, Ben?”

“Yeah?” His voice was husky, and she immediately felt heavy down below. As if the bottom was ready to fall out of her.

“Thirsty?” She squeaked, and the weak wavering in her tone made her angry with herself.

Dammit!

“Yeah. Come here.”

Amelia walked to him, even as her hips ticked as if they were pendulous swaying weights attempting to mesmerize him. When they stood face to face, Ben ducked his head and pressed his lips to hers. She was sure that the kisses from before were tantalizing, but they were nothing compared to this one.

His tongue teased hers, offered taunting probes that left behind an echoing taste of sugar, and tantalized her senses with each foray into her mouth. Her knees weakened and Amelia leaned into Ben as he supported her clingy limbs. Anything she could offer, she gave when one hand clutched his shoulder and the other fisted in his hair. She heard the ping of the ball cap as her greedy machinations displaced the stiff cotton to disturb the flat, dampened hair. Her ankle twined around his leg and she could feel the tight calf bunched atop her joint.

He pulled his mouth from hers. The sticky conjoining of tongues dismantled, only to leave the tang of lemon and the desire to taste more of the citrus. Amelia was lightheaded and she couldn’t take a deep enough breath to replace what he had taken away. What she had given away.

“Are you… Do you want anything?” She asked, even as her loins yearned for more than to offer him the simple hospitality of her home. For the first time in… well, forever it seemed, she wanted to offer the hospitality of her body.

He huffed and puffed, and she chuckled at the thought that he had already blown her house down with his heated lips. “Actually, I think I want that drink now.”

“I thought you didn’t drink and drive, Ben.” Did he mean what she thought he meant? Or was it just her imagination?

“I have the feeling that my car will be sitting out front at sunrise.” He sighed yet again and Amelia wondered what was wrong.

Amelia immediately felt nervous at the huff of air, but what cemented the fear was the way his hands absentmindedly raked into his hair. The tugging at his locks seemed more than mere irritation, more than mere sexual frustration, and she had no idea what he was thinking at this point.

She wasn’t going to drive herself crazy with worry about him. If he wanted to be here? That was good. And if not? Then he needed to go home and she would wish him well. “You don’t have to do anything. Ben, just take it with you and enjoy once you are in the house.”

“Amelia.”

“Yes?” She was trying her best not to pressure him or make this a hard situation. But between his confusing signals and her need, it was hard to determine if she saw something that wasn’t even there.

“Shut up.” He smiled and the cleft in his chin deepened along with the comma grooves beside his mouth took the sting from the words. “You don’t understand. It’s been a long time for me Amelia. I haven’t so much as touched a woman in the last three years. I can see that you want me, the same as I want you. But I don’t think that you’re ready for that right now. Even though I really want to.”

“How do you know what I’m ready for?”

“Because, until we clear the air between us, dispel the good, bad and ugly sides to both of our pasts, I know neither one of us is ready.”

“The kiss a minute ago says ready to me.”

“That’s our bodies. And you, Ms. Barnett, deserve more than just a warm body.”

God knows, she loathed this man, just as much as she liked him.

That’s scary, she thought.

“Fine. You want the good, bad and ugly? I’ll give it to you and a drink to chase the tale down with.”

Ben cleared his throat. “That sounds nice.” Amelia poured two snifters with the first bottle of liquor she touched. Strangely enough, it was the poison of her choice for the bitter stroll back down memory lane the last time, and it seemed apropos to drink it once again.

When she handed him the cool glass, he tossed back half the contents with a single, long swallow.

“You want a refill?” She quirked her eyebrow north and held out the bottle.

“No. But we can take this conversation into living room so we can get comfortable.”

“You said you would stay over. But do you have a change of clothes, or anything to sleep in?” There was nothing here that he could wear, he was much taller than she was and she doubted he would appreciate her yoga pants the way she did.

“As a matter of fact, I have a duffel bag with some workout clothes that I can wear out in the morning. But I usually sleep in my boxers at best. So long as I can have something to wash with and a toothbrush, I’ll be fine.” Boxers? It was doubtful her libido could handle boxers.

Maybe I can put a bag over his head, and then I could imagine he looked like a toad, instead of the far too good looking man sitting on my couch right now.

Amelia sat down on the sofa and Ben took the spot next to her instead of any one of the numerous options all farther away from her personal orbit.

“So how is this supposed to work? Are we going to swap stories of personal pain and commiserate over these glasses of liquid courage?”

He sighed. “Something like that.”

“Okay, who is supposed to go first?”

“Do you know how to RoShamBo, Amelia?”

She twisted her lips to the left. “You mean rock paper scissors?”

“Exactly. The winner gets to ask any question of the loser first. Then the loser gets a turn.”

“Anything?”

He held his hands up. “Yep. Unless you want to make a topic off limits now.”

“Do you?” There were things that she didn’t want to speak on yet, but putting the limit there was going to ensure that he was even more curious about it. So she took the safest option of the two when she threw the query back to him and decided to let the chips fall where they may.

“No. I don’t see the point of that. Either we are going to get to know each other or we aren’t. This is kind of all or nothing, Amelia.”

She clenched her right fist and sat the bunched knuckles atop her open palm. Ben did the same.

“One, Two, Three!” With each number, they smacked their fists onto upturned palm until the third when she unfurled her fingers into a peace sign.

Ben’s hand remained a fist. “Okay, first question. When did you get burned?”

Amelia took a deep breath. “Almost ten years ago.”

“Your turn.”

“Why did you have to leave baseball?”

“I knew Jenny was running her big mouth. If her mouth stops moving for more than five minutes, it’s because she is asleep or eating.”

Now who was prevaricating? Amelia thought. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I know it doesn’t. But the way you worded it, makes it difficult to give you the answer without the whole story from start to finish.”

“Perfect.” Amelia smiled and she held her breath to hear the story that she had been waiting for all night.

“I attended college on an athletic scholarship. When I was in my junior year, I had some really impressive numbers and a few pro clubs were eager to take me on. Since the semester was close to an end I decided to finish up and have an agent get me the best deal possible.”

Amelia waited as he took a drink from the melted dregs of ice in his glass. When he sat it back down, she leaned over and refilled the contents with fresh rum.