Skygods (Hydraulic #2) (10 page)

Decades later, we broke from the tunnel, spilling into the base of a sweeping cavern scattered with massive boulders Kevin called “cave balls.”

“Could this place get any more suggestive?” Samuel muttered. I feebly chuckled, glad I wasn’t the only one with a dirty mind.

He picked his way around an underground stream and tested each rock before easing his weight up and over. I braced a hand on my knee and grabbed his elbow, silently asking for a breather. We settled against a large, smooth boulder and situated our hardhats above us so we wouldn’t blind each other. The cold light caused the fungus around us to glow, casting a strange illumination and shadow over the cavern. Samuel pulled out a water-filled canteen and offered me a swig before taking a long drink. I watched his Adam’s apple bob in his neck as he swallowed, and another wave of lust swept over me. Did I just fantasize about sucking on his throat? I was toast.

My mind zoned in on Samuel’s PG description of his relationship with Indigo. Raw need still quivered through my body, and I forced it down in a bid for a cool head. But how, exactly, does a woman ask her ex-husband about his post-marriage sex life?

So Samuel, had any good boinking lately?

I hear you’ve been enjoying a bit of the old in ’n out.

Bumpin’ uglies is such a hideous term, don’t you think? Speaking of which…

Only ambiguity dribbled from my mouth. “Speaking of Freudian caves, have you dated much in the past seven years?”

He choked on his water. I patted his back and murmured apologies for the randomness. He gave me a wary eye, but gained a modicum of control.

“Yes. And you’ve dated, too,” he replied matter-of-factly, as if he were answering an annual exam question.

“I have. They were…well, total busts. But the women at breakfast today, what they said about hooking up with fans—”

“I
knew
this was going to come up again.” He thumped the back of his head against the rock. “A lie, Kaye. Not once have I ever slept with a fan, I swear. It’s wrong and I’d be taking advantage of them.”

“Right, I get that. But I want to know…how many?”

“How many women have I dated?”

“Yeah. Or I guess, more specifically, how many…
how many
. Who were they?” Oh for the love of Tom, why couldn’t I be an adult and say adult things?

What could only be described as sheer horror blanched Samuel’s angular face, and he squirmed uncomfortably, desirous to be any place but next to me, having this conversation. “Kaye, there is absolutely nothing good that can come from knowing that. Are you sure—?”

Was I? What if he told me about these women and I happened to meet one someday? Or worse, what if I constantly wondered if a woman had been intimate with the man I loved? Given my enervating jealous streak, that was entirely possible. Perhaps it would be better to know for sure. “Yes,” I answered. “We’ll have to deal with this eventually, so now is as good a time as any.” I squinted despite the darkness.
Please be fewer than twenty, please be fewer than twenty…

“Three.”

My gaze leaped to his, certain I’d see sarcasm. Samuel, however, was all seriousness.

“Just three? But all of the women from Page Six and TMZ…”

He groaned. “I told you not to believe a word you read there. It’s pure trash. How could you possibly think I’d ever be so cavalier about sex? You know me.”

I pondered his question, wanting to give him an honest answer. “After I found out about the drugs and your behavior in New York, I guess I questioned everything about you. If one fundamental part of you could change so drastically, why couldn’t other parts?”

He admitted I had a point. “I’m still me, Kaye. Yes, I was becoming a different person—one I was terrified to let you have any part in. But fundamentally I’m the same, and I know that now.” He placed a hand on my knee, urging me to see his sincerity.

“Listen to me carefully,” he continued. “I have never made love to anyone other than you. Those three women—they were a means to an end and I was horribly selfish to use them, but that’s the honest truth. Let’s leave it at that.”

I cringed, because in this case, I understood exactly what he was talking about. A means to an end. In my rash rebellion and anger against Samuel, I’d also used a few men—nice men who deserved better than a one-night-stand and ignored phone calls. It hadn’t been
me
, and I’d felt wretched afterward.

“What happened? H-How—” I whispered, immediately embarrassed for asking.

Samuel was equally embarrassed. He ruffled his matted hair as he watched me with a wary eye. Then he heaved a breath. “This is going to bug you until you find out, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

He slapped his thighs in resignation and grudgingly elaborated. “The first was barely a week after we divorced,” he said. “I believed if I was going to self-destruct, I might as well do it thoroughly. I singled her out at a Greenwich bar because she had curly blond hair and big hazel eyes. I was angry and greedy and high, and when she asked for my number I blew her off like the asshole I was. Are you sure you want to hear more?”

“Yes,” I whispered, because I needed to know.

“The second was the indie singer I dated five years ago. She was my first real try at a relationship after you. But she could tell I wanted her to be someone else. It was grossly unfair to her and I ended the relationship after a month. I loathed myself for what I’d done. After that, I added sex to my list of taboo indulgences until I found a woman I could give myself to completely.”

That sounded more like the Samuel I remembered. I pressed on. “And the third? Was she someone you could give yourself to completely?”

There was a long silence; the only sound was our puffs of breath against the ice of the cave.

“Do you remember the disorderly conduct charge from three years ago?” he asked. “The one in the file Jaime gave you?”

“Yes—public intox.”

“That was the third woman. Something shook the shabby foundation I’d constructed and I went out, loaded up on straight vodka, and brought a woman to a motel. I told her, ‘turn your face, I can’t look at your eyes.’ The same thing my mother said to me.” His voice cracked sorrowfully and I wondered if he was close to tears. “After she left, I found a bar and got into a brawl with a guy twice my size. Thus, the disorderly conduct charge.”

I stifled a sob in my throat, but he heard it anyway. “What happened three years ago that made you—”

“It’s not important, now.”

“Samuel, it
is
.”

“
Kaye.
”

But I stubbornly insisted, and he relented.

“I was back in Boulder for my book tour, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of you. I had this grand idea of asking you out for coffee—maybe meet on friendly, platonic terms because I was an adult and should be able to have a cup of coffee with my ex. But when I arrived, Molly informed me you were out for the week, enjoying a magnificent Valentine’s vacation at a ski resort with Hector Valdez. I think she was thrilled to see me squirm—a bit of payback.”

I flinched. No wonder Samuel was so paranoid about Hector. “Yeah, that was more of a Singles’ Awareness Day vacation,” I explained, trying to soothe Samuel’s ruffled spirit. “Separate rooms on the off-chance one of us got lucky. Hector did, I didn’t. Typical.”

“I’d be lying if I said I was sorry to hear it.” I heard a hint of smugness in his voice and I nudged him with my shoulder. He went on. “Just like that, I reverted to a self-pitying, jealous ex and stormed back to New York. If you could replace me, why couldn’t I replace you? Months later, Danita told me you weren’t with Hector. I don’t need to tell you how foolish I felt.”

“I can only imagine,” I muttered, remembering my harried inspection of Caroline’s lotions and lingerie in her guest room, only weeks ago.

“After the incident with the woman and a night in jail, it fully hit me whose son I really was. Sometimes it’s still difficult to accept, though.”

There she was again—Rachel, that wicked specter. I hated her more than I’d ever hated the cliff-hucking floozy with her black lingerie luggage. “You are nothing like your birth mother, Samuel. Not one bit.”

Samuel looked as if he might argue, but let it go. “Let’s walk again.” He grabbed our hardhats, and I strapped mine under my chin. Silence fell as we took turns pulling each other over boulder piles, scaling slick surfaces, navigating twists. After several minutes, he spoke again.

“So, Ms. Trilby, how many have you lured to your bed? And Jaime Guzman doesn’t count.”

Now, if those horrid cameras that snap action photos of wild-eyed roller coaster riders and display them for all of creation to mock had been installed in this very cave, the terror on my face would have been a side-splitter. Because, at some point in my heedless dash to get the deets on Samuel’s bedmates, I’d forgotten three cardinal rules:

1
. It’s not fair to ask of others what you aren’t willing to do yourself.

2
. Do to others as you would have them do to you.

3
. Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.

Crap. I’d have to pony up the deets, too. “There’s a large boulder field ahead, Samuel. Watch your footing.”

“You’re dodging my question. I answered, now it’s your turn.”

I huffed, dreading this. “Fine. Four.”

“Four?” I heard him hiss as he halted mid-climb.

“Wait a minute, here.” Hurt and defensiveness surged through me as I wrenched myself over the next rock and onto a fairly flat surface. “You have no right to judge me, Samuel. It’s not like I was slutting around for seven years because I’ve slept with one more person than you. I know men think sex is easier for women to go without, and maybe it is, but we have needs, too.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“And just like you, I hated myself after each time, because I couldn’t get you out of my head. Heck, the first time I slept with someone who wasn’t you, I cried and cried and freaked the guy out because he thought he’d hurt me. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

An odd gasp echoed through the cavern, and Samuel’s light beam tumbled across the wall as he stumbled to the ground.

“Are you all right?” I asked, my hand flailing around in the darkness for his. Samuel’s fingers wrapped around mine, reassuring me he was still there.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was pure misery.

“I’m sorry, too.” I let him tug me down to his side in the muck and cold, black rock. We sat quietly, listening to bats fluttering somewhere in the cave, their squeaks bouncing off the walls and ceiling.

“Better now?”

I nodded.

“So, who were these men?”

“Just…just dates,” I stuttered, my face a pink carnation in the blessed darkness. “The first was a friend of a friend.”

“Whose friend?”

“Molly’s. The second was one of our old classmates from Lyons High, and I won’t tell you who because you’ll go nuts on him.”

“Was it Santiago?”

“Ew, no!”

“Clark? Martinez? Murphy?”

“Be content to know he doesn’t live in the state anymore.” I stood and wiped dirt from my rear. Samuel’s flashlight beam flicked across the boulders in front of me as he also stood.

“That narrows it down. Did I play baseball with him?”

“
ItwasTeddyVeddy
,” I admitted in a rush. Flashes of Ted’s grunge hair and flannels invaded my mind and I shuddered. By the set of Samuel’s mouth, I knew he was also being bombarded by Pearl Jam-accompanied recollections of the sullen boy nicknamed “Teddy Veddy” in high school. “Do you want to hear about the other two?”

“I don’t know if ‘want’ is the right word. Maybe ‘masochistic need’ is more accurate.” He scaled another boulder, slipping over the shining fungus, then handed me up.

“I met the third at a bar about four years ago, when Molly was on her blue-haired wild streak after a nasty breakup. Celebrity gossip had started keeping tabs on your love life and I was a bitter mess. So Molly and I threw caution to the wind and found a couple of guys for a one-night stand. Except for the skydiving stunt Saturday,”
and introducing this conversation
, I silently added, “it was probably the stupidest, most rash thing I’ve ever done. I was really lucky he was a decent guy who used a condom and didn’t steal my wallet or slip me a roofie.”

Samuel scaled the boulders quickly, almost too quickly for me to keep up. I seethed and latched onto his arm. “Look, I know this is difficult, but don’t you dare get self-righteous with me. I didn’t cheat on you—we weren’t together anymore.”

“And the fourth?” he ground out between clenched teeth, his sad face unable to meet mine.

“Two years ago. A man from my skydiving class who wore the same cologne as you.”

“Did I meet him when we skydived?”

“No. I never saw him again. I never saw any of them again.” I wrapped my arms around my middle as the memory of that wretched night invaded my thoughts…The sweaty, broad body that certainly wasn’t Samuel’s, even though he’d vaguely smelled like him. The way I buried my face in the man’s neck so I wouldn’t have to see his face and ruin my illusion. It wasn’t cheating. But why did it feel like it?