Someone to Love (8 page)

“You coming?” he asked. She hadn’t noticed he’d gotten out and had opened her door because she was preoccupied with taking in every detail. “Either you come voluntarily, or I carry you in.”

His threat got her attention she couldn’t take her body being in close contact with him again “I’m coming.” She jumped down and followed him towards his house.

“Wait a minute, this is your place?”

“Yeah.”

“What about that tiny little apartment?”

“I live there too.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “Why would you stay there if you have this?”

“Convenience,” he said.

He kept walking, but she didn’t. She stood with a hand on her hip. “Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie to you. I do live in the apartment if I’m too tired or too drunk.”

“You don’t live there, you just crash there. Why not bring me here?”

“Convenience.”

“Is that you’re favorite word?”

“It was just easier to let you work at the apartment then bring you here. Plus you were closer to the space to set-up.”

She couldn’t argue with his logic, but she wanted to. “But why not even mention this place?”

He ran a hand through his hair, remembering the globs of paint after it got all over his hand. “Magnolia, habits are hard to break. I’m just used to telling females about the apartment only.”

“Because that’s where you go for an easy lay?”

He raised a shoulder in a noncommittal agreement. “Chicks see a place like this and they think I have loot. They see a small place above a bar, they think I’m struggling to keep the doors open.”

“Maybe you should leave the chicks in their coop. No pun intended. What do they say when they see this place?”

“Nothing. They don’t see this place.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Let’s go get cleaned up.”

His jovial and flirtatious demeanor of earlier was muted by seriousness. So she let it die. She was less upset that he’d kept this place a secret and more upset that it must mean she was the only one developing feelings.

The interior impressed her as much as the outside had. The floors were a deep brown wood, wider than the laminate flooring standard in cookie cutter houses. The base boards were painted a deep dark brown to match. The walls were a soft beige that reflected the sunlight from the windows.

A staircase curved up the wall to the right of the door. To the left was a spacious living room with a balcony overhead that opened up to a loft. The sofa and chairs had minimal lines and there was a huge ottoman that acted as a coffee table. Beyond the living room was a large island that delineated the beginning of the kitchen that had cabinets and a sink curved with the wall. The refrigerator was out of view and must have been on the other side of the wall that rose a few feet from the island.

Against the wall was a flat screen TV. Below the TV was a rustic credenza that likely housed his electronic components. There was a large dining table made from a tree that had been cut lengthwise instead of across, leaving an irregular edge. A hodgepodge of twelve high back chairs. Though the backs were different they all had the same rich navy blue cushions.

Behind the dining room table was a fireplace that also curved with the wall. The surround and chimney rust and gray toned natural slate tiles. She followed the chimney up until it disappeared into the floor above. There was a railing for the second floor that curved around the full circumference of the silo leaving the conical pitch of the roof visible from the ground level. On one half of the second floor was an open loft on the other side there were doors.

“Cooper, I’ve seen many cool places. Like an ice hotel in Sweden, but this is the coolest place I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you. I’m going to let you go first. While you’re in the shower I’ll get lunch started for us.”

“Oh, I’m not hungry.”

“Well, I am. You can watch me eat,” he said as he bounded up the stairs.

She followed behind him. Once on the second level she could see the lofted space across the way. It was set up as an office and entertainment room. There was a pool table and a TV even bigger than the one downstairs with a couple of over-sized chairs instead of a sofa. There was a desk that ran along the wall just below the windows. She liked this place. It was a circle. No beginning but more importantly, no end.

She followed him through the door to his bedroom and fell irrevocably in love with the house. There were no windows on the wall, but the entire ceiling was windows. She could see herself lying in his arms watching the clouds roll by on a lazy Sunday afternoon or watching the stars overhead after a night of lovemaking.

“What are you thinking?”

The smile on his face made her wonder if he could read her mind or if she’d spoken out loud by accident. She told a half truth. “Just admiring the beautiful sky.”

“It is beautiful,” he said. He was still looking directly at her and not up to the sky. “Here’s a towel. There’ll be clothes on the bed for you when you get out.”

More than a half hour later she was still in the shower. “Hey, I’d like some hot water too,” he called through the bathroom door.

“But this shower feels so good.”

“If you don’t come out I’m coming in.”

“The door is locked.”

“You don’t think I know how to unlock a door in my own home?” The water immediately shut off. “There are clothes on the bed for you,” he said through the door.

“Thanks.” When she walked out with the thick fluffy towel wrapped around her thin frame almost twice, he was gone and the bedroom door was closed. The clean white towel contrasted against her glistening brown skin. On the bed were a pair of jeans, a buffalo plaid shirt similar to the ones he wore everyday like a uniform, and a pair of socks in a ball. Commando wasn’t her style. It made her feel uncomfortable. The thought of wearing one of his women’s jeans with no underwear was downright disgusting.

She looked around but didn’t see a dresser so she went into the closet. The dresser was built into the far wall. She searched several drawers and couldn’t find a boxer, a brief, a boxer brief, not even a Speedo. In the fifth drawer she found his underwear, including an unopened pack of Christmas themed boxers with a remnant of the wrapping paper still stuck under a piece of tape. She selected a pair with a smile and grabbed one of his undershirts too.

She didn’t want to wear the jeans forgotten by one of his conquests, but she had no choice. When she put on his shirt she realized she did have a choice. Since he was over a foot taller his shirt reached to just above her knee at the longer scoop in the front and back, and to about mid-thigh on the sides. The boxers wouldn’t stay up, not even when she rolled the waistband a couple of times. She had an idea.

She returned to the closet and found a braided black belt. She didn’t know they still existed, but was grateful that he had one. She wrapped it around her waist making the shirt look like a dress on her thin frame. The boxers were caught tightly in the belt and would stay up, she hoped. She put on his fresh socks and her boots.

By the time she’d finished dressing her hair had started drying. She rifled through her large purse and found an elastic band and small bottle of hair lotion she kept in her purse in case her luggage was lost as she traveled. Not every country had hair care products for a black woman’s hair. She massaged the lotion into her hair and pulled it into a ponytail that would dry into a large puff.

She grabbed her purse and turned into the hall the way she’d come in and walked smack dab into a wall that wasn’t there before. She took a step back and saw that the wall she’d bumped into was in fact a bare chested Cooper with a towel slung so low on his hips that he was literally just a hair away from being nude.

The towel was similar to the one she’d dried off with, except where it had surrounded her almost twice, it looked like he’d tried to wrap his thick muscular frame with a washcloth. He was all muscle, even his shoulders. His biceps looked bigger than her thigh. Speaking of thighs, his bulged against the towel. If he were green, he would actually be the Hulk- the Lou Ferrigno version circa the 1970s television not the CGI movie version. Her gaze never reached his face because she was taking mental pictures of his chest, and arms, and abs, and wondering what she’d find if she’d followed the line of black hair on his abdomen that disappeared beneath the towel.

He cleared his throat causing her to look up and notice his face for the first time. Her eyes grew large. His wiry beard was gone. In its place was a neatly trimmed beard that lightly covered his strong jaw line. His lips were no longer partially hidden by a thick black mustache. The better to kiss with she thought. His hair was still a thick black mass atop his head. This transformation was dangerous. Maybe it was better for her to look at his chest. It was less tempting than his face. She glanced back down at his chest and decided there was little hope for resisting this temptation no matter where she looked.

“You’re not wearing any pants.”

“I didn’t feel like putting on one of your one night stand’s jeans.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Not at all.”

“Good, because they were a pair of my mother’s jeans.”

She felt a slight embarrassment about her incorrect assumption. “At any rate, I like the shirt as a dress better anyway.”

He smirked. “Isn’t it a little short for you to wear commando?”

“I don’t know. You tell me,” she said as she turned and slowly bent all the way over. She smiled at the sharp intake of breath she heard him take as the dress began to rise further up her bare legs. The shirt turned dress hugged her butt not revealing her underwear or lack thereof.

“I can’t see if you’re commando or not.”

She turned slowly and smiled. Her wanton display seemed to excite him as much as his nearly naked body made her pulse race. But she wasn’t finished playing with fire.

She slowly gathered the shirt’s hem in her hands and began to pull it up. She heard him take another sharp breath as the shirt inched its way up her thigh. His chest began to rise and fall again once he saw the green boxers with a bright red bow.

“Is that present for me?”

“Maybe.”

“There’s no such thing as maybe. There’s just yes or no, and the person that is too afraid of admitting either of those answers. I think your answer is yes. Are you afraid to tell me yes?”

“I just didn’t want to see a grown man cry when I told you no. You should be getting in the shower.”

“I was hoping you would cut my hair before I showered.”

“What about the bet? Won’t you be going back on it?”

“Nope.”

“Diane said Jack cut his hair shortly after they met. What exactly was the bet?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Then I can’t cut your hair.”

“If you cut my hair I’ll tell you.”

She smirked. “Deal.”

It felt good to watch Noli admire him the way she had in the hallway because it meant he wasn’t alone in the desire department. His shirt on her was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. There was something about his big shirt that made her seem even more petite. It would be nice to see her in his shirt the morning after wild passionate sex. Except the morning after she wouldn’t have on those boots that stopped just below her knee and bought all the attention to her exposed thin yet shapely thighs exposed between them and the shirt’s bottom.

She’d left the top few buttons unbuttoned, exposing smooth dark chocolate colored skin until his V-neck t-shirt that she was wearing covered her. It was erotic to know that a shirt that had been against his bare chest was now against her small pert breasts. He knew her breast were bare because her bra was in her pile of dirty clothes.

His train of thought made it very difficult to control his reaction, but he had to with only the towel to disguise his body’s primitive response to her. He’d had to stand with his hands clasped together in front of his groin when she raised his shirt up. He was still very happy he had big hands, very big hands, even after she exposed nothing more than a pair of boxers his mother had gotten him this past Christmas. He’d been flirted with by women with bigger breast, fuller hips, and longer legs than hers, but he’d never felt as attracted to them as he was to her.

“Why don’t you cut it yourself,” Magnolia asked.

“I’ve tried. The results make me look like I’ve lost a bet.”

“How short do you want it?”

“Short. I’ve had it this long long enough.”

“When did you lose the bet?”

“October.”

“What was the bet?” she asked again.

“I’ll tell you after you cut my hair.” He crossed his fingers out of sight like he used to do as a kid when he told a bold faced lie. She began cutting without question and months of hair growth began to fall to the floor.

“How’d you come to live in a silo?”

“I moved back home when I graduated college.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Notre Dame.”

“Why not Indiana?”

“Notre Dame was offering a better scholarship.”

“For what?”

“Seriously? You get one guess.”

“Well an academic scholarship is a long shot. So I’ll guess ballet?”

He reached out and tickled her side. “You’re ticklish?”

“Hey, you don’t want to tickle me again. I have clippers to your head.”

“Okay, I’ll keep my hands to myself.” Then he mumbled, “For now.” There was no need for using his hands. Her thighs touched his as she stood straddling his and concentrating on creating a seamless transition from hair to beard. Her breasts were at eye level and he did long to reach out and touch them or even better taste them. He’d worn the towel to tempt her, but the result was his frustration and had him looking forward to a long cold shower.

“So you played football at Notre Dame.”

“I did. I graduated with a 3.6 GPA.

“That’s pretty impressive.”

“You already know I’m pretty impressive,” he said smirking.

“Not really, that was the first thing about you to impress me.” He tickled her again causing her to wiggle and move her leg in dangerous proximity to his groin.

“Hey, do you want me to mess this up?”

“No.” He clasped his hands together back on his lap.

“You were saying, you’d moved back after college.”

The more she pretended she wasn’t attracted to him, the more it attracted him. She was a challenge. A challenge he could easily overcome, but definitely more of a challenge than most women usually posed.

“I came back to help run the bar because it had never been my grandpa’s thing and he wanted to retire. College had given me a certain level of freedom that I was accustomed to, so after a few months of living with my mom and grandpa, I had to move. Buying a house wasn’t an option at the time.”

“What about the apartment?”

“That wasn’t added on until later when my brews had me spending a lot of late nights at the bar. I created a studio apartment in the attic by adding a shower and small kitchenette.”

“And a bed.”

“Are you interested in seeing my bed? We wouldn’t have to go all the way to the bar. There’s one upstairs.”

“Cooper. Cooper. Wake up!” she said snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“I am awake,” he said confused.

“You are? Then you must be day dreaming if you think you could get me into your bed.”

He smiled. “As I was saying, living with my mom and grandpa was frustrating and I couldn’t afford much or it was too far away. One night I was driving and I came up on these two old silos. I had the idea that with less cash than a house and a lot of sweat, I could make this livable.”

“This place took more than a little cash to create.”

“When I first moved in, it was rough. Just slightly above living in a cardboard box. My mom kept begging me to come back home. For the next few years, if I wasn’t working a shift at the bar, or brewing, I was here working. Same thing with money, all of it went to either the bar, making beer, or creating this home.”

“Your hard work shows.”

“Thanks. I had to get creative for much of it. The floors downstairs were reclaimed from an old barn that was about to get torn down. The dining room table was from a tree that got struck by lightning.”

“You’ve created a lovely and unique home,” she said looking around. Is that why you don’t bring floozies here.”

He chuckled. “I’ve never been with a floozy. I thought they went extinct in like the 1950s anyway.”

“Well what do you call them?”

“Beautiful women who’ve offered me a bit of their time.”

“I think that’s the exact definition of a floozy. Is that why you don’t bring them here? Is this your home and while they’re good enough to, um, share a bit of time with, they’re not good enough to invade your sanctuary.”

“Most of the women I spend time with aren’t looking for anything long term and this place is long term.”

“Is it them not looking for long term or you?” she asked.

“Both. They know I’m not looking long term and they’re okay with that so I assume they’re not looking for anything serious either.”

She stopped cutting his hair, but the clippers still buzzed in her hand. “So you’re a confirmed bachelor? You don’t want a relationship? You don’t plan on taking the leap down the aisle like your friend?”

“Not at all. Running as fast as I can from that fate.”

“What about kids? What about Paul Bunyan Jr.?”

“Much to the dismay of my mother, no.”

“Hmm.”

She had moved in front of him and was looking him directly in the eyes, but he didn’t have a clue how to interpret her ‘hmm’. He was hoping she wasn’t a souler, one of those women that believed in happily ever after with their soul mate. His hopes weren’t too high though, a woman like her was probably only interested in to-death-do-us-part. As gung-ho as she’d been about planning her cousin’s wedding, it wouldn’t surprise him if she’d planned every aspect of hers and was just waiting to insert the groom.

“What’s ‘hmm’, mean?”

“I guess it means that’s interesting.”

“What’s so interesting about it?”

She raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “Nothing. It just is.” She turned the clippers off.

“You done? That seemed fast.” He reached up and answered his own question. Half his hair was shaved into a low buzz cut and the other half was a couple of inches above it.

“What was the bet about?” she asked.

“What?”

“I’ll finish your hair when you tell me what the bet’s about.”

“I’ll tell you when you’re done,” he persuaded.

“No you won’t.”

“Yes I will,” he lied.

“Something tells me you won’t.”

“I won’t,” he confessed, hating that she saw through him. “I can’t. It’s part of the rules.”

“Then finish up the rest yourself,” she said and extended the clippers towards him.

“You wouldn’t leave me like this.”

“Wanna bet?” she said sitting the clippers on the counter behind him then began to sweep.

“You’re good.”

“If you only knew how good I am,” she said with a knowing smile.

“I didn’t lose a bet.”

“This was voluntary and not some sort of punishment.”

“Oh, it was a punishment. It just wasn’t the result of losing a bet. It was the bet.”

“I don’t quite understand,” she said.

“For Halloween I was dressed as—”

“Paul Bunyan!”

“Yes,” he conceded.

“I knew I was right.” She shook her hips in a victory dance.

“Jack was dressed as a redneck, with a mullet wig. I may have been a little less than sober when I bet he couldn’t get a woman if he looked like that for real. He accepted the challenge but only if I do too.”

“How did you even remember such an idiotic bet when you were sober?”

“We’d written down on napkins and signed it.”

“So what? The bet was stupid.”

“Hey, even a stupid bet is a bet. I’m a man of my word.”

“You’re not a man. You’re the biggest twelve year old ever.”

“It’s a man thing, you wouldn’t understand.”

“It’s a juvenile thing and I’ve matured beyond understanding it.”

“You questioning my manhood?” Before she could answer, he pulled her down onto his lap and kissed her with determination and skill. He wanted to prove he was one-hundred percent man. And he did, kissing her until she was breathless.

“If you keep kissing me like that I’ll never finish your hair.” He released her and she resumed cutting his hair. They were both too preoccupied with the kiss to talk.

She stepped between his legs to get a better angle with the clippers, her leg brushed against his erection. She jumped, careful not to make an accidental cut. Their eyes met and it took every bit of self-control to not act on the desire he saw, He wanted her to finish so he could find some release in that cold shower he was going to have to take.

A few minutes later she turned the clippers off. “All done,” she said from behind him. She began to brush hair off of his shoulders. Her touch was soft and left a heat trail on his skin. He closed his eyes hoping his excitement wouldn’t poke out of the towel. She continued to brush his shoulder long after the hair had to be gone. Her brushing gesture turned into a kneed as she began to massage his shoulders.

“You seem tight. You need to relax.”

“I’m relaxed. That’s just the way muscle feels.”

“Is it? Let me see.” Her small hands began to slide down his chest. On the way back up she let her nails dig gently into his flesh. She splayed her hands out and rubbed her way all the way down his abdomen. The sight of her dark skin against his lighter flesh brought him to the edge of his control. Her mouth was next to his ear.

“My hands can’t tell if this is the way muscles feels, maybe I can tell better with my lips.” She took his ear into her mouth, biting with her teeth. Her mouth then moved its way down his neck, leaving searing hot kisses.

“Magnolia. You need to stop.”

She stopped long enough to move to his other side and suck that earlobe into her mouth. “I may need to, but I don’t want to.” Her mouth traced a path down the other side of his thick neck. He took her hand and pulled her around in front of him.

“Baby, I need you to stop because I won’t be able to.”

“Why would you need to stop?” she asked innocently.

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

“Then why don’t we go upstairs and you can help me wash the rest of this hair off.”

She nodded. He bounded out the chair, swooped her over his shoulder and headed up the stairs two at a time.

He lowered her gently onto the bed on her back. He stepped between her legs, which still dangled over the side of the bed. Her boots were the first to go, followed quickly by her sox. He wanted to see, touch, and taste every inch of her. He unfastened his belt from around her waist, then unbuttoned his shirt she was wearing. He’d never been so aroused by taking his clothes off, probably because he’d never taken them off a woman.

The unbuttoned shirt revealed her taut nipples straining against the cotton t-shirt. Her breast were larger than he’d thought. He ran his thumb over her nipple. She bit her lip and moaned at the feel of it. He considered himself a generous lover, but never had he gotten so much pleasure from giving.

He caressed her skin just under the t shirt. She continued to sigh and moan with each touch and caress. She reached up and ran a finger along his arms. He grabbed her hands and kissed each one.

“You’re my present, let me enjoy unwrapping you. If you touch me, I’ll skip ahead.”

“You need to unwrap faster because I can’t take much more.” She lifted the undershirt over her head. He licked his lips at the sight of her exposed breast.

He knew he would no longer be able to take his time any longer. He dropped the towel from around his waist, which elicited a quiet expletive from her lips. He paused briefly at one of the nightstands and opened up a brand new box of condoms. He knew what prompted him to buy the protection, but he didn’t think too much about what had prompted him to bring them to his house and not the apartment. Now wasn’t a time for thinking, it was a time for action. He had a present to play with.

***

They lay in bed together a couple of hours later, exhausted but sated more than either of them had ever been. Most of the bedding was on the floor, the fitted sheet had been worked off of a corner leaving the mattress exposed. One of Noli’s slim legs was draped over one of Cooper’s massive thighs. He turned to look at her. She was looking towards the clouds passing overhead, but he could tell her mind was a million miles away.

“You okay?”

She turned to face him. “Not really. For some strange reason I’m hungry.” She smiled and began to trace his jaw lazily.

“I meant are you okay about this. About what we did to work up that appetite.”

“Yeah. This wasn’t my first time riding a horse. It’s not like I’m a saintly good girl like Diane.”

“You mean she’s a…”

“Sure is. She believes in waiting ‘til marriage.”

“Jack must have it bad,” he said understanding his friend’s occasional irritability lately. Wanting someone, but not being able to have them was frustrating.