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Authors: Lane Hayes

The Right Words (13 page)

BOOK: The Right Words
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I stopped and shivered as the sky darkened and twilight took over. Michael noticed. He reached over to rub my arm with his warm hands. The gesture was a touch familiar, but it was sweet. I smiled my thanks and continued.

“I don’t know when it began to change or when I noticed.” I bit my lip and kept my eyes glued to the horizon. “He was picky and fussy, but not with me. He was always so patient with me. To the point I think it pissed off some of my coworkers. I’m sure they all had some unkind things to say behind my back about me sleeping with the boss. I learned to keep my distance because I figured they were jealous. Now I realize they’d seen a version of ‘the boss and his young lover slash protégé’ before and I was simply the latest in a long-running series.

“I’m not good at wordless communication. My mom is out there and my best friend is equally outrageous, though in a more refined way. If you want something, you say so. But Neil was nothing like them, which I loved at first. I thought it was a sure sign of his sophistication. Later I was confused. I didn’t understand his fits of temper. He would go from perfectly pleasant to snarling and mean in seconds flat. When I experienced his first verbal assault, I was so shocked I couldn’t speak. He apologized right away and said he was having a bad day. But over time, it got worse. I never seemed to get anything right anymore. He was hard to please outside of the bedroom, but he was careful about when he showed his displeasure. It could start with anything as stupid as setting the wrong accessory on the wrong entry table. He would ask who did it, I would admit it was my mistake, and he would give me that look. The one that said ‘I’ll deal with you later.’ My palms would get sweaty, my heart would beat loud enough for anyone to hear, and….”

Michael shifted in his chair and slid his hand from my arm down to clasp my fingers.

“I’d suffer through a few hours of self-torture trying to please my tyrant lover slash boss while wishing we could just get to the point where he’d yell, scream, throw something, and… then we could fuck and it would all be okay again.”

“Jesus, Luke.” Michael swiped at his chin in frustration.

“I know. I…. It was awful. I walked on eggshells day and night. I started losing weight and well….” This was the part I hated. This was where I showed myself to be the coward I was. “Mara paid a surprise visit. She came to the office demanding to see me. It was typical Mara, but not everyone else gets her. Neil’s driver chauffeured us that morning. Neil was on a stressful phone call, and I was already sick to my stomach wondering what to say to make him happy when he hung up. I was totally unprepared for Mara and very unprepared to have her meet Neil. She took one look at me and went nuts. She didn’t care who heard her. ‘What happened to my baby? Oh my God. You don’t return calls, so I came to see what the hell is wrong only to find out I can barely see you sideways.’ On and on. ‘You’re so skinny, your color is off. My poor baby.’ It was mortifying. Not only because of the things she was saying but because I was a wreck. I was a bona fide mess. She was correct a million times over, but I had no idea how to respond. At all. So Neil took over and was his charming self. He insisted I take my mother out for breakfast and not to worry about the time. He showered her with praise, telling her how beautiful she was and how lovely her jewelry was. It was so surreal. Because Mara… Mara usually eats that shit up. She adores being adored, but she didn’t say a word. She coolly thanked him and tugged my hand like I was a five-year-old, telling me it was time to eat.”

I gave a half chuckle at the memory of following my strangely quiet mother to her own chauffeur-driven car. I remembered feeling like I was in some weird movie. This couldn’t possibly be my life.

“My mom talks nonstop. She’s always got a running commentary going. It was just the two of us when I was growing up, but I swear you’d think a family of six lived in that house. She talks to herself, to me, to the television… you name it. That morning, she didn’t say a word. I was so involved in my own fear… trying to shift gears from Neil’s mood to my mother’s unexpected visit and back again to wondering what Neil’s reaction was going to be when I returned to the office later that I didn’t really catch what was wrong at first. Of course, once I did, I was a wreck all over again.”

“What did she say?” Michael prodded gently. He leaned toward me and ran the side of his hand against mine. It was soothing as it was meant to be, and I appreciated the kindness behind the small gesture.

“I won’t bore you with the details, but she was concerned and wanted me to come home with her. As in ‘let’s get your things and get to the airport now.’ I wouldn’t go. I didn’t know how to leave. It seemed a lot harder than packing up and heading out the door. I was scared, but I have to admit Mara’s reaction to just seeing me… well it scared me as much as Neil did. I knew I had to get away, but I didn’t know how and I didn’t want to go home to my mother. I still had my pride.” I snorted derisively at my stupidity. “And then I didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“I didn’t have… anything… when I finally left. Just the clothes on my back. No money, no home, no self-respect, and certainly no fucking pride. Brandon always says I’m lucky I’m alive, but sometimes, I’m not so sure.”

“Luke! Jesus!” Michael looked fierce in profile. When he turned back to face me, his expression was gentler than his rigid pose would suggest.

“What made you leave finally?”

“He threw something and didn’t miss.”

Silence. Only the faraway cry of a gull carried by the gentle early-autumn evening breeze and the sound of the waves breaking below us. Peaceful natural sounds that soothed and calmed.

“You called your mom then?”

“Huh? Oh… no. I called Brandon. He flew up north, took one look at me, and pushed me on a plane. End of story.” I shrugged and shivered because now I really was cold. And I was done sharing. I shifted in my chair and was suddenly ultra-aware of his large, warm hand cradling mine. I knew it was an empathetic gesture, but my attraction to him made the line blur somewhat.

“That’s pretty damn courageous.”

“What?” I pulled my hand from his and felt a wave of embarrassment. Courageous? I didn’t see it. “How? It’s not at all! I ran. I wonder if that’s why I can’t relax, why I can’t be myself again. If I’d stayed and told him he was a fucking bull—”

“You did the right thing, Luke. Your actions spoke louder than words he wouldn’t have heard anyway. You were brave.”

“You think you are braver than any other people—whereas you’re just as brave, and no braver.”

“Quote?” His eyes sparked with humor.

“Yes. Mark Twain. Sorry. It’s a weird habit.”

“It’s not weird. It’s… refreshing. Different. I’m used to hanging out with a bunch of jocks who honestly might not know who Mark Twain is.”

“Please tell me you do,” I pleaded with mock gravity.

“I do.
Huckleberry Finn
,
Tom Sawyer
.” He smirked.

“Well done.” I giggled when he pumped his fist in the air like an adolescent.

I held his gaze in silence and allowed myself to bask in the peaceful moment.

“I think it’s awesome you have something that gives you strength. And pardon me for saying so, but it’s really fucking sexy that it’s bookish. Maybe a pair of librarian glas—”

“Shut up.” I felt an insta-blush at his suggestive words and was glad twilight had taken over.

Michael chuckled beside me. Not so long ago, I would have been sure he was laughing at me. My experience with jocks was limited to thuggish high school idiots who I carefully kept at a distance. They intimidated me with their size and musculature. I tried to intimidate with my brain. It didn’t always keep me from getting teased but certainly solidified the divide between us.

Michael wasn’t like those boys. I sensed an innate kindness in him, evident in his willingness to hold my hand while I shared my own war story with my ex. Instead of pissing me off, the mention of me wearing sexy librarian glasses went straight to my groin. I stood up and tried to clandestinely adjust my half-hard cock as I walked toward the edge of the terrace.

I heard the scratch of his crutches behind me and turned to find him standing a couple feet away.

“You know I was teasing, right?” His voice sounded deep and impossibly sexy. “I like you, Luke. I like that you’re different. You’re extraordinary.” He smiled softly and reached out to brush a stray hair away from my eyes. I was bewitched and in danger of being swept away by the moment. He was too charming for my own good.

“You don’t know me. Not really. So please don’t be offended if I don’t—”

“Fine. Don’t believe me. But you’re a fighter. I can tell. And I see this colorful, rainbow aura around you I think is… sexy as hell.”

“Thank God! I was sure my rainbow glitter bag had a hole in it, and I’ve been desperately trying to gather the bit—”

“Stop it. Take the compliment. You’re going to have to work on believing the good things too, you know.”

I chuckled. He was right. “Thank you. I can tell I’m getting better, but I’m a work in progress.”

“Aren’t we all?”

We stood in the dusky evening staring at each other for a long moment. I licked my bottom lip and had moved to step aside when I felt his hand on my shoulder.

“Come here.”

I swallowed hard. “Why?”

He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, he pitched his voice low in an exaggerated whisper. “You have something in your hair. Let me get it.”

I knew he was up to something but I played along. “What is it?”

Michael set his forefinger on his lips, then reached out to caress my ear before running a lazy hand through my hair.

“Glitter. And there’s a lot of it. Red, purple, orange, gr—”

I giggled and swatted at his hand. He didn’t back away. Instead he gently moved his hand to my neck and pulled me forward so that our lips were inches apart.

“Can I kiss you?”

The feel of his breath comingling with mine in the cool of the evening was powerfully seductive. I nodded once and closed my eyes as he lowered his mouth to cover mine. I swore I saw stars. A rainbow array of beautiful, glittering stars. Instinctively I leaned forward, wanting to be as close to him as humanly possible. When he licked at my lips, I opened mine, willing him to deepen the connection. I could taste the tiniest hint of red wine on his tongue as it collided with mine, licking and swirling languidly. The sound of one of his crutches hitting the stone pavers startled me. I backed up slightly, only to have him take my head between his hands and gently pull me in. His thumbs caressed my cheeks as he sweetly kissed my nose and my forehead. I smiled and wrapped my arms around his waist, lifting my lips to meet his. He moaned into my mouth and cradled my head for a moment before yanking at my hair to expose my neck. He licked a sensuous trail up the column of my throat to my jaw, sending a shiver up my spine. My cock swelled in instant response. I fought the urge to grind my pelvis into his, unsure of his footing. Michael didn’t have the same concern. His hands traveled down my back, stopping at my hips before reaching around to grab my ass and force our bodies together. I gasped at the feel of his hardened shaft against mine. Two layers of clothing couldn’t hide our obvious desire. I leaned into him like a cat in heat. He smiled into my mouth and tightened his hold on my ass. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I wanted more but this was too much, too soon.

Oh yeah, and he was my client.

I pulled back and offered him a nervous half-smile. He brushed at my hair as though he was reluctant to lose contact. As if he too wanted to savor this heady sensation for as long as possible.

“I should go. I’m….”

“Shh. It’s okay.”

There was a deeper meaning behind his simple reassurance. I was okay, he was okay. If we wanted more, that was okay too. We could simply enjoy. Whether or not I was right, I liked my version. It made me happy. I offered him a wide grin and a platonic kiss on the cheek before bending down to retrieve the fallen crutch.

“Come on. It’s getting cold out here.”

Though he didn’t respond, I felt Michael’s eyes on me as I gathered the wine bottle and glasses to take indoors. Something had changed here. I could feel it like a tangible thing. And for once, it felt right.

Then it felt weird.

 

 

I
WAS
an obsessor. You know the type. I could never leave things alone. I always wanted to know what came next. Neil found my “enthusiasm” quirky and cute at first. He claimed I kept him young. Since I had a boyfriend who was sixteen years my senior, most people would suggest anything I did or said might alternately charm or irritate my more mature ex. Eventually what was once considered loveable became tiresome, and Neil came to hate that I always wanted to know “the unknowable.” Sure, he was an ass, but I probably needed to work on patience.

Damn, it was hard.

I assumed Michael would be as anxious to see me as I was to see him. We’d shared a special moment on Friday night with a toe-curling kiss at the end. Was I the only one who wanted to relive it? Impatience took over as the first week of construction melted away and I caught only sporadic glimpses of him. He didn’t completely ignore me, but he certainly made himself scarce. It was as though he would wait for five people to want my attention before he approached me to ask if everything was cool. I would nod a harried yes, and he would chat in Spanish with the demo guys before disappearing again. Any normal person would have written “that kiss” off as a fluke and made an effort to switch gears back to designer-client only.

I wished I were normal. I wished I could let things like my pesky growing crush go.

By Thursday night, I was feeling a little sorry for myself. The house was a full construction zone with a ton of people milling around and banging. It was chaos, but it was energetic and kind of fun in an odd way. When the dust cleared and beautiful new materials were installed in place of the ancient ones, the results would be amazing. Michael should be part of this. He said he wanted to be, so why wasn’t he here? The obvious answer was he wasn’t as blown away by “that kiss” as me. A depressing thought but it was the most logical.

BOOK: The Right Words
7.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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