The Sound of Consequence (Puget Sound ~ Alive With Love Book 1) (10 page)

The twenty-inch square mounted canvas might be a bit excessive for a children’s book, but it was her art, her passion. She was going to bring this story to life in the best way she knew how.

Stacie layered some greens and browns to create the island, starting small and expanding it as her confidence grew. It had been years since she held brush to canvas and she felt a little rusty. Once she got into a groove though, there was no stopping her. The structure of the island was in place, and this layer of oils had to dry before she could add flowers and trees.

Sneaking a glance at the clock, Stacie could hardly believe it was after five. She needed to make dinner. Something quick and easy so she’d have time for a long shower. Legs needed to be shaved before another amazing night with Owen. Stacie also needed time to raid Jenny’s closet for another super sexy outfit.

Thinking back to dinner, Stacie went to the refrigerator and pulled together fixings for a salad. She sautéed a few chicken tenderloins in a pan with garlic and olive oil. When the chicken was done, she lay it on a bed of greens, and had diced celery and sliced cucumbers on the side. Jenny walked in just as Stacie uncorked a bottle of Pinot Grigio.

“Pinot, on a Tuesday night,” Jenny said, throwing her briefcase and purse in the hall closet. She caught a glimpse of the painting, the easel carefully placed out of the sunlight in the living room. “Girlfriend,” she said in a drawn-out, high-pitched squeal. “That looks great. Hey, did you get some sleep?”

“I did,” Stacie grabbed the Pinot and poured the glasses.

“Cheers” Jenny said as their glasses clinked.

“Cheers,” Stacie replied and took a long pull from the wine.

“You seeing the Cajun Sex God tonight?”

Stacie didn’t have to answer. Her smile spoke volumes.

“Girlfriend, I’m so proud of you,” Jenny said and motioned another toast before taking a long sip of the wine.

They finished the rest of their dinner over casual conversation, then Stacie grabbed a hot shower. She was just about to raid Jenny’s fashionable closet when Jenny walked out with a dress on a hanger. “Try this one tonight. I don’t have anyone to wear it for. It’s just wasting away in my closet.”

Stacie took the light blue, layered dress. The under layer was a royal blue spaghetti strap fitted dress with lace around the low neckline. The top layer was a sheer baby blue with flowers in various shades of blue and white. It draped nicely over the fitted underdress, alluring and sexy.

In her drawer she found skin-colored practical underwear and bra. With a sigh for her boring undergarments, she slipped the dress on over them, added eyeliner, mascara, and a light pink gloss, and slipped on low heels in navy blue. She stepped out of the bedroom to catcalls.

“I’d do you,” Jenny said through a wide smile.

“This weekend, we shop for some sexy clothes that I can own,” Stacie demanded.

“Thrifty or breaking the bank?” Jenny asked, giving her a salute.

“Thrifty. I’m not published yet.”

“Only a matter of time with work like that,” Jenny said, eyeing the painting that sat unfinished across the room.

Stacie was proud of her work and grateful for the inspiration of Owen’s painting. Sure, she’d sketched out the illustrations for the first couple stories, but color was a huge factor and she wasn’t really sure where to start. The island where the Villages in the Pine stories were set was the perfect place to set the tone for the illustrations.

“You better go so that you don’t have to run in those shoes. I’m guessing I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“With any luck,” Stacie said, pulling herself away from the painting and giving her friend a hug.

“The way you look in that dress, you don’t need luck. You’re so going to get lucky!!”

~~~

“You look like you’re ten thousand miles away, man,” Bryan said to Owen, patting him on the shoulder.  This late in the evening Owen knew he should be wrapping up for the day, but he’d spent the better part of the last couple hours staring off into space, thinking about Stacie.

“Actually, I’m just on the other side of the sound, reliving last night.” Owen sat behind a large desk. It was tidy, with just a computer monitor, a few scattered papers, and a framed photo covering the top. Owen slouched in a large office chair, typing on the keyboard that pulled out from a tray under the desk.

The office was relatively small. Aside from the desk, there was a bookshelf behind him and two chairs in front of the desk. The walls were painted a light gray and a few framed prints with motivational images and messages about teamwork and seamanship had hung there since before Owen occupied the space.

“That good, huh?” Bryan asked.

“Better than good. It was amazing. She’s amazing.”

Bryan sat down in one of the chairs opposite Owen.

“Dude, this is serious,” he said, stating the obvious. “Does she have it as bad as you do?”

“Damn, man, I hope so. I don’t know. She doesn’t talk much.”

“Good in bed and doesn’t talk much. Every man’s dream.”

“It’s a wonder you’re not married,” Owen shot back, rolling his eyes. He sat there, staring blankly at his computer, thinking about Stacie. How could he feel this way about her, as if he’d known her his entire life when he really knew very little about her? He sighed, shaking his head, knowing he was already in deep, hoping his instincts weren’t wrong.

“What’s bothering you?” Bryan asked.

Owen was brooding and apparently wasn’t successful at hiding it. Not that it was a big deal. Bryan was his best friend. Owen could tell him anything and Bryan wouldn’t think him a pussy. Well, not too much anyway. The way he felt about Stacie wasn’t the only thing bothering him.

“She told me she’s only been with one other guy, but when we’re together, you know, she doesn’t play like she’s only been with one guy. Why would she lie?”

“Chicks lie all the time about sex. It’s the rule of three, right? However many men she claims to have been with, you multiply that by three. Besides, how much does it matter to you? You know, how many men she’s been with?”

“It doesn’t, I guess.” Owen admitted, although the thought of Stacie with another man sent a surge of jealousy through his body, kicking his fight or flight reflexes into high gear.

He had no claim on her, but he felt like she was his. He hoped to hell she wasn’t lying. He wanted as few men as possible to know her body the way he did. “I didn’t ask her. She offered it up. Before we, well, you know, she stopped me and told me that. I don’t know what to make of it.”

“You think she’s playing games with you?” Bryan asked.

“I don’t know, man. My instincts tell me she’s not. I just wish I knew more about her. I can’t get her to tell me much. She’s from Maine. She writes children’s books. Hell, I still don’t know her last name.”

“She’s probably playing it safe. How much does she know about you?”

Yeah, Bryan had that one nailed.  Owen hadn’t shared much. He hadn’t exactly been a golden child and still struggled with the betrayals he had been dealt in the past. After what Kristina did, trust wasn’t going to be easy. Of course, he should have learned his lesson with Daphne. Kristina had deliberately trapped him. He knew it. He was sure she’d never been pregnant, that it was all a rouse to get him to marry her. It had worked. Owen knew Stacie was different. She had to be. So he was trying hard to leave those betrayals in the past.

“I told her I’m divorced, from Kristina and about being discharged. Told her what I do here.” Bryan raised an eyebrow. “You know what I mean, man, I told her what I could about what I do here.”

Owen hadn’t lied about his job. He did handle computer security for the naval station. What he hadn’t told her was that a lot of the information was highly classified. Owen spent a lot of time trying to hack in to the system. Old navy ships came to Bremerton once decommissioned. The records kept on these ships could be very sensitive and needed to be protected. That was part of his job. He managed a team that handled computer security and ensured there were no security breaches. Most of what Owen did was classified, so the story he told was that he worked with computer security. He tried to keep it simple.

“Did you tell her about Hailey? And Daphne?” Bryan asked.

“In time,” Owen sighed.

“In time? For crissake, don’t you think that little chunk of your life is kinda important?”

“Of course it’s important,” Owen snapped. Then he shook his head. Bryan didn’t have the baggage that Owen did, so he didn’t get how it weighed on relationships, especially when trying to establish one. “You haven’t been there when I drop that truth. It’s gut wrenching to see the look on a woman’s face when she finds out about all my baggage. Hell, I may as well just hold the door open as I’m telling them so they can run away even faster. I’m done with that upfront shit. I won’t lie to her. I’ll just wait to tell her until the time is right. When she sees there’s more to me than the junk from my past.”

Bryan snickered. “Hailey’s not exactly junk from your past.”

Owen felt bad for classifying Hailey Belle in that pool. As much as he wished the opposite, she also wasn’t an active part of his life. “It’s not like she’s here either.”

“Look, I don’t know this broad, so I’m not sticking up for her or anything, but if you’re going to keep your little secrets, then maybe you should give her time too. Maybe her past is just as ugly as yours.”

Owen cringed, hoping Stacie hadn’t been through any of the heartache he’d experienced. Bryan obviously noticed his distaste for that scenario and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Maybe it’s not. Damn, bro, if you feel about this girl the way you look like you feel about her, then just give her time.”

Bryan was right. He had no claim on Stacie. He certainly had no right to demand information from her. Or expect her to disclose her life when he’d been avoiding doing the same. He looked over at Bryan with a sarcastic grin. “Ok, Dr. Phil, you have a point.”

“Asshole. See if I try to be a friend to you again. Next time I’ll tell you just to bang her and move on to the next.”

“Fuck you,” Owen said, turning his chair so he could stare at the blank computer screen again.

“Exactly,” Bryan laughed. He was about to leave Owen’s office when he paused. “Just be careful, man. You don’t exactly have a great track record with women.”

“Ouch,” Owen said, turning back around, making stabbing motions to his sternum.

“You know what I mean. It’s not your fault. Just be sure her heart is in it before you fall too far.”

Too late, Owen thought. “Thanks, man. I’ll be careful. Hell, maybe third time’s a charm.”

Bryan rolled his eyes. “Maybe. Just try not to knock her up!” He left the office and closed the door before Owen could throw something at him.

The 6:55 evening ferry
to Bremerton moved like a turtle swimming in molasses.

None of the passengers rushed to disembark when they finally arrived. Stacie could hear the wild beat of her heart, feel the thump quicken in her chest. At least until it skipped a beat or two when she spotted Owen waiting in their spot just outside the terminal walkway. At the end of the tunnel, most of the commuters turned right or headed straight out to the parking lot, clearing the way for Stacie to turn left and leap into Owen’s arms.

Heat spread like wildfire from lips to toes when he pulled her into a long kiss. It ended all too soon. “Baby, I missed you.”

Understatement of the year.

Owen stretched his arm behind her as he bent down and came up with a large Starbuck’s cup. “I got you a Frappuccino,” he said as he handed it to her. “Chai, right?”

Stacie wanted to squeal like a little girl who just got a bag of cotton candy at the county fair. Now that she’d had a fulfilling experience, there was nothing better than sex, though a Chai Frappuccino came close.

“Let’s go sit in the park,” he said, leaning down to grab his own Frappuccino off the concrete. “We can catch the nine o’clock ferry.”

Descending into the park, Stacie felt like she was entering a submarine harbor. Five large copper-ringed fountains stretched from one end of the narrow park to the other. They looked like submarine conning towers peeking out of the sea. The fountains shot water in an alternating pattern, giving the appearance of the spray from a whale’s blowhole.

Nestled into a small piece of land between the harbor’s ferry docks and the naval yard, the park’s lush landscape was romantic and inviting while the whimsical stone structures created a playground-like atmosphere. The charm of the park made Stacie wish she had brought her kit until Owen’s breath on her neck had her wanting other things.

“I didn’t miss the boat tonight,” Owen said as he nuzzled her neck. Walking became a challenge as her knees lost their bone structure and heat raged between her thighs.

“You sure didn’t,” Stacie said, sitting on a bench next to one of the fountains.

“I meant what I said, though. I really missed you today.”

On the surface, Stacie wanted to tell him that he could dispense with the affection. He didn’t have to sweet talk her to get her back into his bed. Deep down, she knew that wasn’t his motive.

Even though she had missed him too, she couldn’t tell him.

It’s just sex, Stace. It’s just sex.

“Owen,” she whispered, desperate to stay tuned to the voice in her head and not the stirring in her heart. Since actions spoke a thousand times louder than words, especially the silent ones in her head, she leaned in and kissed him.

Her tongue broke the barrier of their lips, yet when she found his, she almost dropped the Frappuccino. The racing beat of her heart and growing warmth of her body were eclipsed by a hollow need that filled her chest. She deepened the kiss in an effort to ignore the lingering sensation, but no amount of passion could make it go away.

What was this man doing to her?

Footsteps on the concrete path reminded her they sat in a public park. Reluctantly, they both came back to reality. Stacie took another long drink as she tried to recover from their kiss. The cold trail of the frozen drink didn’t dampen the lingering heat any more than her inner voice could squelch the stirring emotions.

“Did you get some sleep today?” he asked, stroking her hair.

The subtle caress continued to feed the emotional blaze. Maybe, just maybe, conversation would provide a good distraction.

“I slept a little, then spent most of the day painting. It was that painting hanging over your fireplace.” Stacie squeezed his hand, hoping he’d tell her more about it. “It really inspired me. Today was the first day I made any real progress on my illustrations. It’s been hard for me to create the characters without having scenery. The scenery is the base. It’s really important. You can create one character without any scenery, but you have to have the scenery to be able to create more than one character. All of the colors are going to work together. It’s a lot easier to adjust the colors on one character than it is to change the backdrop. Any change to the backdrop can have a tremendous impact on any or all of the characters.”

Stacie couldn’t help herself even though this was all probably way too much information for Owen. Once she got rambling on about her stories, it was hard to stop. Because Owen smiled with that warm, inviting expression, she didn’t feel compelled to stop.

“Tell me one of your stories,” he urged when she came up for air.

Stacie hesitated. No one had seen or heard her stories. Well, just Jenny and CC. She planned to do a big unveil once the illustrations were finished for the first story. The big unveil was really intended for Jenny, who thrived on drama, but it had Stacie a little excited too.

Stacie weighed the consequence of sharing one of her stories with Owen. She wasn’t sure she was ready for this level of intimacy. These stories, they were her life, her dream, her passion. They held a part of her that no one else did. Though Audrey and Jenny had encouraged her, they’d never been a part of it. Not really. Jenny’s exposure had been in a professional capacity. From a personal perspective, no one had read or heard the stories.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she finally said.

“Please,” Owen said softly, locking his gaze to hers, his dark eyes reflecting the setting sun in a way that was seductive and hypnotizing.

Her resolve began to fade like the blue of the twilight sky. How intimate could a children’s story really be? After all, he’d had his mouth on, in, all over the most intimate regions of her body. It didn’t get much more personal than that. Owen didn’t really seem like the critical type anyway. Plus, he had three sisters, so maybe he would enjoy the first story and not pass judgment on her art.

“Stacie,” he whispered, that sexy slur of his Cajun drawl compounding the seductive caress of his fingers along her arm.

Stacie took a deep breath and closed her eyes, mustering the courage to share one of her stories with someone she’d been incredibly intimate with.

“The first story is about three sisters, all butterfly fairies, and a dragon. The three sisters are Fatima, Cleo, and Lily. Fatima is the conservative, responsible older sister. Cleo is a little wild, and Lily, the youngest, is very kind and thoughtful. Cleo and Lily team up to rescue an injured dragon trapped by a log in the bay. He’ll drown when the tide comes in if someone doesn’t rescue him. The dragons are dangerous creatures and typically eat the butterfly fairies. Cleo and Lily, despite Fatima’s warnings, look beyond the danger and set out to rescue the dragon.”

Stacie opened her eyes and held her breath. She tried to tamp the burn in her cheeks with another long sip of the Frappuccino. Owen’s warm smile proved more potent than the icy drink as the heat spread across her skin.

“So what happens? Do they rescue the dragon?”

“It’s a children’s story,” Stacie said, tilting her head and raising her brow. “What do you think?”

“Tell me. I want to know how.”

Owen seemed sincerely interested, so Stacie told him the rest of the story. “Cleo and Lily can’t lift the log alone and have to enlist Fatima, who reluctantly helps. And because the tide is rolling in and the log is engulfed in water, they have to team up with the electric eeligators to help them lift the log off the dragon’s leg. They rescue the dragon as the tide rolls in, getting him out just as the water reaches his head. They bring him to safety and he is so grateful that he promises to tell his clan about their kindness and selflessness and then convinces his clan to forge a treaty with the other creatures in the villages.”

Stacie took a breath. “And, of course, they all live happily ever after.”

The giggle that escaped when she finished made her feel like a silly girl. It was invigorating to have shared one of the stories like this. It made her dream seem so much more real, so much more achievable.

“I can’t wait to read it,” he said as he leaned in to kiss her.

Stacie pulled away, praying he wasn’t mocking her. “Well, it’s really supposed to be for kids.”

“I’m a kid at heart. I really do want to read it.”

Whether it was the sincerity in his voice, the honesty in his eyes, or the seductiveness of his touch, Stacie relented and let his lips capture hers. Then she felt that hollow ache in her chest again.

Thank Gatsby the 9:00 ferry arrived so they could go back to his place and get their clothes off. Where conversation had failed to distract her subconscious from the unwanted emotions stirring to life, sex would prove to be a perfect diversion.

There weren’t a lot of passengers on the ferry, so they had their pick of seats and chose a bench on the main deck at the front of the boat. The enclosed area protected them from the wind and cool air, but the windows afforded a spectacular view of Seattle on their approach.

“Do you want to see a Sounders game tomorrow night?” Owen asked as the boat meandered across Puget Sound. “My buddy Bryan has season tickets. He can’t go, so he offered them to me.”

Stacie bolted off the bench.

Aside from painting and writing, soccer was one of her favorite activities. She’d played in high school and college but had never been to a major league soccer game. The New England Revolution played out of Foxborough, Massachusetts and she could never pull Greg away from his computer long enough to make the five hour drive to see a game.

“I would love to see a Sounders game tomorrow night!” she squealed.

“How badly?” Owen asked, obviously toying with her.

Stacie angled her head, wondering what kind of sexy payment he might require in exchange for the date. “Pretty badly.”

Owen seemed to ponder her response, then smiled as he decided on the payment. “Twenty questions.”

Stacie sighed and rolled her eyes. Owen would ask questions she didn’t want to answer. Not that she had anything to hide, but her life had been so boring, so meaningless. She wanted to move forward, not continue to rehash the past.

“Forget it. I don’t want to go that badly,” she said and turned away.

“Ok, fifteen questions,” Owen said, opening the negotiations.

“Ten,” Stacie replied.

“Twelve,” Owen countered.

“Eleven.” Stacie smiled. There was no more negotiating. Owen had run out of numbers.

“Well played,” he said in a playful tone.

“It’s not my first negotiation.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked.

“Is that your first question?”

“Absolutely not.”

~~~

Owen started with some basics as Stacie paced impatiently in front of him. “How old are you? And when’s your birthday?”

“I’m twenty-eight. My birthday is March twelfth. And that was two questions.” She held two fingers out.

“What’s your…” he planned to ask her middle and last names. Now that he was clued in to how precise she was, he thought how he could rephrase that to a single question. “Birth name?”

“Annastasia Noelle Nightingale.” Three fingers.

“Annastasia Noelle Nightingale.” He liked the way her name rolled off his tongue. By the way her eyes sparkled, she liked it too.

“Has anyone ever called you something other than Stacie?”

“When I played soccer, my teammates called me Gale.” Four fingers.

“You played soccer?”

She finally settled back on the bench next to him. “Since I was five years old and all the way through college. Then I coached for four years. Oh, yeah, my players called me Coach Gale. It’s less of a mouthful.” Five fingers.

Owen looked at her hand. “Hey that wasn’t a question. It was a follow-up.” Stacie didn’t budge, her smile playful as she held the five fingers firm.

Owen sighed. Time to get down to business.

“Where do you live?”

“In Seattle.” Six fingers.

Owen sighed again, knowing he should have been more specific. “What street do you live on?”

“I don’t live on a street.” Seven fingers.

Owen abandoned that idea, not wanting to waste his final four questions trying to narrow the search. He remembered the smooth skin around her ring finger that first night they’d been together. After he’d removed his wedding ring, his skin had been smooth just like that. She’d said she had no attachments, but if she was also divorced, maybe she wouldn’t so readily judge him on his past like other women had.

“Have you ever been married?”

“No.” Eight fingers.

“When was the first time you were kissed?”

Stacie paused for a moment as though searching for the memory. Then she smiled. “Last day of school, seventh grade. Matty Bresden. He had been my boyfriend for four months. We were both incredibly shy. That night we played hide and seek in a big cemetery on the hill in town. We hid together behind a big old pine tree. I’d been waiting forever for him to kiss me and it was horrible. He drooled all over me. I couldn’t believe that was what I had been waiting months for. I hear he’s still a sloppy kisser.” She laughed as she held out a ninth finger.