WhiskeyBottleLover (6 page)

He could be looking at this all wrong. Instead of worrying
so much about other people he should be more concerned about his life. He got
snookered into the bottle, why couldn’t someone else? Hayes looked back toward
the hall where Chance slept. She didn’t have family, no one to miss her. All he
had to do was tell her a partial truth and he’d be free. At this point she
didn’t seem to have anything she wanted badly enough to use a wish on.

Hayes looked down at his blistered wrists. Every time he
tried to do something right he wound up punished for it. Maybe it was time to
start acting like a genie. That meant lying, twisting facts and only caring
about himself. Chance was a beautiful, smart woman. It wouldn’t take her long
to figure out how to free herself.

Still, the thought of tricking her didn’t sit well in his
gut. Too damn bad. He’d had enough. He wanted a chance at life. Hayes let his
head roll back on his shoulders, trying to squash the guilt already building
inside him. A consolation prize perhaps. Yeah, he’d give her a few days to come
up with two wishes. While he waited he’d continue to hint at how a simple wish
would free him. That way Chance would at least have a taste of what she truly
wanted before becoming imprisoned.

That worked. It had to. He couldn’t go on like this. Man
wasn’t meant to live this long, much less being a slave.

Chance crept out of her bedroom, tiptoed down the hall and
peeked around the corner. It all had to be a dream. There couldn’t be any other
explanation for it. Men didn’t materialize out of a bottle, especially men who
looked like him. She’d been working too hard, that’s all. All that rummaging
around in dank boxes filled with mold and who knew what else, she’d finally
breathed in something dangerous. Yeah, that’s what she’d go with. It made
perfect sense to her.

Her gaze skimmed through the living room first, making sure
no one was there. Everything as it should be. Next she shifted her attention to
the kitchen. No one at the table, just her laptop and, hey, how’d she get to
bed last night? Last thing she remembered was sitting there reading.

Movement caught her attention and, damn it, there he was,
standing at the sink looking out the window. Oh hellfire, so much for her dream
theory. He still had on the faded black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and
his long black hair hung down around his shoulders. Same man from last night.
Chance chewed her bottom lip. Now what?

As she stood there trying to figure out what to do next, a
strange feeling of déjà vu overcame her. In a moment of hazy recollection she
knew this man was no stranger. She’d met him before. The feeling grew until she
could nearly see him in a different place, like a tent. Out of nowhere a warm
wash of pleasure hit. Somehow she stifled a moan as warm liquid pooled between her
legs and her thighs quivered along with every nerve ending. Then, as fast as it
hit, it all vanished.

“Mornin’,” he said without looking her way.

She wanted to groan, run back to bed and hide under the
covers until he went away, or until she could get her head straight. What the
hell? She didn’t react to men like this. Okay, time to deal with this. “Good
morning,” she muttered, easing her way into the kitchen.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I did. Thank you.” Now that she thought about it, she
slept like a rock. She hadn’t felt this rested in forever. Very odd. “Um, did
you sleep? I mean, I’m not sure, do genies sleep or do they just stay awake all
the time?”

He grinned, turned toward her and the way the early morning
light caught his face and hair, it made her breath freeze in her lungs. Holy
crap, he was handsome. He looked like a badass angel standing there in her
kitchen. Good and evil shimmering around his body. Her arms actually moved to
reach out and touch him.

Get it together
,
she warned herself.
You don’t
know this man at all. He could be dangerous.
Chance mentally gave herself a
shake and forced her gaze to shift to the coffeemaker.

“Genies sleep,” he answered. “I’ve been doin’ a lot of
sleepin’ over the past fifty years. Thought I’d take as much time as I could
and enjoy this taste of freedom.” He turned back to the window. “It’s been a
long time since I’ve seen a sunrise. I forgot how beautiful they were.”

“It’s a pretty time of year.” Chance grabbed a coffee filter
and grounds. “Fall is my favorite season.” She filled the carafe with water and
then poured it into the maker. “I love the colors.” God, this was awkward.

“Spring was always my favorite,” he whispered. “Seein’ the
new life emerge from the ground, blossom and grow. You miss the small things.”

She heard the longing in his voice. It tugged at her heart,
made her stomach flutter. What if she never got to see the fall colors again? A
simple thing but something she looked forward to.
Don’t go there. Don’t
connect with him. It could only mean trouble.

“Are you hungry? I can make some eggs.” She went to the
fridge, opened it up and began pulling out eggs, some bacon she bought earlier
in the week and butter. Anything to keep herself busy.

“Don’t go to any trouble for me. Sharin’ your meal last
night, that was more than I deserve.”

He moved toward the table. That’s when she saw the
bright-red marks around his wrists. They looked angry and painful. “What did
you do to yourself?” Chance put everything on the counter and stepped up beside
him. Oh they were ugly looking blisters.

“I did somethin’ I wasn’t supposed to do. This is
punishment.”

“What the hell did you do? Punishment? From who? Sit down
and let me look at those.” Suddenly all the apprehension vanished as she ran to
the bathroom, grabbed some antibiotic ointment and bandages and quickly
returned to doctor his wounds. “Tell me, what did you do?”

He didn’t say anything. She supposed he had the right. Was
it any of her business? As she gently smeared ointment on his wrists it
occurred to her this man was as real as they came. She wouldn’t be able to feel
his damaged flesh and he wouldn’t be tensing from the discomfort if he weren’t.
Nope, no dream, no hallucination. This brawny, old-as-dirt yet ruggedly
handsome man lived and breathed and he claimed she was his master. If that’s
the case, he owed her some sort of explanation.

“Hayes.” It felt strange saying his name yet it rolled off
her tongue with familiarity. “Please, tell me what happened.”

He gave a heavy, breathy sigh. “Genies aren’t supposed to
interfere with the actions of mortals. I broke that rule. This is the
punishment.”

His brief explanation sounded flat to her. He had more to
the story. “You knew that and still tried anyway?” Chance wrapped gauze loosely
around his wrists.

“I thought I had a way to get around it. Apparently not.”

“You healed my burn last night,” she reminded him. “Why not
heal your own?” His burns made hers look like a bug bite.

“I tried. My skin will scar and it will remind me of my
place. Thank you for your concern, Chance.”

She went to the sink to wash her hands. “Are you going to
tell me what it is you did to deserve such horrible punishment?”

“If it’s all the same to you, I don’t want to push the
issue. I still feel pain like any other man.”

Chance cringed. She hadn’t thought about him receiving
further retribution. She had so much to learn about this genie business. “Okay,
fair enough.”

Silence stretched between them as she cooked eggs and fried
some bacon. It gave her time to think. Each passing minute proved Hayes to be a
real man. Granted, one who had lived for over one hundred plus years and in an
old whiskey bottle, but still authentic enough.

“Have you thought about your first wish?” he asked, breaking
the silence.

“No.” Really, what would she wish for? She had everything
she needed and after reading those articles last night, who wanted to risk it?
Chance filled two plates with eggs and bacon, slapped toast on a side plate and
carried them to the table.

Hayes stared at the plate as she sat and then glanced over
at her. The wonderment in his gaze made her uneasy. “Coffee. I forgot coffee.”
After pouring two mugs, she returned to the table. “You better eat before it
gets cold.” With that she dug into her plate.

“You’re a good cook,” he said around a mouthful of eggs.

She couldn’t stop the laugh. “Not really. In fact, I’m known
for not being able to cook. It’s hard to screw up eggs though. That lasagna you
had last night, it was made by a friend of mine. I couldn’t make that stuff if
my life depended on it.”

“I guess times have changed. I assumed all women knew how to
cook.”

“I suppose most do because they have someone to teach them.
A person can’t learn if they aren’t taught. I never had the urge to learn on my
own.” There were too many other things in life she found important. If she had
to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, well, that was just fine.

“You could wish to learn how to cook,” he suggested,
scraping his plate clean.

“And where would that talent come from?”

“Excuse me?”

She laughed at his confused face. “I read everything a
master wishes for has to come from somewhere. Even if I did wish for that it
would mean stealing it from someone else. That would leave them like me. I
wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” Not that she had complaints about her life but
others probably wouldn’t want to live as simply as she did.

“Where did ya read this information?” he questioned, pushing
his plate aside and picking up his coffee mug.

“On the computer. I notice it isn’t information you were
willing to share and that makes me nervous.” Chance cleared the table, shoved
the dishes in the sink and picked up her coffee mug. “I have work to do so I
need to get moving. Excuse me.”

“Chance?”

She turned on her sock-covered heel. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for sharin’ your meal with me again. I can’t
explain what a treat it is.”

“My cooking a treat? Buddy, you have been locked up in that
bottle too long.” As she dressed she noted he didn’t comment about not sharing
information with her. It could be part of the rules he had to follow, or it
could be his own decision. Either way it didn’t matter.

Right now she had more important things to do. She wanted to
finish a few projects out in the barn before heading in to The Treasure Trove.
Items she sold on her internet site needed to be shipped out and other items
listed. No rest for the weary. If she wanted to eat, sales needed to be made.
The next few weekends would be tourist days. Visitors coming to see the fall
foliage were always sure to stop in and make a purchase.

Chance slipped on her sneakers and headed back into the
kitchen to fill her travel mug with coffee. She noticed Hayes had cleaned the
dishes and put them away again. Having a genie around did come in handy.

“Where ya headin’?” he asked.

“Out to the barn.” She stepped out on the porch, took a
bracing breath of crisp morning air and smiled. Oh she did love this time of
year. The unique fragrance, the sparkling frost, the bright sunshine, it was
heaven on earth. Maybe she’d stop and buy a pumpkin today. That would top off
her natural fall décor.

Chance hurried to her barn, opened the heavy wooden door and
rushed in. Before she knew it she had two projects finished and ready for sale.
The next one she wanted to finish up was the floor lamp. A few hours twisting
the metal and welding and she could wire it up.

“Where did you learn to do all this?”

Chance jumped, startled at the sound of Hayes’ voice. “How
long have you been in here?”

“I followed you in. I’ve been sittin’ up there watchin’.” He
pointed to the rafters and grinned.

He really needed to stop that. Every time he smiled she
found it took her longer to look away and only reinforced this weird feeling of
knowing him. A one-hundred-year-old man shouldn’t look that good. “Um, I taught
myself,” she answered, forcing her attention back to her project. “I see things
differently than most I guess. This metal,” she said, picking up a piece and
showing it to him. “It was thrown out. I saw potential and brought it home. Now
it’ll be a lamp and hopefully sit in someone’s living room.”

“Impressive,” he replied, shaking his head and jamming his
hands into his pockets.

“I don’t know about that,” she mumbled. Chance turned on the
gas to her torch and heated the metal. A few gentle twists curved it perfectly.
She moved on until she had them all exactly the way she wanted them.

Next she welded the strips to a base and then screwed in a
pipe that would hold the wiring. The actual construction of the lamp didn’t
take long. Polishing it until it shone would take forever. But quality pieces
never happened overnight. Chance grabbed her polishing cloth and began the
tireless work.

“Can I help?”

“No, no hocus-pocus on my work. I take pride in the blood,
sweat and tears I put into this. Thank you but no thanks.”

Hayes knelt down beside her. “I didn’t mean magic,” he said
carefully. “I got two good hands and it’s been a while since I’ve used them
properly. They’re at your disposal.”

A shiver raced over her flesh and a strange fluttering hit
her stomach. She looked at his hands. They were large with long fingers and were
slightly calloused. They felt heavenly on her bare flesh, able to stroke her
into sheer pleasure. Whoops, where did that come from? Had she lost her common
sense? Since when did she get all girly around a man, especially one she didn’t
know? And that was the key point. She didn’t know him. No matter how familiar
he seemed she didn’t know him. It would serve her to remember that.

“Okay, sure.” Chance heard the strangled sound of her voice
and tried to clear her throat. “Here.” She tossed him a polishing rag, showed
him how to stroke the metal and quickly returned her attention to work.

Every few seconds she glanced at his hands. He gently
rubbed, not too hard, but used enough pressure to get the job done. He had a
good rhythm going, slow, careful strokes that brought out the raw beauty of the
metal. The buffing made it shine and gleam.

“Am I doin’ it right?”

“Yep.” The way he held the strips with one hand, cradling
them with loving care while working them with the other, it made her heart
race. She bet in his time he seduced many women with those hands.

Cursing herself for thinking such things, Chance focused on
the lamp but with him so near she couldn’t seem to concentrate. “If you don’t
mind finishing that for me, I have other things to do.” She needed some
distance. Her brain seemed to fog with him so close.

“Not a problem. I’m enjoyin’ this. It’s been too long since
I used my hands.” Hayes looked up at her. “Some things a man shouldn’t go so
long without doin’.”

Or a woman, she almost said aloud, but clamped her mouth
shut tight. Yeah don’t go there. He didn’t mean it the way she took it, and
what if he did? “Gotta finish something,” she mumbled and then turned and all
but ran to the other side of the barn.

Every once in a while she would glance over and check on his
progress. He’d made significant headway but for some reason that didn’t impress
her as much as the way he moved. Those old jeans, fabric from the eighteen
hundreds, hugged his muscular thighs and when he turned she noticed how
perfectly shaped his ass was. The muscles in his back worked as the black shirt
tugged across his shoulders.